Day 6: Start your story with: “He glanced at his watch impatiently…”

He glanced at his watch impatiently. He did not know why he did it. The thing stopped working centuries ago. Time was a thing of the past since he found he was immortal. There were no urges to suck blood or howl at the moon. He simply stopped aging. His heart kept beating ad he was as normal as any human that needed food, except for the fact that he did not need to breathe and he never gets sick.

“You’re late,” he said.

“What is late?” she said.

“Ah, that’s right, the people of this world have no concept of time, well, not the time that I knew of years back.”

Day 5: A story revolving around an object in your room

*Sigh*

It’s another day where I’m just hanging against the wall. You don’t notice me as much as you did when you first put me up here. You look at me from time to time, but the looks are fleeting. All you do is poke and prod at me when you need to. It hurts. It always does. Those punctures will never heal and you just seem to keep at it. There are times where you impale your unknowing and innocent victims against me. You’re a monster, but I love you and I’m here to serve only you. Other people have impaled other victims on me, but I resent that. Only you have the right to be near me.

No matter how painful some days may get, I still long for the moments you stare at me. The satisfaction I see in your eyes as you rearrange the victims on me. I feel loved when you fill me with your impaling instruments. It just means that you need me and I’m here to help.

Ahh, the life of a cork board is not that easy. I pity those papers and those pushpins really hurt. My mind is twisted at times, just hanging here, waiting to hold your important notices and be of use.

What a sad, masochistic object! Haha.

Be inspired everyone! That was my challenge for the day!

Day 4: A poem using the words: blue, mistrust, half, twang (Sorry, not a poem!)

Alright, another thing. I am terrible at poetry and I have no plans of doing any of the poetry challenges. Instead of a poem, I’ll be making short stories or blobs of things I can consider as “creative writing”. Moving on… today’s challenge!

Her blue eyes shined through the dreary grey that surrounded us. High school is a bitch. It’s the worst time to be awkward and a loner. She was one of them, the outcasts. The dull weather did not help the low feelings showing in her eyes. I observed her from afar because I was an awkward loner as well. It’s not that I was a stereotypical geek or nerd. I kept the athletic half of my high school life away from the spotlight and the academic half for all to see.

Enough about me.

Mistrust, it’s the one thing I’ve always seen in her eyes. I’ve always wondered why that was so. I learned she was a transfer student during our freshman year, but still two years later, she’s still alone and miserable. She walked along the halls like a ghost. No one ever noticed her or even pushed her aside. It was like she did not exist to anyone, except for me. I wanted to know her, but I was too afraid to talk to her.

It was after class and like everyday, my mind was focused on her. I went to the unused auditorium located at the far end of our school. I spent my afternoons there whenever the drama club had no productions to work on, which was not very often. It was one of my rare escapes. Luckily, someone left a guitar on the stage. It was one of my guilty pleasures. Only my family knew that I played the guitar. They were all too familiar with my fear of performing.

I held the guitar in my hands, feeling the smooth wood and the tight strings. I closed my eyes and started to play. In my mind, I could see her. Those blue eyes, the soft brown hair, and the delicate face were what filled my mind as I listed to the twang of each guitar string I plucked.

As my fingers slowly came to a stop, the images of her faded away into black. I was left with my own thoughts and the guitar in my hands. I felt the longing for her. It was driving me mad, but my own fears and insecurities held me back. I sighed, opening my eyes and putting the guitar back where I found it.

“That was beautiful.”

I turned around with a snap, not expecting anyone to be in here, but I relaxed when I was met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. The blue eyes I’ve longed for so long.

I hope this was acceptable for my challenge entry for the day!

Be inspired!

 

#anotheraspiringwriter

Day 3: A story that takes place pre-1950

Okay, so this might not go so well for me. I’m not really good at writing historical fiction. It’s not my genre, but I’m just going to wing it. I doubt it will be lengthy. Wish me luck!

I lost my job today and to make things worse the stock market crashed for the second time this week. My family barely had anything to eat and I was barely making ends meet. My oldest boy, seven years old, was already starting school. Did he have to stop? How could I have my son go to school without any food? I could not allow my younger son and my baby girl to suffer like this.

My home was an hour bus ride away from work, but with the last dollars in my pocket, I decided to walk home, which was three times as long. Every help sign I passed, I quickly looked at with hope that I could find another job. The upsetting thing about these job openings were the fact that they required college degrees. The other jobs that fit my level of education provided pay that was too low to feed even one member of my family.

It was already dark out when I finally got home. I was tired and my soul was shattered. There was no way I could face my family, tell them I was out of work and not break down. Our house was quaint, but still it was home. I walk in and find that they were all in the kitchen. I could hear my wife talking to our children, but I could not make out what they were talking about, so I went to the kitchen.

“Daddy, you’re home!” my eldest shouted as he ran to me. He hugged my waist as I ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, what are you all doing?”

“Mommy was telling us about how many people on our street lost their jobs.”

I looked at my wife. She had a small smile on her face. I knew that she knew already.

“That’s true, so did I, but we’re going to make it.”

“Mommy already told us we had to start saving food, but that’s okay just as long as we’re all going to be okay, right Daddy?”

My wife was amazing for preparing the kids for the struggle we were going to face. I was blessed to have such a smart kid who understood things or tried his best to.

“Of course, we are.”

I led him back to the tiny table we used for eating. He sat on one of the chairs and ate a piece of bread. My wife was still smiling as she reached over the table and held my hand.

“Honey, someone stopped by while you were out.”

“Who was it?”

“It was a man who worked at one of the newer factories near your old job. He is offering you a new job. They got word of how the factory closed down. They were not closing down and needed a few more workers.”

A felt a smile form on my face. It was not much, but it was still a job and it paid as much as the one I lost. The younger two were still unaware of the troubles that were just beginning, but I had a feeling we were going to be just fine.

Honestly, it’s not my best work, but a challenge is a challenge.

Be inspired!

 

#anotheraspiringwriter

Day 2: Write a Fanfiction

The blond haired Slytherin prefect made his way down one of the nameless and numerous moving staircases. The two buffoons that were always with him were somehow not at his side. He took his time going down each step, feeling more and more vulnerable without his sidekicks at his side. Everyone thought he was just a weakling that hid behind his friends. If only they knew how true it was, then it would mean he was nothing.

The sound of falling books broke his pitiful reverie. His eyes immediately locked on the brown, frizzy hair of the only girl in the whole school who made him cry, Hermione Granger.

“Need some help, Granger?”