Deb's Writing Prompts

Jack's Challenge - Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight.

Posted in Extras

Visit Blog Advance Community Forum, register (it's free) and click on User Groups in the options running across the top of the forum, view information and subscribe to the Writing user group and any others that interest you.

Here is a challenge for the writers of the forum. I will give you a song title and you have to take the emotion you get from the song and turn it into a writing prompt.

The song in question is, Phil Collins - In the Air Tonight.

She sat in his lap, astride his thighs and took a breath.

He was sitting there with his eyes shut, his pants undone, his dick hard, waiting for her to make her next move.

Slowing she started rocking to the music and he held his breath in anticipation. He'd been in a relationship with her for quite a while but even now, the way she did things suprpised him and he was glad that their relationship was still at the stage where it was fresh and unique.

Phil sang in the background while she ground against his cock. Her lips parted, breath panting, eyes heavy. Rocking against him, her muscles clenching and releasing him with every movement she made.

Well I remember... a pause, he held his breath. Remembering the last time they did this. The feelings he felt as she held him for one brief moment before she ground into him again.

Releasing his breath as she started rocking on him again, he held her hips, moving her back as she rocked hard, helping her as she pushed towards her own orgasm, trying to hold his in until she was done. Failing...

Enjoying the play of her muscles against his dick as she rocked herself closer and closer to orgasm. Trying to wait for him but failing. Crying out in release as she came.

Crying out again as he joined her.

01h37 - Saturday, January 28, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 23 - Bargain Hunter

Posted in Prompts

Someone becomes stranded in a furniture warehouse for the night. Was it an accident or planned? What do they do to occupy themselves?

Doris woke up and looked about her in confusion. The coffin like structure that she found herself in filled her with mild panic until she remembered two very important things. The first being that she was vertical and, therefore, not buried underground; the second point being she had put herself in there.

Slowly and carefully opening the cupboard door, Doris peeked through the crack to make sure there was nobody around. When she saw that it was dark and quiet, she stepped out onto the cool tiled floor where strange, bulky shapes loomed out at her from darkness and it wasn't until her eyes became accustomed to the dark that she could make out what the shapes were.

Once Doris was convinced that she was the only one in the room, she withdrew a flashlight from her black knapsack and, hooding the light with her hand, she turned it on.

Looking about her, she found all manner of beds, couches, dining tables and other bric-a-brac associated with furnishing a person's home. Smiling, she made her way through the various sections, dictating notes into a small tape recorder as she worked methodically from the left to the right of the store.

Two hours later, she had all the information she required and with a sense of accomplishment, made her way back to the cupboard that was positioned in the centre of the store.

Bringing out a cellphone, she dialled in numbers; familiar even in the dark and waited till the person on the other end picked up.

"Sybil? I've got it! Now listen very carefully to the detailed instructions and write them down. Go directly to the service desk, give all the product numbers to the assistant and we'll get all the best bargains while everyone else is still scurrying about."

With that, Doris turned on the tape and smiled in the dark as her own voice filled the cupboard instructing Sybil on prices and product numbers.

She'd spend the rest of the night cramped into an uncomfortable cupboard and she wouldn't be able to leave till the shop doors openedand, more than likely, the sales staff would be surprised at the speed in which Sybil picked her purchases, but at least they'd save a fortune and get the best buys before everyone else.

Professional sales shopping had just been stepped up a notch.

01h16 - Friday, January 27, 2006 - comments {1} - post comment

Week 22 - Terminal

Posted in Prompts

While waiting for your baggage at an airport, you notice a young woman at the baggage carousel. Although it's daytime, she's wearing a black strapless evening gown, high-heeled shoes and coordinated jewelry. She collects a box wrapped in brown paper. What's in the box? Who's she meeting? Why is she dressed to the nines at the airport?

Post by end of day on the 20th for 10 credits. It does help me in posting it on the BA Prompts blog if you title your piece, but you aren't obligated to. Just realize that I name it if you don't and my names suck. Smile

If more than 10 people post, I am still going to draw for a prize, so get those stories in for a chance to win.

She stood next to me at the baggage carousel, looking almost festive in her evening gown and heels, except for the fact that she looked miserable.

Spying a plainly wrapped parcel, she darted forward and grabbed it, hugging the parcel to her chest before ripping it open where she stood.

I couldn't help but look; the contents revealing a soft plaid shirt, jeans and socks. Well worn sneakers were also included, wrapped up in a plastic bag to protect the other items.

The girl buried her head in the package and as I heard her sniffle a little bit, I spied an older woman walking with purpose toward us. She looked a lot like the girl, so I was not surprised when she scooped the young woman up into a hug.

"That bastard," said the older woman as the girl sobbed into her shoulder. "I know you only wanted the parcel, but I thought you might like your mother, too."

01h32 - Sunday, January 22, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 21 - The Closet

Posted in Prompts

While unpacking at your new apartment, you find a box left behind in the corner of the closet. Whats in it? What do the items tell you about the previous resident?

Go for it - 10 credits for posting a story before end of day on the 13th.

Paul and Georgia moved into their new apartment with seemingly little fuss.

They'd scrimped and saved for a few years in order to move to a better neighbourhood and momentarily Paul felt a pang of guilt over the lies that he had told his ex wife in order to get where he was now, but he quickly shrugged it off. He was where he wanted to be and now that he had his new family, he could afford to forget about the old.

Tired of unpacking boxes, Paul decided to go and see where their baby was. She was crawling now and getting into all kinds of mischief and while he wasn't worried about her - it was hard to break what wasn't unpacked, he was feeling lazy and she was the perfect excuse.

He searched all the rooms and couldn't find her. Frowning, he called out to his wife.

"Georgia, where's Emma?"

"She was in the master bedroom when I last saw her. Just go look again," yelled Georgia from the kitchen. "Oh hey, do you want to order something for dinner? Maybe pizza, I can't be fussed with cooking tonight."

"Yeah sure, hang on," Paul said back.

On his way through to the master bedroom, he picked up the cordless phone and dialled in the national number for a popular pizza chain and made their order, still scouting for Emma.

As he hung up the phone, he swung open the doors of the walk in closet and saw his daughter sitting on the floor, half in a box.

"What ya got there bub?" he asked as he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder like a fireman.

She screamed and clapped her hands, a line of drool connecting them from her mouth to the waistline of his jeans.

He brought the box out of the closet and sat down in front of it. Placing Emma in his lap, he started to empty the box of its contents.

"What do you have there?" asked Georgia, bringing in the boxes of pizza.

"Jesus that was fast!" he said in an amazed voice and Georgia looked at him oddly.

"Darling, it was 20 minutes. Hardly fast..."

It was then that Paul realised that Emma was no longer in his lap but sitting as far away as possible from him on the other side of the room.

Emma looked at him oddly as Paul walked over and picked her up before taking her to the kitchen and putting her in her highchair so she could eat.

"Emma found a box in the cupboard," Paul said as he bit into a slice of cheesey heaven.

"What was in it?"

"I can't remember..."

Georgia snorted and poked Paul in the chest. "Lay off the crack pipe buddy," she said giggling. "We'll go look in a minute. After we've eaten."

They finished the pizza and as Georgia wiped pizza grease from her fingers to her jeans, she looked at Paul and said, "in the bedroom?" and he nodded.

Emma cried out and Georgia went back for her and then rejoined Paul in the hallway, placing Emma on the floor once they were in the bedroom.

"Emma found it in the closet," Paul said, walking towards it and opening the door. "There it is!"

He reached down to pick up the box and couldn't lift it.

"Jesus, this is heavy!"

"Oh you man, you," Georgia said, laughing as she joined him in the walk in closet. "How did you get it out before?"

As Georgia bent down to help Paul drag the box out, the doors to the closet slammed shut and there was an instant of silence.

"Open the door...," said Paul.

Emma crept closer to the doors, stopping six feet away and resting on her knees.

She stared, and waited.

When the screaming started, apart from a small initial flinch, there was no other reaction.

Even though Emma was a closet monster, she never quite got used to the ferocity of the screams of the victims when her cousins fed.

Sighing, she stood up, took off her diaper; she hated the damn things anyway, and walked to the front door and opened it.

Time to die so she could come back and do this all over again for the next time her 'real' family became hungry.

01h59 - Thursday, January 12, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 20 - The New Year

Posted in Prompts

Write a story celebrating the New Year.

You get 10 credits for posting your story before the new prompt goes up on Jan 7th.

It's hard to feel celebratory when the person you want most to spend it with can't be there with you.

Birthdays and Christmas are spent apart, where the only closeness you have is throwing on the cam and voice so that he can hear the squeals of excitement and watch the ripping open of presents coupled with yells of "thank you", but it's not the same as getting the full force of a child hurtling toward you in excitement because you were responsible for them receiving the latest Bratz doll or the Magna-Doodle they always play with when you go shopping, and it's not the same as being covered in kid spit as they smoosh kisses all over you because they got a plush horsey toy.

It's not the same to watch on cam, as it is to watch the slow smile from the stoic one as she unwraps clothes she knows is going to make her friends jealous.

New Years is just as hard. I still haven't received my first kiss for the year because the only person I want it from is on the other side of the world. Once again, we can go into voice and sit on cam and sure we enjoy ourselves. We're at least together and spending the time together and I get to say Happy New Year, but, depending on geography and weather, it's not the same as sitting in front of the television watching the ball drop while you're rugged up and snuggling on the couch. It's not the same as standing outside on your front lawn watching the people up the street set off fireworks. It's just not the same.

