Fall Writing Prompt Challenge: “You were meant to know the night”

I told myself that I was going to take a break from writing prompt challenges.  I told myself that they are a lot of work for me and that everyone is busy with back to school stuff but. . . then I stumbled across this fabulous prompt.  Thank you Sarah Doughty and WilderPoetry for the inspiration.

Guidelines

Writing Prompt- “You were meant to know the night”

  1. Using the writing prompt above, write a 100 to 800 word original, previously unpublished piece that integrates the writing prompt.  It can be poetry, prose, short fiction or even essay.  The prompt can be used as the title, you can use the phrase intact, or break it up however you want within the written piece.
  2. Pick out an image to go with your submission
  3. Write a brief biography
  4. Send the following to christine.e.ray@gmail.com by midnight on Sunday, October 1, 2017:
    • Your original piece
    • suggested image
    • brief biography including the name you write under
    • link to where you post your writing (blog, Facebook page, Instagram, etc.)
  5. Submissions will be judged by me and at least one guest judge.  If you are interested in being a guest judge for this challenge, let me know.
  6. I will publish all submissions on Brave and Reckless as long as they are appropriate and you are welcome to reblog to your platform once they have been published on Brave and Reckless first. They will also get a plug on Brave and Reckless‘ Twitter and Facebook pages. All participants are strongly encouraged to reblog the winning submission to their own blog.

Please feel free reblog and post this challenge invitation on social media

 

Subversive Children’s Story Writing Prompt Challenge: Willie and Tillie-MsJadeLi/Tao Talk

This is my entry in the subversive children’s story challenge by Brave and Reckless.  The format I use is what text would be on each page; there would be illustrations filling most of each page.

Outside Cover:  Willie and Tillie

Title Page:  written by Jade Li

p.1

Willie and Tilly were brother and sister.

Willie was brown, with green eyes and purple hair.  Tilly was pink, with blue eyes and orange hair.

Willie and Tilly lived in a yellow cottage in a green place by the blue water.

p.2

Willie and Tilly lived with Aunt May and Grandpa Charles.

Aunt May had green hair that touched the ground and her face was round as a pumpkin.

Grandpa Charles had wooden legs.  He wore a very tall hat and a beard of bumblebees.

p.3

Willie’s friend was a pig named Squiggle.

Willie and Squiggle loved to run up the hill, then roll down, over and over again.

p.4

Tilly’s friend was a cow named Mumu.

Tilly and Mumu loved to swim in the lake on warm sunny days.

p.5

Nearby Gardener Gabby lived with her herds of carrots and cabbage.

p.6

Nearby Farmer Phil grew rows of chickens and rabbits and bowls of fish.

p.7

Aunt May visited Farmer Phil.  She rode in a wagon pulled by two pine trees.

p.8

Farmer Phil pulled up chickens and rabbits and put them in baskets.  He poured the fish into pails of water.

p.9

Aunt May brought the baskets of chickens and rabbits and the pails of fish home.  She put the baskets in the cupboard.  She poured the fish into the bathtub.

p.10

Grandpa Charles visited Gardener Gabby.  He rode in a cart pulled by three shrubbery.

p.11

Gardener Gabby caught some carrots and cabbages and put them into cages.

p.12

Grandpa Charles brought the carrots and cabbages home.  He turned them loose in the vegetable pens.

p.13

He fed them water and sunshine.  The carrots grew very orange.  The cabbages grew very green.

p.14

Strawberries and blueberries rolled free by the cottage.

p.15

So did the wheat and the oats.

p.16

Aunt May set traps with plant food in them and caught the strawberries and blueberries and the wheat and the oats.

p.17

The strawberries and blueberries jumped and jumped but they were not able to get out of the traps.

p.18

The wheat and the oats jumped and jumped but they were not able to get out of the traps.

p.19

Grandpa Charles made fish pancakes for breakfast.  There was oat juice to drink.

p.20

Aunt May made strawberry sandwiches for lunch.  There was rabbit juice to drink.

p.21

Later,  Aunt May chased cabbages and carrots in the pens.  She caught 2 cabbages and 4 carrots, that wiggled this way and that, crying to get away, but Aunt May held them tight.

