Writing Prompt Week: Day Four

It's day four already! We're half way there.

Yesterday's piece was an interesting example of what could go wrong when you accept a certified person's help. It was the longest one yet. Let's see today's prompt, shall we?

Activating the RANDOMIZER!

...11! Let's see what the prompt says:

Below are three sets of words. Use all the words in each set to create a mini story of 300 words or less.

Set one: paper clips, principal, swing, girl with a pink ribbon.

Set two: biology, foreign student, leaf, blood sample.

Set three: type writer, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor.

So I'm writing three different stories? Ah, so today I will be writing microfiction. I've never written microfiction before. Microfiction is generally below 300 words, as said above. Because of its length, it is very, very hard to write good microfiction. The market for it is growing, however. Magazines, especially ones about writing, are interested in it. This will be fun! Let's begin!

___
Story one, set one. (paper clips, principal, swing, girl with a pink ribbon)

Alone.

It was a cold, bitter day as the little girl sat unmoving on a swing, waiting, her pink ribbon fluttering limply in the wind. She had been waiting for them, arms open and their gazes warm. A man dressed in a suit approached her; she recognized him as the principal with his fancy suit and wiry hair. In his hand he held a small bundle of paper held together by a red paperclip. He stood by her silently and handed her the paper so she could read it herself. She read them then threw them away, shaking her head furiously, tears building in her eyes. Images of a man and woman holding her and smiling burned in her mind. The principal patted her back.

"You can stop waiting Anna," he said, "they won't be here to pick you up from school anymore."

____

Story two, word set two.(biology, foreign student, leaf, blood sample.)

Found him?

It had been eight years. Eight years without sight of his father, eight years of nervousness. Now Kei was positive that this was the man he had been waiting for in this school building; his very own father. A leaf fell slowly to the ground and Kei grabbed and examined it. He chuckled. The gently falling leaves here reminded him of the cherry blossoms back home in Japan. He let out an even louder laugh when he realized that he, now a foreign exchange student for Pete's sake, had come all the way to America just to see if this mystery man was truly his father. He was quite positive that he was. Their DNA from the blood sample matched completely.

Kei's fists clenched as he approached the classroom door. His "father" supposedly taught biology.

What if all of this was for nothing? He's been hiding for years, what if he doesn't even know me?

Kei took a shuddering breath and entered the room. A slender Japanese man turned his head at the sound of the door and looked at Kei. He removed his glasses from his aging face and rubbed his eyes.

"Dad?" Kei said.

"Kei?" the man said. Tears sprung up in the old man's eyes and he ran to embrace his son. "It's you. It's my boy. I've found my boy."

____

Story three, word set three,
(type writer, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor.)

Work For It.

Clack, clack, clack, went the old typewriter. The sound was accompanied by the sound of a file cabinet opening and closing. These were all sounds that the janitor of Paper Inc. was very used to. Every day was the same old thing, nothing new, nothing changing. No matter how long he waited, nothing ever good happened to him. Not a good enough girl,not a good enough job, nothing ever came to him. He had waited so long for something special, because he knew that he deserved it. But while others got a diploma and others became famous, he still remained as poor as ever. He stopped in the middle of his mopping of the girl's bathroom to let out a sigh.

"Why can't something good happen to me?" he said.

A young clerk walked into the bathroom just at that moment.

"What is up with that guy and his carbon paper-Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were cleaning in here." she said. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't have a good life," the janitor complained.

The girl paused then smiled. Knowingly she opened her mouth and said,

"Did you ever actually try to get one?"

_________


Well there you have it folks, three different stories! I had a lot of fun with this one. Did you like any of them in particular? Did some not make so much sense? Looking back all of them are a little crazy. Tune in tomorrow for some more writing fun!

Writing Prompt Week: Day Three

Hello and welcome to the third day of writing prompt week! And I'm sure it's going to be an exciting one! Yesterday I was feeling a little floopy, but now I feel as right as rain so this is sure to be an exciting adventure for you and for me.

I think we all know the rules by now. (Get the prompt, follow the directions, no editing.)

Let's activate the RANDOMATOR!

115! Let's see what it says.

"Here is a 90 second drill: In ninety seconds make a list of objects that you would find in a hospital. When the ninety seconds are up, use all the objects you listed in a story, except the story can not take place in or near a hospital."


Sounds challenging! I bet I can make a list of things in a hospital easily though.

Hospital bed.

syringe

waiting room.

blood pressure thingy

nurse

....Okay. That is the smallest list I've ever seen... I have to go with it though. Here I go!


It had been an accident. No one had expected it to happen. It was something that the people thought would never happen. This injured bullfighter was a professional, and had never once had a scar.

Rodger Dye lay face up on the freshly trodden dirt of the bull fighting arena, trying not to faint from the lack of blood and seem more pathetic than he did right then.

The people at the arena offered to take him to the closest medical facility, but Rodger demanded that the professionals be brought to him.

It was high noon and the sun blinded him, but he just stayed there, waiting for help to arrive. A large shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a muscular man gazing at him.

"What, haven't you ever seen a man gored by a bull before?" Rodger said testily.

The man shook his head and bent down to examine Rodger's wounds.

"I have, but I haven't seen a man gored by two different bulls before. You're special, man. How on earth could you manage to do that?"

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I'm bleeding to death here. The least you could do is send for a doctor or something."

The man straightened and said proudly, "I am a doctor!"

Rodger grinned and sat up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He didn't want to see the bull horn that was embedded in it.

"Great," Rodger said, "finally someone certified to help me."

"Well, actually, I'm not a doctor really. I'm a nurse."

"Aren't you a little too masculine to be a nurse?"

Rodger knew he had triggered something in the tall nurse's soul when he said that. The nurse put his hands on his hips and glared at Rodger with his eye. The other eye was covered with an eye patch.

"Listen, bub. Guys can be nurses too. In fact, they make better nurses. This is a free country isn't it? The nerve of some people. Why, in my day..." the nurse trailed off into a long, long rant. It was boring, too, so Rodger stopped paying attention after five minutes and started counting his wounds.

He had a bull horn in each shoulder, each from a different bull. Somehow Pete and Sweet the bulls got out at simultaneously attacked Rodger. Rodger had never before been injured in a bullfight. He was covered in scratches, all of them bleeding profusely. As the nurse drawled on, Rodger counted the little red specks that were dancing around his eyes.

"Oooh...pretty," Rodger said dreamily.

The nurse snapped back into reality and gasped.

"Oh no! You're bleeding to death!"

"Yeah, I know. Some assistance, please?"

"Okay, okay, no worries. I have this covered. First, I have to go through all of the basics!" the nurse said.

"The basics!?"

"Yes, first I have to take your blood pressure with this blood pressure...thingy."

"Thingy? Listen, I barely have any blood left."

The nurse ignored this and wrapped the lengthy device around Rodger's arm. An alarmed look spread over the nurse's scarred face.

"Oh no, your blood pressure is low!"

Rodger didn't answer. He didn't have the strength to. All he could think was, Oh God, I'm going to die because a nurse who looks like someone out of Rambo is going through all of the 'basics'. He felt something sharp jab into his arm and let out a cry. The nurse chuckled and pulled the syringe out of Rodger's arm.

"Don't worry, I'm just taking a blood sample," the nurse said.

Rodger no longer felt light headed. He felt pretty close to dead.

"I...need to go to a...Are you sure a professional?" Rodger gasped.

The nurse put a hand over his heart.

"Of course. I got my Nurse Certificate from some old sage guy in Korea."

"Sage guy..?"

"They are the forefathers of medicine you know. It took me a while to get the certificate from him, but after I held him at knife point for a while he drew me out one lickity split!" The nurse held up a crumpled napkin that read, "Certified, Nurse" in pencil.

Rodger let out a groan before everything faded to black.


Rodger woke up, startled at the fact that he was not dead. His eyes struggled to focus, however, so he relied on the sounds and smells around him to tell him where he was. The sound of a fire, warm and comforting. The smell of freshly baked cookies. The sound of a knife being sharpened. All warm, comforting thin-

Rodger bolted up and looked around himself. He saw that he was in a hut constructed of bamboo, with a fire blazing in the middle. He knew that he was lying in a hospital bed, but no other hospital like things in sight. Pictures hung on the wall. Pictures of Nurse doing things like gutting a pig, wrestling a bear, and saving a marine from a pipe bomb. The nurse himself was in a corner, sharpening his knife. He looked up and smiled at Rodger. The nurse had lost quite a few teeth.

"Glad to see you're alive-er-awake!"

"Where the heck am I?"

"You're in my house. I brought you here because it was close. It's comforting, isn't it?"

If guns on the walls and knives being sharpened was considered comforting, then this had to be the most comforting place in the world.

"Let me go," Rodger said.

"No problem! You'll just have to sit in the waiting room while I get your form signed." The nurse motioned to a chair in the corner of the hut covered in suspicious magazines. Rodger limped over, his fear masking his pain.

Who is this guy, Rodger thought, an assassin? A loon? A crook? Whoever he is, I am never going to ask for professional help again!

The nurse stamped a piece of paper and handed it to him.

"You're free to go!"

The paper read,

"You're free to go. Signed, Nurse. AKA. Horton Hughs, the greatest soldier of all time."

___

Well there you go! That was certainly an odd story. Comment are appreciated and tune in tomorrow for another prompt!

Writing Prompt Week: Day Two

Hello all and welcome to day two of writing prompt week! (Ignore the fact that the date for the previous post was off.)

Yesterday was certainly an exciting day for writing, was it not? Sure, I may have gone a little overboard with the whole, "taking over the world" thing, but that's just minor right?

Right.

Anyway, I suppose I should activate the RANDOMATOR now and get my writing prompt for today.

Activating the RANDOMATOR...

I got 169! Let's see what my prompt says..

"Flesh out this character: Juliana Ritter, 53; she is an extrovert but easily depressed."

Hmm, sounds difficult, but doable. Here we go....

Juliana Ritter was standing in the middle of the room, smiling to herself. She watched each of the party goers, deciding which one she should talk to first. The idea of talking to someone-anyone- excited her.

One person was wearing a rainbow tie and seemed proud of it. Another was dancing like she never danced before to some song that kept repeating the word "maniac". There were people just standing, drinks in hand, talking to eachother. She was so excited with the idea of talking to everyone in the room that she couldn't decide who to talk to first.

There was a girl in her twenties, pretty, but had a scar on her forehead that was long and very visible. Juliana wished to ask her about that scar because she was sure there was an interesting story behind it.

There was another guy in the back who was fat and bald, but was also really young looking.

Does he have some kind of genetic disorder that makes his head like that, Juliana thought happily, oh, I will have to ask him. So interesting a conversation would that be.

The truth was that Juliana loved talking. She did not enjoy small talk, however. She was only interested in the good parts of the conversation, the juicy bits. To her, talking about weather or how someone is doing was a waste of her time. She longed to talk about the dirty secrets, like how that young girl got her scar, for instance.

Juliana walked up to the girl and smiled brightly at her.

"Um, hello?" the girl said uncomfortably.

"Hello, where on earth did you get that marvelous scar!? I must know, please!" Julia exclaimed.

The girl gasped and touched her forehead. With her hand still on her face she said, "That's none of your business! Do I like, know you?"

"No, but I'm sure I'd like to know about your scar!" Julie answered.

The girl gave out a snort and tromped away. Julie felt very depressed. What could she have said that was so offensive?

After all, I was only bringing up a friendly conversation.

Julie wallowed in her fruit punch, wondering what she had did wrong. She had always considered herself a polite and tactful person. She always said "please" and "thank you", "you're welcome" and "I'd rather not". What could she be doing wrong?

Seeing the ugly man in the back of the room, hope was restored to Juliana. Perhaps I can make a friend after all!

"Hello there, kind sir. I can't help but notice that you are fat and bald, but are also incredibly young looking. Tell me, please, is this due to a genetic disorder of some sort?"

Baldy's eyes grew wide for a long time. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Is this some kind of a joke, lady?"

"Of course not! I am simply inquiring-"

"Well stop it! You think it's nice to make fun of me."

"I said please."

"You think it's funny? YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY?"

His face a burning red, the young man stormed off, leaving Juliana shaking her head. She felt so sad, not being able to know if the man was just fat or suffering from a disease. She did not let herself be down for too long, however.

"My my, what an impolite young man. He must not know his manners at all. I said please and thank you, just like my mother taught me," she said sadly to herself, "And by golly, I'm going to stick to my dear old mother's advice, may she rest in peace!"

Still confused and heart broken from a lack of proper social interaction, Juliana Ritter stormed off.

________

Well, that was...interesting. You see, my young friends, this is what you get for making something up as you go along. (It was in the rules though, see DAY ONE)

Did you like this piece? Maybe not? Either way, post comments in the bottom and tune in tomorrow for another exciting adventure.