Writing Prompts #9-12: Quickies

Hi everyone! M. here. So much for blogging more often, right?

I am back after a long production week of our play! I don't have anything specific to write about from that experience, because most of it is kind of a blur in my mind.... but I digress. I may write about it at some point. Today I'm taking a few short creative writing prompts from my pinterest and putting them in one post!

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Writing Prompt #9:

Something along the lines of Taylor Warren or Jess Mavery. If I published a book under a pen name I would make it ambiguous anyways so you couldn't tell if it was a guy or girl. 

Writing Prompt #10:

Pain is dirty, sometimes dull, other times sharp and glaring. The color of an injury, in my mind, is a flash of white followed by that dark uneven maroon. When a loved one is lost, pain is the color of the world blurred by tears. Everything that manages to come into focus is sharper, more cutting than before. The worst pain is blacker than a funeral, yet even then light usually manages to come through.

Happiness is Thanksgiving day and sitting at the table with family. It tastes like the meals shared, along with the often times odd conversations and babies cooing - or crying. It's warm rolls and pies passed around for all. Happiness is also like a free chocolate, given as an unexpected gift, or freshly baked cookies just out of the oven.

Writing Prompt #11: 

"49!" The warden yelled. "Get back in line!"

49 shivered and shuffled back into place. He glanced furtively across the muddy field. Sandy, ragged hair hung over his eyes, blocking his view. He accidentally jostled 48 as he reached his spot.

"Watch it." She muttered. 

"Whatever." 49 didn't care anymore. His broad shoulders had lost their once solid stature and the elements, specifically the cold, had taken their toll on the prisoner. They were about to be shuttled back to earth where they had to pretend all that went on here was fine. If they didn't keep quiet, well, the corrector would pay the captives a visit. Poor 15, thought 49. It was his job now. His job to start the revolution. That, and to stay alive.

(Possible future longer prompt???)

Writing Prompt #12:

1.Where I put my glasses.

2. Where I put my phone.

3. Where I put my shoes.

4. Just where I put my things in general.

5. ..... Uhhh, I forgot.

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And here, free of charge, are a few pictures from my pinterest I thought were especially funny.

(I SHALL CALL HIM STABBY AND HE SHALL BE MY STABBY)

If you ever want me to write about a certain topic or have a prompt you want me to do, let me know! I may decline, of course, but it never hurts to ask. See you guys next time!

-M.

(That's all.)