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 Brief prose and poetry lacking other categories... (Only rated 18+ as a formality :) |
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Basically anything under 1k or 500 words that's not a Drabble, an Express It in Eight, or a Promptly Poetry. Enjoy
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| You're Mama's little sunflower girl, Smiling, happy as can be. Facing sunshine, head in dreamy clouds, Eyes reflecting inner glee. With peaceful strength you grow every day Better than ever, it's true. Year after year, a joy to us all I ask God's blessings for you. Send your roots deep, scatter only love Thrive wherever you may be. Gathering sunlight, raindrops so pure Give life to all we can see. 12 lines, 70 words. 9-7-9-7 syllables. Written for "Writing 4 Kids"  June prompt: Write a children's poem inspired by the sunflower. |
| John pulled up to Benny's Burgers in front of the grocery store, parked his car and got out, carrying a tablet. As the new district manager of the national chain, transferred from Metro Atlanta to a podunk region of coastal Florida, he wanted to visit each restaurant within his territory and get to know them better. From the moment he walked inside, there was something different about this Benny's. The first thing he noticed was a life-size artificial wisteria tree in a wicker basket, placed by the front entry. Glancing around, he saw many other flower arrangements, large and small: one at each table setting, several lined up on the checkout counter, even one perched on top of the fountain drink dispenser, surrounded by little plastic knick-knacks. He frowned. Fake flowers everywhere? At Benny's? That wasn't right. Rather than the usual TV mounted in the corner of the sterile tile walls, there was a painting, a copy of Monet's water lilies. By the service counter, a poster of the Ten Commandments hung on the wall. His jaw dropped. He stared blankly at it as though it were written in a foreign language. “Have you been helped, sir?” A young lady asked, coming to stand by the cash register. John introduced himself and asked to see the manager. A little old lady came bustling out of the office, adjusting her gray bun. “Good afternoon, sir! They told us you would be coming to visit. I'm pleased to meet you.” “Same here, Mrs. Jones. Would you care to show me around?” She guided him through the dining room, where lace cloths adorned all the tables and a floral garland with tiny lights stretched around the perimeter. “I don't understand why you've, er, decorated the area so intricately. It's not the usual Benny's.” “The customers like it. I even set up a kiddie corner. Everyone's happy.” She pointed to a low table, with kid-size chairs, a stack of alphabet books, coloring pages and crayons. John shook his head in bewilderment. “That's too close to the fountain dispenser. Honestly, ma'am, I'm afraid this is not set up to standard protocol. We want customers to have the same experience at each Benny's they visit.” “You want me to remove all this?” She raised an eyebrow. “It's—yes. The fake flowers are dust catchers. You can't clean them. I've been district manager over hundreds of stores, and I've never seen one with lace tablecloths or posters on the wall.” They continued to circle the dining area. John was beginning to feel as though he were in a cozy tea shop, like an AI video. It was peculiar, yet comfortable, with a small-town charm. But it wasn't a proper Benny's Burgers! His befuddlement grew deeper when they came to a front corner window, where a round table was arranged with a plate, a glass, an open book, a placard, and a vase of fresh flowers with a US flag tucked into it. A framed photo of a solemn man in uniform stood by the vase. Something about this mysterious display reminded John of an altar. He leaned in closer to read the words on the sign. “To honor all our soldiers missing in action. You will never be forgotten. Your sacrifice for our country is deeply appreciated each and every day. Our prayers are with you.” John turned to Mrs. Jones. She nodded. “My husband,” she said quietly. “He never returned.” “I'm sorry to hear.” In that moment, John began to understand what he was seeing. A woman rooted in her community, providing a hometown experience to her friends and neighbors. It was something he would never be a part of, but he could leave it be. For he knew what it felt like to lose someone on the battlefront. His own son was missing in action. Mrs. Jones unique decoration of her Benny's franchise stood as a testament to the strength of a small town, where those who defended the country were not forgotten. Words: 663. Written for "Honoring Our Veterans - Challenge" Inspired by a true story. |
| Enough songs have been written by now To realize they don't change the world. It's all very well to rant, rave, ruminate, revile, but in the end, words are wind. What's needed is action Not violence, nor a noisy protest. Firm, quiet actions on the part of many Can change the course of human history. What this means in real life? I have no idea. When one works every day for less than one's worth, Comes home to drown in cultural escapism, Wakes up to do it again tomorrow, It's hard to think about larger things. Change is needed, but how it starts? Within the heart. Resolve to do better, Be kind to your neighbor. Yet resolutions get lost in the hullabaloo, And we resort to base instinct. Maybe all we can do is write: a song, a blog, a journal entry, a thank you note, goals, dreams, observations, expressing how we think things should be. Perhaps our songs do change the world Even if no one hears them. 28 lines, 169 words. Written for Rachel's Beatles Challenge. Song of choice: Revolution. |
| I have a long way to go— Mostly uphill. I'm not sure I can wrap my head around God— Is that a blasphemous idiom  Speaking to Him seems difficult… What about other forms of spiritual experience I exclude almost automatically? Sometimes I appreciate Buddhism; I should look into it further because it seems rather similar to nihilism. Nihilism is a thing with me lately. I wonder what the point of life is, Letting myself slide downhill Rather than wasting energy on the climb to higher ground— Exhausted before I've begun. I pray for wisdom, discernment, love, Faith seems all too magical: a dream, a scam, a trap, a tool Used by others for manipulation and control. Philosophically speaking, God is highly likely to exist, The primary cause and source of all else. Seeking His Face is the puzzling part. How do I filter out the noise, focus on the Voice? Peace, stillness, a moment to breathe, gratitude, All will help me find what I'm looking for. The journey begins with a small step, A tiptoeing mustard seed of faith, Sprouting eventually into a deeply rooted, thriving tree of life. 28 lines, 191 words. Written for "Share Your Faith" May Prompt: The Search What aspect of your faith journey are you currently exploring or seeking clarity on? |
| Dear God, Please protect the tiny human Growing inside the womb of my dearest friend. Shower your blessings upon them both Keep them healthy and strong As You form the little one in Your image. Give my friend the fortitude to be a mother, Strength to raise a child in the way they should go So that when they are old they will not depart from it. Keep the fetus free from all the disorders I fear it could get between now and the birth. Please let it be a happy baby, with a happy childhood. I couldn't bear to see it any other way. Thank you, Lord, for the precious gift of life. In Jesus name, amen. 15 lines, 118 words. Prompt: a prayer of supplication or intercession. Inspired by real life. My most sincere prayers seem to be when others are expecting babies. I forget to pray for myself. |
| Loom I’d like to be a tapestry Filled with vivid colors - The light, the dark, the shades and tones, Woven into a beautiful whole That shares a message of hope Like a security blanket For anyone who needs it I’d be a tapestry Sitting on the loom Never quite complete With new colors and threads Weft upon the horizon Looming is a sunrise Or is that a sunset? Both are equally stunning And we need balance to move forward Weaving our story In vivid colors Upon the loom of life. 19 lines. Written in response to "Note: Newsfeed Contest Write a poem directly in the..." Inspired by the upcoming release of the Imagine Dragons album Loom. |
| Twenty seven years ago, I was born, Collarbone broken on the way out, Imbued with moroseness from the womb. I knew pain, but forgot it, apparently. Still, dysfunction runs deep, A disjointed mashup of entangled weirdness— At odds with everyone from the beginning— Particularly my mom. Long-suffering, she regales me repeatedly with bitter memories of life before I came along: treachery and woe, sickness and pain, Decades of self-sacrifice leading to nothing but disaster. From which my deeply cynical nature, Unconvinced otherwise, concluded: What's the point? Why do it that way? Why do as you did, Or do as you say, When I can do it my way: Selfish, silent, solitary, stagnant. Nihilism unchecked, I fell, as a stone rolls downhill. Incompatible, yet forever trapped, I test the ties that bind like fraying bungee cords, Flinging myself headlong off cliffs to escape Only to find myself back again, inevitable. Drawn to the only person who ever cared, Demanding