Feet

Today the writing prompt comes from Meredith Sue Williams' webpage (exercise #4). 
You are in a waiting room (doctor's office, job interview, etc.). People are sitting more or less in a circle. Describe several of them -- focussing only on their feet! Type of shoes, cleanliness and condition of shoes, toes if they show, how they let their feet rest. Are they quiet or do the feet move? What can you tell about the person from the feet?

Black leather school shoes are divided by a large dark backpack.  Long grey socks grow from the soles of the shoes.  One shoe bounces repeatedly, up and down, up and down.  The long grey sock begins to scrunch up and slip toward the floor.  Beside the shined black leather school shoes, there is a pair of leather sandals.  The brown straps cross the petite feet again and again.  Ten painted toe nails, perfectly manicured, protrude from the designer beachwear.  One foot wriggles inside it's leather prision and a hand, with matching fingernails appears to adjust a strap.  

"Michael Dawson."

The black leather school shoe halts.  The sandalled feet spasm as their owner stands.  Four shoes step slowly towards the voice at the purple door.  A pair of brown loafers greet them and turn to lead them down the long white hall on the other side of the purple door. 

Back in the waiting room, a pair of red stilettos curl up under their chair, as an old pair of tennis shoes enter the room.  Two small, bare feet follow the tennis shoes.  Kicking out at strange angles the feet eventually settle as their owner climbs onto a lap.  The tiny toes scrunch and stretch at the end of the dangling limbs.  The red stillettos begin to bounce in turn.  Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. 

"Esther French." The red stillettos click towards the brown loafers.  Black leather school shoes and brown sandals block the way.  For a moment, all four pairs of schoes seem to freeze as if in a shop window.  Then all at once they part and the silence is lost in the hustle and bustle of the day.  An old grey tennis shoe begins to bounce.  

The kids come first!

I was going to apologise for my resecnt absence from the blogosphere.  It has been more than a week since I have been around.  I did post this morning, but before that, it was a long time.  I decided last night while I was heading to bed, that I would explain my disappearing act but I would not apologise for it.  I have not been blogging because I have been working. 


School recommenced for us (Queensland schools) on Monday.  That means that my colleagues and I started attending profesional development sessions and curriculum planning meetings during the previous week.  Some of us even met in the first and second weeks in January to discuss strategic plans for our schools and programs to be launched this year.


Last week I got a bit snowed under with the preparation for the new school year, meetings and lesson planning.  Truth be told: I am still a bit snowed under.  I am yet to finish writing my year 9 unit that is supposed to commence next week!  Right after lunch I'm going to dive into unit planning.  Pinterest will be minimised! 
The kids are my first priority. It is important to me that my students have teachers who are informed and equipped to give them exactly what they need.  Thereforethe blog is sometimes left by the wayside. 


Don't worry, I will make it up to you.  The next few days will wrap up creative writing month and you will then have about 20-25 writing prompts/ websites and teaching ideas for writing in the classroom (if you are a teacher).  If you are a writer, I hope you will find inspiration.  If you are a reader, I hope you will have a month of entertaining reading... well somewhat entertaining.  Then February will be here before you know it! 
:) M

I used to think...

Number 100 from http://creativewritingprompts.com/ write for ten minutes using "I used to think..." as a starter.  Before I give you my response (which I think took more than ten minutes) I would like to tell you how this might be used in the classroom.  I think it would be a great reflection tool for the end of a unit of study; students can discuss the misconceptions they had at the beginning of the unit and what they know now.  The end of the school year would also provide a good opportunity for students to write about changes in their thoughts.  I am thinking about using this starter to write something a little more fun and cute which may end up as a nice example for kids using this starter. 

I used to think that I had it all figured out. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that marriage made me immune to heartbreak. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that being dedicated made me better than people who weren't. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that I was stupid. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that what other people thought of me was important. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that I was independent and didn't need other people in my life. 

I was wrong. 

I used to think that wanting something was enough to make it mine.

I was wrong.

I used to think that having an audience was proof that someone had something important to say. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that honesty was saying exactly what I was thinking when I was thinking it. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that everything everyone said meant something else. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that my family was always right. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that my best wasn't good enough. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that my church was my home and I would never leave it. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that I was the only one who felt like me and no one understood. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that I had to defend myself and my beliefs and my actions to anyone who questioned me.  I was wrong.

I used to think that my house had to be immaculately clean for guests to enter it. 

I was wrong. 

I used to think that I had to be organised and efficient and please everyone. 

I was wrong.

I used to think that I was right. 

I was wrong.

Now I think differently. 

A Perfect World

Today's Prompt comes from Creative Writing Prompts (one of my most visited places for inspiration).  Number 126: Describe a perfect world.  I chose to write a free verse poem.

No War

No Poverty

No Hunger

No Greed

There is Love

There is Hope

There is Joy

There is Prayer

Enough for all

Enough forever

Enough for each other

Enough and More

People who Care

Places of Peace

Time to Continue

Reason Restored

Good-bye

Today's writing prompt comes from the Writing Fix random prompt generator.  It is an intriguing concept and one that I am planning on using in my classroom in the future.  As teachers we often give students a sentence or story starter.  Instead why not give the last word of the piece. 

The last word of your piece must be "good-bye"

The silver doors were stained with fingerprints. Ding! The doors slid open to release a stream of people.  Wave after wave, the people spilled out into the hallway.  Lisa stepped inside the elevator.  She was followed by a similar stream of people as the one that had just exited the tiny space.  She leaned against the wall and waited for the "5" to light up.  She took a deep breath.  She had taken this ride several times a day for the past week.  It was almost second nature now.  It was all she could remember.  This hospital.  This lift.  These hallways.  Ding!  The doors parted and she manouvred her way over the threshold.  The doors closed.  Lisa hesitated for just a moment.  Despite the repetition in her recent past, she always felt lost when she stepped out of the elevator.  She turned left and headed for the ICU. 
At the end of the hallway was a locked door.  A speaker box protruded from the adjacent wall.  She pressed the button and waited.  "Bed number and patient name please?" crackled the disembodied voice. 
"Bed 8.  Davidson."
Lisa leaned back and waited for the voice to let her in.

BUZZ! "Come in"

Lisa leaned forward and pushed the heavy door with all her might.  She navigated her way through the twists and turns of the ICU and came to her Grandfather's room.  The nurse was sitting at the desk scribbling on a chart.  The monitors looked steady.  "Good Morning," Lisa said cheerfully to the nurse, who looked up with a smile.  "Hello Lisa," he replied. 
"How did he go last night?" she asked, trying to hide her concern. 
"No problems, you can go on in, but keep it down" he replied with a wink.
Lisa smiled as she leaned on the swinging door. "Hiya, Pops," she called to her grandfather as she turned to the sink to wash up and get a gown on.  "I'm on my own this morning, Gran needed a rest, but she will be in after lunch.  How are you feeling this morning?" The words came out in a rush and Pops just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  "Okay, stupid question," Lisa muttered as she pulled up a chair.

"What's that?" asked Pops, pointing to the newspaper in her hand. 
"Oh, I brought you the paper," Lisa replied.  "Would you like me to read a bit to you?" she asked. 
"Hhhmm, what's on the front page?"  he asked. 
Lisa held it up for him to see.  "It's not too cheery is it?"  she commented. 
"Read the obituaries, then."
"I already did, you're not in there."
"Hhmph," he smirked.

Lisa began to read out the names slowly.  After each one, Pops said, "don't know him."
"Anything else you would like me to read for you Pops?" Lisa asked, "What about the funnies?"
"No, that's enough of that," his voice was deep and strong. 
The nurse entered the room and nodded in Lisa's direction.  "I just need to check a few things, it might be good if you slip out for a bit." 
"I'll be back soon, Pops," replied Lisa with a squeeze of his hand before she turned back to the sink. 

###

The day continued much the same as it began.  The nurses changed shifts at 12 noon and Lisa met the new nurse before she went downstairs to meet the rest of the family.  After lunch in the cafeteria they all traipsed up to the ICU waiting room.  Only two vistors at a time were allowed to see each patient.  So the family paired up and waited for their turn.  Gran and Lisa's mum went first.

