DFF: A Day in the Life

Today I let those watching my stream pick my prompts, and that was a fun challenge. I hope that you enjoy.

Today’s Prompt:  You don’t know what it’s like to be the size of a teacup.

Today’s Story:

A Day in the Life

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Photo by Anete Lūsiņa on Unsplash

Every day I stare out the window and watch the others go about their day. What I wouldn’t give to be able to join them, just once. To just be able to do what every one does. Go to the store and buy some groceries, or just live a day with all of the same mundane things everyone else takes for granted. You know the things… running errands, going to the store, waiting in line at the DMV.

Turning away from everything that I will never do, I curl up with a book that is twice my size, hoping that at least for a few moments I can escape the reality that is. Trying to find some solace in the realms of faerie and high fantasy. I may not be able to do the things you do, but I have traveled more in my imagination than most people could dream of.

“ARGGGG…!” I scream my frustrations at the world. What I wouldn’t give to visit even one place in the books I escape in. Just stepping foot in my back yard is a lot like a high adventure. Danger lurks around every corner, waiting… to just eat me up. Think what you will of me, but you have no idea what it is like to be the size of a teacup.

I hope you enjoyed!  What story does the prompt tell you? Please share your thoughts, comments and stories below!  And if you like what you find here, check out the anthologies I am published in, MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

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DFF: The Proposal

This is a sad, and yet very fun short little piece. Each time I write these, I can’t help but think each one is a favorite. I really do enjoy writing these and seeing where they take me next.

Today’s Prompt:  With that, she walked into the rain and didn’t look back. That was the last time anyone ever saw her.

Today’s Story:

The Proposal

This is it, he thought. Tonight’s the big night, the night he pops the question. He had been planning for months. Every detail meticulously planned. The reservations were in twenty minutes. He had the ring in his coat pocket. As he drove to her house to pick her up, he felt the rising thrum of anticipation! His hands were slightly damp on the steering wheel.

Pulling to a stop in front of her house, he looked up in dismay as the first drops of rain began to fall. Not rain! He thought helplessly, but then, his eyes sparked. She loves the rain. He couldn’t have planned better if he could control the weather himself! Reaching in the back seat he pulled out the umbrella and walked up to her door. Ringing the doorbell he waited patiently. Looking at the house he started to get nervous, usually she would have answered by now. She knew he was coming to pick her up. What if…

The door opened and she smiled at him, a ray of sunlight that melted all of his worries away. “Sorry, was just finishing up. Are you ready?” She asks.

“You look marvelous, worth waiting all day!” He tells her, holding the umbrella, and sticking out his elbow for her to tuck her hand in to.

She laughs, taking his arm, and holding her dress with her other hand. He carefully opens the door and helps her in the car, running around and jumping in himself. Heading for their reservation.

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Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash

Pulling up to the doors, he hands his keys to the valet and they make their way inside. After they ordered, and had their glasses of wine before them, he looked to the maitre d’ who signaled the musicians to start playing. As the music started to reach a crescendo, he looked to her and pulled the little box from his pocket.

“Lilly… you have become everything to me. Every perfect moment in my life, you are there. So I ask you” he carefully gets up and kneels by her side, holding the ring for her to see, “will you marry me?”

She looks at him dumbfounded. She thought he knew, that he understood. She couldn’t do this! Looking at him, a quiet cry escapes her, and he starts to smile. She gets up and backs away for a moment, staring at him. Fleeing to the doors, she looks back once more, her eyes sad. With that, she walked into the rain and didn’t look back. That was the last time anyone ever saw her.

I hope you enjoyed my take on that prompt. What about you? What story speaks to you when you read that prompt? Please share in the comments below.  Remember that if you like what you find here, I am published! You can find my work in a couple of anthologies, MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: Stimulus

I feel like today’s piece is packed with power. It can be taken in a few different ways, so I hope you enjoy.

Today’s Prompt:  When I went to receive the results of my blood test, they told me they were classified.

Today’s Story:

Stimulus

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Photo by Hush Naidoo on Unsplash

Another day, another doctor. Seems a never ending circle of tests. Today I was finally supposed to hear back from the last round of tests. Hopefully this will be the last set.
Looking around the waiting room, the faces blur like so much white noise. Looking around, I walk over and find a magazine and sit down with it. Flipping through I see page after page of ads, more white noise. Sometimes I can’t help but feel that life is just one big white noise event. The constant stimuli, the constant battering of information.

Hearing my name I jump a little. Getting up I walk to the nurse standing by the doors. “Sorry about that, seems I was lost in my own little world,” I say with a slight smile.

“Please, follow me.” Her voice yet another drone in the cacophony around me.
She takes me back and checks my blood pressure and pulse. “The doctor will be along momentarily.” She says and leaves me in the sterile room. Such a stark contrast to the noise of the waiting area. So much white around me, it is almost painful after the constant stimulus always coming at us. Almost makes you wonder if they do that on purpose, to unsettle you some.

The brief knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. The doctor walks in. “Hello Jordan. You are here for your results, correct?” He asks, shaking my hand.

“Yes. I am hoping that we finally have an answer…” I trail off.

“Well I am to inform you that I am sorry, but the test result is classified. There is nothing further I can do for you. I am terribly sorry.” And with that, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

I just sit there, mouth open. Now what?

What did you think? What comes to mind for you when you read the story? What story does the prompt show you? Please share in the comments below!  And if you like what you find here, be sure to check out the anthologies I am published in!  MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

 

Letters of Questioning: A Punctuating Lost

A guest post coming at you from Dreamland’s Insurgents! I hope you enjoy.

Dear Ravyn,

Oh, punctuation! That mad devil. If there’s one thing more abused and misunderstood in our language, it could only be spelling. Have you ever read Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style? If not – don’t! Trying to append rules to the english language is like trying to give a constitution to a clowder of cats. In other words: only busybodies bother!

Emphatically – yes! – punctuation is one of the strongest and most overlooked tools of writers. ee cummings, whose very name causes Microsoft Word to fly into a tizzy, pioneered this direction. His levels haven’t been since paralleled! Every punctuation mark is a sign – telling you – how to read; they too convey inflection, emotion, intensity, speed. A sentence without punctuation is like a train line without stops. Direct, sure. Fast? Of course. Efficient. You know what else is efficient? Fascism. “At least they made the trains run on time.” No: Give me miles of countryside, picturesque towns, afternoons to wander strange foreign streets listening to foreign tongues, meandering, up the occasional difficult hill~ twisting – over bridges – gazing into rivers with the heavens*, reflected. I don’t want to get from point A to point B, I want to get … lost.

Have you been lost in your stories lately? I enjoyed “Home” very much (probably why the cat analogy came so readily). I appreciate how the imagination in your stories allows me the time and space to get away from the scholarly pursuits with which I’ve been laden lately. “Stimulus” is one of your stories that strikes me as a good merger of imagination and real-world experience. You managed to make a dreary setting feel literally abuzz with activity and sound and heavy with the burden of emotion. Can you tell me more about how such an immersive story occurred to you? Perhaps not a “muse” story (nor an “amusing” one, though one I’m musing over, for sure), but I’d like to know more about your inspiration.

Well, this insurgency must hit the books again. This uprising never ends! Be seeing you there, perhaps – in the table of contents! Ha!

Punctually yours,

Dreamland’s Insurgents

What do you think? Do you rely on punctuation for the tool it is?  What would be found in your table of contents of questions?  Please share your thoughts and ideas with us!

DFF: Home

I had a lot of fun with today’s short little piece. I hope you enjoy it.

Today’s Prompt: Hundreds of eyes peered at me through the darkness in the alley. How many cats were there? Why were they all here together?

Today’s Story:

Home

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Photo by Sepehr on Unsplash

No matter where she went there were always cats. Her whole life had been that way. She just figured that she had some natural affinity for cats, seeing as they always found her. But it was never like this. Never in her life had she witnessed so many cats in one place.

Their eyes glowed brilliantly in the darkness. There were hundreds of eyes peering out at her through the darkness in the alley. How many she couldn’t even hazard a guess.

She took a careful step in to the darkness of the alley, allowing it to envelope her like a well worn cape, and that is when she first stumbled upon him. He stepped up to her, taking her hand gracefully and putting it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Welcome to my humble home,” his voice a whispered caress. It was more than a welcome, she knew she was finally … home.

Short and sweet, just the way I like them. What do you think? What comes to mind when you read the prompt? What story speaks to you? Please share in the comments below! And if you like what you find here, consider looking into the anthology I am published in, you can find it in the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: Just a Piece

So this one could go either way… just depends on how you want to read it.

Today’s Prompt:  “I like your hair.” He looked her up and down. “Can I have a piece?”

Today’s Story:

Just a Piece

Taking the subway home every night was better than finding parking for her car, but it meant riding with so many strangers. By the time she was able to head home at night, some of the crazies seemed to be the only ones on the train with her.  Today was no exception.

Tonight though, he was there again. It seemed like he was there every evening and he spooked her. Not overly tall, yet burly with a presence that seemed to fill the train.  He never got too close, but he was always watching. Not just her, but she couldn’t help but feel like he was giving her more attention than anyone else. Maybe that was just paranoia, but… a single girl, out after dark in the city, she needed to be paranoid.

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Photo by Gabriel Silvério on Unsplash

As the train was slowing, she stood to get off, and noticed he stood as well. Moving close to her as she was about to get off the train he leaned close and said “I like your hair.”

“Ummm, thanks…” she croaked out.  Her hair was her crowning glory, a beautiful shimmering copper that you could never get from a box.

“Can I have a piece?” He asked, just as the doors opened.  There was a glimmer of something, deep in his eyes as she stared at him, her mouth open in shock.  She couldn’t even step away, the shock holding her next to him.

After she stands there, frozen in a moment of time she will never forget the doors start to close.  She sticks her hand between them, keeping them open long enough to dash through. Stopping on the platform she turns and watches him. He just stands where she had left him, grinning at her through the window on the doors, as the train starts to move once more.

Shuddering, she makes her way home, vowing never to take that train again.

 

There you have it. What does the prompt bring to mind for you?  Please share in the comments below! We love to hear from you!  And if you like what you see here, take a moment and check out the anthologies I am published in!  The MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: Final Stop

So today’s Prompt is for a contest I stumbled upon.  I know this is going to have some editing before submission because as I finished and came up with a title I totally had a marvelous idea! So I can’t wait to see how this piece grows, but here you have it in all its raw glory.

Today’s Prompt: As he stepped off the bus he paused and gave me a look. And, without a single word uttered, I understood his full meaning: “This is where you get off.”

Today’s Story:

Final Stop

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Photo by Dustin Tramel on Unsplash

I had followed him since fifth avenue. Don’t ask me why, he just seemed… intriguing. No, that isn’t right, but there was just something different about him. He was off somehow, not in a bad way, although I am sure he was dangerous, but more along the lines of I couldn’t help myself. There was just something about him that drew me.

As he stepped off the bus he paused and gave me a look.  I got up and followed him, he went in to the cutest coffee shop. One I had never seen before, and I live in this neighborhood, so how had I missed this?  After getting his coffee, nodded at me, waiting.  Getting my own cuppa, I follow him back to the bus stop as we get on once more.

He waits till I find a seat and he settles himself next to me. I can’t help but keep glancing over at him.  I know better than to say anything, there is just something about his presence that stops me.

We ride around this way for a time.  With the final stop fast approaching, he slowly stands.  Looking at me a final time he moves towards the doors.  And, without a single word uttered, I understood his full meaning: “This is where you get off.”

As I said, this one I want to shift a lot… had some great ideas with this piece and really enjoy the challenge. What about you? Where does this prompt take you? Please share in the comments below!  And if you like what you find here, consider picking up the anthology’s I have a story in; the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!