what she cannot give me because she's still seeking it herself: Wholeness, acceptance, understanding—a home. We grow old together, homeless at heart, Unable to connect yet utterly inseparable, Driving each other crazy, Wondering why we're still relating the same way we did when I was two years old. It can't be her fault—she did the best she could. Raised me in a garden paradise, books galore, education at home, safe, protected, at great costs to her own well-being. I learned morals, spirituality, miracles, arts and crafts; I wrote, I played, I dreamed, built worlds. I aced the ACT, twice. Where did it all vanish to? Why am I stuck, immobilized, wasting irrevocable time, unable to do for her All that she does for me? My worldview is a blindfold. I need fresh eyes to see positive potential In myself and others. Supplanting deep-rooted antisocial attitudes is tearing up every fiber of my being Like renovating a haunted house. But I can't allow myself to rot, Disappointing my mother who gives herself up for me Every single day. 57 lines, 335 words. Written for "Merit Badge Magic" Happy Mother's Day, Mom    |
| Dear Diary: My name is Lizzie. Today was the first day of school. I'm in fifth grade this year. Mrs. Sanders says I should keep a diary to write down important things. She asked if I'd like to read some of it aloud each week. No way! I shook my head. Talking is super awkward, especially with a new teacher. All my friends were here from last year, so I felt comfortable. Today we learned about reptiles and amphibians and how they're cold-blooded. I thought that was bad, but Mrs. Sanders explained how it means their body temperature matches whatever it is outside. Joey asked why people call each other cold-blooded, and she said it means someone doesn't have feelings, like regret or guilt or sadness. That sounds scary. I don't want to be one of those people. * Today a new kid came to school. My friend Paul said he's autistic, and that means he can't speak. But Joey said not all autistic kids can't talk, only the severe ones. They started arguing. Joey asked Mrs. Sanders if the new kid can talk, and she said no. So he must be severe. His name is Aaron. He's small and dorky and wears glasses. At lunchtime no one let Aaron sit with them. Paul said they're afraid of him cause he makes weird sounds and waves his arms. He sat in a corner, rocking back and forth. He didn't eat anything. I wanted to ask him if he was ok, but I was afraid to. My uncle said autistic kids can hurt people. I don't think Aaron would hurt anyone. But I don't know. And he couldn't tell me anyway. * Today we learned about volcanoes. Hayden said Aaron is cold-blooded because he's autistic. I wanted to ask Mrs. Sanders if that's true. I don't think it is. But I stayed quiet. Everyone's talking about Aaron except me. I don't talk much about anything, usually. I like to hear what others are saying. I'm worried about why he doesn't eat. He doesn't bring lunch, but he doesn't buy one either. Maybe he's not hungry? But he seems really sad. No one ever asks if he's ok. Sometimes kids yell at him. He doesn't seem to notice. * I think I should do something about Aaron. He never eats lunch. But what can I do? I'm afraid I'll cause trouble. I'm so worried, I don't even remember what we learned in class today. Something about photosynthesis and rainforests and Amazon. I thought of offering him some of my peanut butter and jelly, but what if he's allergic? I think I should tell a grownup first, before doing anything. Ugh. I don't like having to talk to people. It makes me feel sick inside. What if I say the wrong thing? Maybe I shouldn't say anything at all. He'll be fine, right? * I was wondering what to do about Aaron today. Mrs. Sanders read us one of the really old Winnie the Pooh stories from a big book. One quote jumped out at me. I think Eeyore said it: "A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." I felt like she was talking to me! I knew what I should do, even though I was super nervous. When we got up at recess, I waited until everyone was gone. My heart was beating really fast and I felt so jumpy, like I wanted to run away. "Mrs. Sanders, I need to talk to you." "Of course, Lizzie. Is something wrong?" "It's about Aaron. He doesn't eat anything for lunch. I'm worried. He looks really sad." "Really? That's not good. Thank you for telling me. I'll reach out to his mom and let her know so she can pack him a meal." Then Mrs. Sanders looked me in the eye and smiled and patted my shoulder. "I know it might have been difficult for you to speak up, Lizzie. It's ok to let trusted grownups know when you see a problem. You did good." "Thank you so much, Mrs. Sanders!" It was such a relief to get it over with. It wasn't nearly as awkward as I was afraid of. I'm glad I spoke up. * Today Mrs. Sanders told me about Aaron. He wasn't eating because he doesn't like what our school serves. He's super sensitive about textures and how food looks and smells. So now his mom knows to prepare something he can eat. At lunchtime, he had food. He was grinning and eating heartily. I felt so happy knowing he's ok now. Speaking up is really important. Eeyore is right: caring about others makes a big difference. Words: 790. Written for "Writing 4 Kids" May prompt: "A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." - Eeyore. |