"Are you all packed?" Lisa's uncle, Jim, asked quietly. Lisa nodded.  "We will miss you around here, you know,"  he said. 
"Oh, I know," she grinned at him.  "He is doing okay now.  He told me yesterday that I should go home.  I do need to get back to work," she frowned.
"Don't worry about it," Jim reassured her.
"All you have to do is call, and I will come back, okay?" 
"Okay." Jim nodded. 
Lisa's mum, Miranda, rattled down the hallway.  "Okay, Lisa, you better see him now.  You will have to leave soon." 

Lisa pulled herself out of the chair and retraced her steps from the morning.  She greeted the nurse with a smile and stood outside the room watching Pops and Gran for a few minutes.  They were so in love.  It was hard for them to be away from each other.  Pops was holding Gran's hand as she sat in a wheelchair that was pulled close to the bed.  They were chatting.  It was probably about nothing in particular, but Lisa waited just the same. 

Pops noticed her then, and waved her in.  She pushed the door and scrubbed up.  "I'm ba-ack," Lisa sang as she approached the bed.  "You're going home tonight," Pops said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," she replied, "they told me you need a bit of peace and quiet, so I figured that meant I should go away." 
"You do natter on a bit."  Pops smirked.
"I didn't see anyone else reading you the paper," roused Gran.
"It's okay, Gran.  If he can tease me, he must be better," Lisa smiled as he took her hand and squeezed it.  "Now, if anything happens, or you need me for anything, or you miss me, all you have to do is call.  I can hop a plane faster than you can say Jack Robinson."  Lisa patted Pops' arm.  All three of them sat quietly for a long time.  But it still didn't seem long enough. 
"Righto," Pops broke the silence, "you better get going or you will miss your plane."
"I suppose so," Lisa rose from her chair.  "Bye Gran.  Bye Pops," Lisa hugged and kissed them both.  She stripped off her gown and washed her hands again. 
"Good Bye," Pops muttered
"I love you guys," Lisa called as she left the room.
Gran and Pops looked at each other and smiled.  Lisa hurried out to the waiting room and sighed.  Somehow she knew.  That was the last time he would tell her good-bye.

Stories without Words

You can see the image (click it for the source) is my writing prompt today. 

This picture reminds me of the conversation that Jimmy Stewart has with his sweetheart in "It's a Wonderful Life" when he tells her that he will give her the moon. 

It looks to me as though this little boy is really going to dip his net in the water and pull out the moon in all it's shining glory. I can see him pushing the moon into his backpack, zipping it up and sprinting home to show his family.  I can hear him calling his mum, as he bursts through the back door, pulls off his backpack and runs toward her answer all at once.  I can see him tugging at his backpack until the giant silvery ball comes rolling out onto the floor.  I can see his grinning face, beaming with pride as he says, "Mum, look, I caught the moon!" 

There are so many responses that Mum could give...

1. The moon is for everyone, take it back right now!
2. Oh, Darling, you must be the first kid to bring the moon home to his Mother.  I'm so proud of you.
3. How many times have I told you not to bring home the things you find in the lake?
4. Don't be silly dear, you can't fit the moon in your backpack and bring it home. That's impossible.
5. You don't have to bring me the moon, I love you no matter what. 

I think my mother would respond with a mixture of one, three and four. 

Well that's that for this week.

Summer

The season brings a number of writing prompts.  So today I have written a poem or two about Summer.  Click on the poem type for further details on structure. 

Cinquain:

Summer
Hot, Sticky
Sweating, Drinking, Swimming,
Always seeking cool relief
Holiday


Haiku:

Season of long days
brings hot and stormy weather.
The heat makes me yawn.



A late night

The story I began yesterday will be finished one day.  One day, not today.  My writing prompt today is the situation I am finding myself in.  It is a late night.  I like to write my blog posts the night before or even a few days in advance and schedule them so that it appears that I am blogging each morning.  I do this so that my beautifully flowing creative times can feed into the times when I am lost for time or ideas.  But it is late the night before tomorrow and I have not written the morning's blog.  That sounds very DR SEUSS.  I am simply going to write, no editing or revision.  So forgive please my mistakes.   

So: a late night...

