Friday, August 14, 2015

A Friday Prompt

Shannon Dittemore is the author of the Angel Eyes trilogy. She has an overactive imagination and a passion for truth. Her lifelong journey to combine the two is responsible for a stint at Portland Bible College, performances with local theater companies, and a love of all things literary. When she isn’t writing, she spends her days with her husband, Matt, imagining things unseen and chasing their two children around their home in Northern California. To connect with Shan, check out her website, FB, Twitter, Instagram, or Pinterest.

Hey all! Thank you so much for your blog post ideas. While I'm stewing on them, I thought we'd mix it up a bit. Show off some. Stretch our writing muscles before we head back to school.

Let's keep it simple, shall we? I'll give you a few sentences to get you going and in the comments section YOU give me five or six sentences that follow. Keep it clean and come back throughout the weekend to give your friends encouragement and feedback. I'll play too, but I'll give you all a head start. Can't wait to see what you come up with.

And now for a scintillating prompt.

Hmmm....

Ah!

Got it.

100 comments:

  1. ...my father, once upon a time. I stare at the odd tread pattern, created a year ago when he melted his soles while trying to warm his feet. And my hair stands on end. How did this print end up here? My father has been dead for 9 months. So who has his shoes?

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    1. Love, love, love! WHO HAS HIS SHOES!?!?!

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    2. I agree! that last sentence is awesome! I'm dying to know who:)

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    3. Ooh, I love the unexpected twist. :)

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  2. Yay! Fun! Here goes...

    The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to one of them. My supplies were gone. Of course Jackson's men would try such a tactic. I sat on the cold, hard floor, anger threatening to sweep away any coherent thought. Going after them wasn't an option; neither was waiting for an observant officer to call them on their illegal move. The officers had probably forgotten I was still playable. After all, I was the only one of my class left in the game.

    And it was high time I made a move.


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    1. I like it! I already want to know more about the person speaking!

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    2. Thanks, Emily and Mrs. Dittemore!

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  3. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to that shape-shifting centaur. The room was full of the sound of silence, overwhelming her thoughts as her eyes scanned the dark room. What if he was still there? There was no way she could make it out of this one. Unless ...
    A sudden noise sent her whirling to face the door, and there he stood, plain as day. Yes, there was definitely no living through this one. But she would go down fighting. ~Savannah P.

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    1. You get that centaur, Savannah! Raaaa! <3

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    2. Ooh, how eerie, I love it!

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    3. I love the attitude!

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  4. Hey I am a new teen writer/blogger! I was wondering if you could check out my blog and/or share it on your social media or on here I would really appreciate it! Thank you so much x
    letteredblood.wordpress.com

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    1. Hey there! So glad to have you here at Go Teen Writers. The absolute best way to get other teens to check out your work is to interact with them online. Read their work and comment on it and I bet some of them will be curious about yours.

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    2. Hi and welcome to GTW!

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  5. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to my brother. And I thought he'd finally grown up. I shivered as the icy wind cut through my thick layer of clothes and swirled the snow from the trees around me, like I was stuck inside a snow globe. The snow had just fallen last night, hiding any other footprints my brother might have made. I stood in the doorway of the cabin and stared out at the frozen forest that stretched before me for miles. What I'd refused to believe for far too long had finally caught up with me. I was really on my own. -Miriam

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  6. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to me; these boots were custom-made, one-of-a-kind-- this could not be a coincidence.
    I looked at the shovel, my heart beating faster. My eyes followed the mud across the floor and out the door, and soon my feet began to do the same, the same thought pounding through my head at every step: *I still can't remember a thing*.
    Up ahead was a large opening in the ground, the mud around it shining and rippling in the pouring rain. I slowly walked closer, keeping my eyes closed and trying to keep my breathing steady. Finally I opened my eyes, stepped to the edge of the hole, and made myself look inside.
    My scream was lost in the deafening rainfall.

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    1. Fantastic suspense here! And amnesia!!! Love. Reminds me a bit of Andrew Klavan's THE LAST THING I REMEMBER.

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    2. I agree with Mrs. Dittemore, this is really good! Very suspenseful :). ~Savannah P.

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  7. ...well, who knows. the fact that everything was gone gave me hint enough that someone had visited. Walking around, what used to be a light, simple room filled with treasures from places never seen was no a dull dirty shed like place, no different from the other thousands of rooms that filled this abandoned house. Every trinket from the fur of the unicorn to the golden pearls from the bottom of the ocean. Nothing was left.

    Except for a small shovel and a clear footprint. The thief was lazy, in a hurry to get out. The mud was still fresh. He, or she, couldn't have gotten far.

    ~K.A.C.

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    1. Ooooo! Where did the thief go? Good job!

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    2. I'm intrigued by all the items stolen. Makes me wonder if the house belonged to a magician or something.

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    3. I too am intrigued by the items stolen, especially the unicorn fur. ~Savannah

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  9. ...to Zach.

    I told him to stop looking. There was not, nor had there ever been, treasure in the garden. It was just one of Grandpa's tall-tales, like diamonds in the lake and fairies in the woods behind the house. A way to keep us occupied and outside.

    But I wasn't a kid anymore. The stories wouldn't work on me.

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    1. Love it! A stubborn protagonist that refuses to believe. Delish!

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  10. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to my quarry. The claw marks were clear... and fresh.
    My head whirled in panic. It had been here. In my secret hideout. Using my shovel. And there was only one thing it could have been digging up.
    I turned and fumbled with the doorknob, but it wouldn't move. Outside I heard the laugh of something inhuman. That thing was still here, and it had set a trap for me--a trap I had walked right in to.
    I put my back against the door and pushed as hard as I could without my veins exploding. I had to get out of here. It had my Box. Pandora's Box.

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  11. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to Ian.

    "Tam!" Catrin shrieked, her voice thick with desperation and hope. "Tam!"

    The forty-year-old woman appeared at the doorway, taking angry strides towards the girl. "Catrin, so help me, if you don't keep it down I-I..." She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes dart to the footprint and back to her, eyes widening with the realization. "Oh."

    Catrin blinked back tears. "It's him. It's his boots. Don't you see, Tam? He's still alive." She gripped the woman's arm. "We have to find him. He's our leader, we have to--"

    "I'm your leader." Tameka stared long and hard at the girl, willing her to understand. Her voice dropped to a gentle whisper. "We cannot help him now."

    Catrin stiffened. "You think we can survive without him? Well you're wrong. I won't accept that he's gone." And she wouldn't. She still dared to believe. After all, Ian was their only hope.

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    1. Great job! I love the intensity here.

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    2. I really like this one! For some reason it reminds me of SWIPE by Evan Angler. ~Savannah P.

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  12. The room was empty, save for a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to it. I thought I could hear it even now, shuffling its dry feet across the grass outside. Cold, musty fear grabbed my soul, pulling me down to the dirty floor, making me whimper, sob. Hollow memories flashed through me, and I yelled for help. They were gone, all gone…

    "Please! No!"

    Tears streaked down my face, and a scream tore across my mouth. I tried to stand up, but I fell again. The door creaked, and I heard the familiar click of fangs, the hiss of death...

    The door flew open. It was here.


    Little Micheal's face was contorted with fear, and a gasp escaped his small mouth. Tara laughed. “You don't actually *believe* this, do you?”

    The embers from the campfire blew across my face. The torch was still lighting up my face, and I grinned when I lowered it. “No duh!” Micheal sniffed. "Oh yeah?"

    The kid shuddered. "Yeah."

    That's when we heard the scream.

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    1. That was great! I want to hear more!

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    2. Thanks you guys! Maybe I'll turn this into a short story...well, someday!

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  13. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor.
    There was the footprint, too. A footprint that had to belong to Sophie.
    Not many people came here, so Michael knew it must be.
    He slowly breathed in through his nose, sorting through the different scents assaulting his nose.
    Humanity, gasoline, exhaust fumes, and the gunk that coated every street and alleyway in the city. One scent stood out from the rest, though.
    Michael clenched his jaw, glancing around. A rather unpleasant scent. Sophie was near, or had been near recently.
    Of course. The shapeshifter would come to the city where everything was happening. Spies did tend to want in on the action.

