Describe a scatterbrained artist whose race car runs out of fuel.
There once was an artist named Danica. She loved to draw, but she had never finished a single painting in her life. She was so absent minded and scatter brained that before she could finish her painting, she would think of something else she had to do, like the laundry. After putting the laundry in, Danica would inevitably remember that she had been cooking macaroni on the stove. When she ran over to turn the stove off, she realized she never turned the stove on because that was when she had the idea to paint a portrait of her turtle. And so it went each day.
More than anything, Danica wanted to finish a painting. As she poured out the pot of cold water and grabbed a bag of chips, she was determined to focus on her painting. When she got back upstairs to her room, she realized she didn't know where her favorite paint brush went. Retracing her steps, Danica went back to the kitchen. No paintbrush.
"Oh no," Danica thought. "I didn't put it in the laundry, did I?" She hurried to the laundry room and opened the washer. Everything was blue. "At least that's my favorite color," she thought.
As she dug through the paint stained clothes, she felt a sharp stick. Danica pulled out half of her paintbrush. "Great," Danica thought, getting misty eyed. "My favorite brush. I can never do anything right," she thought.
Whenever Danica got upset or overly emotional, which was multiple times a day, she would take a drive in her race car. She backed out of her driveway, then sped off backwards. (She forgot to switch gears from "reverse" to "drive".) Danica screeched to a stop. Switched gears to "drive," and sped off again, this time in the right direction.
Danica drove, radio full blast while she sang, equally loudly along to a sad Taylor Swift song. She stopped at Michael's to buy a new paintbrush.
"I'm sorry old friend," Danica sobbed to the remaining half of her paintbrush. "I just couldn't save you. I know it's insensitive of me, but will you please help me find a new paintbrush?"
Danica hugged her old friend, wiped away her tears, and walked into Michael's.
After an hour a salesperson escorted Danica out of the store. In her depressed state, Danica couldn't choose a new paintbrush, even with the help of the salesperson and her old paintbrush. All Danica could manage was to sob on the floor, hugging her paintbrush. The salesperson couldn't take more than an hour of her loud sobs.
Danica slipped back into her car and drove off. As she missed her exit on the freeway,
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Letter to Zarblot
Write a letter home to a suspicious shape-shifter who befriends a race of mutant rabbits.
Dear Zarblot,
What fun to hear from you after such a long time. I'm glad to know that you're finally feeling at home on your new planet. I know it's been a struggle for you since whatever form you take, you never seem to feel yourself. I never expected that the form of a mutant rabbit would be the shape you feel most comfortable as, but I guess it makes sense that you would fit in among fellow mutants (no offense of course).
How interesting that you've managed to get employed as a chef. What sorts of foods do you cook? I know you had a great rabbit stew recipe, but I don't suppose that would go over well with your new friends. Though I am sure you could replace it with tofu or some other substitute on your new planet.
So what's it like over there? Do they have schools like ours? Do they study the same subjects? What does their language sound like? Or are they just telepathic? Goodness knows our rabbits are suspiciously silent. I've always suspected they were more intelligent than they let on. I am looking forward to hearing more about your new home!
Good luck with all your endeavors!
Danica
Dear Zarblot,
What fun to hear from you after such a long time. I'm glad to know that you're finally feeling at home on your new planet. I know it's been a struggle for you since whatever form you take, you never seem to feel yourself. I never expected that the form of a mutant rabbit would be the shape you feel most comfortable as, but I guess it makes sense that you would fit in among fellow mutants (no offense of course).
How interesting that you've managed to get employed as a chef. What sorts of foods do you cook? I know you had a great rabbit stew recipe, but I don't suppose that would go over well with your new friends. Though I am sure you could replace it with tofu or some other substitute on your new planet.
So what's it like over there? Do they have schools like ours? Do they study the same subjects? What does their language sound like? Or are they just telepathic? Goodness knows our rabbits are suspiciously silent. I've always suspected they were more intelligent than they let on. I am looking forward to hearing more about your new home!
