Happy Sunday! Here’s a writing experiment from the mind of meee. (sorry not sorry). I feel like it could be used as a scientific writing task in education settings, but unsure + need more data input (leave comments below!)
Today’s post is brought to you by cooler temperatures, slanty-sunlight, and this poem I wrote back in 2005. Wishing you a weekend full of autumn adventures (and not too much time spent studying). 🍁
Freezing rain drizzles
Into a 2 a.m. dream
Tucked beneath fuzzy flannel.
Wind and sunshine slant
Through ancient, dust-covered blinds:
Morning wake-up call.
Rubbing sleep-filled eyes
And Oreos for breakfast
Shower, make-up, bus.
Leaning on cool glass
Eyes and thoughts wander through lakes
Of golden, crisp leaves.
Yellow, orange, red,
Bright, burning scoops of sherbert
Piled atop bark cones.
Oh, Glorious Fall!
To frolick in deep-set rays
And tumble like leaves.
Hot apple cider
Whispers of Christmas to come
With sweaters and scarves.
But Fall lingers still,
Warmed with bonfires and coffee
To get through the night.
Papers and exams
Flood into Autumn-filled thoughts
Causing a deep scowl
Stumbling off the bus
Pouting footsteps trudge uphill
To the library.
Meet Dr. Sandra: my *better* half.
She’s my editor, my mama-partner-in-crime, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me. 💜
Here are her prompts and (super) short story submission to the NYC Microfiction competition (see my post below for more info!)
Prompts: Romance / donating blood / “popular”
“Ok, just a little pinch, now relax your arm,” the nurse said, looking at him curiously. “It’s not a very popular tradition for a groom to give blood just hours before he’s about to get married.”
Caleb chuckled. “Well, I understand how important it is. You see, about 10 years ago, I was in a horrible car accident. When they found me, I was in critical condition and had lost several pints of blood. I owe my life to the person who decided to donate that day.”
The nurse was fiddling around with the bag to make sure the blood was flowing properly. “Mhmm, we get a lot of stories about near death experiences turning people into donors… but on your wedding day?”
Caleb smiled. “Five years after my accident, I met the woman I’m about to marry. Three years later, we found out it was her blood that saved my life. She didn’t know when she was donating then, that she was saving her future husband – so it’s my wedding vow to her, to donate blood every year on our anniversary… just in case I should get the opportunity to repay my debt.”
Two years ago, my rad friend Ammie – a WM Geology alumna like meee – posted an announcement for the NYC Midnight Short Story Competition.
Basically, writers are assigned a genre (sci-fi or action/adventure), an action (fishing), and a person (firefighter), and must incorporate their prompts into a short story. But there’s a catch – both the word limit AND writing time limit DECREASE as you pass each round in the competition (see below).
Even though I’ve never made it beyond Round 2, I’m sooo addicted to this competition (it’s spawned many of the short stories on my website!). So when they announced a micro-fiction competition, this mama was STOKED (because 250 words is an abstract, scientifically-speaking, and I can BS one of those in like 30 minutes).
For this challenge, you’re given a genre, along with both an activity and a word that must be explicitly included in your story.
Here were mah prompts:
- Fairy Tale and/or Fantasy
- Starting a fire
Here’s what I did with it – enjoy! (and let me know what you think!)
Zula stirred the boiling liquid in her cauldron one last time, before moving to her alter. She picked up the steel dagger and took a deep, steadying breath.
Images flooded Zula’s mind – her sisters, her own daughter, stolen while Zula was out gathering. She heard the echoes of screaming women, being dragged away, tied to stakes and burned. Her coven had been ripped apart, and Zula had nothing left to lose.
Shutting her eyes and firmly grasping the dagger, she quickly slid the blade across her open hand and watched as beads of dark blood gathered in a pool. Tilting her palm over the cauldron, she spoke the sacred words:
“Oh, Great Goddess –
I invoke your infinite power
Against the evil forces
Who have destroyed
The deep bonds of our sisterhood.”
The fire beneath the cauldron suddenly swelled, sending a burst of heat into the room. In the distance, Zula heard the *pop* of a single flame, felt it spread through the undergrowth, moving quickly through the forest towards its target.
“I invoke the wrath of our Mother
And summon the ancient fires
Upon those who have taken
The souls of my sisters.”
The fire’s roar shook her small hut. In the distance, Zula heard the frantic cries of villagers burning, as church bells began to ring out a futile cry for help. Her voice swelled with the final words.
“Purify the Earth
With your cleansing flames
So that we may rise
From the scorched ground
The purpose of this new, shiny blog will be to showcase some of my random stories, writings, and other nyssa-thoughts.
I’ll try to update weekly, but if you’d like to showcase your own writing / artwork / random creative thoughts, leave a comment or send me a message!
Check out more bloggy-posts below!👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼
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As you’ve probably guessed from my website, I’m unemployed and on the job hunt. One of the (many) jobs I’ve applied for was a fiction writing/editing position; and as part of the process, I was given a few prompts +… Read more
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Stuff I’m listening to at the moment: