I don’t know about you, but I’m a little hazy on what day it is right now.
No, I’m not losing my mind (fingers crossed), I’ve just been off on a business trip all week being bombarded with new ideas and having to *talk* to people. Shudder.
Fortunately, after a smooth and uneventful flight home, I’m currently curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, a bowl of cafe au lait, and a sleeping cat. Apparently the world did not come to a crashing halt just because I was away from the internet for a week. Color me surprised.
Now that I’m back, having traded in sunny skies for possible rain showers, I have quite a few things to catch up on, including making some progress on my current manuscript. Here’s hoping I didn’t accidentally leave the Girls in the Basement back in the hotel. If I did, they’re no doubt lounging down by the pool, ogling cute guys.
With or without the Girls, I think I’ll get things started by giving today’s writing prompt a try.
Care to join me?
For those of you working away on a story (whether a first draft or a polished version on its way to publication), if you’re not feeling random, we’d love to hear a bit – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with and would like to share.
If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, I hope today’s story prompt and/or random words will catch your creative fancy.
Ready?
What if: “Your character was mistaken for someone else?”
Feel free to include any (or all) of the following random words:
crooked emotional hacksaw coward
mask daisies gloomy complicated
paradise scheme fingertip allergic
light flaming moan melody
I look forward to seeing your stories in the comments. If you’re not feeling in the writing mood today, or don’t have time, feel free to post suggestions you might have for future “what-if” prompts. Ideas are always welcome.
Happy writing to all!
Eight Ladies Writing 
I meant to go with the mistaken identity thing, but then the jar took over. Ah, well. It was fun.
The Wedding
Melody Grimscape walked down the street, wishing that her life wasn’t so complicated. Or that she wasn’t such a flaming coward. Or both.
How could she ever find the strength to tell her sister that she wouldn’t stand up for her wedding?
Her sister would play the orphan card, cry and moan and get all emotional, tell her that this time it was for real, this time the marriage would be paradise in a jar.
Which it wouldn’t. After all, it was Carrie’s fourth marriage. So far, they’d all started out paradise in a jar, only to turn out to be marmite. Or worse. Maybe if her sister got married at the courthouse for a change, the paradise/marmite marriage might evolve to nothing worse than peanut butter. Or maybe one of those nice marmalade/peanut butter swirl things. Or Nutella! Now, Nutella in a jar for a marriage would be delicious.
Deep in gloomy thoughts about what kind of marriage in a jar Carrie would have this time, Melody failed to notice the masked stranger approach.
“Daisies, my dear?” he asked, extending a crooked fingertip.
“Thanks, but I’m allergic,” Melody asked, startled. “What happened to your finger?”
“It came to grief over a small scheme about a hacksaw,” the stranger said. “In a jar.”
Melody smiled as the sun came out from behind a cloud, spreading a golden light over the masked stranger and warming her face. But before she got more involved, she needed to know a few things.
“Do you always wear the mask?” she asked. “And how do you feel about weddings?”
That was fun, Kay. I loved “Or Nutella! Now, Nutella in a jar for a marriage would be delicious.”.
Oh, nice! I think I married Vegemite in a jar . . . good for me, and very delicious with a little cheddar and crackers, but not to everyone’s taste. Or maybe I’m the Vegemite. (-: I’ve never had Marmite, which I’m given to understand is a similar love/hate experience.
Nutella in a jar would be really perfect, though. I believe hazelnuts are quite nutritious, and it goes with practically everything sweet . . . .
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So glad the jar took over, Kay! That was a lot of fun. And now I’m down a rabbit hole, thinking of all the delicious and not-so-yummy things that can be found in a jar 🙂
“OK, Daisies and Buttercups, for the love of all that’s holy, take twenty and don’t come back until you freshen up. I’ve had enough of you people wilting all over this number!” Janet, aka Daisy 25, was more than happy to take the emotional choreographer at his word. They’d been dancing in the Spring Fling costumes for two hours without a break, and she was dying for a breath of fresh air.
She broke free of the other flowers and found the fire escape to be empty and a light-filled paradise compared to the gloomy theater. She started to take off her mask when she heard a loud buzzing sound. A bumblebee was flying a crooked, swooping path in her general direction. Janet almost ducked back inside, but the bumblebee grew larger and larger as its complicated flight path brought it closer . . . when it stopped in front of her face, it was as large as she was, but completely round, and impossibly held up by what looked like very ineffective little wings.
The insect moaned loudly. “My desire, my life! Finally, I find you!”
Quickly, Janet tried to remember everything she’d ingested in the past 24 hours, but couldn’t identify anything that would produce hallucinations. No weird mushrooms, no drugs . . . unless the yogurt she had last night was spectacularly bad, or maybe she was newly allergic to something in the nightshade family? Grilled peppers and eggplant were the most exotic thing she’d had lately.
The bumblebee was still talking. “Let me sip your nectar, let me caress your flaming petals, my sun!”
Was it a drone? Was this some sort of scheme of Roger’s to make her crazy? The crooked choreographer had been trying to shake her down for some money ever since she joined the Spring Fling production. “Roger, you coward, show yourself.”
The bumblebee looked sad – its antennae drooped and the fur between its leathery eyes seemed to flatten. “Are you not my goddess? I heard the melody . . . I came as soon as I heard.”
Janet frowned. “Do you mean Beverly’s new song? That hack . . . I saw the manuscript of Aethelhild. I know she didn’t write the song, but stole it from some 10th century nun.”
“Yes, yes, the song of Aethelhild! You are not she?”
“I’m just a Daisy making equity for this lousy musical which will probably close on opening night. I’m not any sort of goddess.”
The bumblebee looked at her quizzically. “You smell like Aethelhild. Hold your finger out to me, child.”
“Like this?” It was exactly like the first movement of the dance. Janet shuffled her feet to Roger’s syncopated rhythm, and swayed through the first three bars of the song.
“Oh, yes. I wasn’t mistaken. You are Aethelhild. Hail the Queen of Spring!”
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“Let me sip your nectar, let me caress your flaming petals, my sun!” That’s wonderful, Michaeline! A girl doesn’t hear THAT every day!
Hee-hee. The line reminded me a tiny bit of Steve Miller with “I really love your peaches, let me shake your tree.” I wanted to use Hildegaard, but I thought that would be too well-known and have the wrong kind of connotations (Hildy was a proper nun, not a runaway nun), but Aethelhild sounded probable, but it was made-up, or so I thought. Turns out, she’s a daughter of King Edward, but all I can find about her is that she seems to have become a lay nun . . . which would have given her a little more scope to be a Goddess in disguise . . . maybe.
What a great line and a fun piece.