Good luck with all your endeavors!
Danica
The Sorceress' Dragons
Write a story about a dreadful sorceress who flies on a magic carpet
Once upon a time, there was a young sorceress, named Delilah, who was just learning how to use magic. She really wanted to help people with her magic, just like her mother and grandmother, but she was hasty and clumsy, and a little dyslexic, so she would always mess up her spells and potions.
When she tried to help two people have a child, the man laid an egg. When she tried to repair a roof, she made a cloud that only rained through the hole in the roof. Because of all her dreadful mistakes, all the townspeople started calling her Dreadful Delilah.
"There goes Dreadful Delilah. I wonder what new havoc she will cause today," they would say as they passed her.
Delilah was so sick of being called Dreadful, that she wanted to create a wonderful potion that would make everyone love her. But what could she possibly do that would be so great that everyone would forget how dreadful she was?
She remembered that there was tension between their kingdom and the neighboring kingdom, and new that it would result in a war. Delilah decided she would mix a potion of good luck and courage for the knights, so they would win the war. Surely that would make her be loved by all.
She studied her book of magic, carefully mixing in all the correct ingredients, boiling it for just the right amount of time, and adding just a pinch of pixie dust.
When she presented the potion to the king, he was skeptical, but times were desperate and he did not want to lose the war. He convinced the knights that it would be fine, and they needed all the help they could get to win the war.
The knights hesitated, but drank the potion as the king had ordered. One by one the knights ran out of the palace to throw up. When Delilah and the king followed the knights outside, instead of his 9 best knights, they saw 9 huge dragons. Now Delilah thought she would throw up. What had she done this time? She glanced over at the king, waiting for her death sentence.
He was smiling. "This is an excellent idea!" he shouted. "They will never expect dragons! We shall most assuredly win this war."
Delilah hadn't thought about that. "I suppose you're right, your majesty," she said, amazed that by doing the wrong thing, she had the respect of her king.
"You will lead them into battle," the king commanded. As one of the dragons ate a sheep.
Delilah wasn't too excited about leading nine huge dragons into battle. But she had an idea. She grabbed an old tapestry from the palace, and poured the last of her potion on it. Sure enough, it turned into a magic, flying carpet. She hopped on, and lead the dragons away before they could eat more sheep (or people!).
She lead them to the neighboring kingdom, who were already marching their ranks of knights and other fighters toward her kingdom. But at one glance of the dragons, they scattered in all directions.
"They will never try to wage war with us, now that they know we have dragons," the king exclaimed as he put a medal around Delilah's neck.
"And thanks for not making it a permanent potion," whispered one of the knights.
Once upon a time, there was a young sorceress, named Delilah, who was just learning how to use magic. She really wanted to help people with her magic, just like her mother and grandmother, but she was hasty and clumsy, and a little dyslexic, so she would always mess up her spells and potions.
When she tried to help two people have a child, the man laid an egg. When she tried to repair a roof, she made a cloud that only rained through the hole in the roof. Because of all her dreadful mistakes, all the townspeople started calling her Dreadful Delilah.
"There goes Dreadful Delilah. I wonder what new havoc she will cause today," they would say as they passed her.
Delilah was so sick of being called Dreadful, that she wanted to create a wonderful potion that would make everyone love her. But what could she possibly do that would be so great that everyone would forget how dreadful she was?
She remembered that there was tension between their kingdom and the neighboring kingdom, and new that it would result in a war. Delilah decided she would mix a potion of good luck and courage for the knights, so they would win the war. Surely that would make her be loved by all.
She studied her book of magic, carefully mixing in all the correct ingredients, boiling it for just the right amount of time, and adding just a pinch of pixie dust.
When she presented the potion to the king, he was skeptical, but times were desperate and he did not want to lose the war. He convinced the knights that it would be fine, and they needed all the help they could get to win the war.
