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Archive for the ‘Writing Prompts’ Category

The computer crashed — Mikal’s Response

Friday, April 16th, 2010

My computer crashed last week.

What a frustrating experience! I back up every week, but unfortunately, it crashed on the morning of back up day. A week’s worth of work, gone in an instance.

I’m not one to cry, but losing a week’s worth of writing is just about the worst experience in the world. I’ve lost more than that in prior crashes, but I felt worse about this one: I’d been doing everything right!

Luckily, I’m also pretty handy with computers, so I was able to recover most of my data. It took four hours, but I recovered almost all of the work I’d done over the past 7 days.

What a relief!

I’ve started a new policy: a daily backup. I don’t ever want to lose more than a day’s worth of work.

In fact, I just kicked it off, so data is copying in the background. I’m feeling much better about …

As I was finishing that thought, the walls start shaking, and I hear a loud rumble. I start to get up to go to the window, when the window suddenly started moving towards me!

I scrambled back, under a table, vaguely remembering that was the safest place in the case of an earthquake. I had no idea what was going on, but it seemed like a better idea than staying in the middle of the room.

The rumbling slowly stopped, the crunching of the broken wood fading into silence. I slowly crawled out from beneath the table.

As the dust settled, I slowly started to make out the shape of a large dump truck. A small yellow sign faded into view through the dust:

“Watch for vehicle when backing up.”

Lock your windows — Kaylaisweird’s response

Friday, April 2nd, 2010

This response to our writing prompt was written by Kaylaisweird, one of our recently joined members.  Enjoy her somewhat spooky response!

The taste inside my mouth is an empty one.

Shallow, flavorless, nothing.

I try to recall all of the different times that this has happened, and only come up with two. The last occasion was when my father had this syndrome that made his entire left side of his body go numb; and I just watched in terror while the paramedics tried to stop the convulsing.

I remember it distantly, much so like a hazy dream that once burned alive with clarity and now is settled into a pile of dust and coals.

This time it is nothing like that. Everything is vivid and filled with color. I’ve been staring at the same crack in the cement for over an hour and I don’t believe that I’ve even blinked once. My mother was carried away, under a sheet on a stretcher. The blood on my hands is a deep, sticky brown that closely resembles mud and I don’t think it will ever come out from beneath my fingernails.

I hope…that someday, somewhere…someone will give that bastard a taste of his own medicine. The police told me that it looked like it was just a typical break-in that didn’t go as planned.

I know that they’re just doing their jobs, but if you want my opinion…I would keep a gun by your bedside and lock all your windows.

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