p.22

Grandpa Charles stood by the cutting board with a large vegetable cleaver and waited for Aunt May.

p.23

Grandpa Charles chop chop chop chopped the carrots to pieces.

p.24

Grandpa Charles chop chop chop, chop chop chopped the cabbages to pieces.

p.25

The chopped carrots and cabbages were thrown into a pot and covered with water.  Sticks of wood gave up their lives to build a fire.  The carrots and cabbages were boiled and boiled over the fire.

p.26

A dinner of Carrot Cabbage soup was served at the large table set up in the yard.

p.27 & 28

Aunt May, Grandpa Charles, Farmer Phil, Gardener Gabby, Willie, Squiggle, Tilly, and MuMu sat at the table.

The pine trees and the shrubbery planted themselves nearby.

p.29

There were sunshine and blueberries for dessert.

Back cover


MsJadeLi writes at Tao Talk

Subversive Children’s Story Writing Prompt Challenge

I am taking a children’s and young adult literature class this semester and my first writing assignment is to write a board book aimed at kids 0 to 4. I have never done any writing for this age group before but I am seeing this as an opportunity to write subversive children’s literature. If you would like to have some fun with this as well, join the writing prompt challenge using the guidelines below.  Good way to step out of your comfort zone and try to take over the world!

The Guidelines:

  • Write a 25 to 1,500 word piece children’s story with vocabulary a 4 year old would know with a subversive theme (most board books have 32 pages including the front and back cover)
  • Link back to this page
  • Publish the piece on your blog before midnight EST on Sunday, September 17th
  • In the Leave a Reply section below, leave a link for your subversive children’s story
  • I will publish appropriate submissions on Brave and Reckless

My husband wrote his own that I think it’s pretty clever called Elizabeth kept going

 

If I Came With a Warning Label-Qwietpleez/The Qwiet Muse

#bravewarninglabelchallenge Qwietpleez/The Qwiet Muse

The Qwiet Muse

IMG_2106.PNG

I found this Mini Writing Prompt challenge on the Brave and Reckless blog, and as per my usual, I’m late to the party. That’s a little misleading, I usually skip parties, BUT bloggy parties – now that’s more my speed.

This prompt prompted readers and writers to wax poetic about what their warning labels might say. I actually think I would have more than one (or three). I’d be curious to see what cautions my family would warn of. I may have to follow up on that. For now, though . . .

– If I came with a warning label –

The corners would
likely be peeled
like ancient scrolls of old,
evidence of times
I’d tried to remove it.
The faded words would say
handle with care –
contents may be
fragile, combustible,
easily shattered.
Keep in a cool, quiet space
filled with light and love.
May wield…

View original post 41 more words

Warning Label-Vivian Zems/Smell the Coffee 

#BRAVEWARNINGLABELCHALLENGE Vivian Zems/Smell the Coffee

Smell The Coffee

(#bravewarninglabelchallenge- If I Came With a Warning Label )

Here is a package

Without any baggage

Patience, love and loyalty

It’s gifts – fit for royalty

It’ll keep you enchanted

If you don’t take it for granted

Beware, of its failsafe trigger;

This package can withstand

Pressure untold

Push it too far

And chaos will unfold

Punch it more than once

And it will explode!

Copyright 2017- Vivian Zems

(Challenge here)

View original post

Fall Writing Prompt Challenge: “You were meant to know the night”

I told myself that I was going to take a break from writing prompt challenges.  I told myself that they are a lot of work for me and that everyone is busy with back to school stuff but. . . then I stumbled across this fabulous prompt.  Thank you Sarah Doughty and WilderPoetry for the inspiration.

Guidelines

Writing Prompt- “You were meant to know the night”

  1. Using the writing prompt above, write a 100 to 800 word original, previously unpublished piece that integrates the writing prompt.  It can be poetry, prose, short fiction or even essay.  The prompt can be used as the title, you can use the phrase intact, or break it up however you want within the written piece.
  2. Pick out an image to go with your submission
  3. Write a brief biography
  4. Send the following to christine.e.ray@gmail.com by midnight on Sunday, October 1, 2017:
    • Your original piece
    • suggested image
    • brief biography including the name you write under
    • link to where you post your writing (blog, Facebook page, Instagram, etc.)
  5. Submissions will be judged by me and at least one guest judge.  If you are interested in being a guest judge for this challenge, let me know.
  6. I will publish all submissions on Brave and Reckless as long as they are appropriate and you are welcome to reblog to your platform once they have been published on Brave and Reckless. They will also get a plug on Brave and Reckless‘ Twitter and Facebook pages. All participants are strongly encouraged to reblog the winning submission to their own blog.

Please feel free reblog and post this challenge invitation on social media

 

Deadline Reminder: Mini Writing Prompt Challenge: If I Came with a Warning Label. . . #bravewarninglabelchallenge

On August 8th , I threw down the gauntlet and challenged  my readers to a Mini Writing Prompt Challenge.  There is still time to participate!

The Rules:

  • Write a 25 to 100 word piece of poetry, prose or flash fiction answering the question “If I came with a warning label . . . ?”
  • Add the hashtag #bravewarninglabelchallenge
  • Publish the piece on your blog before midnight EST on Sunday, August 20th
  • In the reply section below, leave a link for your posted piece

I even wrote one myself

Warning Label

At times I am a danger

to self and others

roaring in like a tornado

of ideas

passion

art supplies

discarded shoes

a guitar pick or two

poem fragments

leaving chaos in my wake

I am prone to standing on soap boxes

flaming sword in hand

a pierced, buzz cut

tattooed Joan of Arc

invoking the goddess Truth

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

 

Blood Into Ink Writing Prompt Challenge: Kiera’s Voice/Vivian Zems

The scream cut through the quiet night. It was piercing and animalistic. Peter jerked awake. Confused, he scrambled for the bedside light switch,  but Samantha, his wife, had beaten him to it. They both looked at each other- horror mirrored in their faces. As if on cue,  both scrabbled out of bed. Peter was faster and was already hurtling down the stairs at break-neck speed.

“I’m calling the police!” She shouted after him, “Be careful!”

On auto-pilot, Peter grabbed his baseball bat in the foyer and charged outside. He had only one destination.  He knew where the scream had come from. Outside, his neighbours’ doors were opening- but slowly with trepidation.

He bounded across the narrow path, heading straight for the door of 12 Charlotte Lane.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d come to this door.  But it was the first time – at 3 in the morning.

At his speed, he was vaguely aware of the door to number 12 flying inwards and a figure running towards him. He stopped just in time as the figure ran into him.

It was Kiera, his neighbour. She leaned heavily against him, her harsh breath intermingled with guttural sounds. She didn’t even look up into his face to see who she was leaning on.

Instinctively, Peter put his free arm around her. His eyes quickly went back to the darkened doorway behind her. A faint silhouette stood in the darkness. There was a slight movement. Peter’s right hand tensed around the bat again. Before he could form the next thought, the door suddenly slammed shut.

Kiera, moaned in terror at the sound. His own heart was thudding away like a freight train.

Quickly, he picked her up and whirled around – heading back home. His brain picked up the fact that she was quite wet and slippery. A random thought, “Just out of the shower- maybe,” popped into his head- and then it was gone.

Samantha was waiting on their well-lit porch.As her husband approached, her mind questioned the large red sack he was carrying.

Only when he came under the full beam of the porch lights did her mind connect the dots.

The second scream that night was Samantha’s, as she took one look at Kiera and fainted.

This time, the neighbours rushed forward as one- to help.

In the harsh hospital lights Peter and Samantha sat huddled in a private room. Opposite them sat 2 detectives from the London Metropolitan Police. Peter answered the questions they threw at him as best he could.  Yes, he suspected Kiera’s husband, Michael had attacked his wife in the past. The proof? Well, there had been bruises which she always covered up with makeup and excuses.

Had he witnessed this abuse? Well….no. But he and Sam were fairly certain that Michael had been the perpetrator.

Peter’s irritation was mounting with the questions. Wasn’t it obvious that the bastard had tried to kill his wife?

The next question shocked him. Had he seen a male in a hoody running away from the property? Peter steadied his breath and recounted the image in the doorway before it had been slammed shut.  Both detectives scribbled away and then mercifully took their leave, advising him to be available should they have more questions in the future.

Sam was disgusted. “So that’s his story is it?” she sobbed.

