Wednesday Writing Prompt! 10/22/2014

Trying something new here…

I think on Wednesdays I am going to start posting flash fiction writing prompts from my trusty ‘The Storymatic’.

Storymatic

The idea is to draw two cards that will be used to prompt your story. I will be posting my writing from the two cards every Friday for my #FictionFriday post.

If you want to participate you can either share it on twitter using the hastag #HeyThereFFWP or you can post it in the comments below this post or on Friday in the comments of my submission.

I will be doing this every Wednesday, but the end goal is to once a month hold a contest where I will give out a prize for the best piece of writing.

Sound off below if you like this idea, or if you already know you want to participate, post your flash fiction below in the comments below or on Friday.

Here is this weeks prompt.

Storymatic 2

the two cards are: Graffiti Writer, and Doctor’s Note

Use the writing prompt to write a flash fiction piece 100 words minimum and 500 words maximum. Good luck, I look forward to reading everyones! Again, I will be posting mine on Friday! #HeyThereFFWP

here are some flash fiction pieces of my own, let me know what you think!:

https://heytherefatboy.wordpress.com/2014/10/17/for-an-hour-a-flash-fiction-story/

https://heytherefatboy.wordpress.com/2014/09/20/wallpaper-100-word-flash-fiction/

https://heytherefatboy.wordpress.com/2014/10/10/danger-in-shadows/

https://heytherefatboy.wordpress.com/2014/09/26/meet-again-out-there/

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20 thoughts on “Wednesday Writing Prompt! 10/22/2014

  1. This is such a great idea! I would love to participate. You should consider doing it as a link up where people write the post on their blog and then link it up on yours with a tool like inlinkz. I’m in a rush today but I think this idea sounds super fun.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “I can’t be late” bursts into my mind like the dozens of alarms I slept through. I scurry around to throw on clothes. I can’t iron my shirt. I can’t shave. I can’t forget to brush my teeth. I can’t believe this is happening on my first day at a new job.

    I run and slam the door like a gun that begins my race. I’ve never felt this fast and focused. A hundred yards ahead of me I see a gold medal that is my train. Today is going to be glorious.

    My heart sinks as I get to the platform just in time to see the train leaving. I Panic and feel that I need to react quickly. Maybe I can throw myself onto the tracks…no, too dangerous. Maybe I call in sick…all I need is a doctor’s note. “Relax, you’re being illogical!” My mind continues to sprint and curse words fly through the air as I stand completely still and wait seven minutes for the next train. Across the platform my eyes stop on a graffiti writer tagging the wall, “Time is Money”.

    My mind snaps, “Get a job.”

    I get to work ten minutes late, twenty minutes before my boss arrives.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. He sat behind me on a park bench as I worked. I didn’t mind, though I could feel his eyes following my spray can as I made the precise arc of the letter N. Every Tuesday for the past couple of weeks I came here to work on this piece. A memoriam to love, quotes from those long dead and yet very much alive in my mind. It didn’t matter to me what tool I wrote with, the only thing that mattered were the words that flooded forth, like Dickens possessing my hand. I’m not sure who came first, but I’m pretty sure the man on the bench was a long time fixture and I was simply impeding on his concrete turf. Today he wore a pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up, as if he were ready to work with me. His auburn hair a mess atop a bearded face, his foot tapping to music I couldn’t hear. He was peaceful backdrop to my constantly flowing words. As the weeks went by we had developed on our own silent language. I would show up around 9am and he would slowly make his way down the path, we would smile at each other and I would begin the day’s work. I became fond of his presence behind me and was worried one Tuesday when he didn’t show up. I kept glancing at my watch and as the time passed by and still no sign of him. Where was my director in this written orchestra? Somehow my work felt empty. As the following Tuesday arrived I was anxious for the sun to rise to see if he would be there, my anchor in the storm of my mind’s own madness. I walked the pathway just a little quicker, my heart beating slightly faster than I care to admit. I knew I would get to the wall first but I kept glancing around anyway. There on the wall I found a note taped where I had left off last week, it read;
    Dear graffiti writer,
    Please take this doctor’s note as my reason for not coming to today’s art session. I look forward to next week.
    Yours truly,
    Dickens

    Liked by 1 person

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