Other stories for this prompt

Tina is at 6 AM mass every day, no fail. Masses in the Catholic church only change once a week and they revert back every year. In the five years since she's gone daily to mass, she's heard this particular mass 33 times already. Blessed is she among women.

The sanctuary at St. Agnes' smells like a basement. There is mold, dust, incense, old women with wool stockings and perfume. The pew closest to the door on the right-hand side is where Tina always sits. There isn't even a kneeler on it and Tina genuflects with her knees on the...

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The clock had stopped.

The clock had stopped at two minutes past eleven, but whether that was eleven this morning, last night, or three weeks ago, he wasn't sure. He rarely looked at the clock - it was just something that was there, on the wall, taking up space. Something that he would, no doubt, miss were it ever to be gone, but, because of the sameness of it, because of the reliability of its general shape being where it always was, it went unnoticed.

It was only the fly that was buzzing annoyingly around the room that caused him,...

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Her new glasses were magical. She saw the world in a whole new light. Literally. The lenses transitioned to pink shades in bright sunlight, giving her world a rosy glow like the unbridled optimism of youth. Indoors, the tint faded - though not too quickly - making her appreciate her now clearer vision.

The girl at the counter gave smiled and handed her the bill. Her credit card would hurt with this purchase, but then again...

she couldn't wait to get back outside.

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Powerful legs, legs charged by the spirit of youth, the longing to break free and simply run full pelt meaninglessly. These legs, this energy took her gambolling madly down to the bottom of Grandpa's garden to the summerhouse. Back at the town house, up his room was death, despair, disease and unbearable suffocating sadness and stifling stillness. Here outside was green; fresh wet green, distant roaring traffic - movement, life energy, freedom. Her lungs were full of cleaner cooler air and her hair pulled straight out behind her. Fresh air hair. She reached the summerhouse door and ran in.
'He's...

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Salt by erin

He licked the salt crystal off her neck.
Couldn't resist.

Face-down in the sand dunes as the early morning sun rose.
The sea glittered the same harsh light as the salt gleaming off her back.

He felt sick. But there she was. Drawing him close.

Why was he here again? The surfboard bobbed on the sanddunes. Oh yes. He wanted to help here. A naked half buried body on the beach. He tried to get up.

'Miss- are you alright?'

Her laboured breathing stop. She turned around to look at him.
Gleaming eyes. Sharp teeth. Cut cheeks.
Wait gills?

She...

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My mother toils under the assumption that she is beautifully imperfect but the world should be perfect. She reacts to news like a small child. Living in the moment with the belief that what is going on now will be what goes on forever. I am her child and I am the same.

We slump together from depression to remission, my mother and I. We stay on the couch for days at a time drinking wine, eating Oreos, and watching reality television. Then Mom gets an alimony check or I finally land a job interview and the fever breaks. We...

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"Hey! You! Jackass!"

Geoff was trying to make eye contact -- or, failing that, ear contact -- with the ferris wheel operator below. Geoff and Jo had been stuck at the top of the ride for more than five minutes now. And the effort might not have been so much in vain were they not surrounded by a cage.

No response. Of course.

"Will you knock it off?" asked Jo. "He'll get to it when he gets to it."

"It's just. Gah!" Geoff started rocking the ride. Back and forth, back and forth, the range of motion increasing each time....

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I have seen lesser gods dancing on my street. I have asked for their names.

Come again?

The water for the tea is boiling. I hope you don't mind, but I need to leave. I hope you don't mind. I really hope you don't mind. I will stay, I will continue this conversation, but you can't hold it against me.

You don't believe me.

I have heard the wind patter the leaves at my doorstep like the footsteps of tree children playing.

I am nowhere near death. Why do you ask?

This is not about dying.

I have wanted to...

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The ticking of the clock invigorated her. Every click pounded in her brain, every hourly chime let her know that she was that much closer to her release. Life, there's the rub... She would never know the calamity of a long life, and for that she was grateful. While others were doomed to grow old, lose their loved ones, die alone - she gave her life freely - knowing that her sacrifice would please their overlords, bringing peace to her village.

She said her farewells to a swelling sea of tear streaked faces, but her own was shining, brilliant. As...

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So there I was, cigarette in hand, pigeon in my mouth, and she starts talking to me. I'm like, lady, shut up already, will ya? If the blood bothers you, go read somewhere else, OK?

But no, she wants me to stop eating the pigeon. Or stop smoking, or something. I dunno, the sound of the bones crunching kinda drowned her out. Whatever she was saying, she must have felt pretty strongly about it, 'cause she popped a button on her blouse when she started pointing her finger in my face.

I was pretty sure the button wasn't one of...

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About the prompt

Blank Prompt

Freeform prompt. Every Friday, writers face a blank page without any prompt. They write whatever they want in six minutes or less.
Prompt suggested by Galen
Originally displayed on:
September 30, 2011

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