| Fadeout—line between good and evil Drawn jagged within my heart—erased. I wear a mask each day: Good girl, proper, angelic. Never an unclean word escapes. No one guesses monstrous insanity lurks beneath: Fights to the death, scenes of torment, Dreams I wake up apologizing to God for. Torn between abhorrence and fascination I wear conservative values Protected behind iron bars of fastidious rules. Who would I become If I broke out of prison? Bitter nausea overwhelms my attempt to answer. Venomous spiders dangle In unswept corners of my soul. Nightmares illuminate what I deny. If I am who I am in the dark, I refuse to accept myself, Splintered between decent and dirty Outcast from my short-circuiting mind bristling with electric barbed wire, Chasing cockroaches in circles under a bloody full moon. Is uncleanness my identity? Or is it my struggle, my burden, I've been assigned to resist? Enlightenment at tunnel's end, Or train wreck inexorable? 30 lines, 156 words. Written for "Rebel Poetry Contest" Chosen Prompt: The Ballad of Lucy Jordan (written by Shel Silverstein  ) |
As believers, who are we? Are we Peter, grasping Christ's true self, Growing, maturing, with pure intentions? Falling flat in denial under trial, Seeking forgiveness and trying again? Or are we Judas: devious, scheming, Purportedly trustworthy but inwardly lost Desiring only to grasp material wealth Sacrificing what we should have protected For a bag of gold? Perhaps the essence of both Wrestles in the heart of every believer. Duality of sin and salvation Threatens to destroy us each day. Pray without ceasing. Cling to the Father. Ask yourself: Who am I? Judas? Or Peter? Words: 90. Lines: 16. Written for "SCRIPTURE POETRY CONTEST" Prompt: a poem about anything which took place between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. |
| My Fido, he barks real loud Chasing all the squirrels But I love him, love him, love him He knows I love him beyond words. And maybe he smells like dog But I don't think that's a prob, 'Cause every time he wags his tail I just wanna yell, "Let's hear it for the dog! Let's give the dog a bone! Let's hear it for my Fido You know you gotta understand He may be no Cane Corso But he's my snuggly one-dog show Woof, woof, woof, Let's hear it for the dog!" My Fido's alert and bright He won't let strangers by. He guards me, guards me, guards me I know I'm always safe by his side. Sometimes he chews my shoes But that's the worst he'll ever do, 'Cause every time I see his eyes I just wanna cry, "Let's hear it for my dog! Let's give the dog a treat! Let's hear it for my Fido I just gotta let you know He ain't got no pedigree But he's the perfect dog for me! Woof, woof, woof, Let's hear it for the dog!" Lines: 32. Words: 186. A dog-slobbery parody of the 1984 song by Deniece Williams, Let's Hear It For the Boy. Written for "Merit Badge Magic" Theme: National Pet Day. video ▼ |
Air, vibrant, living, Joyful birds sail turquoise skies Precious sight above. Water, flowing pure, Otters slide down riverbanks, Whales dance in the sea. Caterpillars munch Curves into tasty green leaves Soon to be transformed Into butterflies Floating so delicately Bearing rainbow wings. Earth, safe home to all Protect it while we can Wild friends will thank us. Lines: 15. Words: 57. Written for "Writing 4 Kids" April prompt: children's nature haiku. |
| Devout, in purest prayer unceasing Across changing kingdoms, ever faithful No regiments could make him fall away. In trials, chains, fiery furnaces, standing strong; Even hungry lions became as kittens for him. Learn to be like Daniel: strong, wise, Godly. Six lines, 40 words. Written for Quihadi's Christian Poetry contest, "SCRIPTURE POETRY CONTEST" Prompt: write a meaningful acrostic using a Bible character's name. |
