Wednesday’s Writing Prompt

“He told us a very exciting story…”

Here is mine:

He told us a very exciting story.

He did. Sadly, I can’t remember most of it. At the time I was enthralled. No, it was more than that–I was bewitched by the idea that what he said was true, and that it–somehow–had a relation to my life. 

It didn’t. 

It never does. 

There are a variety of types of people you’ll meet in your life. Some you’ll love. Many you will loath–and then there is the used car salesmen who rope you like an aging steer with their words. 

It’s only after the aphrodisiac wears off, and they are hundreds of miles away, you realize your wallet is missing. 

Now show me yours:

Happy writing! xxoo-A

Wednesday Words–coming of age

Welcome the future! We didn’t implode. No, instead we have become the great explorers we’ve always wanted to be.

The world you live in is filled with interplanetary travel.

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You’re traveling to all eight of Neptune’s moons, but you don’t want to go. Your mother insists–you have no choice. In between sulking and the all you can eat buffet–you meet ‘the one.’

S/he is everything you’ve ever wanted in a companion. What happens next?

[I’m assuming the love interest is a stow-away! Can their love last?]

Wednesday Words–Writing Prompt

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I’m going simple this week. Science Fiction prompt:

There’s a spy trapped in your computer.

He or she needs your help to survive.

What do you do?

Maybe it’s not that simple, but it’s direct. What do you do if you learn the conscienceless of a spy has been downloaded into your computer?


My take:

My eyes were glued to the cursor. Suddenly it’s repetitive blinking felt more like old Morse Code than a reminder as to where I left off in my writing.

I read the text again–“I’ve been downloaded into your computer. Please help.”

What are you really supposed to say to something like that? Well, beside–haha! Funny joke! I wanted to believe that was the end of it. That somehow someone from Twitter or Facebook hacked my account to mess with me–but I ran the diagnostics. I checked, re-checked, took my computer to a shop and had them check–but when I booted up for the umpteenth time, with no real reason, the messages started again.

“Why wont you answer me?” they said.

“You  know I can see you through the camera, right? And may I add, pants would be a nice touch?”

“Why would I be asking you for help if I didn’t actually need it.” This was a good point, but still… You’re trapped in my computer?

The comments and questions wore at my psyche until I couldn’t ignore them any longer. That’s when I finally typed, “What do you need me to do?”

And they wrote back, “Finding my body would be a nice start.”


What would you do?

Happy writing! xxoo-A