I'm glad that I feel this way during times of celebration. Even though it's not the same, it's still something and I am happy with what I have, knowing it will get better.

I hope that these times, when I feel most lonely, will always remind me of what I should be grateful for when I no longer have to endure the times when I should be with loved ones, alone.

Times like these will always remind me that there are worse things than petty fights and angry silences. There are worse things than harsh words.

Not being able to hold, and be with the one you love when everyone else can is the worst thing.

01h03 - Tuesday, January 3, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 19 - Happy Holidays

Posted in Prompts

Write a story for the holidays. Use the words Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, snowman, and tree.

Have at 'er.

The three drunk, homeless men sat around the roaring fire underneath the bridge. Each rubbed his hands vigorously to further disperse the heat as puffs of frigid smoke burst forth from chattering teeth and blue lips.

"okay.... so let me get this straight. From the beginning of December to the middle of December, we're all Jewish. We go around hollerin' Happy Hannukah and we do Brachot? Don't care about Brachot but then Sol, you go up to Rabbi's, plead poverty and they give you latkes and stuff to make you leave and then we can bust in on some Dreidel games and use that stuff to put in the pot and if we spin right we can scoop the kitty," said Frank, the first drunk man.

"That's right," said the second man, Solomon. "From 9 till 17 December we scoop up big on Hannukah and if we ration all the takings for that period out and supplement our income by stealing from some street corner Santa's who are in it for the holiday season, we should be able to eke it all out and have ourselves a Merry little Christmas."

All three laughed and stood staring into the fire. Bubba, the third man got up and walked towards a snowman that had been created by children during the daytime when it was reasonably safe to venture out towards the lake. With a sigh of relief he urinated right next to the snowman before falling against a tree and splashing the snowman with steaming urine.

"Hey look!" he cried. "A yellow snowman!"

The other two guffawed and slapped each other across the back as the snowman's face slightly melted in the onslaught of Bubba's rancid piss.

Zipping himself up, Bubba joined the group again.

"Right. So then on Christmas day we hit some missions, eat their food, grab ourselves some gifts and we spend a night on beds, for a change and wake up to a hot breakfast and lo and behold, it's fucking Kwanzaa. I'll go into my schtick and scoop up big on New Year's Eve and I'll come back and divide the goods up. I'll be back in time for us to hit the city and go kissing the women for midnight. Heh heh heh," he leered at Frank and Sol.

"We'll be set till the middle of January!" they all crowed and laughed till others from surrounding barrels of fire looked in their direction.

"What are you lookin' at?" slurred Frank.

"Hey! Happy fucken holidays!" shouted Sol and they all laughed again.

They called themselves the Three Wise Men.

19h36 - Sunday, December 18, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 18 - Hospitals Won't Help Dying Man.

Posted in Prompts

Write a story based on a newspaper headline that reads, "Hospitals Won't Help Dying Man."

The middle aged man staggered up to the desk at the front of the nurse's office.

"Help me, please," he croaked. "I think I'm having a heart attack."

"I see," said the nurse. "First of all we need to fill out this paperwork in order to admit you. Do you smoke?"

"Yes," said the man. "About m..."

"tsk tsk. Smoking is very irresponsible. We don't cover smokers anymore you know. You're draining the health system's resources and it's getting too much for us to cater to the foolishness of people who willingly put cancer into their mouths why only last week a man came in with emphysema and"

"Lady, can I see a fucking doctor?"

"Oh... like that is it, righto. Do you have insurance?"

"Yes. I have insurance."

"Oh good! Could I have your name, address, social security number, name and telephone number of nearest relative living near you but not with you, your insurance policy number and... sir? Sir??

Oh dear..."

19h34 - Sunday, December 18, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 17 - Surprise!

Posted in Prompts

Two cross-country skiers come across an isolated cabin. The front door is open, a hot meal is on the table and a car is in the driveway, but no one appears to be home.

What now?

Two cross-country skiers came across an isolated cabin. The front door stood open, and through snow-numbed noses they could smell what could only be a hot meal emanating from the cabin.

Looking around they spied a car in in the driveway, but other than the car and the hot meal, there were no other signs of life.

"God I'm starving and it smells delicious. What do you think we should do?" asked the first skier, pulling off the iced up balaclava to reveal a beautiful woman with copper coloured curls and porcelain skin, almost as white as the very snow she skied on.

"I don't know..." replied the man with her. He'd only met her last night and for the last 24 hours his life had been a whirlwind adventure with this vivacious woman who seemed to live for risk taking.

"Oh come on!" she laughed, smacking him across his arm lightly with a woollen glove. "Let's at least see what's up."

She skied closer to the house and upon reaching the front entrance she bent down and unsnapped the ski's from her boots. The man watched her as she finished removing the skis and it took him a few moments to realise she was looking back at him over her shoulder.

"You gonna stand there and stare at my ass and freeze all afternoon or you going to come in here with me. I'll bet there's a bed..."

She laughed and stepped into the house.

Sighing with good natured humour, the man slowly made his way up towards the front door and started to remove his own skis.

"You coming? You should see this place!" she yelled from inside.

"Yeah I'm coming. Hang on a second," he yelled back as he stamped excess snow off his boots before entering the house.

He barely had time to acknowledge the silver shape flying towards him as he stepped further into the cabin.

The axe whistling through the air found its resting place after ripping into his stomach and hitting his spine and so fast was the blow that his brain didn't even register it was dying for 2 or 3 seconds.

The last thing he heard was bone crunching as the axe severed his spine, and the last thing he saw as he died were the heads and upper torso's of about a dozen men all mounted on the wall and the beautiful woman smiling, covered in his blood.

19h32 - Sunday, December 18, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 16 - Paper Chase

Posted in Prompts

As you enter a caf�, the wind blows a piece of paper off a patron's table and carries it out the door. He pushes past you but is unable to grab it before it goes down a storm drain. When he returns, he looks at you and says, "You've just killed me." What was so important about the paper? What happens next?

I didn't even see the paper when it flew past me as I entered the caf�, but I certainly saw the frantic man trying to push past me, obviously in a hurry to leave the premises.

"Hey, hey. Where's the fire?" I asked as he eventually brushed past, running up the street.

I soon forgot him, as all I was looking forward to and thinking about was the ultra fatterning hot chocolate, cream and marshmallow creation I'd been hankering for all day. Work had been shit and this was my reward for the cruddy day I'd endured.

I'd earned this.

I sat down with my hot chocolate and opened my book and started to read as I absently pushed the marshmallow into my little cup of heaven.

It was almost dissolved when a hand slammed down on the table and a voice said "You've just killed me."

"No sir, you are seriously mistaken. It's obvious I am going to kill myself, eventually, with this cup of pure sugar I am about to partake in," I replied with good humour. "What's with the drama?"

"When you opened the door, the gust of wind resulting from your actions ripped a piece of paper out of my hands and it flew out the door and even though I gave chase, it went down a storm drain.

It was the address that I was supposed to pick up my wife from and I don't even know where she is. She left it for me in my wallet and I never thought to look at it until I was ready to leave.

She's going to kill me when I don't pick her up."

I looked up at him.

"You know her best friend's number?" I asked him.

As he nodded, I handed him the phone.

"She'll know where she is. You won't be dying today," I said as I smiled at the obvious relief on his face.

Men.

Fucking drama queens...

19h29 - Sunday, December 18, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 15 - Grrrrrr

Posted in Prompts

You've finally snapped. Stress has gotten the better of you, and you can no longer think in long descriptive sentences. Write about the day you lost your mind, using sentences comprised of six words or fewer.

Go for it, kids.

Ten credits, just for posting.

Grrrrrr

God I'm so fucken tired of it. Fight. Don't fight. I don't care anymore.

I see the drama. I used to mend the fences. You say you're past caring. So I stopped.

Duh. You still care. Why you lying to me?

Why give me half the story?

Friends again. More bullshit on the horizon. I know how it's gonna go. Soon. Reeeeeal soon. You'll be fighting again.

I'll see your side. Support you. Watch you fly off the handle. Watch her do it too.

She'll be up my ass cos you're not there. "I don't understand I don't understand."

You both drive me fucken nuts.

Bang your fucken heads together.

20h22 - Saturday, November 19, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 14 - Where Do You Go?

Posted in Prompts

A man takes lunch to his wife's office, where he's told that she hasn't worked there in weeks. What happens now?

From The Writer's Book of Matches

Post your story for an easy 10 credits!

Where Do You Go?

He heard her key in the door and looked up as she entered the room.

"How was your day?" he asked, searching her face for signs of dishonesty. All he saw was fatigue.

"Hard, hon. Yours?"

She fell into the couch, utterly exhausted.

"So so," he replied, wishing he didn't have to lie to her. Truth of the matter was he'd gone to her work today to surprise her with lunch and came away with a surprise of his own.

She hadn't worked there for three weeks and she hadn't told him.

He sat next to her and picked up her hand and held it in his lap. She squeezed his hand, smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's good to be home," she whispered before falling asleep, her head sliding from his shoulder to his chest. Her breathing at first matching his heart beat before slowing down to the speed that normally indicates deep sleep.

Kissing the top of her head, he stared off into space for a half hour before he gently eased his way out from underneath her and went about cooking dinner while she slept what looked like the sleep of the dead.

He woke her so that she had time to shower before dinner and she pulled him into the bathroom with her.

"Don't leave me," she whispered and he undressed himself and her and stepped into the shower with her.

Placing her arms around his neck he gently washed her back and it wasn't until he stepped away from her a bit that he realised she was crying.

"What is it?" he asked. "Please tell me."

"I lost my job," she sobbed, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her voice was muffled, as her lips were pressed to his skin. "I've been looking around and I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd tell me to stay home but I need to do something. I thought if I could find something else then I'd tell you and everything would work out all right but there's nothing out there. Are you mad at me?"

He smiled and squeezed her. "I already knew but I was waiting for you to tell me. I went to take you to lunch today to tell you I was promoted at work. They've asked me to move to another State and I wasn't sure how you would react to it. I know you loved your job and I was taking you out to butter you up, but you weren't there."

She looked him in the eye. "Where have they asked you to go?"

When he told her she gave a small scream of delight and hugged him tight. It was hard finding work when you were a marine biologist and the marine park you worked at fired you when their star dolphin died.

Living closer to the ocean was definitely going to be a step in the right direction.

18h56 - Tuesday, November 15, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Bonus Prompt 2 - Goatnapping

Posted in Extras

Your pet goat is missing. There are eight likely, yet extremely different, suspects. Describe each suspect in detail, his motive and how the �goatnapping� occurred.

For those of you who have come in late, you're probably wondering what's going on; so let me fill you in.

At approximately 6:15am this morning dated 9 November 2005, I walked outside to go and talk to and feed my goat and found only the rope that had been used to tether Francine. I am pissed off.

I have 8 suspects in front of me and, after careful consideration; I have determined who the culprit is. However, in the tradition of those annoying stories where the investigator has to tell you everything before they reveal the criminal, I am about to do the same. I call it the Bore and Snore Manoeuvre.

So now you're caught up with the rest of us.

Take a seat.

I turned to the first suspect.

"Laura... I've seen you eyeing off Francine. Checking out how much milk I get from her every morning. You have 9 kids and they're all lactose intolerant. Soy or goat's milk are the only options open to those kids. No other way to assuage the calcium cravings in your kiddies but through my Francine. Oh yes. I can easily see why you would take her. But.... that would make it awkward for you because we are neighbours. I would know if you were harbouring my Francine as her bleats would arouse my curiosity and I would come looking for her. So no, it is not you Laura. You may go."

"Next, I thought of you, Simon. I'm aware of your future plans to climb mountains in Tibet. You're going to need sweaters. Strong, sturdy and warm sweaters. Sweaters made of Francine's wool! Ahhh what fine sweaters you'd get from her being an Angora. The durability and did I mention the warmth? However, I am also aware of your inability to hold something as delicate as a knitting needle after that nasty cheese-grating incident, so you can't knit! Francine's wool would be useless if you couldn't knit with it so you are excused."

"Then my mind meandered to you, Farmer Brown. Everyone has noticed the appalling lack of gardening acumen possessed by you and have witnessed the robust rising of more weeds than trees have leaves. You'd be grateful to have my Francine eat all those weeds for you as no other animal would eat them and it saves you pulling them out by hand but you know that Francine is allergic to daisies and you have daisies in your paddock so she would be useless to you. Leave, please."

"You David, you I thought of a fair bit. I know of your plans to open the gate of hell on Saturday night. I know you want to summon Satan and I also know that you need the blood of a virgin goat. There is one other thing that I know that you didn't know I knew, but I did know (.....) and that is the liberties you took with my Francine 3 weeks ago when you stumbled into my yard, mumbled the name of your dog and then had intercourse with her. Two things, she would be useless for your gate opening ritual and for the love of god, get some help or get laid. By a woman. Human. Soon. Freak....."

"The next logical choice was Felicity. Felicity has taken on a bold venture and has decided to open a mobile petting zoo and while it's admirable that Felicity wants to do this for the young children in this town, she is also realistic in thinking that she's going to need more than some mice, a couple of kittens and a puppy. A goat would be quite the prize for a woman with Felicity's needs. People would pay to let their children pet my Francine, but until such a time as Felicity gets a car bigger than a Mini, she will have to scratch "goat" off her advertising banners for quite some time."

"Michael Jackson... oh yes, don't think I was going to ignore you. What better way to make sure that your new friends can't testify against you than to make sure they can't talk at all! You can share your bed with whatever you wanted and no one would be any the wiser and no pesky family knocking on your door and accusing you of imprisonment. Perfect set up for misunderstood people such as yourself but then I thought to myself "no, Francine is 14 in goat years and way too old for Michael" and then I realised that she was also the wrong sex, so you are free to go Michael and remember, you're bad."

"Jack, you I had the most trouble with when determining whether you were innocent or not. You're evil, conniving and diabolical. The anti Christ personified, a right royal bastard and I know that you would stop at nothing to get what you wanted and everyone in town knows that you need goat kidneys in order to finish your masterpiece. The jewel in your evil scientist crown. A 10-foot butler made from animal parts, meat products and various kitchen appliances. In fact you were the main suspect until I realised that the rope had been bitten through, which leaves me only....

Nigel.

Nigel, I know you're a troll, I know you're hungry and I know you love goats, but would you leave my fucking goats alone?"

15h28 - Wednesday, November 9, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Bonus Prompt 1 - Condiment Coup

Posted in Extras

Something's rotten in your refrigerator. Write a scene in which the condiments residing in the door shelves plot to take over the prime real estate on the top shelf, front and center. Will milk be spilled? (And who'll be crying?)

Oh god it was going down! Finally it had happened. The steak was turning and all the occupants of the fridge could smell the foul stench of corruption emanating from the top shelf.

Mint, Garlic and Masterfoods Marinade in Red Wine sat quietly in the door shelf watching the goings on of the fruits and vegetables in the crispers down the bottom.

"You know," whispered Garlic to Mint and MMRW "what they need is for a loaf of bread to be tossed in with them and then maybe there would be no more distinctions between fruits and vegetables. They're all from plants, they should learn to get along."

Mint and MMRW nodded sagely.

"I feel so sorry for Tomato," said MMRW, nervously picking her label off her bottle. "They're all screaming that he's not a fruit or a vegetable so what the hell is he? Sitting on the shelf there is only going to bruise his skin." She flaked off more of her label until all she had left was Marina id Win. Mint slapped MMRW's fingers away from the label.

"Will you quit that? Last time you got the kids in trouble doing that shit."

Suddenly, the light gave a low whistle.

Everyone went silent and ran back to their places and stood still. Celery cleared his throat and was quickly shushed, just in time for the door swinging open.

"oh peeeeeeeeeyewwwwwwww! What is that godawful stench?" yelled the ugly human with the facial hair.

"He drinks from the bottle you know" whispered Garlic.

The male turned his head towards the garlic and tightened the lid on the jar, talking to himself.

"No. I thought I smelled garlic but it's something else. Urg! It's the steak!"

The male took the offending steak out and also grabbed the milk before shutting the door.

"Oh no! He got Lucille!" cried Mint as she tried to loosen Garlic's lid a little. "Do you remember what happened to that Orange Juice that visited last week? She was never the same after he was done with her. She screamed every time she saw lips. Even the little ones!"

"You know..." said MMRW, "we never get noticed unless there's a strange smell. I say we make our way to the top shelf before the beer thinks to because I'm nearly up to my use by date and I'm worried I'll be discarded before I've reached my full potential and I don't want to die that way."

Garlic and Mint looked towards the top shelf.

It had never been done before. Condiments? On the top shelf?

It was bold. It was daring.

"Lets do it!" they cried, as they started to move out of the shelf.

MMRW was already on the shelf when the beers saw what she was up to.

"Oh hey! The steaks not even warm yet and already you're jumping in his spot!" yelled Guinness One.

"What? Speak English!" screamed back Mint as she clambered onto the top shelf, hauling herself up next to MMRW.

"Hurry Garlic! Before the beer gets up here!" screamed MMRW, but Garlic was only a small jar and as he made the Herculean effort to join his friends, he half slipped. Mint frantically jumped to the edge of the shelf, extending her hand which Garlic now firmly gripped.

His hand started to slip and he could see Mint edging closer and closer to the edge.

"Damn my heavy glass jar and your sleek plastic tube design! Save yourself Mint and just let me go!" he cried and Mint, sobbing, let go sadly and watched Garlic topple end over end till he dropped to the bottom of the fridge; his lid coming fully off and spilling his guts all over the floor of the fridge.

"Oh my GOD! He's dying!" sobbed MMRW as she peered down between the shelves.

"My eyes! My eyes!" screamed 13 carrots who'd been minding their own business before being splattered with Garlic's innards.

"Utter carnage," whisper Mint in awe. "The devastation is too great. Poor poor Garlic. I'll never forget you...."

The female human arrived home not long after and went to prepare dinner. Opening the fridge, she was met with a mess the likes of which she'd never seen before.

"KIDS!!!!" she yelled. Boy were they gonna get it with this mess and the fridge reeked.

She noticed there was still some garlic left as she put it on the counter.

She stood up and noticed the marinade and the mint on the top shelf. The marinade's label had been peeled again and what were they doing there? They belonged in the door and hoo BOY those kids were in trouble.

"KIDS!!! In here NOW!"

She took the marinade and the mint out and decided she would marinade some steaks. Maybe some minted peas and garlic potatoes... Something special. It had been a while. Where was the steak? Did she need to go back to the shop?

She walked outside and got in the car. It was a good five minutes before she realised that the kids weren't even home for the weekend.

