If you are on Wattpad, then you are also likely no stranger to Pinterest. Where the slurry of writing prompts, grammar advice, and ideas reside. At first, I loved it. I loved seeing all of the creators of the world huddled together in one place conversing and contributing to this generation's arts. However, those writing prompts eventually dominate your page and all of a sudden you're drowning in the expectations to write something amazing with the prompts you've been given. I just stumbled upon this tiny little comment story I found back when prompts were fun for me. I've decided to share that blurb with you. Perhaps I will let it marinate in ma noggin for a bit and continue it. Short stories are a lot more work than they look. Took me the space girl story to realize that. Haha, the thing took me two weeks to write even though I had the full thing in my head.
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Prompt: "IT'S 2:00 AM. SUDDENLY, YOU'RE WAKEN UP TO SEE THAT AN EMERGENCY BROADCAST HAS BEEN AIRED. THE MESSAGE SIMPLY STATES "RUN".
I stand frozen on my small porch as I watch the people running. Everyone is looking behind them as they run. But nothing is there. Confusion tumbles around in my mind as I try to piece together what is happening. Mrs. Tailbert from across the street runs from her house holding her six-year-old twins' hands. Time seemed to slow as her feet touched the street. As her second foot touched the pavement, her whole body froze. The twin's eyes widened in surprise as their hands dropped to their sides and Mrs. Tailbert began to scream.
"No....nonononono. No!" Shaking her head violently as she screamed out at the empty space at her feet. "Mommy?" Zoe called as her mother backed down the street waving her hands defensively at the invisible monster. Daniel began to cry and ran onto the street after his mother. The boy only took two steps before he too froze. His face began to turn shades from its supple pink to blue, then finally purple. It occurred to me then that I had never seen someone fall. Not truly. His body fell limp with a sickening thud onto the asphalt. This time, I screamed.
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Love, Me.
and pinterest...I guess.
YOU ARE READING
Love, Me
Short StoryEvery once and again (a.k.a 95% of the time) I become consumed with the need to be perfect in all things. Especially in my writing. So consumed with it that I don't bother writing at all because I know it won't be perfect. Then every once and again...
