Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: June 26th 2017 #AmWriting #CreativeWritingPrompt #Monday’sMuse

OPENING LINE (S): “He glanced back again, surely more times than was necessary. They had lost his trail and were no longer following him, at least he prayed they weren’t.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted by Friday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: June 19th 2017 #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #CreativeWriting

OPENING LINE (S): “The warmth of his hand against hers warmed her far deeper than the coffee she held, and it was totally unexpected.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted by Friday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Miss Madelyn Haze: Flash Fiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Suspense

She scribbled down the memory so quickly that her fingers began to cramp. It didn’t matter that the thought stretched across days of her day planner. It was the closest thing she could find.

Her recollection of years passed had become congealed and foggy the day of her accident. Flashes of herself, her true self, would come and go like strokes of lightning–there one minute and gone the next.

But this memory, these moments were clear, concise, solid. She could even remember the words of the conversation, no, argument, she was having with … a man? The timber of his voice modulated in and out of focus, the pitch twisting as if someone was messing with the sound system of her mind.

Still, she wrote down the memory and the conversation, word for word, until the cramps in her fingers spread into her forearm.

June, July, August, all of the days nearly eaten away by this specific moment. Besides the date and year on the calendar she was remembering, April, 2014, most of what she jotted down was useless. She might as well have been writing down a recipe for chicken soup it was so mundane.

She would have cried for the time she’d spent in that moment of recollection, chocked it up as a simple exercise, another stone of hope to throw at the glass tower of amnesia, had it not been for the last thing the person she argued with said.

They had called her Madelyn, Miss. Madelyn Haze.

She let out a shout of triumph and even did the cliche fist pump in the air. Her fingers squeezing so tightly against her pen she nearly snapped it in two.

This was a victory, but it only caused a greater level of fear, one that overshadowed the doubts and worry of not knowing who she was.

The person in the memory had not only called her by a name that was different than the one she’d been convinced was her own, but they had also called her ‘Miss,’ which meant she was not married, which left no explanation for the man in the other room who’d sworn that he’d been her husband for the last seven years.

THE BEGINNING…MAYBE

*Oh, I love when a writing prompt goes down a road like this. For me, this is like a delightful bread crumb, a trail that could lead to a great full-length novel. Only time and the completion of other projects will tell. These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt June 12th, 2017.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: May 29th 2017 #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #CreativeWriting

OPENING LINE (S): “He kissed her. Her mouth tasted like licorice, the cherry kind. It was far more tolerable than the black. The kiss was beyond tolerable.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted by Friday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

The Name She Used: Monday’s Muse Results for May 1st 2017 #AmWriting #Monday’sMuse #WritingPrompt

They’d been walking for three hours. The car had run out of gas that far back. She’d stayed with him, but she still hadn’t told him her name. 

Interestingly enough, he didn’t feel like he needed to know her name, not at that moment. She’d given him peace the very moment she got in the car with him, her presence washing over his atmosphere with a something akin to light.

He laughed on the inside. He knew his thoughts were foolish especially since he was thinking them about a complete stranger one who avoided the mention of her name even though she kept speaking one to him over and over again, Jesus.

At first hearing that name jolted him with the same force as the headlights that had come head-on in his direction, cutting through the fog like a hateful knife. He’d managed to swerve away from impact, his tires eating through the grass that lay just off the road.

Then he saw her, really, it was her coat that coat his attention, peaking out like a beacon just a few yards ahead of him. He wasn’t one to usually pick up a stranger. He left that job to Uber, but something about her seemed . . . safe, comforting after his heart tried to launch itself through the top of his head.

At first, she was silent. She’d said her thank you’s and then smiled warmly. As soon as they’d made it a little less than a mile up the road she started talking. She’d questioned him really, asked where he was from, where he was going, why he was alone.

None of it was her business. The questions actually caused familiar flames to lick up the walls of his belly. He didn’t want to think about where he was from. He had no intention of ever going back there. There was nothing left for him after Danielle filed for divorce. The irony was she was the guilty one. And yes he was livid, more so, he was bleeding inside, cut off at the knees by her confession but he still wanted to try and work things out.

Twenty years was nothing to just toss away, not without trying. They married straight out of highschool. Their roots were too deep to just yank up. Something had to be salvageable. Still, she would accept his forgiveness. That hurt him even worse. There he was giving her his heart again even after she’d torn it out and she refused to take it for guilt. It didn’t make sense to him.

Where was he going, the passenger had asked. He wanted to ask her the same question but couldn’t for the simple fact that he was stunned by his own lack of an answer. He had no idea where he was going. He was just driving, driving away from the hurt and the darkness.

Why he was alone seemed obvious, at least to him. He jokingly told her that he only had one seat open and clearly it was meant for her. That was when she started talking about Jesus, she even said he had made a way for her to get a ride, that they were meant to meet.

He politely smiled at each mention of the name Jesus and her gentle telling of his love and grace. He’d always found it too hard for him to wrap his mind around, that the God of all Creation would be so loving and forgiving that even when man had wronged him, created a debt that needed to be paid but could not pay himself, that this same God would become man to pay that very debt because he loved his creation so and he just wanted the pleasure of being loved back.

If all that were true, then he was guilty of that debt. He’d surely messed up enough in his life, he should have died for his own sins. How could he look God in the face and just accept such a sacrifice on his behalf when he didn’t deserve it? The thought made his chest ache, it always did.

After walking with the stranger for three hours he finally stopped and asked her, dropping all of his politeness, spurred on by the sudden parallel that he was seeing in his own unwillingness to accept Jesus and Danielle’s unwillingness to accept him.

“It’s not fair,” he tried to shout but his voice came out with a cracking whisper similar to that of a boy approaching manhood.

“No, but that is why it is love. That is why it is grace.”

She spoke to him some more about grace, the light began to fade and with it went his former denials. He loved Danielle, maybe not like Christ loved him but he wanted to try.

“Will you let him teach you?” the young woman asked, her expression hopeful.

Trembling from the cold or the anticipation of knowing for himself, standing there, in the darkening woods, with fog growing heavier, tears streaming his face, and his broken heart bleeding, he finally said yes.

In an instant, he felt more pain, sharper and deeper than he ever had before. Panic gripped him until he struggled to breath. He fell to his knees. Her arms lead him downward until he was laying on his back, her breath whispering words of peace to him.

“It will be alright,” she said. “You are going to be just fine. Trust Him.”

“Jesus, help me,” he heard the words slipping from his lips even as the noise of the sirens made his ears burn.

-“We’ve got a pulse! He’s back with us and he’s speaking! Sir? Sir? My name is Jennifer and this is officer Healy. You’ve been in a head-on collision. But you are going to be just fine sir, just fine.”

THE BEGINNING

*Wow, so this went in a direction I had not anticipated but that is the fun of creative writing prompts. If you would like to see the original prompt with links to the image and rules to participate see, Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt May 1st, 2017. 

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Where All Roads Lead: Flash Fiction Results for Monday’s Muse April 23rd #AmWriting #Flashfiction

Even without his spyglass he could see the house clearly from that distance. Although the shutters remained closed in the middle of the day and the packed dirt road appeared virtually undisturbed, still he knew she was there.

He’d learned in the months that he’d followed her that she was several things. Mostly, she was fearfully cautious but equally predictable. He’d heard stories about her, little crumbs that kept him on her heels. Wherever she wondered, whoever she talked to the one thing she’d eventually mention was home.

How she even knew what home was, he had no clue but the farther east she moved, into the heart of the great, wide-open, nowhere, he knew where she was headed and it was truly home; their home before future’s hope was wasted like a glass of milk spilled upon thirsty ground.

From that distance, everything looked the way he’d left it thirteen years ago, doors and windows shut up like his heart had been.

He’d thought he’d lost her for good, believed she was gone in the grave but people talked, many talked too much and now he knew for certain that their story wasn’t over. He’d found her, finally.

All roads had led to home even though their old story had been changed. The finality of ‘the end’ being scrolled across the top of her mother’s, his beloved wife’s, shallow grave no longer held a period but a comma.

The end, he once believed it was the end.

There would be a new chapter, a new story for them. A broken-hearted man would face a new future with his wandering daughter who had somehow found her way home.

It was a story meant to be written. For thirteen years she had been telling him so.

THE END,

*This are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt April, 23. If you’d like to see the full list or rules for the prompt and even give it a try, follow the link.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Empty Cups: MicroFiction #AmWriting #Words #Romance

I wouldn’t say she was beautiful, more unique than anything, but she definitely had the kind of face that was unforgettable. It wasn’t in a bad way either.

The way the planes and curves of her cheeks, lips, and bones played with shadow and light did something to a man’s mind. It did something to mine.

Even now I see her image. I can even hear her laughter. The tone of it has left a scar as deep as my marrow and just as familiar as the freckles on my calloused hands.

I wish I could say things ended well. More than anything they simply ended. My call, my shot, my rules and my way . . . I was doing her the favor by being by her side, wasn’t I? I was the pretty one they said. I was the one that was so full of life.

I was full of something and that goes without saying.

I was full of her. The truth is I am nothing more than an empty cup, sat on a ledge waiting for someone else to fill me.

Sad truth is I only want her.

THE END

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!