MMRW and Mint winked to each other. Finally they were out of the fridge and their friend Garlic was with them for the end and that's all that counted.

10h07 - Wednesday, November 9, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 13 - Online Relationship

Posted in Prompts

Write about a noise- or a silence- that won't go away.

Prompt is from the Writers' Digest Book, The Pocket Muse

Again, all who participate get 10 credits just for having fun with it. How easier can it be to get credits?

Online Relationship

Fighting again.

I lie in bed and wait for him to get online. My bedroom door is closed and even though I can hear the muted sounds of the television, it is the constant whirr of the fan in my tower that I hear the most clearly.

I've left it on in case there is word from him. The bickering gets to me and I hope it gets to him too. I wait for the "thinking" noises the tower makes when there's a message coming through.

Still, I hear nothing but the fan.

As I close my eyes and sleep, I hope that I will wake up to something from him.

20h30 - Monday, November 7, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 12 - Tree Hugger

Posted in Prompts

She hugged the tree as she looked down at the ground far below. How did she get in the tree? Why is she there? What happens next?

Write!

Well, you guys have spoken and you want credits for participating so that's what you'll get.

Ten credits for each story posted- one per person, please- and no voting. Sound good? Then post a story!

Prompt from http://writersdigest.com

She hugged the tree as she looked down at the ground far below.

She could see the grizzly bear pacing beneath her and a cry involuntarily escaped from her lips when the tree shook with the bear's efforts to get to her.

She slid down the tree trunk a little and sat down on the branch she had been standing on. Straddling the branch for extra support. Her back was aflame with pain and her legs felt like jelly because of her ordeal.

She tried to remember what she'd been told about bears. She knew they climbed trees and she remembered the ranger telling her to climb at least 15 feet should she meet with trouble and sheer terror had fueled her climb up the tree and she knew she was at least 50 feet up.

Perhaps some Pterosaur from the Cretaceous period will now swoop down and pluck me out of the tree and take me to its nest for dinner, she thought drily.

She still couldn't believe how stupid she'd been and the minute she saw the cub, she knew she was in more shit than Buck Rogers, but by then it was too late.

She hadn't even seen the mother bear coming and the few short seconds warning she'd had from the initial bellow to the suffocating avalanche of fur, teeth and claws on her back had been just enough for her to drop to the ground, cover her head and play dead.

The bear had headbutted and clawed at her but she stayed as still as she could, biting back the screams as razor sharp claws bit into her back, moving only when the bear was a safe distance away, back with it's cub.

She got up and ran to the nearest tree and while her movements had further alerted the bear, by the time the bear got anywhere near her she was already rapidly climbing the tree she now found herself sitting in.

Her emergency radio was on the ground, as was her backpack which had been torn from her shoulders with the initial attack.

She lightly tapped her head on the tree trunk.

Blindsided by a fucking bear. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Think girl, think.

She sighed.

All she could do was outwait the bear and hope to god the scent of her blood didn't alert any other local wildlife to her presence.

She gritted her teeth and whimpered as the bear struck the tree again.

It was going to take a while.

18h03 - Saturday, October 29, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 11 - The Little Box

Posted in Prompts

This prompt is very informal, no prizes will be awarded for best one, I just want you to have fun with it and be relaxed.

Start your story with, "She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled."

Write!

Prompt from www.creativewritingprompts.com

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled as she ran her fingers over the velvety smoothness.

She'd waited years for this moment and she couldn't believe that it was finally happening.

So caught up in her own excitement, she skipped a few steps and then, remembering her age, she resumed walking. A brisk walk, but a walk nonetheless.

She and Paul had been together for years and it had been hard work and it had seemed like it would never happen but it finally had and it took all her willpower not to fling her arms out in glee and spin in the middle of the road.

Seeing her destination in sight and no longer able to contain her elation, she ran the rest of the distance. She pulled the box out of her pocket and opened it.

Nestled in the folds of satin, gleaming brightly, sat a ring. Her ring. No one could take it away from her.

She closed her eyes as she closed the box and then tossed it over the side of the bridge. She opened her eyes as the box flew from her hand and she watched it topple over and over in the air before plopping gently into the river where it floated for a few seconds before sinking.

"Shitty box, shitty ring, shitty marriage. Catchya later Asshole cos I am one free lil chicky bird," she whispered to herself.

Then she did laugh. She was free.

Finally.

12h17 - Wednesday, October 26, 2005 - comments {3} - post comment

Week 10 - Hell Hath No Fury

Posted in Prompts

Read a horoscope for today. (It doesn�t have to be yours.) Write about a character who�s experiencing what�s described in the horoscope.

Don't forget to share the horoscope with us.

Write!

Prompt courtesy of: http://creativewritingprompts.com

Cancer - 14th October 2005 - Extended Overview

You're currently all wrapped up in making a relationship work. Whether it's platonic, romantic or professional really doesn't matter. What you're after is to make and keep a promise, and to be sure that the promise or pledge that's been made to you was given with equally honest intentions. There's only one way to figure that out: time. Wait, watch and see. After all, it's one of the things you do best.

Lucille smoothed the tablecloth down and lit the candles. Selecting a quiet and tasteful CD to place in her player, she turned and nervously eyed the table setting.

She really wanted this dinner to go well. It had to be perfect. Seth had been balking at something more permanent for weeks and it was getting to the stage where he was going to lose what he had for good, and what with the pregnancy... well, there was no need for a rush but Lucille was old-fashioned and she wanted the baby born in wedlock.

Seth came running through the house and skidded to a halt when he saw her and the table set for dinner. Lucille held out her arms and he gave a war whoop while he ran over and scooped her up in a bear hug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Grams this looks fantastic! Do you think she'll like it?"

"You'd better hope so buster. The time for fooling around is over and you know it. If you don't ask Julia tonight I'll be very cross with you. She's a wonderful girl"

Lucille beat on Seth's chest till he let her go and planting a quick kiss on the top of her head he climbed the stairs up to his room and en suite so he could get ready for the night.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he turned and looked down at Lucille.

"Julia is going to have a chaperone tonight," he said quietly.

"It's about 2 months too late for a chaperone Seth!" Lucille replied smirking slightly. She was old, but she wasn't dead and she knew what young people were like. She used to be one herself.

"No Grams. It's someone you know. It's funny how it all came about, but well... you'll find out. Shower time!" and with that, Seth turned and continued to his room.

The timer went off in the kitchen and Lucille hurried in and started to organise dinner.

As she was putting the finishing touches on the desserts she heard a car pull up and glancing briefly out the window she saw Julia coming up the path with an older man.

Being a widow, Lucille gave him the quick once over and then nearly dropped the tray holding the desserts in shock.

Could it be?

No it couldn't be. The man she was thinking of died years ago. She even remembered the words his mother said as she cried over the loss of her son.

Lucille had been devastated and she'd left her homeland and grown roots in an entirely new country. New people, new surroundings. A new man, a family.

The odds were... incredible!

Wiping her hands on her apron she walked to the door as the doorbell rang.

Mouth dry, she opened it and Julia smiled as she hugged her and looked more than a little apprehensive..

"Lucille, I'd like you to say hi to my grandfather, John. Apparently you two already know each other..."

"Hello Lucille. It's been a while. How have you been and you haven't changed."

John smiled and looked into Lucille's eyes. The old spark was there.

Now it was time to fill in the blanks. To tell her of his long search for her. To ask for her hand in marriage.

Tonight.

16h50 - Tuesday, October 18, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 9 - Cancer - 14 October 2005

Posted in Prompts

05h16 - Friday, October 14, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Write Your Own Obituary

Posted in Extras

Obituries.

Make them funny and/or unusual. Lets see what you all can come up with.

Merry widow Deb passed away last night leaving her vast estate to a local shark research facility first founded by herself and her beloved second husband and located on her own tropical island paradise.

Choosing never to remarry after what is still referred to worldwide as the most bizarre death ever recorded in the history of the world of her husband, the former first lady dedicated her life to her three favourite passions: her 8 children, the sharks and the gorillas and while most of the world is still in mourning for this life loving woman, her children are organising a luau and will set fire to her coffin and set it adrift where Deb will make her final trip. Back to her husband.

11h09 - Tuesday, October 11, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

Week 8 - Hickory Dictory Dock

Posted in Prompts

Use the first line of a well-known nursery rhyme to start a story.

Write!

Prompt courtesy of: http://creativewritingprompts.com

Hickory Dickory Dock doesn't look like much to the casual observer, but to all who live in the area, she is special.

Though very few adults would admit it, the teenagers who now frequented the dock late at night were very possibly conceived in the exact same spot where they now found themselves: half undressed in the back seats of cars, casting furtive looks out of misted windows for the police officers who made token appearances more to keep the area safe than to bust the young lovers. Still, the odd window tap was considered necessary.

The teenagers would probably die of embarrassment had they, for one second, thought of their parents at the dock, yet thankfully, (due to the ignorance of each generation) this was never an issue for didn't we all invent sex?

Hickory Dickory Dock may look like an unassuming jetty, half submerged in a tranquil lake, but she has many secrets and many stories.

She is a paradox where history continually repeats itself with each new year; each new prom night; each new set of young (and old) lovers.

One only has to ask an old timer to learn of her history, yet so few ask.

21h06 - Sunday, October 2, 2005 - comments {0} - post comment

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Every week at BlogAdvance Community Forums, you can earn yourself 10 credits just for entering the writing prompts. This is a great way to hone your writing skills and have a bit of fun.

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