She lays in bed, staring at the ceiling.  It is very dark.  She wonders what time it is.  The clock is ticking.  Her feet are sore, they feel heavy and twisted under the blanket. Her back is crooked, or at least it feels crooked.  She turns her head to look out the window.  There is a sliver of moonlight shining through the curtains onto the bed and the carpet.  There is a cat in the backyard.  It looks like it might be a cat.

The cat is curled into a spiral on the grass.  His eyes are closed, head resting on front paws.  His tail flicks upwards now and then.  Moonlight catches on his shiny fur.  Air flows through small lungs as the dozing cat breathes deeply.  His ears prick up as the hoot of an Owl echoes from the tree tops. 

The owls eyes are wide and bright.  Staring into the night they see crawling creatures of the dark.  Feathers bristle in the cool night air and the owl shifts from one claw to the other.  The height of the tree allows for a broad view.  He puffs up his plumage and hoots again.  Quickly turning his head to catch the rustle in the neighboring tree.  A possum stares back at him. 

The possum leaps from the branches and lands with a thud on the roof of the house.  She scurries across the wavy platform.  Reaching the peak of the roof she balances for a moment and looks back toward the garden.  Then turns and continues on her hunt. 

The woman below is startled.  She sits upright in bed and searches the ceiling quizzically.  Then she flops back down on her bed.  "Stupid Possum, I was finally asleep!"

the ball, the box and the remote control

I asked the BFF to help out with today's writing prompt which I found at lightening bug and modified a little bit.  The exercise was to ask a friend to choose an object and then write about it.  I didn't like any of the objects that the BFF chose, but after the third one I got the impression that she wasn't going to choose another one for me.  I decided to write about all three.  You may have figured out that the three objects are: ball, box and remote control.  This is what happened...

The red ball rolled steadily across the grass and stopped at her feet.  She stooped down to retrieve it.  When she traced the path of the ball with her eyes, she saw a little boy standing at the edge of the playground.  He was a thin 7 year old, standing still as a statue and staring at her quizzically.  She smiled at him.  He grinned back and held out his hands.  She placed it back on the grass and kicked it gently in his direction. He ran for the ball and returned to the game.  Stella continued towards the big tree in the middle of the park.  Where was Danni?  She was always running late. 

Danni jumped out from behind the tree, scaring Stella out of her skin.  Danni was carrying a box.  A big red box. 

Stella took the remote control out of her pocket.  Well, that was the signal.  A red ball and now a red box.  So she looked down at the remote and pressed the red button.  Suddenly, Stella could see nothing but red clouds swirling around her and she was spinning out of control.  This happened everytime Stella pressed a button on the remote control but she never got used to it. 

When the spinning stopped and the red clouds parted, Stella was very surprised by what she saw.  Standing in front of her was Danni looking bewildered and ill.  This was very odd.  Stella had been transported to some very strange places by the remote, but it had never yanked anyone along for the ride.  That's when she felt the hand patting her repeatedly on the back.  She turned to see the thin seven year old boy with a red ball, looking up at her.  What was going on? 

Stella crouched on the ground and covered her head with her arms.  Something was very wrong.  The remote had pulled Danni and this little boy into this fantasy land.  There was no telling what mysteries or strange creatures might be here.  She had to work out what had happened and get them out of here as soon as possible....

You know what? This might have to be continued. 

BTW I have to put in a disclaimer about the BFF.  She is beautiful.  She is incredibly patient.  Apparently, there are times when I convey her as a bit of an impatient cranky pants.  So, I want to reiterate how much we love her.  She is not at all impatient and not at all a cranky pants.  Enough said.

:) M

Bridges

Today's writing prompt comes from 365 picture prompts.  Click on the picture to go to the website.  The photos change everyday.  This picture was from January 9 and was contributed to the site by Judy Wood (the photographer, not the scientist). 

The chasm loomed ahead of us.  It would be unimaginative to tell you that I accidentally kicked a rock and it fell to the bottom of the seemingly bottomless canyon.  But, that really did happen.  The hike was going so nicely, unfortunately no one told me about this part.  Looking over the edge made me a little giddy. 

'What on earth possessed me to go hiking with these people?  I can't remember how I got here.  Really, I can't.' 

I could hear a voice, but what it was saying seemed foreign to me.  

"Liz. Oi, Liz," someone was calling my name. 

"Liz, the bridge is this way," he told me.  I finally pulled my gaze from the chasm and looked at him.  He was standing there, looking at me with those big brown eyes.  He patiently and reassuringly held his hand out to me.   

"C'mon, Liz, we just have to follow this ledge"

"LEDGE?" I questioned. 

"It's okay, Liz, take my hand and we will be there in no time."

I took a deep breath and put my hand in his.  He cradled my hand, and lead me away. 

I concentrated on the back of his head, his neck, his broad shoulders and I sighed.  Some might say this was a ridiculous response to the situation.  I had to have something to distract me from the 500 metre drop to my left and the bushland to my right.  We seemed to weave through a few small trees and suddenly right before us was the bridge. 

The suspension bridge seemed to have a slight swing in the breeze. 

'Did he really expect me to walk across that thing?'

I looked at him with a frown. 

"It's fine, Liz, I have walked across this bridge a hundred times, and look at me... could I be anymore gorgeous?" he grinned. 

I couldn't help laughing at him.  I closed my eyes, took another breath and followed him across the bridge. 

'There had better be a fantastic reward at the end of this trek.' 

The rest of the hike was rather short.  We arrived at a beautiful waterfall and everyone stripped off for a swim.  I sat on the edge and dangled my feet in the water.  He sat with me.  I realised that this was reward enough.  We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the waterfall and the laughter of the others.  Then his kissed me. 

A walk in the bush and a death defying suspension bridge in exchange for a kiss... yeah, it was worth it. 

I know that was soppy... but I couldn't resist.

 

Autobiography

Number 301: Come up with 10 good reasons why you shouldn't write your own life story.

Ten Reasons NOT to write your own life story

1. When you write it yourself, you are incredibly biased.

2. You cannot possibly describe the real you, as you can only describe who you think you are.
3. There is a great deal about your life, that even you don't know.
4. You have to live your life before you can write about it.
5. It will never be finished.
6. Privacy laws would require you to change everyone's name... Confusing.
7. No one would believe you.
8. Some things simply should not be written down.
9. It would take too long.
10. You don't know how it ends.

Personally, I think there are probably a hundred reasons not to write your own life story.  I am not sure how many of them are good reasons.  I think my list could be narrowed down to five really good reasons. 

What are the top 5 reasons for you?

The Kite Pilot

Someone used this phrase (kite pilot) in a conversation today.  I love the song "let's go fly a kite" from the Disney film Mary Poppins.

Creative Writing is a fire sparked by the everyday. 

 Today "the everyday" sparked a free verse poem. 

Kite Pilot

bright blue ceiling

glowing light

tailed triangles

upward sight

feet planted

arms raised

smooth then stilted

grounded flight

floating rainbow

twisting, twirling

framed geometric

gliding flight

built bird

piloted wings

guided by breezes

unlikely flight

motion slowing

air receeding

kite descending

pilot's plight

Bathtime!

The writing prompt today struck me as a task that would be fun and lends itself to a bit of silliness.    M :)

Number 324:

Make a list of 7 signs that it's time to take a bath.

1. Your skin is a different colour.
2. The fire brigade shows up to investigate a gas leak in your house, then realise the bad smell is you. 
3. The hair on your legs is longer than the hair on your head.
4. There is so much soap in the cupboard that there is no room for anything else. 
5. You have a dust cloud following you. 
6. Your housemate wears gloves and a surgical mask when you enter the house.
7. You don't remember the last time you had a bath. 

New Endeavours

I am taking my writing prompt for today's post from Yearn to Learn.  This is a great blog that I follow.  I have been meaning to join in a linky party for a while now, but I either haven't had the time to write specifics and collect images or I have had other blogging priorities.  But, today is the day.  Yearn to Learn is hosting a linky (am I calling it the right thing) to spotlight new endeavours for the new year.  The idea is, that we write about a new endeavour we are beginning and share with others in the blogosphere. 