| Jimmy was a brilliant space engineer on the Kokomo 350 starship. Until it veered too close to a black hole, causing the ship to implode, killing everyone on board except him. Now he's suspected of causing the disaster. His career is ruined, he's jaded and disgruntled, and he subsists by delivering meals to humans incarcerated on distant moons. One day, he delivers a meal to Petra and recognizes her as a mechanic from Kokomo 350. She explains she survived by hiding in a snowcone machine and claims she's imprisoned because she knows why the ship was blown up. Her dog, Snoopy, is a cyborg programmed to help her build snowcone machines which can withstand the forces of black holes. When Snoopy disappears, leaving behind a pile of disassembled snowcone machines, Petra decodes a cryptic message from a band of rogue ThornJogs, threatening to wreak destruction by unleashing black holes throughout the known universe. She believes they've kidnapped Snoopy to prevent her from building enough snowcone machines to suppress the holes. Petra escapes from the moon prison with Jimmy being her getaway driver. Together they hack into Snoopy's computers, determining his location. Arriving, they find proof ThornJogs are responsible for what happened to Kokomo 350: an experiment, preparing for a large scale attack. Jimmy and Petra infect Snoopy with a virus overriding ThornJog orders, destroying their software. But after disabling the threat, a twist arises, jeopardizing the entire universe's stability and testing Jimmy and Petra's skills like never before. notes ▼ |
| A fantastic proposal: taming a dragon, Teaching it manners or pulling a wagon. It's long and hard, but also quite fun Taming a dragon under the sun. Adopt an egg first, help it to hatch Plenty easier than trying to catch. Once it's a baby, feed it quite well Hold it, talk to it, trust it can tell. Your kindness pays off: an obedient fledgling Stays by your side without any meddling. Next comes the training, the do and the don't Patience is crucial, or teaching it won't. Steadfast like clockwork, your schedule maintain; This helps it to learn and patterns to gain. Advance it gently, with plenty of praise Set goals and levels to guide it in grace. Soon your dragon will grow strong and mature A beautiful sight, that's for sure! Flying freely across summer skies A creature well-trained, healthy and wise. 20 lines, 144 words, couplets in verses of four lines each. |
| Joe realized too late: he's not destined to be the next Brad Pitt. His destiny instead lies within the crumbling walls of Dinosaur Dreams, an outdated theme park with more violations than patrons. He wears a T-Rex outfit, doing tricks in an attempt to drum up publicity. His income dwindles as inspectors threaten to shut it down. One day he catches a reporter, Riley, snooping with a metal detector. She tells him she's looking for a legendary harmonica, which can cause landslides by reverberating at Earth's natural frequencies, purportedly buried on the grounds. Joe schemes to host a massive treasure hunt where he charges admission for a chance to locate the harmonica. He wants Riley to write a front-page story about it. She reluctantly agrees. But as treasure seekers pour in and Joe makes money, he worries someone will actually find the harmonica and his newly lucrative park will fail. He is determined to find it, digging all night. Riley competes with him, desperately racing to find it first. She rents a bulldozer and tears down his house, thinking he's already found it and hidden it. Then, gangsters raid the park, holding them hostage, searching for the harmonica themselves. They want to use it to find buried treasure by making landslides. Amidst wreckage of house and theme park, can Joe and Riley band together in time to dodge gangsters, find the harmonica, reveal the absurd truth of what everyone's been looking for and even fall in love? Words: 247. Notes ▼ |
| I've watched days slipping away, Dragged under by hungry Nessie. Time stands paralyzed, frozen like Stonehenge— Why am I here? Ropes hold me fast Binding against my will. Distraught midnight shrouds my mind; Fleeting years wasted, clutching what I do not desire. Shattered piggy bank forces me to wait In a lineup of slipshod impoverished freaks Hoping to gain survival by bargaining at the desk… The return desk, that is. 11 lines, 70 words, free verse. Written for "PromptMaster !" Task Prompt: Use hyperbole to write a poem about a minor inconvenience. Make it an epic struggle worthy of legend. |
| When Charlie The Hungry Moabite invents Latin rap music in 14th century Higginbotham Hollow, the religious elite decries it as demonic garbage. They drum him out of town into the uncharted wilderness of Corduroy Caverns, where he discovers Josh, a nerdy young softie who was supposed to kill the giant dragon who's been terrorizing the village. Josh would prefer befriending the dragon and reading books to it, but his sarcastic talking sword threatens to turn against him if he does such a traitorous act. Charlie sympathizes with him and hatches a scheme to fool the villagers into thinking the dragon is dead using spaghetti sauce. Somehow the prank goes awry, and the talking sword uses the spaghetti sauce to convince Josh he's accidentally killed Charlie. The sword thinks if it gets rid of the two cowardly custards, it can go kill the dragon by itself and get all the credit, eventually becoming king of the peasant villagers. Charlie and the dragon take matters into their own hands, forming a friendly hip-hop duo which impresses the village priest when it helps heal a sick child. Now convinced of the benefits of rap music and the goodwill of the dragon, the priest must help them rescue softhearted Josh from the vicious talking sword before it takes control of the land. Words: 217. prompt ▼ |
| My head jerked upright as I slouched on the concrete bench in front of the grocery store, my scruffy mutt Rufus at my feet. I needed a drink of water. I was starting to see things. Just a few minutes ago, I thought I saw an old guy wearing a pumpkin color suit and a floppy, oversized straw hat, carrying two bright green bags… Blinking away the daydreams, I looked out at the bustling parking lot and realized I had seen him. Indeed, he was still there, walking along at a measured pace with a shopping tote in each hand, the trademark Publix shade of green. My bleary eyes, desperate for a diversion, followed him to his car, an antique Woody Wagon in the same shade of pumpkin as his clothes. He set one tote on the ground to look through his pockets for his keys. Not finding them immediately, he set down the other tote. He couldn't find them in any pocket at all, apparently, because he walked slowly around his station wagon, checking for an unlocked door. I felt bad for him, standing helplessly under the broiling Florida sun. No wonder he was wearing that funny hat. I stood up, ran a hand through my greasy, unruly hair, and shuffled towards him, hoping I didn't look too disheveled. Rufus padded after me. “Excuse me, sir, do you need some help?” I spoke quickly, knowing his first assumption, based on appearances, would be I was asking him for money. He looked me in the eye and said, in a voice with the piping tones of a man in his eighties, “I’m afraid I've lost my car keys. Do you think you can help me find them, young man?” I smiled, because it had been a long time since anyone called me young. “Sure, I'll try my best. You remember where you left them?” “If I remembered that, I wouldn't have lost them,” he chuckled. “My name is Paul, by the way. Nice dog you have here.” “Thanks. He's my rescue guy. I'm Louie.” I scratched Rufus behind the ears. “You think you might've left them in the store?” “Let's see… I did have to stand at the pharmacy counter for a while, discussing my coverage. I might have left them there. Then I needed to cash a check at the return desk.” “We'd better go in and see if anyone's turned them over.” Paul stooped to pick up his totes. They were heavy, so I insisted on carrying them instead. At the entrance, I told Rufus to sit and stay. Publix has an “absolutely no pets inside” policy. The last thing I needed was to be unceremoniously trespassed from yet another store. Rufus wagged his tail and sat obediently in a corner, out of everyone's way. We went to the customer service desk and asked if there were any keys handed over to lost and found. The lady checked their records, looked in a drawer, and shook her head. Next, we went to the pharmacy. Paul plodded cautiously, picking up his feet with intention and keeping his eyes to the floor. I suspect he preferred using a cane. Perhaps he had lost it. I tried not to be too self-conscious as we walked together, one elderly well-dressed guy and one shabby bum. The pharmacist immediately said yes, there was a set of keys which someone had left on her counter and she had sequestered for safekeeping. “What car do you drive, sir?” “A Ford station wagon, about forty years old. My car keys aren't those highfalutin electrical key fobs you see nowadays. Just plain old gold keys.” “Yes, sir, that’s the ones.” She brought them up, and we thanked her and headed back outside. Rufus waited patiently for me. A strong wind was sending clouds flying across the sky and junk flying through the parking lot as I carried Paul's totes back to his car. One sharp gust tore his big straw hat right off of his head. It rolled and tumbled away as if it were alive. I couldn't drop the groceries to chase after it. “Rufus! Fetch!” It was an instinctive command, yet incredibly stupid. If the hat went in front of a car or out into the street—yikes! I prayed it would be safe as Rufus went running. Thankfully, the floppy thing got caught in some shrubbery at the corner. He grabbed it in his mouth and came trotting back triumphantly. I took it from him, trying to wipe off the slobber. “Here you are, sir. Good as new… just a little sticky. It'll dry out in the sunshine.” “Thank you for all your help, Louie.” Paul adjusted the straw hat back securely on his head. “You've been a blessing.” “It was nothing, really.” “No, no—if you hadn't shown up, who would have carried my shopping bags? Or caught my hat? Such kindness warrants a reward.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a bill. “Oh geez, sir, I couldn't take your money…” The look of longing on my face belied me as I thought of how much I needed it. He pressed the hundred dollar bill into my hand and patted my shoulder. “I pray better days are ahead of you, young man.” “So do I. Thank you very much, Paul. It was nice meeting you.” I shook his hand and went back to sit on the bench by the store with Rufus, calculating how many days of food I could buy for us with the money. I should save a little to get myself a sunhat, to remember Paul. Words: 938. Written for "Merit Badge Magic" And also for "Starting Stories" Required story starter highlighted in blue. |
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Fireflies as "Tiny SOS signals"? Great visual!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Three_Word_Thursday.gif)
![Merit Badge in Reviewing 7
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Awarded for sending at least one review every day for a week . This badge can be earned over and over again. Each of these badges adds one (1) Community Recognition!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/achievements-Reviewing_7.gif)
![Merit Badge in Eastern Poetry
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Your contribution to Eastern Poetry is awesome.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Eastern_Poetry.gif)
![Merit Badge in Every Moment Matters
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It’s not about the number of accomplishments, but the impact you make along the way.
You have made that impact here on this site and I want to wish you all the best.
Congratulations, Angel, on your 1st WDC Anniversary.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Every_Moment_Matters.gif)
![Merit Badge in Thank You
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For your anniversary reviews. Very kind of you, and much appreciated. Thank you.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Thank_You-1985.gif)
![Merit Badge in Wings of the Angel Army
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*^*Angel*^* Congratulations! You are a Reviewer of the Month of April at [Link To Item #army] Thank you for spreading those Angel Wings all over WDC with your helpful reviews!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Wings_of_the_Angel_Army-1188309_9.gif)
![Merit Badge in Merit Badges
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Congratulations on giving your 1 st Merit Badge!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/achievements-Merit_Badges.gif)
![Merit Badge in Mystery
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Here is the next slice of your Chocolate Fudge Cake, bought for you by your Secret Valentine.
I chose this one because it fits with the wonderful story of yours I read and reviewed this week.
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Mystery-1100.gif)
![Merit Badge in Visit WdC 7
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Awarded for visiting the site every day for a week . This badge can be earned over and over again. Each of these badges adds one (1) Community Recognition!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/achievements-Visit_WdC_7.gif)
![Merit Badge in Life's a Beach!
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*^*Beach*^* Well not exactly. Summer is almost over! Congratulations on completing the August Challenge at [Link To Item #army] You are appreciated!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Life=39s_a_Beach=33-2288571.gif)
![Merit Badge in Reviewing
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Ranked # 6 Public Reviewer for the month of August 2023 . For more details, please see [Link To Item #614925] .](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Reviewing-2180.gif)
![Merit Badge in Micro Fiction Challenge
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Congratulations on completing the 2024 Drabble activity!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Micro_Fiction_Challenge-2149524_14.gif)