George sat down in front of his Smith Corona typewriter. “Okay, George,” he said to himself. “It starts with one word.” He thought for a moment and then pounded out “It starts with one WORD” on the keyboard.
He stared at the paper. “Around 90,000 more and my novel will be done.”
Written for the Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: Pexels at Pixabay.com.
I see myself in my dream as an accomplished writer, an author who has the ability to compose a truly great work of literature.
I can visualize, as I toil away on my keyboard, a flock of festive letters, like little, white snowflakes, floating up from my typewriter, transforming into magnificent words — nouns, pronouns, verbs, adjectives, and yes, even adverbs — and then slowly descending down to bedeck the blank pages of my book.
And then I wake up from the dream, sit down at my computer with a cup of hot coffee, and struggle to punch out enough words for a simple blog post.
There’s the dream and then there’s the reality.
Written for these one-word prompts: Fandago’s One-Word Challenge (compose), Scotts Daily Prompt, (literature), Your Daily Word Prompt (festive), Ragtag Daily Prompt (white), and Word of the Day Challenge (bedeck).
Harold ran back to his group of explorer scouts. Out of breath, he screamed at the others to follow him. The other explorer scouts and the scout leader, Steve, ran with Harold until they reached the the vertical, clay-colored rock wall.
“Look at these rock carvings,” Harold said, excitedly pointing at the images. He turned to Steve and asked him if he knew who might have made the carvings.
Steve moved in for a closer look. After inspecting the carvings, he stepped back and said, “Yes, boys, this is the work of the Anasazi culture. They inhabited this region more than two millennia ago and left us the magnificent ruins at Mesa Verde and other sites.”
One of the younger scouts stepped forward and said, “I don’t think so.”
“Why would you say that?” Steve asked.
“Just look closely,” he said. “The guy is carrying a briefcase and he’s standing next to an open laptop on a desk.”
“Yeah,” said another boy. “There’s the screen and the keyboard with a track pad.”
“Oops,” said Steve.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy.