Post by Meira on Apr 15, 2009 13:02:05 GMT -5
So I stumbled on a writing prompt. The challenge being to include specific words in whatever you chose to write. Here's the words:
And here's what I wrote. Many of the words are crammed in the first paragraph because I didn't expect to write a whole page.
Her hands were shaking as she clutched the letter. How long had she anticipated its arrival? How long had she feared it? The plain type-face, so innocent, was ominous in her eyes. She tried to swallow her nerves, but they jammed in her throat, refusing to be subdued. Her face, with pale ivory cheeks, turned away, trying to forget what she held in her hands. As if the havoc of the flora attacking her porch could distract her from in inevitable truth.
The birds would return soon. She had always enjoyed their shrill songs when their migrations brought them back to the trees surrounding her home. She would have to remember to buy birdseed to refill the feeders. Maybe this year she would buy a humming bird feeder. She could put it outside the kitchen window. Washing dishes might not be so dull if she could watch them hover over the nectar, their wings a blur of constant motion. What did their song sound like? She couldn't recall ever having heard a humming bird song.
The letter was still there. It didn't matter how long she pondered over conceptual bird songs, it would always be there. But how could she open it? Her whole world revolved around the hope of never having to read the ambiguously trite words printed on it, full of empty regret. They had taken him from her, and this letter heralded his so called "heroic" return in a wooden box. She gave them her heart, her life, and they gave her a letter and a folded flag.
- Ambiguous
- Conceptual
- Flora
- Havoc
- Ivory
- Letter
- Migrate
- Ominous
- Revolve
- Swallow
- Trite
And here's what I wrote. Many of the words are crammed in the first paragraph because I didn't expect to write a whole page.
Her hands were shaking as she clutched the letter. How long had she anticipated its arrival? How long had she feared it? The plain type-face, so innocent, was ominous in her eyes. She tried to swallow her nerves, but they jammed in her throat, refusing to be subdued. Her face, with pale ivory cheeks, turned away, trying to forget what she held in her hands. As if the havoc of the flora attacking her porch could distract her from in inevitable truth.
The birds would return soon. She had always enjoyed their shrill songs when their migrations brought them back to the trees surrounding her home. She would have to remember to buy birdseed to refill the feeders. Maybe this year she would buy a humming bird feeder. She could put it outside the kitchen window. Washing dishes might not be so dull if she could watch them hover over the nectar, their wings a blur of constant motion. What did their song sound like? She couldn't recall ever having heard a humming bird song.
The letter was still there. It didn't matter how long she pondered over conceptual bird songs, it would always be there. But how could she open it? Her whole world revolved around the hope of never having to read the ambiguously trite words printed on it, full of empty regret. They had taken him from her, and this letter heralded his so called "heroic" return in a wooden box. She gave them her heart, her life, and they gave her a letter and a folded flag.
