Prompt for January 21: The Dump

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . I had some prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I’m just now getting around to posting. Sorry. Story from a story idea of mine entitled Iron Maiden.]

The night air was cold; icy fingers kept stroking the bare skin of my shoulders. I should have brought that cloak with me after all.

Too much clothing would be a waist where I was going. The lower streets were so caked with filth that I would most likely have to resole the boots I was wearing after. Any cloak of mine, even the shortest, would have to be discarded shortly after my visit. There was no return from the stench of waste and death.

As an added safeguard, I bustled the back of my skirt higher than normal. I hoped I would not have to discard that as well. Keeping this in mind, I kept an eye out for any puddles on the cobblestones while I glanced around for signs of life.

Those you do not wish to find in a dark alley were typically the only souls awake at that ungodly hour.

Prompt for January 20: Two Haiku about Trauma

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .  I had some prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I’m now just getting around to posting. Sorry.]

With blood spewing out

And arms and legs falling off,

They rush through the doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car crashed right there.

And, though she was not inside,

She is still haunted.

Prompt for January 19: Skipped

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . I have some prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I’m just now getting around to posting. Sorry.]

It came as a great shock to her when she reviewed her document folder for the month that she somehow missed a date. It was a busy month, after all. The new job, the dog, the new relationship that had her flying on clouds; there was a lot to keep her from updating her followers on her crazily brilliant fan theories and random musings. But to miss a day? Never!

She could have simply saved it with another day’s work. It wouldn’t have been the first time Annie did something like that in either a moment of forgetfulness or of overthinking.

However, a quick glance at the surrounding days’ entries told her this was not the case.

Had she really broken her vow of updating her blog every day?

Annie was appalled with herself. Disgusted, even. Her poor fans were left without even so much as an explanation why they had to live over twenty four hours without her words and ideas.

Prompt for January 17: The Investment

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . I’ve had a few prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I’m just now getting around to posting. Sorry.]

My heart is made of bronze:

A hardy sort of build meant

To withstand much. Strength

To those whom have it.

 

My heart is made of silver:

A prized token of wealth

And protection. To have

It is to control the world.

 

My heart is made of gold:

A sparkling, beautiful thing

Envied by many. To have

It is to rise above all else.

 

My heart is made of iron:

A tool for creation and

Progression. Ingenuity
To those whom have it.

 

My heart is a special thing:

One that can create, protect,

Strengthen and enlighten.

It is worth your investment.

Prompt for January 16: Four Lines of Prose about Chickens

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

They were all gathered neatly in the corner of the pen, right next to the trough where we put the food. Though there beady black eyes were shifting all around the pen, they continued to rest on Jim and me far too often for it to be random. They were cooking up a plan in those feathered heads of theirs.

And even though I had an inkling, the uprising the next day still took us all by surprise.