A Demonic Whinney
/Grady took out his copy of Sleep Hollow from his bag and began to read the story of the headless horseman when he heard a demonic whinney of a horse outside.
Read MoreGrady took out his copy of Sleep Hollow from his bag and began to read the story of the headless horseman when he heard a demonic whinney of a horse outside.
Read MoreSam sighed as he stirred the contents of the silver pot. It just didn’t look right...
Read MoreHe threw down his wand and stormed out...
Read MoreRoss was crouched down in the lane picking the wild yellow roses that seemed to grow in abundance while he whistled a cheerful tune.
Read MoreI had to write about a creepy porcelain doll…
Gabby stared at the nine porcelain dolls lined up along the white shelf above the fireplace. Their faces were cracked with age and abuse except for one. This particular doll had blond curly hair and a blue dress that was tattered, which was the only indication that it had seen years of use. Gabby never liked dolls, they gave her the creeps with their unblinking stares.
“Max,” she called out toward the upstairs bedroom. “Can you hurry up? I want to get out of here.”
“I just need a couple of more minutes. A few more tugs and this old lock will give way, I know it.”
“Great,” she muttered to herself. She cast her gaze over the dolls once again, but this time the blond haired doll was missing.
Okay, I was getting tired by the time we got to this writing exercise, so I was happy that I managed to get all of the words into a coherent blurb.
Castile took long slow blinks as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He really wished he had had that last cup of coffee the barkeep offered. He stared at the golden idol sitting on a stone pedestal at least twenty feet across from him. The trip had taken much longer than he anticipated, two days to cross the Barren Valley, to the base of the Raven Mountains. Now he
When donkeys and criminals end up together, all I can think about is the old west and that something must have gone wrong.
Rickie and Jax were riding down the dusty road as quickly as possible, “Is this really the best you could do?” Jax gestured to the donkey he was now riding. “I mean, we’re criminals,” he blurted out with exasperation.
“Well, then the next time you get yourself arrested by the sheriff, make sure you don’t gamble away our horses first!” Rickie yelled back.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re the leader of our gang,” he muttered under his breath.
Maybe it’s the influence of Outlander, but how could “Pipes” and “Dance” appear in the same exercise, and I not set the story in Scotland? For me, it was impossible.
Sam listened from the balcony as the bagpipes kicked up into a frenzy. Below, the hall was covered in intricate tapestries whose gold thread glowed in the candlelight. From his vantage point, he could see the women dancing and laughing with the men who were, not yet, completely inebriated, but well on their way. He was pleased that the celebration was going so well, but something in the shadows caught his eye. In the far corner, there was a woman who seemed distraught as a man was trying to pull her through the doorway. “Stop,” he yelled out. His demand penetrated the sounds filling the hall instantly casting the room into silence.
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The below words were picked and we had 5 minutes to write our response. As soon as these words were chosen, I knew that I would use Paisley as my character’s name. That’s what provided the spark for my blurb. What would be your inspiration?
Paisley looked at the bottle in his hand. He still wasn’t sure how it got there and he didn’t want to know what the red liquid inside it was. He cautiously placed the bottle on the floor of his bedroom nervous that its contents may spill and started to look for anything that would jog his memory about the last twenty-four hours. Paisley emptied his pockets and, aside from a gift card to the mall and some lint, nothing. He stared at his reflection in the mirror trying to force himself to remember something, anything. That’s when a murky image appeared in the mirror beckoning him to come closer. His brain shouted at him to run, but his legs seemed to move with a life of their own bringing him closer.
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The below three words had to be used in this exercise and we had 5 minutes to write something. For this exercise, the word “Persnickety” was what really drove the direction of my story. It had to be about someone who wasn’t nice. Which word would have inspired you?
I rushed around the garden to gather the last of the ingredients that were needed, but slowed as I approached the peppers, so that I could be sure that I picked the biggest one. This was going to be the most important item of them all and I felt giddy as I brought the shiny red beauty inside. Quickly, I began to chop. This had to be done before she got home. My nose involuntarily scrunched as her image came to mind and her terrible persnickety attitude, but tonight that was all going to change. With glee, I dropped the herbs and vegetables into the cauldron of boiling water, and then added a dash of salt. That’s when my doorbell rang. Looking through the peep hole, I saw that she had arrived and she was going to make a delicious entrée.
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