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Friday, February 10, 2012

A Prompt for Prose

We come now to the end of my introductory week here at Unicorn Bell. I hope it's been a successful one. It sure seems to be from what I can tell, but sometimes appearances can be deceiving, at least in my experience.

The haikus you provided yesterday are totally awesome. I'll go back through later today and comment on them as I'm a little pressed for time this morning. However, I do want to get you set up for the final prompt. After all, this week has really been about getting you into the act of writing through inspiration. At this time, I'd like to share one of my photos with you, taken a couple years ago, in the hopes that you might find it inspiration.

What follows next is the image of my trip to Whistler, Canada, back in Summer of 2010. On the surface, there may not appear to be much going on in the way of action, but that's where you come in. Bring some action to the scene. Show me what's happening, or what could be happening. The only limit here is the one your imagination sets. The more creative you are, the more Kudos Points you get. (Limit 5 per customer today, please.)

Without further ado, here's my photo. Enjoy your weekend, everyone, and I look forward to seeing you again in March!

A lone van driving further up the mountain, away from civilization...


mshatch said...

and laying flat on the hills above, a marksman with the van in it's crosshairs, slowly pulling the trigger...
At first nothing happens; the van continues on it's course - for about ten seconds. Then it swerves suddenly, violently, careening over the embankment. Smack! Into the trees, crushing the front end like an accordian. The engine block rams into the front seat, the windshield collapsing inwards. The steering wheel embeds itself in the driver, and the passenger side door pops open.
A body flies out onto the grass, rolling a bit before stopping. It lays still, briefly, then starts to crawl away.
Back on the hill the marksman shoulders his rifle and heads down.

(very rough draft)

dolorah said...

Oooh; exciting. Love the imagery of the steering wheel impaling the driver; and the marksmann shouldering his rifle and ambling off. A job successfully completed.


dolorah said...

Jerrod realized he was back where he started when he approached the side road again. An hours driving in the beautiful mountain setting had gotten him nowhere; and he was still pissed as hell. The only people he'd seen in the last six hours had either pointed a shotgun at him to warn him and his troup off, or attacked without a word of warning. He was beginning to question his choice of sunny yellow for his van.

“I'm hungry,” blond headed Martha complained directly behind his driver's seat.

“I gotta go,” her twin brother Matthew added.

“Soon,” he told the children.

“You said that an hour ago,” the practical Hilde declared. The spunk had gone out of her soft brown ringlets hours ago, and she'd taken her glasses off as an act of defiance.

Jerrod remained silent as he checked the side mirrors for traffic. The Utah highway should have been packed with commuters on their way to the Moab mountain biking competition. He'd agreed to take the seven children - Bruce and Trent were asleep in the cargo area atop the sleeping bags and pillows; Jon and Cassie were sprawled on the back seat watching a movie on a portable DVD player – to the tournament on a whim, hoping to put some distance between himself and his estranged family. A cooling off period.

Yesterday morning his co-chaperone Ms Jodi Baker had declared a sudden illness, and high tailed it out on the first greyhound returning to California. His choice was to continue alone with his charges, or turn round and take them all home. He'd chosen to carry on, so as not to be one more disappointment in these children's lives. Now Jerrod felt betrayed and stranded by circumstances.

They had a nice dinner at Denny's last night at 6p, registered into the motel suite by 7:30p, and all had been tucked comfortably in their blankets two hours later. It'd only felt a little odd to drop the key off to an empty office this morning at six, but he'd only really noticed the deserted roads as they neared Moab and began looking for more than a rest stop to ease the road weariness. A hot meal and social interraction would perk up the kids' mood.

A beer would alleviate Jerrod's anxiety.

As they drove through the deserted town, Jerrod started to wonder if he should have paid more attention to Pastor Richard's sermons on the Rapture.

mshatch said...

Ha! That was a good one!