AAWC: Challenge #3

Today it’s time for the third in a series of writing prompts in the Ardent Author’s Writing Challenge, hosted by the lovely Zielle at My Homeschool Notebook.

Like other writing challenges which I have participated inI will be posting my entries on this blog, and … I may not always stick to the schedule. But I am today.

Team Forest is behind, but we can fix this! Write, write, write! And write  well, my friends! 😉 *glares at all the other teams*

Team Forest

|Getting Extra Points|

  • You can take photos or draw pictures to illustrate your story. You will get 2 points per photo and illustration.
  • Creativity. This is how creatively you use the prompts. At the end of each round I’ll select my favorite story and that person will earn more points for their team.
  • If you use the name of you team in your story, you can earn a point for your team.
  • You’ll get a point for each prompt you use, and a point for submitting your story/poem.

|Challenge Three Prompts|

(credit to original owner)

Emily. 10. The hot pink of her outfit stood out from her pale skin.

Peter. 14. His brown hair lopped over his forehead and his shirt matched the deep blue in his eyes.


“What are you doing here?”

“This is my house.”

“Not anymore.”

(For Zielle: I used two of the prompts (#2 and #3) as well as illustrating my story and including the word ‘forest.’ So 1 + 2 + 1 + 12 = 16 points!)


The Marvelous Machine, Part 3

The Marvelous Machine

Peter was definitely not a morning person.

In fact, he wasn’t really an early-afternoon person, either. He felt his best in the evening and late at night. Which was why he was up at 2 a.m., creeping back from the kitchen with a plate full of cookies.

IMG_20180116_114433
NOMNOMNOM

As he made his way back to his bedroom, he contemplated the fact that 2 a.m. really was morning. He should get to bed or he’d be useless tomorrow – on Christmas Eve! But he just wanted to finish this chapter. Books didn’t write themselves.

He paused in the hallway when he heard a muffled sob. He stared at the door from whence it had emminated, trying to remember who slept there. His sister Carole – and Maddie.

He set the cookies down in the hall and rapped on the door. “Carole? Maddie? It’s me, Peter. Is something wrong?”

There was a shuffling sound, then, “You can come in, Peter.” Carole’s voice was concerned, but not tearful. So Maddie was crying?

He slowly eased the door open. The girls had lighted their lamp and sat by the fireplace in their dressing gowns. Carole had an arm protectively around Maddie who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

IMG_20180116_115447
Dreams are question marks and stars.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Maddie shook her head and blew her nose. “Just a bad dream.”

“I see. Want to talk about it?”

Maddie shrugged. “Not sure.”

Peter came over and sat next to Maddie and Carole. “Well, it can help to get these things out of your mind. Sometimes when you say a bad dream aloud, it helps you work through the fear. Partially because we realize it isn’t real; it’s just pretend.”

Maddie nodded. “I see what you mean. But it didn’t make that much sense, and I can only remember fragmented details. It … it was about when I was a girl in Philadelphia … but after the war. I must have been thirteen or fourteen. So several years ago.”

IMG_20180116_121146
I … misjudged how big a face is supposed to be? xD

Peter nodded. “Go on.”

“I was walking home from school … and there you were. Same as me, about fourteen. You were dressed in a blue suit.

“A blue suit?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. I remember that detail. And your hair was a bit long, kept getting in your eyes. It was darker, too. Less sun-bleached. More brown.” Maddie smiled. “Do you remember that?”

Peter nodded. “I do. What else?”

“We were outside our house, and I started up the walk and you said, ‘Maddie, stop. What are you doing here?’ And I said, ‘This is my house.’ And you said, ‘Not anymore.’” Maddie shuddered. “And I looked up into your eyes, and they were this lifeless blue.”

IMG_20180116_114800
They look like zombies …

“Wait. My eyes were blue?” Peter asked. “That doesn’t make any sense, Maddie.” He shook his head. “Dreams really are wild, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but you see, you turned into Riley.”

“I … turned into Riley?” Peter coughed. “That … that ….” He voice trailed off. He didn’t want to interpret that. He didn’t want to think about it. It was just a dream.

“Yes, you turned into Riley. Then one of my Sunday school girls from the ten-year-olds, Emily, ran up. She was all dressed in her Sunday best, a hot pink dress, and I said, ‘Emmy, where are you going?’ But she just kept running by me. And then … then everyone was just running by me. And I tried to followed them, but I couldn’t keep up …

“And then everything faded, and I was falling, and I landed in a forest, and it was … it was dark and scary, and -” Maddie’s voice broke. “I woke up after that.”

IMG_20180116_114924
IT’S THE GREASY GRIEVANCE GIRL.

Peter took her hand for a minute then stood. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”

Maddie nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you for listening, Peter.”

Carole affected a sappy grin. “Yes, thank you for listening, Peter.”

Peter glared at his younger sister and left the room. He’d guessed for a long time that Carole suspected, and now he knew he was right. He only hoped Maddie didn’t have a glimmer of an idea.

IMG_20180116_120336


Well … that was confusing. 😉

Until next week,

~Kellyn Roth~

Social Media | Website | Book Blog

p.s.

 Did you like this installment of “The Marvelous Machine”? I feel bad for Peter. Do you have realistic dreams? (I do all the time!) Do you remember any dreams from recently? (If so, tell me about them! And I shall tell you your fortune!)

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