Three Responses to Three Prompts

Write in the voice of “a rope about to snap”

AUUGH!! Tension. Strain. Can’t…hold much…longer! WHY CAN’T THEY JUST LET GO??!!? Please, somebody…aargh…get help. So much pain. Just go away. PLEASE!! Angst. They…keep…pulling…somebody, please help. It hurts so m—much. Stop…stop…stop…stop. AAAAAUUUUUGHH!!!!

*snap*



Write from the point of view from the last tree standing in the forest

One is the loneliest number. That’s what they say. And I believe it. I remember when the squirrels would dance in my branches and when the birds would sing hidden behind my leaves. I’ve been alive for so long…and seen so much change. I remember that little boy who sang “En El Lejano Bosque” and now I see him cutting down the very forest he played in. The sad way money can twist a man…Oh, look, here he comes now. I suppose there’s not much I can do about it. I know, I’ll sing to him…I’ll sing…

En el lejano bosque cantaba el cucu.
Oculto tras las ramas el buho contesto.
Cucu le llamo, cucu le llamo, cucu, cucu.
Cucu le llamo, cucu le llamo, cucu, cucu.

And now I will join my friends and rest.



Create a story based on this personification: hope vibrates

The lone commander looked across the field as the sun rose over the horizon like a gleaming trophy. He stared at the once green field and let the red fill his eyes. He walked towards the sun and looked into the multitude of faces on the ground before him. There were so many…

Behind him, a soldier followed his path across the battlefield. Without turning, the commander said to his soldier, “Is this what you were looking for?”

The soldier looked around him and gulped, “N—no sir.”

“No, I suppose not. But this is what we get.”

“We won, though, right?”

The commander turned around and looked the young soldier in the eye. “Yes, we did.”

The soldier looked back at the commander, trying to read that hard face, “Yet, at the same time we didn’t, did we?”

The commander bent down beside one of the fallen men. He looked at the man’s face and then slowly shut the resting man’s eyes. He then took the man’s sword and put it across the still chest.

“Nobody wins a war, son,” said the commander, rising.

“I suppose not,” said the soldier. Then the soldier collapsed on his knees. His face fell into his hands and he cried like he never had before. “Why do we do this?”

The commander knelt down beside the grieving soldier, “Because we have to.” He pulled the soldier to his feet. “They would have killed us. Then taken over our country. Then turned our women and children into slaves. We have to protect our home.”

The soldier looked around the devastated field, “They’ll just come back.”

The commander pointed at the sun, now halfway over the horizon, “Do you see that sun?”

The soldier nodded.

“That sun is coming up today because it’s time for a new day. Soon the birds will start chirping and the morning glories will open. The clouds will roll across the sky and we will march home. We will see our wives and our children. We’ll embrace them and have a feast. Then we’ll continue our lives as we always have. When they come back, we’ll fight them, just like we always have. We can’t ever give up. You have to remember that. A man can never give up his home. A man will fight for it or die trying. Now, come. Let’s go home.”

The soldier wiped his tears as the commander strode past him back to the camp. He stared at the rising sun and spread his arms to let it fill his body with warmth. He let the gold encase him and then he heard the mockingbird sing. He looked over to his side and watched a morning glory come open. He smiled as hope vibrated through the air. And then he began his journey home.