Thursday, June 14, 2012

Whoseywhatsit Thursday: Summer Writing Prompt

It's time for another Whoseywhatsit writing prompt, from yours truly. This week's topic ...


Summer vacation? Fun at the pool? Desert heat? Sandy beach? Radiating sun? Paranormal seasons?

You have up to 250 words to get your character in a summer state of mind - develop a flashback, write a poem, try something new, whatever you want. Post those words below and then comment on at least one other person's writing. (You don't need to necessarily critique it, this isn't polished writing people!)

Ready. Set. Go!

(And here's mine ...)

I traced a finger lightly along his jaw, then brushed my lips against his. He stood there, still as a statue, like he didn't quite know how to react.

"Malia," The word was a question.

"Sh," I said against his mouth. My hand cupped the back of his neck in an attempt to pull him closer.

"We can't do this." He skittered back, blue eyes now a shade of slate. "You can't do this."

Tears stung the back of my eyes, bitter and dejected. I knew I shouldn't be here. I should be preparing for the summer solstice and the ceremony tomorrow. I should be getting a last fitting of my stola. I should be meditating to the immortals.

But I didn't care.

I wanted to feel.



I'd never felt so alone.

Who was I kidding. I'd always felt this alone.


  1. Poor, Malia. I really feel sorry for her!

  2. This is me imagining what my MC, Lyssa, would feel like as the Pythia during August heat.

    Until now, I’d enjoyed the chamber. The coolness of being beneath the earth, the relaxing tones of the stream passing beneath the rock floor. All of it was calming and I’d gladly claimed it as my own. But not now.

    Now the room felt like it could suffocate me with its heat. The stream only added to the already out-of-control humidity. A rivulet of sweat streaked down my temple and another traced along my spine. I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to breathe deep enough to inhale Apollo’s vapors today.

    And then what? No vapors meant to predictions. And I’d seen the line of worshippers snaking around the temple before I descended. Panic crept into my chest, blanketing my lungs with another layer of constriction. I’d never failed Apollo before. Never failed the people.

    I swiveled on my tripod, searching for a priest, or anyone, who could bring me water. I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave, but I couldn’t stay here like this. My gown was stuck to every crevice of my skin and my mouth was parched. Maybe I could just pretend to faint and they'd have to call off the ceremony today. Falling over and laying on the rock until I was discovered had to be less painful than baking alive.


Breaths that matter...

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