Timepieces

Impromptu: Part Two

Welcome back to Impromptu with Autumn Lin! This section- and all other Impromptu sections- is composed of writing based on prompts. For each of the tidbits in this section, I'll include a brief description of the prompt. This entry's works were written at writing camp last summer. It's not my best work- it's simply a random selection of the later works from camp.

Prompt: Write a monologue play-script. Only one character may speak, but they can be speaking to the audience, themselves, another character, etc. This particular monologue actually ties in to one of my other stories, and although it doesn't contain any spoilers as presented here, it's still a nice extra.

--NOT THAT HARD--

Michael sits in his seat along a crowd of people, talking on the phone. As he continues, people start to take notice.

MICHAEL: I told you, you have to go north!

Michael closes his eyes in frustration.

MICHAEL: No, no, your other left. See, the problem with you is that you listen to everyone who talks, everyone at once, and you don't pay attention to what really matters.

MICHAEL: That's not what I meant.

MICHAEL: I know it's easy to complain, easy to list all the things that you hate, but if you want to leave, you should.

MICHAEL: No, you're going everywhere, and this is going everywhere! I'd ask you if you're chickening out on me, but I trust you more than that, I know you're able to do this.

MICHAEL: This is a pep talk.

MICHAEL: My point is, I know you. I've rested my life on you, I believe you can do this. You are confident. You are clever. You are efficient. I'm with you for a reason.

Michael gives a heartbreaking sigh.

MICHAEL: And no, of course it wasn't your fault...

MICHAEL: Remember that time when we walked through the gardens? We went there just to visit, but I don't think either of us really knew why. I've never talked to someone like I talked to you...

MICHAEL: Naw, you're right, damn that.

MICHAEL: I think you see where it is, right? You can probably just make a right and you'll find it.

MICHAEL: No, don't look for her house yet! Just stay safe until you know everything is clear.

MICHAEL (incredulous): You don't know about this? I'm only asking you to kill someone!

Prompt: Choose a bug; write a poem about it. This particular poem is about a type of bug that imitates plant thorns for camouflage- I'm not sure exactly what they're called, but I certainly found them to be the most interesting bug in the large, crawling bug pile we were provided. I would have liked to make it longer, but my rhyming was quite slow, as I didn't have access to a rhyming dictionary.

--PRICKLED--

In the grass and weeds and thistles of the field by the lake,

There's a class of spiny prickles that are easy to mistake

For a thorn along the stem of any plant they choose to fake,

But they are no simple prickers- that's the camouflage they make.

In a world of death and chaos all the prickle bugs stand tall,

As the curled and dying silhouettes of ants in battle fall,

As the other insects speak aloud a memorable call,

Not quite innocent, but bystanders, the prickle bugs see all.

Prompt: While playing a card game with fellow campers, Amari put down a card with surprisingly insistent force. I, for no apparent reason, immediately said: "Amari and the decisive slap!" Then, a few seconds later: "I should write a poem about that." (Kristin was a camp proctor at the time.)

--AMARI AND THE DECISIVE SLAP--

Amari lay still in the darkness of night

When mysterious mutterings gave them a fright

And they sat up in bed and they turned on the light.

The darkness was dim and they couldn't quite see

And the noises they'd heard came from under a tree

Out the door in the darkness... it couldn't quite be...

They got out of bed and they put on their socks

And they pulled back the bolt and they unlocked the locks

And they stumbled outside and they stepped on some rocks.

The rocks were quite sharp and they went to get shoes

But their foot had a nasty and uneven bruise...

When they went back outside they heard ragtime and blues.

The music got louder, an engine and piston,

And they in the darkness were straining to listen.

Amari, they thought it was probably Kristin.

But further outside still the voices were talking.

Amari was not one for last-minute balking.

They pulled up their socks and they started their walking.

Far off in the darkness the laughing rang out,

And Amari was wondering: what's it about?

So they walked down the hall with a smidgen of doubt.

In the lounge under mood lighting their classmates sparred

With their words in the fields in even-spaced guard.

As their friends' gaze moved upwards, they said "Here's a bard,"

And Amari stepped forward- and slapped down a card.

Prompt: My writing coach repeatedly told us to stop apologizing in the introductions of our works. Then, later, to stop hiding apologies in the introductions of our works. Then, later, to stop introducing our works. Then, later, to stop apologizing for trying to introduce our works. I wrote this to spite him.

--SHOE PRINGLE--

AUTUMN: This poem is called Shoe Pringle. Well, it's not really a poem, it's a story, or at least kind of a poetic story. I haven't done this kind of work before, so it might be a little strange, or at least different, but that's okay, right? I know I'm not supposed to apologize, and I'm not apologizing for anything. I really like this piece. It's just an introduction, and I know I'm being a hypocrite while saying that because of how many times I've told you guys your work needs no introduction, and you're right. It needs no introduction.

AUTUMN: Oh, yeah, so the title of this story comes from an xkcd that reminded me of a group text- wait. Wait, no, it was a group text that reminded me of an xkcd comic, it's a little complicated, I'll explain later. Well, I mean, I could explain now. There was this girl at a music camp that I went to, that's actually at about the same time as right now. She played the flute, so she was a friend of this girl that I've known since first grade. Flute girl's name was Inga- no, Eileen. She had this group chat she was showing me and she said the name of the chat was just random junk, and the name at the time was "Shoe Pringle." And then I was reminded of that by the xkcd comic about group chats. To be honest, I called this that because it is just random junk. So, here we go...