My new endeavour is hard to name.  I am getting out there more.  I have had my blog for over a year and, at times, been discouraged about the lack of audience.  I have far fewer viewers than I imagined.  But I have to admit, I was afraid to be let myself go in the blogosphere.  That is, I didn't want to reveal my real name or too many personal details about myself.  In recent months I have realised that this is perhaps the reason that I am not growing my audience.  But I want to "get out there" more because everytime I dip my toes in the water (so to speak) I find that there are more and more bloggers out there who are great people.  They write about things that interest me and I have gained so much from their blogposts.  I have new inspiration for: my classroom, organising my home, craft, kids activities and gifts.  I have new inspiration for my writing as well, which was the real reason for my blog in the first place.  So, getting out there means opening myself up to meet more people on the net and learning from them.  My effort to do this has included signing up to Pinterest and Twitter (and clicking on the links will take you to my home pages for each of those so you can check me out before you decide to follow me). 

I am still quite guarded when on the internet because I have had some bad experiences, but I am out there and I want to meet new people and learn more things.  So, get used to seeing me around. 

:) M

Happy Birthday Mr Grimm

On this day in 1785, Jacob Grimm (of the brothers Grimm) was born.  Jacob and his brother are famous for the recording of the Grimms' Fairytale Collection.  I have written a fairytale parody in honour of Mr Grimm's birthday. I hope you enjoy it. 
:) M

Once upon a time in a land light years away, there lived a beautiful young woman who loved to paint her nails, braid her hair and go shopping, all before breakfast.  After breakfast, she liked to read and draw pictures of imaginary places and go on picnics with mythical creatures.  But, the poor girl had no name! 

You see, in the land of light years away, girls did not have a name until they were married.  So, even though the nameless girl had all these wonderful hobbies to keep her busy and millions of dollars, she was very sad. 

A little way down the road, lived an older man called Mr Millions.  But, even though he had such a great name, he was sad, because he was actually very very poor. He had no money. 

One day the nameless girl and Mr Millions met in the meadow as they were both on their way to have a picnic with the mythical creatures.  It was quite an interesting afternoon as they spent hours eating jam sandwiches and playing eye spy with the local blue jays.  When it was time to say goodbye, the nameless girl started to cry. 

"Why are you crying?" asked Mr Millions. "Oh," she sobbed, "I have had such a lovely time with you today and I am soo rich.  But, there is no posssible way for you to write me a letter or contact me because I have no name."

"Oh, my dear," replied Mr Millions as he hugged her tight.  "I have had a lovely day too.  I would love to take you home with me so that we would never be apart ever again.  But, I have no money and can not possibly support you." 

The two parted ways and decided that they would meet in the meadow everyday for a picnic with the mythical creatures.  One day, they would be able to solve the problem, but until then, they could have lunch together. 

This continued for months and months.  Until, Mr Million's sister noticed that he was never home at lunchtime, so she followed him.  She watched Mr Millions and the nameless girl eat together and immediately saw that they were in love.  She came out of her hiding place and hugged her brother. "Congratulations my darling brother!  Why have you not brought this darling girl home to meet the family?"  she asked. 

Mr Millions explained the situation to his sister and she shook her head.  "You silly man," she replied.  "You don't need any money.  This sweet girl has plenty of money for you both.  You have the perfect name for her.  A marriage between you would be made in heaven."

So, Mr Millions, married the nameless girl and they moved into her castle up the road.  Before long, Mr and Mrs Millions had a big party and Mr Million's sister married the Prince of Pluto.  Mrs Millions and the newly crowned Princess became the best of friends.  So, Mr and Mrs Millions and the Prince and Princess moved to Saturn.  They built a brand new castle and lived happily ever after. 

The Empty Glass

Dear readers, I would sincerely love some constructive criticism.  No matter when you read this.  I ask, because I want to be a better writer, so tell me if you think there is something I can improve upon this month.  My writing prompt for today is number 27:

"write a story about an empty glass"

It was early in the morning, but the sun was up.  Rosa stumbled down the hallway as she yawned and rubbed her tired eyes.  It was such an effort to move.  Why was she even awake?  She couldn't remember.  But there must be a reason.  She stretched and yawned again as she reached the kitchen.  Looking around the spotless kitchen, she noticed it sitting on the bench.  An empty glass. 

What was that doing there?  

Rosa frowned, her brow wrinkled as she rested her hands on her hips and began to look for other items out of place.  There was nothing else.  Just an empty glass, sitting on the bench, all alone.  No one else was home, and she was cetain that she had not left that glass there.  She was certain... absolutely certain... Rosa began to doubt herself.  Then she shook her head.  No, she was positive that she did not put that glass there.  Someone else had come into the house during the night.  But that didn't make sense, why would someone come into the house, just to use a glass and leave it on the bench? 

Rosa looked about the living room, and tiptoed into the bathroom to see if anything else had been distubed.  There was a jacket on the lounge, a jacket she didn't recognise.  There was a towel hanging on the bathtub.  A towel that wasn't there last night.  What was going on? Rosa's face was becoming more and more bewildered.  She decided her flatmate, Annette,  must have come home early from her holiday.  There was nothing else for it, she tiptoed towards Annette's room, took a deep breath and knocked.  Then she opened the door and peeked inside.  There, laying on the bed, was... not her flatmate!

Rosa's mouth dropped open, but she was too surprised to make a sound.  She took a step closer to the bed to investigate and found the stranger in Annette's bed, was actually her brother! She pushed him and slapped him and took away his pillows until he stirred.  "What are you doing here?" she shouted.   

Dear 10 year old me

This letter, came from a writing prompt (21) that instructed me to write a letter to my ten-year-old self.  When I turned 10, we moved house.  So here it is.  I haven't really edited it.  I just let it flow out of me.  I asked myself what I would say to that lost little girl and this is what came out.   

Dear 10 year old M

The ten year old me... there you are.  Laying on the floor of your PINK bedroom.  Wondering why you have to move house.  You are feeling quite sad and rather disgruntled by the concept of moving house.  You don't like that you don't get a say.  I am the 28 year old version of you.  I have a few secrets to tell you about the future.  I can't tell you everything because that would be breaking the rules.  But I can tell you this...

The new house you move to will be different.  But you will like it.  There will be many memories made there.  You will have your first kiss in this new house.  You will have sleepovers and forge relationships there.  You will redecorate your room.  You will enjoy the pool and in it you will also experience things that you will never forget.  That sounds a bit bizarre. I mean, you will make memories in the pool.  You will go swimming with your whole family at 10pm because it is simply too hot to sleep.  You will make big decisions in that house and hear many things. 

One day, you will move houses again.  In that house, you will make even more memories. 

Today you see only a glimpse of the days ahead.  There are a great many experiences that will seem awful to you.  There are words you will regret and events you will miss.  There is sadness and conflict ahead.  But you are strong and you will make it.  More importantly, God will carry you through.  He will ask you to do some stuff that you don't want to do, and some things that appear to be far too difficult.  Just say yes.  Do it.  Because you will regret the battle and end up doing it anyway.  God knows what is best for you. 

You will know love.  You will know loss.  You will have experiences that you only dream of; and more that are beyond your imagination.  You are a beautiful and incredibly intelligent young woman.  Don't ever forget that.  Regardless of what anyone else says, you are amazing and special. 

Read, Write, Learn as much as you can.  Listen: really listen.  Watch.  Ask questions and don't be afraid of the answers, keep asking and searching until you find them.  There are many things that you will forget.  Don't forget this.  Don't forget to be yourself.
M

New Year Creations

I have been struggling for inspiration lately and I think it is time to be a little less random over here.  So, not today, but soon, I am going to start using writing prompts from the internet and books.  I will put the writing prompt at the top of each post so you can see the genesis of the piece.  Enjoy. 

I will acknowledge sources each time, but if you are looking for your own inspiration here are a few links.  These sites have both adult prompts and children's prompts.  Some may need some modification for the young ones.  Images can be great prompts too. 

http://creativewritingprompts.com/#

http://www.creativity-portal.com/prompts/365/pictures.html

http://old-photos.blogspot.com/

http://www.writersdigest.com/prompts

http://writingfix.com/classroom_tools/dailypromptgenerator.htm

http://www.theteacherscorner.net/daily-writing-prompts/

M :)