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  14. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to her—middle of nowhere, no one else would think a stiletto was a good idea. Except Alyss didn’t know the shack.
    She’d woken up outside in her car as the sun came up, but she didn’t know the shack, or the shovel, or why there was mud. Didn’t even know why about a dozen rosebushes had been planted around the ramshackle building’s perimeter. Pinprick marks on her palms came from thorns but no other connection between Alyss and roses made sense. She hated roses.
    No one knew where she’d gone. Alyss didn’t even know. Her mind was playing tricks, she couldn’t remember anything beyond the burning need to get out of the city, and Wonder wasn’t around to save her from herself.
    She wanted Wonder. Why wasn’t he close to keep her from falling apart?

    Everyone else has some really great ones!

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    1. Planting roses in stilettos. Love it!!! Great job.

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  15. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to Dawn when she threw the shovel back in here before crying off somewhere into the woods.
    I groaned and kicked the door. Why did I have to go and let Morgan read her diary like that? I knew Morgan was just waiting for the day she'd have some real juice on Dawn, but how could Dawn have written such things about me? She knew they weren't true! I thought of the dates she wrote them and everything began to make sense. The way she'd been acting, the things she had said.
    I know I should have been concerned for her but I suddenly got the sickening thought about what would happen if she told her mom. Denise would call my mom and with everything that had been happening between us, who knows how she would take it?

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  16. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to the man we were seeking.
    One Henry Daum, also known as Black-Boots around here.

    "Not a very cheery place, that's for certain."

    "With a name like Black-Boots, would you expect that he be all sunshine and rainbows? This guy earned his name, and not by sitting around giving kids candy. He's done the REAL stuff, the stuff that would give regular people nightmares. No offense, Ross."

    "None taken. But are you sure we can trust him?"

    "If there is one person in the world that I trust, it's him. Now quit gawking and start putting that little device you were bragging about earlier to use. I'm gonna take a look around. Stay hidden, I don't want Black to see you and think you're a tourist, I'd have to save you and do some explaining."

    "Got it. But are you really that bad at, um, social skills?"

    "Yeah, mysterious observer is more my dig. See ya later, and don't get yourself killed, Ross; it's your first day."

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    1. Awesome! I'm picturing spurs and cowboy hats. Or maybe a pirate swagger and wooden leg.

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    2. Thanks!
      They are kind of like modern cowboys, and not your regular good guys. But they can still save the day! ;-)

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  17. A footprint that had to belong to...

    "JUSTON! WHAT have you been doing in the garden, AGAIN? Juston?"

    Funny, thise footprints were a bit bigger than Juston's...

    The door slammed shut behind me, locking just before I could reach it. I grabbed the shovel and started banging it on the door.

    "Juston, if this is another one of your pranks, then you are going to be SORRY when I get out!"

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    1. I'm kinda hoping it's Juston. If it's not . . . who is it!??!?!

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  18. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to...me. I was the only one in the house whose toes curved inward like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, convinced that I was still dreaming, but the room was exactly the same when I opened my eyes. Mama told me I used to walk in my sleep when I was little, but I was in the exact same position I'd been in when I'd fallen asleep; lying on my side, facing the wall with two pillows under my head and one between my knees. I pushed my uneasiness aside and left behind the warmth of my bed. Grogginess made it a little tricky to walk in a straight line, but I was awake enough to know that there shouldn't have been two of me looking in the mirror.

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  19. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to me--yet I knew I'd never been here in my life.
    "Be logical, Shasta," I muttered to myself. "That may be your star, but who's to say no one stole it?"
    Logical enough, I agree with a nod... except I'd invented that star for my rituals, and I'd never shown it to a single soul.
    Voices from the outside made me glance over my shoulder; the trackers charged towards me, closing in every second. I tiptoed over to the shovel, hefted it, and held it in front of me like the weapon I could turn into.
    Mysteries could wait. For now, I'd concentrate on fighting for my life.


    Alexa
    thessalexa.blogspot.com
    verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

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  20. ...her.
    I took a step back, the floorboards creaking under my feet, fingernails cutting into sweaty palms.
    *You knew this was going to happen. You walked right into it . . .*
    I should never have left the others. If they came looking for me . . . *No.*
    No turning back now. She'd have someone waiting to take me if I tried to run.
    "If you're expecting me to beg for mercy, you're out of luck," I called.
    The footprint shimmered and vanished.
    I just had time to draw my knife before the shovel--or what looked like a shovel, anyway--shuddered and twisted, growing longer and thinner, stretching into the shape of a snake.
    It hissed, lashing out, sinking its fangs into my ankle--
    But it passed right through, and crumbled into a thousand tiny points of light before fading into nothing.
    "That's all you've got?" I shouted. "Really?"
    I scanned the room, searching for the telltale shimmer of light magic--
    And then the monster burst from the floor, sending splinters flying like arrows, and I reached for the strands of magic, twisting them into a gust of wind--but it was too late.
    The creature's breath washed over me, hot and sickly sweet. My vision clouded, and then I was falling, falling . . .
    As consciousness slipped away, I thought I heard Zoe calling my name, somewhere in the distance.
    But for all I knew, that was just another illusion.

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    1. So cool! I love how you added the magical element to this! :D


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
    2. Thanks! :) This one was loosely based on my WIP (at least, it uses my characters and magic system, though it doesn't quite fit the plot) . . . I was kind of tired when I wrote it, so it's not as good as it could've been, but I think it still gives a fairly good idea of what my book's like.

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  21. ...the owner of the previously-locked shed. And that was all. I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but there was nothing but a dirty shovel and a bit of disappointment.

    "Look at that, Artie. Nothing. Can we go now?" Percy stood a few feet behind me, casting furtive glances in every direction.

    "No! There's got to be something here. Why else would there have been lights coming from under the door last night?"

    Percy stopped glancing about and fixed me with a sarcastic look, "Oh, yeah, gee, what could it be? It couldn't possibly be a gardener looking for his tools. It must be a mystery only the great Artie Castleberry could solve."

    Wow. He must be freaked. He hadn't been this snide in days. "Who gardens at two in the morning?"

    "Who spies on his neighbor's gardener at two in the morning?"

    I ignored that. "And where are the rest of his tools? He's only got a shovel? You need more than that to maintain these gardens." I swept my arm to indicate the expansive manor grounds that lay beyond us.

    "Whatever." Percy crossed his arms tightly over his chest, pretending it was only the chilly night breeze that made him shiver. "Just hurry up. I don't want to be here when The Two A.M. Gardener decides to do come back. Do you even know how much trouble we’d be in?"

    "Yeah, yeah." I raked my eyes over the inside of the shed once more. Small. Dirty. Empty. Boring. Percy was probably right; there seemed to be nothing of interest in here. I was about to close the door and leave, when the moon came out from behind its cloudy shield. Soft light illuminated the shadows and revealed a dark truth that made my breath freeze in my lungs.

    There was blood in the gardener’s shoeprint.

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  22. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to... I do not want to even think of who could have left it. It was too large for any man. I thought with a shiver it did not even look human. I stared fascinated and horrified at the very clear and deep imprint in the mud of only four toes, four very large toes. I froze as I heard a growl behind me and a hot breath against my neck.

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    1. Oooh, nice ending!


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
  23. The room was empty, save the shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to...my knees weakened and I leaned against the door, pulling it softly shut behind me. The air was warm, but I shivered in my boots, droplets of water loosening themselves from my hair and coat, and splashing against the rough wooden floor.
    No, this was just another bad dream. Soon I would wake up, and everything would be ok-
    "Jan?" A shadow fell from the dark corner.
    Starting violently at the cracking, familiar voice, I grasped the brass door handle with whitened knuckles. I wouldn't give way. Not this time. The figure stepped out, his face barely register-able in the blue light that shone in through the only window, but it didn't matter.
    "At last. I promised I would find you." Indeed he had, the beast! "What's the matter? Aren't you glad to see me?"
    Annoyed at the faked worry in his tone, I turned towards the window. The rain, which had been pelting me in torrents only moments earlier, had calmed to a depressing drizzle. I could feel his gaze on my back. He was still waiting for a reply, but the dripping silence would have been too perfect if not for the crickets chirping outside. Then I felt warm hands on my shoulders, and I cringed as he forced me to look at him.
    "What is it, Jan? Is something wrong?"
    "Is...something...wrong..." I sputtered under my breath.
    "What?" Puzzled, he looked at me with those beautiful, blazingly blue eyes, eyes that no matter what had happened, still held me breathless...like a python with its prey...and I lost it.

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    1. "like a python with its prey," I love that description! The whole thing really makes me wonder what'll happen next. :)


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

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    2. I like the internal struggle here. Great job.

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    3. Thanks! Sorry it was so long. I got a little carried away, it was so much fun:)

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    4. I liked that bit too, Alexa. (Made me so proud of myself;)

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  24. The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was the footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to—
    "Jacob!"
    I spun to face the door, scowling. "Can't I even be alone with my imaginations for a few minutes?"
    Uncle Ryan gave an exaggerated sigh. "What is it this time, young superhero? An Incredible Hulk? A dragon? A ghost?"
    "Ghosts don't leave footprints."
    "Whatever." My uncle peered over my shoulder. "Oh, there's the spade. I was looking for that." He marched around me and snatched up the shovel. "Remind Jamie to clean her shoes outside, will you? Not in my shed."
    My scowl only deepened as I turned and stalked out of the shed, hands deep in my pockets. No one understood. I was Inquest, a budding superhero with powers rivalling Sherlock Holmes's mastery of deduction. If Uncle Ryan had left me alone for just a few more minutes, I'd have been able to discover the true culprit behind the mud and shovel in the shed. Then I'd have been able to march into the house and proclaim my twin sister as the supervillain who'd been leaving muddy tracks around the house. Clayfoot, I'd been calling the owner of the mysterious footprints.
    But no one understood imagination.

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    1. Oh! I love it! That was great!

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    2. I feel like your hero sometimes. No one understands my imagination. ;)

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  25. Ash here. This prompt was the first in a while that intrigued me- and I have looked at a lot of prompt recently
    The room was empty, save for a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that could only belong to… Well, anyone really. The only odd thing about the footprint was that it was in neon orange paint. Could it be Katie’s? She had only been living at the house for a few days, and the paint looked older than that. Then why had there been a sound coming from this area? An old print matched with a new print. Did I want to know why? Probably not since I’m glued to the shed door.
    The rusted shovel had a bit of the orange paint on its handle. I bent down and tried to pick up the shovel, but it wouldn’t budge. I tugged on the handle with all my might, and finally it lifted up with a click and sent the other end of the shovel down with ease. This caused the far wall of the shed to rise up. The room that had just seconds before barely able to fit a few items was now so long that I couldn’t see were the room ended. Not to mention it was full of things- things you wouldn’t believe in if you saw them with your own eyes.
    And to think my day had started so simple with the arrival of an old friend and the filling of an even older house…

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    1. A secret room? Intriguing! I wonder what exactly is inside the room!


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
  26. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud on the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that has to belong to either Jabin or myself. Who else has entered here in the last months?
    I see that the prince has ransacked my home in his short stay here: no food, no water. And where is the broom?
    I have to walk by the footprint to get to the closet. Wait, those are not the imperial bootmarks of a prince! In fact, they are not even my own bare feet. Far too large for that.
    Dropping to my knees on the hard ground, I finger the footprint. The puncture of a nail is prominent down the middle. Jireh, I sigh.
    "Well, you said you would be with me always." I look up, speak to Him through the ceiling. "At least YOU keep your promises."

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    1. Hmm, interesting! I like how you ended it. :)


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

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    2. Love how you wove some world building into this. Great job.

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  27. This is my first time commenting, but I've been reading this blog for over a year and I love it! I hope to participate in the next word war. :) Here is my response to the prompt, creating and imaginary scene with the characters in my story.

    The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud on the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that has to belong to... John? Areli knelt to study the print closer. Looking for more, he cast his eyes across the room, but even his sharp eyes, honed by long years of tracking, could not see any other signs. Why would his brother's print here? His brother was dead or captured like the rest of his family – or was he?
    When he heard a footfall behind him, Areli spun around, instinctively drawing his sword.
    “Hello, brother.”
    Areli's heart hammered like a bird trying to escape its cage as he gazed in to the cruel, icy blue eyes which were all too familiar.

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    1. Hey there! Welcome to GTW!

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    2. Hey! Welcome to GTW!

      Nice story, btw! Makes me wonder why he's scared of his brother.


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
  28. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud on the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that has to belong to Carr. He was the only other miner who was stupid enough to steal from the mine. Well, maybe not stupid. Just desperate.

    Ryder stepped back outside, grabbing a lantern from the porch. If he'd discovered Carr then it could be sure that the Overseers wouldn't be far behind. The hounds bayed in the distance. The hunt was on, and Carr was nearly out of time.

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    1. Fascinating! I love it! :D


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
  29. The room was empty, save a shovel and a smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that had belonged to my murderer. He had left by now of course, but now as a ghost, I still lingered. It was funny, in an ironic, twisted way, that I - who had been plagued by ghost my entire life- had in the end, joined their ranks.
    As I drifted out the attic door and down the hall, I stopped to take one last look at my peaceful family, asleep in their beds. I pitied the child who would find my broken, bloody body. Would it be Adrian- the man of the house (as I was often too sick to even get out of bed) to steel his voice before calling down the stairs to alert the rest? Or Stacy- to screech in her high, shrill, teenage voice before running out?
    My heart melted to consider the last possible child - Amanda. Pure, innocent, four-year-old Amanda… to clutch her blanket to her chest, her lower lip trembling as she asks for what would be the last time- “Papa?”
    I will miss you my loved ones…….

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    1. Oh, wow. That was awesome! Such a cool yet heartbreaking twist on the prompt!


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

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    2. thanks, this is my first time actually responding to one of the prompts!

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  30. Hello there! I'm really new to this site, but this prompt caught my attention and I couldn't contain myself!
    Here goes:

    The room was empty, save a shovel and smear of mud across the floor. There was a footprint too. A footprint that had to belong to...

    *flashback*

    "You know that you can never be one of them."

    "I know."

    "Then why do you keep trying?" There was a pause, a creaking of the floorboards, then silence. Silence that made one think.
    Why WAS I trying to be like them?
    Oh yes, that one bit about them taking over the world, being able to control time, ending life as we know it...
    You know, the usual.

    "Laura, you of all people know what is at risk. If that, that stone falls into the wrong hands..."

    "That stone is a lie! A horrible lie that has lead hundreds, HUNDREDS of men to thier deaths! I will not let you be another one of them!"

    "But what if it is true? What then?"

    "A rumor started by a prince at an hour before his death, 47 years ago does not seem likely to me. No stone was ever thought of before then, and no one has found any trace of one since. Is this not enough for you to accept it as a myth and come home? Come home, William; we need you."

    "I can't."

    "And why not?"

    *end flashback*

    "No..." I stared at the footprint a moment longer before I turned and ran. Ran I know not how long to I knew not where, I just kept running.

    Running from my past decisions, running from the Truth.

    There was no time stone, I KNEW that now.
    There was only a wicked, prince who pretended to be murdered so he could gain riches from the fool brave enough to join "the hunt."

    And now that prince had Laura.

    ....

    Hope everyone likes! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oooh, nice! I especially like the ending. :D


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
    2. So fun! Thank you so much for sharing!!!!

      Delete
    3. Thanks! Oh, and I just realized that I misspelled "their" as "thier." Oopsies!

      Delete
  31. That footprint had to belong to me. But I cannot walk. I cannot speak. I'm only nobody, and thats just nothing. A watching nothing. A shadow, lost in the corner of peoples minds. A reflection, never reflected. A ghost of everybodies past. Dead to the world.

    And dead inside.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmm, intriguing! I like it! :D


      Alexa
      thessalexa.blogspot.com
      verbositybookreviews.wordpress.com

      Delete
    2. Lots of beautiful wordsmithing. Good job.

      Delete
    3. "A reflection, never reflected."

      That sounds so poetic! Love it!

      Delete

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