Mad Scribbles

Thursday's prompt was "Your first day as a pirate". I've noticed with these prompts that most have to do with "You" and "Your" so once again I'm taking some creative license. It's a prompt, so I can. Ha! This one is going to be about a character of mine, Hyde, (kind of my captain hook) and his first day taking over his mother's airship. Enjoy. Piracy "I wouldn't call it that," Smullens said for the 20th time. The young man in the dark blue coat frowned and pushed back thick, dark, hair. "And why not? It's what my mother called it. And my grandfather before her. It's piracy to steal the light from the stars. Simple as that," Hyde said. "Because we are legitimate. Technically speaking," Smullens said, wringing his hands. "We trade in legitimate ports. It does not make what we do legitimate. On a global scale," Hyde said. He seemed perfectly fine with the idea that he was doin...

I have been VERY behind on these so it's time to catch up. This one is from Wednesday. The prompt is "the first summer you fell in love". I'm going to take this as, explain the summer, not the love. So let's do this. The First Summer It was hot as summer's usually are. The air felt thick that year and it as filled with possibility. I was going into college and the whole world felt open. Scary, but open. I reveled in that as I laid out by the pool. I laughed in the windy heat by the beach and I listened to music loudly while driving to the mall. The trees were bright, the water cold, and the openness of the world felt impossible. It was a good summer for love. I was nearly 18. Nearly ready. Just nearly there. I was running into the world and I was hopeful. I fell in love as the sun was shining. I fell in love as the wind whistled my name. I fell in love with possibility as surely as I fell in love with any person and I let that take me away.

Today's prompt! An ode to an onion. I really like this prompt. I haven't done one like this since high school, so let's get going.  The Onion Ode You are beautiful a golden wrapper protects you from the world and I cry as I peel it away You break into pieces easily but you make me weep for your life as I use you You, my onion, are made to be eaten to be the subtle side note of a dish to be the taste we marvel at You might be hidden and thought of as ugly but to me, you are special I unwrap you like a present and fight the tears that well in my eyes as I dice I love your symphony and the way you can simply melt away You are poetry I confess that you are too much for me alone so I must give you partners you sing with them and then I can be proud of both you and me for your beauty is heard in the compliments of others

Yesterday's prompt: My mother broke all the plates in the house that day.  Disaster My mother broke all the plates in the house that day. It was a fairly normal day up until about 4 o'clock and I remember it well. When I was 16 my father cheated. It was cliche, no doubt, but he managed to make it his own. He cheated. With my best friend. Let me preface by saying that my best friend is my 18 year old neighbor, Thomas. Yep. My mother found him wrapped in Thomas' tanned arms in our finished basement. They'd been working out, I think, but then had found another way to burn those carbs. My father wasn't even sorry. Thomas was. Or, he became so when my mother began throwing her wedding china at him. I didn't join in. I was in shock. Thomas had been my best friend since we were in diapers and he never thought to mention that he was into older men. I would've liked that information, I think. But I stared as my mother screamed and broke every single one of th...

Saturday I was busy and yesterday I was lazy so today I'm doing the backlogged prompts as well. Saturday's was "A love letter to someone you hate". Here goes.  Names are changed and everything is embellished.  Dear Jessica, Your crooked teeth are the first thing I notice when I see you. It builds character. I know it comes from the way you tell me how to do my job (which you do so eloquently) but that is always the first thing I see. Two days ago you had food in your teeth and I didn't tell you. I focused on it wedged between your whitened, yet not straightened, teeth and waited out the lovely notes you had for me about my performance. I adore you. The way you cock your head when you pretend you don't understand something makes me swoon. I wish to curl up in your over perfumed arms and never leave. Your opinions on my inadequacy will protect me from the world. I have written to tell you, Jessica, that I love you. Heart and soul, I do. From your old opi...

Once more I'm taking a character I've already created and playing a bit within what they do. Desdemona comes from my novel "Tidal" based on the story of Atlantis. I hope you enjoy. The prompt itself is "You are a superhero. Explain your powers and what you use them for." I know I'm going out of the box, but isn't that what writing is about? Desdemona There was a clean water shortage in California. This was not new news to anyone. No one watered their lawns. Showers were cut down to 5 minutes or less. No baths were taken. And people were frustrated as was to be expected. Desdemona, however, didn't care. She lived on a houseboat. And as Tris' friends liked to joke, that was more a "water, water, everywhere" type life. Except the joke was on them. Desdemona was an oracle of Atlas. One of the chosen. And her people, regardless of oracle status, could drink the water of the sea as if it was fresh. She hadn't even known there were...

WHEN Copernicus went off to her lesson a guard came to tell Cambria and Lokson that their mother and father were there to see them. Canterberia of Dragonguard and her husband Lenox, Duke of the outer provinces, met their three children in the central meeting room. “Children!” Canterberia greeted warmly. They immediately knew something was changing. “Hello mother,” Kobre said and Lenox inclined his head. Being the second to his wife meant he spoke only when he thought he really had to. “How is it going here my darlings? Has she taken a shining to any of you?” Canterberia looked at Lokson. She knew that her charismatic and kind son was most likely to charm the future queen. “She likes both me and Cambria,” Lokson said. “Bria? Really?” Canterberia asked in surprise. “We have a good friendship,” Cambria said in her own defense. “Well that’s lovely dear. Anyway. We’re here to tell you we’ve been authorized to rise another child. So we’ll be having the ceremony in Drag...