Welcome back to our friendly neighborhood writing prompt: 300 Words! A quick recap, 300 Words is a paragraph prompt challenge that is included in our monthly Just Write enewsletter. For those who want to flex their literary muscles and join us for a little fun, all you have to do is write 300 Words (maximum - less is fine) in response to a sentence posted that month. Here's the roundup of wonderful words strung together from last month's prompt:
"A soft breeze brushed past as I walked down the winding path ... "
A soft breeze brushed past as I walked down the winding path. It carried the scent of sweet cherry blossom memories and sleepy rain-filled mornings that carry into afternoon. Time without time, full of the promises of tomorrow and tomorrows to come. Further down the path, after so many curves I could no longer see the beginning, the air grew still and heavy. Here the rich smell of compost and overturned soil hung in the air, the earth using what's left behind to feed new life, and new promises.
A soft breeze brushed past as I walked down the winding path. Were the weather a metaphor it would have been a hurricane. But at the time I had no idea what lay ahead. After all, we had not been programmed to deal with certain things. And emotions were in that category. Please don’t tell anyone, but sometimes when things feel a little overwhelming I yearn for the old days. Mostly I like being able to think and reason and feel things. But being numb has its advantages too. At the end of that pathway the professor added a microchip for thought and emotions that he’s always tinkering with. Today I put on my suit and jumped onto the twenty-eight train and it really ticked me off when someone was sitting in my seat. You would have punched him too, wouldn’t you? Anyhow, the professor had to come and bail me out again. He put an updated chip in my intake mechanism and apologized to the cops. He’s always mumbling something about almost having it right. Notice the word almost there. That makes me feel bad. Do you think it’s fair? I think that I feel like real people do but I can’t seem to get how you’re supposed to act. I do exactly what the professor says. I switch on my programming device every two weeks for an hour and let it subtly mimic the behavior I witness. Please don’t tell the professor! I kind of cheat. Instead of going to a park like he says, I just turn on Fox News on TV. I feel like I can think like real people, even though I’m a little different after each new programming. I think of it as my way of going to college. What do you think?
from Mary Jo Olsen (at maryjoartist.com):
A soft breeze brushed past as I walked down the winding path…my idea was not to let anything stop me in my tracts. If I kept focused, I’d get home. My boyfriend said camping was the kind of experience I needed to have. I went along with him, his mother and his sister on this crazy trip.
I pictured fresh air, great hot dogs cooked on a little camp-fire, Coka-Cola, and bags of Doritos.
Then his mother started at me about my huge family. As if at sixteen I would start kids with this kid of hers! Then the sister joined in. And that was not okay.
I had seen the round indentation of a rubber in his wallet and knew he wanted stuff. In the fifties, we didn’t do it until marriage and marriage to the teen-boy was out of the question. I had that much sense.
John had a future and she didn’t want me, with my “toothy grin,” to get in the way of his dreams. She would rather see someone dead than see him end up on the short end of the stick.
She was the same mother who read short articles at dinnertime to keep the conversation on a clean intellectual level. I was intrigued. At my house the only requirement was that we all waited until my father took the first bite.
His mother really tore into me that afternoon. Off I went, on that winding path to catch a bus to the city. My mother said if ever I was caught in a nasty situation to call her. This time I would dodge the wicked witch of the west and save myself years of anguish with a whacky nice-mannered family. I liked the wild-mannered way of dining at my house, anyway.
from Amy (at Forsooth & Forsythia):
A soft breeze brushed past as I walked down the winding path. The air was refreshing now but the summer nights turned cold and dark quickly here, I remembered well. Stepping carefully over loose rocks and rogue roots, I glanced up to see the blue sky was now tinted with pinkish orange. I really should have turned back by now - I could come back tomorrow morning when it was warm and bright. That's what any sensible person would have done. Yet, my body didn't seem to be listening. It sauntered on, seemingly on a casual sort of auto pilot, and my mind just went along for the ride. Eventually the trail broke open to the rocky beach. I could have found the spot with my eyes closed, but I kept them open as I picked my way across the colorful array of brown, green, orange, and white stones. As soon as I got to the big rock, I sat down on its flat surface, looking out at the water and listening to the waves lap lazily. The sky turned from pink to orangey-red as the last rays of the day glistened on the water. It was now or never, I supposed. I stood up, walked around the massive rock, and looked at the spot. The initials were still there, deep and unchanged. They looked so permanent and strong, like they would last forever. Just as he had looked when he was etching them into the surface so many years ago. But I knew that even now they were fading away bit by bit, sanded down by wind and rain and time. I kept my hand on the letters as the sun slipped silently under the horizon. I sighed, and started my long walk back in the dark.
As always, thanks to all those who participated in 300 Words! Hope to see you back next month and, if you haven't already, sign up for the Just Write enews so you can always know about our writer groups, resources, classes, activities, and the like. Tell your friends and write on!