The knights hesitated, but drank the potion as the king had ordered. One by one the knights ran out of the palace to throw up. When Delilah and the king followed the knights outside, instead of his 9 best knights, they saw 9 huge dragons. Now Delilah thought she would throw up. What had she done this time? She glanced over at the king, waiting for her death sentence.
He was smiling. "This is an excellent idea!" he shouted. "They will never expect dragons! We shall most assuredly win this war."
Delilah hadn't thought about that. "I suppose you're right, your majesty," she said, amazed that by doing the wrong thing, she had the respect of her king.
"You will lead them into battle," the king commanded. As one of the dragons ate a sheep.
Delilah wasn't too excited about leading nine huge dragons into battle. But she had an idea. She grabbed an old tapestry from the palace, and poured the last of her potion on it. Sure enough, it turned into a magic, flying carpet. She hopped on, and lead the dragons away before they could eat more sheep (or people!).
She lead them to the neighboring kingdom, who were already marching their ranks of knights and other fighters toward her kingdom. But at one glance of the dragons, they scattered in all directions.
"They will never try to wage war with us, now that they know we have dragons," the king exclaimed as he put a medal around Delilah's neck.
"And thanks for not making it a permanent potion," whispered one of the knights.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
The Minstrel's Ale
Write a first person story with an obnoxious minstrel who brews a love potion.
"A wandering minstrel I am...something LA-de-DAH-dum." For some reason I can never quite remember the lyrics to that one, but the tune is always stuck in my head. I grinned and continued "la-de-dah-ing" as some peasants quickly rushed into their houses and slammed the door shut. My voice tends to lull people to sleep that way. A gift I've had all my life. Whenever I sing, people have to hold their heads so they don't fall gently to sleep, or else leave immediately to get to bed.
As I strolled on through the streets, my eyes caught sight of a young maiden who stood straight and had a fire in her eyes. My singing must have stirred her deeper passions. She kept her eyes on me, hands on her hips, and hair wafting gently in the breeze. I winked, and she sort of half winked back - both eyes closing half way, but staring intensely at me while I continued to sing. To think she couldn't take her eyes off of me even just to wink!
I tossed my hair and strummed a new chord. A string snapped in two as if sensing the heat between me and the girl. I new it was a risk, but I couldn't help myself. I started to sing the most passionate song I new. "Lady of Spain, I adore you!" My voice rang out loudly, and so full of emotion it cracked a bit. Just as I suspected might happen, my melodic passion was too strong for her. I sighed as she too was lulled to sleep, slamming the door behind her.
Still, this did not stop me. I continued to serenade my admirer's home while she dreamed of me and my voice. Then something happened that I never would have foreseen. My lady-love was lured back out to her balcony to listen to my voice alone. Of course! I had only embarrassed her with my direct attention on her. She crept close to the ledge of the balcony and..."WAAAIT NOO-!!"
Well that was uncalled for! My "no" was drowned - literally by a bucket of water. Just because I embarrassed her, that was no reason to react in that manner. Just because she's shy and lacks the confidence and manners that I was born with, doesn't mean she should behave that way.
"I know!" I thought. "I will help her gain confidence so she can express her love to me without my getting soaked." So I sought out the brewery where all the potions are made.
I entered the shop, winked at the brewer of potions, and asked in my lilting, sing-song voice, "I need a potion for my love to confess her feelings to me."
"I can give you an ale," the man said, looking at me as though surprised I would come into his humble abode.
"Will it give her the confidence to tell her she loves me?" I asked.
"It'll definitely lessen her inhibitions. And it might make someone tolerate you," he replied.
"Then I'll take the love potion!" I half sang, striking part of a chord (since I was missing a string).
"It's not-"
"I know it's not free, but I'll sing you a tale of a hero as payment." I took a deep breath to begin one of my most well-loved songs.
"No, no! It's on the house!"
I took the potion and held back tears as I said, "Sir, your belief in true love will be rewarded one day. ONE DAAAAAY!" My voice trailed off as I left the brewery, and I smiled as I saw everyone holding their heads, lulled by my gift of music.
I quickly came back to my love's home and sang a song of greeting to get her to open the door. She had that same firey look in her eyes, and a slight frown.
"Don't be embarrassed by love, my darling! Drink this and we can be together forever!"
With shaking hands she took the cup, and threw the potion back in my face!
To splash water on someone once is one thing, but to throw a glass of potion at them in the same day? There comes a time when enough is enough. And when people just refuse to be helped, there is only so much I can do.
"Look lady," I said as calmly as I could. "I just don't see things working out for us. But to spare you any further embarrassment or heartache at us not being together, I will travel to the next town, and you will never see me again."
"A wandering minstrel I am...something LA-de-DAH-dum." For some reason I can never quite remember the lyrics to that one, but the tune is always stuck in my head. I grinned and continued "la-de-dah-ing" as some peasants quickly rushed into their houses and slammed the door shut. My voice tends to lull people to sleep that way. A gift I've had all my life. Whenever I sing, people have to hold their heads so they don't fall gently to sleep, or else leave immediately to get to bed.
As I strolled on through the streets, my eyes caught sight of a young maiden who stood straight and had a fire in her eyes. My singing must have stirred her deeper passions. She kept her eyes on me, hands on her hips, and hair wafting gently in the breeze. I winked, and she sort of half winked back - both eyes closing half way, but staring intensely at me while I continued to sing. To think she couldn't take her eyes off of me even just to wink!
I tossed my hair and strummed a new chord. A string snapped in two as if sensing the heat between me and the girl. I new it was a risk, but I couldn't help myself. I started to sing the most passionate song I new. "Lady of Spain, I adore you!" My voice rang out loudly, and so full of emotion it cracked a bit. Just as I suspected might happen, my melodic passion was too strong for her. I sighed as she too was lulled to sleep, slamming the door behind her.
Still, this did not stop me. I continued to serenade my admirer's home while she dreamed of me and my voice. Then something happened that I never would have foreseen. My lady-love was lured back out to her balcony to listen to my voice alone. Of course! I had only embarrassed her with my direct attention on her. She crept close to the ledge of the balcony and..."WAAAIT NOO-!!"
Well that was uncalled for! My "no" was drowned - literally by a bucket of water. Just because I embarrassed her, that was no reason to react in that manner. Just because she's shy and lacks the confidence and manners that I was born with, doesn't mean she should behave that way.
"I know!" I thought. "I will help her gain confidence so she can express her love to me without my getting soaked." So I sought out the brewery where all the potions are made.
I entered the shop, winked at the brewer of potions, and asked in my lilting, sing-song voice, "I need a potion for my love to confess her feelings to me."
"I can give you an ale," the man said, looking at me as though surprised I would come into his humble abode.
"Will it give her the confidence to tell her she loves me?" I asked.
"It'll definitely lessen her inhibitions. And it might make someone tolerate you," he replied.
"Then I'll take the love potion!" I half sang, striking part of a chord (since I was missing a string).
"It's not-"
"I know it's not free, but I'll sing you a tale of a hero as payment." I took a deep breath to begin one of my most well-loved songs.
"No, no! It's on the house!"
I took the potion and held back tears as I said, "Sir, your belief in true love will be rewarded one day. ONE DAAAAAY!" My voice trailed off as I left the brewery, and I smiled as I saw everyone holding their heads, lulled by my gift of music.
I quickly came back to my love's home and sang a song of greeting to get her to open the door. She had that same firey look in her eyes, and a slight frown.
"Don't be embarrassed by love, my darling! Drink this and we can be together forever!"
With shaking hands she took the cup, and threw the potion back in my face!
To splash water on someone once is one thing, but to throw a glass of potion at them in the same day? There comes a time when enough is enough. And when people just refuse to be helped, there is only so much I can do.
"Look lady," I said as calmly as I could. "I just don't see things working out for us. But to spare you any further embarrassment or heartache at us not being together, I will travel to the next town, and you will never see me again."
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