“It’s  a case of he said/she said”, sighed Peter. “And what with Michael being a Judge……I really don’t know.”

Sam wiped at her tears, “I need to know if she’s out of surgery,” she murmured. What a night!

She shivered recalling the scene on her porch. Kiera had been covered in blood. Her face had been a puffy mask. Gashes through her thin nightie were oozing blood. But the worst injury had been to her left hand – her beautiful hand just had 2 fingers; the rest were oozing stumps. That was the last thing she saw before she’d fainted.

Sam had been vaguely aware of the ambulance and the police arriving and all the noise that followed. Her porch had been crowded for awhile until the police had dispersed the neighbours.

Now, here they were, waiting for news. Kiera’s mum had arrived shortly after they did, but the poor woman had to be sedated almost immediately.

Peter had been astute enough to declare himself Kiera’s lawyer as soon as the police arrived. He’d only given her legal advice in the past …but no one asked any further questions….and by God, the woman needed a lawyer.

Three hours later,  a doctor walked into the private room. Both Peter and Sam sat up, alert.  The look he wore  confirmed their worst fears. Sam began sobbing again, whilst Peter’s heart sank to the soles of his feet.

Kiera had not survived the surgery. No, her mother hadn’t yet been informed. He was very sorry for their loss….

Peter was numb. Gentle, delicate Kiera. Impossible.

He forced himself to listen to what the doctor was saying. The doctor was holding out a sheet of bloodied paper.

“What’s that? ” Peter asked.

“It’s a death-bed statement,” replied the doctor, “She insisted on writing this prior to the surgery. Perhaps she suspected she wouldn’t make it. I’ve read it and it’s clear, concise and witnessed by 5 medics including myself. You could say she turned her blood into ink.”

With that, he departed, leaving them in the quiet room. Quiet, save for Sam’s sniffles.

Gently touching the bloodstained sheet, Sam looked her husband in the eye.

“Make sure he pays, Peter, she sobbed. Make sure!”

‘I will” he breathed, gripping Kiera’s last words, “On her life- I will.”

THE END

Copyright Vivian Zems


When I was nine, my dad introduced me to audio books. I was hooked.  With his guidance, I fell into a world where words became life simply by weaving them together.  So here I am, living out my passion- reading and writing- being transformed with each story. I blog at Smell The Coffee

Blood Into Ink Writing Prompt Challenge: 1Wise-Woman

Too much has been taken

What wasn’t killed, was stolen

What wasn’t stolen, was poisoned

Eviscerated, vacant, voided

A snake

Camouflaged behind closed doors

Charmed by power

Powered by violence

Seize what you need

Plant a seed

Of destruction

With words

Lies and betrayal

Fury and force

It would be easier to believe in God

Than believe in you

Drain my blood

Your lifeline

My crumbling foundation

A black hole

Siphoning the sun

And the sky hurts

Like a moth self sacrificed

To light

Oblivious of it’s pestilent plight

There is no glory

In the details of my story

It was written for me

Visible

In my scars

The fear in my eyes

My irregular heartbeat

There are gaps here and there

From the times I couldn’t bear

Forced to read the same chapters

Reality recited too many times

In my fragmented mind

It speaks plainly enough

Blood loss

Coin toss

Thoughts and words

Slip into the silence

Of nightmares

The need to be heard

Lost in the abyss

A place absent of bliss

Clinging to the precipice

Unaware of the depth

Of which my soul could sink

In search of saving

Afraid of failing

Again

Lost in a mystery

Of misery

But history repeats itself

If I had known how replaceable I was

I would of climbed through the chink

In time and

Turned my blood into ink

Leaving a path

Away from the past

Into strength amassed

Becoming

My own fire

Silver lining evaporated

Golden glow consecrated

Voice emancipated

I am the sound of survival

The song of undying determination

Till I collapse

Words etched across my chest

Reflection of a lioness

Bravely hidden

Behind

A wildflower dress


I write about mental illness and chronic illness. I use a variety of writing styles to incorporate all of the ugly and beauty of living with mental and chronic illness. The purpose behind my blog is to ease some of my pain as well as share some of my blessings, to provide information, encouragement and support to others and to help end the stigma against mental illness and invisible diseases.  My blog is A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave