Writing Starter #15

When my mom first told me that we were moving to Michigan, I was extremely reluctant at first.  I wasn't a fan of change.  And I really wasn't a fan of trying to make new friends.  I knew I couldn't do it.  I had always the been the shy kid, the kid who couldn't talk to anyone I didn't know well.  I felt like everything that I had been working for in the first 10 years of my life was suddenly a complete waste.  Like when you play a video game for 10 hours without saving and then it shuts down on you.  It feels like the biggest waste of your life.  Except that this time, it was my entire life.  However, looking back at what my life was in Rhode Island, what my life is like here, where my friends ended up there and where I ended up here, I wouldn't trade this life for anything.  I enjoy and appreciate the life that I have now more than I ever would have if we hadn't moved.

Writing Starter #14

I was talking on my cell phone to my brother.  We were discussing how he was going to get into town without a car or anyone to bring him in.  Suddenly, my vulture Cogburn flew through the open window and heard me utter my brother's name, Chris.  This made him a very angry bird.  My brother had never approved of the domestication of wild animals and Cogburn knew it.  Not because he thought they didn't enjoy it.  That theory went out the window years ago.  But he thought they were too uncontrollable in human society.

"He is not coming here!" Cogburn squawked.

"Oh come on, he isn't that bad," I responded calmly.

"Not that bad?!" Cogburn remarked.  "Last time he was here, he tried to use a stapler to attach my wings together!  And when that didn't work, he nearly took off my head with a baseball bat!"

6 word memoir

Envisioning a bright, though brutal, future.

Writing Starter #13

Someone whom I admire is my dad.  I've always wanted to be like him because he truly is the smartest person I know, and has a very high intellectual ability.  Not only that, but he is very good at many things, and throughout his life has touched in many fields and excelled in all of them.  Me and him think very similarly, and someday I hope that I could become like him.  He has so much knowledge in his big bald head, that I would feel terrific to know that someday I would achieve half of that.

6 word stories

1.  Country in trouble, girl in control.

2.  Lifetime of experience, moment of doubt.  

3.  Greatest charade in history of politics.  

Writing Starter #12

I never got the childhood that I was promised.  I was never treated the way that a child is supposed to be treated.  While others were being brought up by love and care, I was in the real world, learning how to fend for myself.

But now that I have to chance to take that all back, I don't wish to.  I've turned out stronger because of it, and I am proud of who I am.  Instead, I'll take the childhood that I was promised but never received and give it back to someone else, because everyone deserves a childhood.

Flash Fiction #2

Plants don’t hurt.  Plants aren’t selfish.  Plants don’t start war.  Plants don’t drain the world of its natural resources.  Plants aren’t evil.  That’s why I don’t feel bad about what I do.  

I released a toxin into Mr. Wiggin’s office and sat back to watch him die.  After a few minutes he dropped, and no one had any clue.  When they did find out, they’d blame it on some kind of carbon monoxide poisoning.  

I don’t feel bad about it.  How many lives has this man taken? 6,000 Banyans in Indonesia.  10,000 Moabis in the Congo.  3,000 Cryillas in North Carolina.  This man deserved his fate.  

In a few years, the world will be rid of rich executives who don’t care about the lungs of this world.  In a few years, the plants will be liberated, and their slaveowners slain.  In a few years, my job will be done here.  

Writing Starter #11

The craziest part about my family is that they are all very similar in how clever they are.  Everyone loves to make jokes and they all make jokes in the same way.  So when we get together, the jokes just never stop, and neither does the laughter.  For example, for some reason my brother Patrick, my dad and I love to get each other really stupid presents for any celebration that we give gifts, like Christmas or a birthday.  So when we get together for Christmas we end up with gifts like Shamwow, the Chia Shrek, and  Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits.

Flash Fiction #1

We washed up 37 days ago on a deserted island.  I don't know where we are, but it can't be far from Hawaii where the eight of us left from.  

I stumbled upon the radio from the faulty plane dropped we crashed in.  It had washed up on the shore about 3 miles from our camp.  I panicked, grabbed it, and ran to the forest.  

I tried to dig a hole with my wooden spear and eventually just started shoveling with my open hands. I threw the radio in, filled it back up with dirt, then threw some leaves on top.  

Everyone else was desperate to get back to their families, to their lives.  I had no family, my life was no better than it is here.  As far as I was concerned, we had food, we had water, and I was still on vacation.  I wasn't giving this up.  

Writing Starter #10

I'll never forget about every time my grandpa tried to talk to me about my French Horn.  He would always say the same exact thing, every time he wanted to talk about it.  He would always say how fascinated he was by how many ways you could make a sound, and by how many ways there were to change the pitch.  You of course could use your mouth, you could use the valves, or you could use your hand.  Eventually I could predict exactly what he would say every time he brought it up.  But I still loved hearing it.

Writing Starter #9

Jeffery Henrikson was in the middle of mixing in the corn flour when his boss, Mr. Bell, called him into his office.  He walked in with hesitation.
"I really like the way you handle coconut oil, Henrikson," Bell said.  "You take a very original approach.  I appreciate originality.  You remind me of myself at a younger age. I've decided to promote you to Yellow 5 Supervisor.  See if you can bring some of that classic Henrikson innovation to that department."
"Wow, thank you so much sir!" Jeffery responded.  "I promise I won't let you down!"
"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Bell explained.  "You're one of the good ones, trust me I can tell.  Who knows, maybe someday I'll send you up to Yellow 6!"
Jeffery chuckled.
"Watch out for that Thiamin Mononitrate up there though," Bell warned.  "It's in the air.  We've lost a lot of good men from that stuff."

Writing Starter #8

Then I thought to myself, why let this get me down.  I had a Sports Illustrated sitting on my kitchen table, a fresh cup of coffee, some fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a warm cheese omelet.  Just because I find a dead handyman on my floor, doesn't mean I need to mope around and ruin a perfectly good day.

Short Story

This is the story of the most incredible person I have ever met, and of the most spectacular and horrific deception I have ever witnessed.

I walked slowly up the steps to accept my position.  It was an expected announcement, of course.  They don't want any complications with this kind of spectacle for the media to run with.  But for the public, this was sudden, and I could feel the pressure building from either side of the nation.  With one quick decision I was loved and respected by half who were filled with nothing but anticipation and despised and criticized by the other, who were filled with anticipation nonetheless.

I felt as if I were gliding across the stage, completely numb of all action.  It was strange, this was the only thing that had crossed my mind in the past few days.  Well, that's not true.  Nearly everything that has ever crossed my mind had made a reappearance in the past few days.  Nervousness about performing in my high school play 29 years ago had crossed my mind in the past few days.  Guilt about getting a ticket on my way to school after only having my license for a month had crossed my mind in the past few days.  However, these thoughts had all come up while I was trying to focus on how to accomplish one task, walking across a stage.  And now that it is time, I can't seem to control my body one way or the other.  My body isn't leaving anything up to me, for fear that my brain might screw it up.

Before I knew it, I had arrived at my destination: Hugh Sainz, the Republican presidential candidate.  He stood straight, at least 6'3" with a broad, powerful frame and only slightly graying hair.  This is what I had been training myself for.  Make a good impression.  My hand made its way upward, careful to remain firm at all times, showing no signs of weakness.  He quickly took my hand, and suddenly his stern expression relaxed, and he gave me a warm smile that wrinkled his face and instantly eased my tension.  His firm, confident voice eased me, let me know that this was a man that I could follow.  "Welcome aboard, kid."

He released my hand, and as I expected him to walk off the stage so that I could take the podium, he simply stood there, and his warm smile became oddly uncomfortable.  He seemed unsure, as if he didn't know what to do.  Suddenly, another faced I recognized rushed onstage.  It was Sainz's young, feeble  campaign manager, Carolina Basel.  She wore glasses and her hair up, with a high-pitched, weak voice that made her seem uneasy, as if she were trying to convey her power when really it was hard to take her seriously.  She seemed to me such a strange choice, more as a secretary or assistant to Sainz.  But it also seemed to make sense.  Why pull around another confident, strong, middle-aged man to run the campaign, when that's exactly what you already have in your candidate.  At least in this situation you have someone to get you coffee.  She seemed to tug him along to the other side of the stage when she arrived at the podium.  "Come on sir, busy schedule."

This was it.  As much as I wished my career could be fixated on how I can walk across a stage, I would have to prove myself, starting now.  It was the time for me to give my first speech as the Republican Vice Presidential Candidate, Vernon Holmquist.

__________________________


Three months later, I had noticed some shocking details concerning the man who was now referred to as President Hugh Sainz.  He would often sit in his office for hours on end, not sure of what to do, until the phone would ring.  He wasn't very close to his family at all.  I had also never had any legitimate conversation with him in private.  The oddest part, however, was that as soon as we reached the media or the public or were exposed to the outside world in any, he became the man that I previously knew and respected.  His conversation flowed, he was as convincing and persuasive as anyone I could imagine.

I was simply baffled by this thought, I couldn't sleep at night, I was far too preoccupied with what was going on with this half-mindless man who also happened to be the most important in the country.  Was he going mad? Was I going mad? I needed to talk to someone, someone who must have noticed this too.  I knew exactly who to talk to.

"Excuse me, Ms. Basel?" I shouted as I saw her at the other end of the hall.  I walked briskly up to her as confidently as I could, even with my mind as rattled as it has ever been.

She whisked around, catching her breath. "Oh, you frightened me sir," she said with the dainty, powerless voice that I had associated with the young girl I had noticed before this tobacle.  "And please, call me Carolina."

And there it was. Suddenly, I had realized what was going on.  This young girl, previously the Campaign Manager and now the Chief of Staff to the President, was miles ahead of her years in terms of significance to the nation, especially for a girl with such little force, and such little confidence. Or so I thought.  You see, the president was not the only one who had become a completely different person since I had seen behind the scenes of the white house.  This girl suddenly grew a backbone.  She was bossing the president around, she was correcting the president, and almost every time the president answered the phone with instruction on what to do, it was her.  She was orchestrating this whole charade.

"I know everything," I said to her bluntly.

Suddenly, her cheery, schoolgirl smile morphed into a stern glare that I had never seen from her before.  "I knew it was only a matter of time.  You're smarter than I anticipated, Vernon.  I was just looking for another mindless puppet.  But you've certainly posed quite a problem.  Well, the way I see it, you have three options." Her confidence shocked me, although I had seen the more honest side of her in past months, I had never seen this fiercely aggressive version of her before.

"Option one," she began, "I can assassinate you in the next couple days.  I don't think you want that, so let's move on.  Option two, you agree to let me fake your assassination, by an unstable citizen who doesn't particularly agree with your ideology.  Then you can move away, take your family with you, live a remote anonymous life.  Or option three, you keep going through the next 8 years, keep your mouth shut, be a part of the greatest presidency known to mankind, and probably get on the fast track towards the becoming the president yourself.  Option three sounds pretty good to me."

"You forgot an option," I responded.

"Oh ya, and what's that option?"

"Option four, I go to the media, and I tell them everything.  I tell them how you've planned out every last moment of this charade.  I tell them that the courageous, knowledgable president that we know and love is really the biggest idiot to ever live in this country.  I tell them, and your whole plan comes crashing down."

"Oh please, you won't go to the media.  I know you, and I know that you love this country too much.  You go to the media and not only does my plan fall apart, this country falls apart.  People will spiral into a panic.  And you know that the next four years will be much better for this country if I'm running the show.  I make a damn good president, Mr. Volmquist, and you know it."

I was stunned.  She was right.  This country would be much better off with her calling the shots.  She was incredible.  Not only was this being predicted as one of the greatest presidencies of all time, she was pulling it off without anyone even knowing she had any influence whatsoever.  "Alright then, I guess I'll take option two."

"Suit yourself.  Pack your bags, you'll be assassinated in a few days, I'll send you wherever you want."

I felt so destroyed, so belittled by this young little innocent girl.  She had known everything about me.  She was ready for everything I had to throw at her.  She was a mastermind.  She was wrong about one thing, however.  She thought that I wouldn't throw a wrench in this plan because I cared too much about this country.  But that was far from the truth.  I could give or take this country, and the messes it has gotten itself into.  This country could use a good wake up call as to how oblivious it is.  But I still could not unmask this charade.  I respected it too much.  I respected Carolina too much.  She had done everything that I wish I could.  She had overcome such great odds to become something so great.  She was the most incredible person I had ever met.

Writing Starter #7

"Hey, get your finger out of my yogurt!"

"Your yogurt deserves this, Adam!"

"What did my yogurt do to you?"

"Shall we start at the beginning?"

"WHY NOT!"

"It all started last year, when it split my parents up."

"How?"

"They were having this same argument."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Plus, it's raspberry! Gross!"

Writing Starter #6

The one thing that I am the most interested in is certainly a great story.  I am even surprising myself by saying this, given my low level of reading compared to others I know, but I am sure that when I can get into a great book, I am filled with a level of enjoyment and interest that nothing can compare to.  When a book can compel me with a great story and interesting language, and also push me to think about new ideas, I wouldn't want to be doing anything else.  However, with so much else to accomplish in a day, when it comes to school, sports, extracurricular activities, reading often takes a backseat in my life.  The goal of getting into a great college with a solid grade point average and other activities on my application has taken over the majority of my time, leaving me with no time to pursue anything that I truly love.

Writing Starter #5

You can't understand true frustration until you are crippled by communication.  The feeling of knowing exactly what you would say if only you were capable is like the feeling of stepping on a nail and not having the strength to lift your foot.  I knew exactly what I would say, that we could live in peace, that war wasn't inevitable.  But as soon as I would open my mouth at an attempt to communication, only one idea would be communicated, an idea that I already understand.  You would realize that there is no form of communication between us, that our kind are too different.  We were raised on different worlds, and were not made to ever come in contact.  But technology, growth, irresistible destination have brought us together, to only one foreseeable outcome.  One of us must cease to exist.

Short Story Structure

Stasis: Darren works every day from 9 to 5 running his family's laundromat "The Bowsher Washer." He spends his days supervising the building, reading books, and dreaming of going to the exotic worlds of the characters he reads of.  While he primarily is the only employee at the business, he answers to his father nearly everyday about what he is doing wrong.

Trigger: One day, while inspecting every machine (one of the many tedious tasks required by his father before closing) he spots a small coin of a currency that he does not recognize.

The Quest: After running his finger along the coin in an attempt to clean it off, he is whisked away and suddenly finds himself in some sort of marina area, although it doesn't seem modern at all.  He soon finds that he has somehow has traveled in time and space, and believes that the coin had something to do with it.

Surprise: Soon Darren rubs the coin again, whisking him away to ancient chinese culture.  He is soon attacked and tries again, bringing him to a barren arctic wasteland.  He continues to repeat this into many different areas, soon to be encountered by a group of what seems to him to be monks, telling him to give them the coin and they will send him home.  They seem very hostile to him, so he quickly escapes, into a standoff from a group of Spanish conquistadors.  Soon a monk appears next to him.  The monk is shot, and he whispers to Darren as he is dying that his kind control these coins, keeping them safe and out of the wrong hands.

Critical Choice: Darren escapes into a futuristic, prosperous city.  Not like he often envisioned it, with flying cars and halograms, but how he wished it would be.  No violence, no poverty, no trouble.  However, after enjoying this world, he sees strange figures appear, looking for him.  He realizes he must choose to find the monks in some other time instead of staying in his dream world.

Climax: After darting between times and places, trying his best to reach the place where he first ran into the monks, he ends up back into the future that he had been in, but now it is completely destroyed, fire burning down buildings, mobs running through the streets.  The strange figures who have been terrorizing this world show up again to take the coin from him.  He runs and finds one of the monks, and tosses the coin to him.  Immediately, ends up where he first found the coin, in the same position, but with nothing in his hand.

Reversal: Upon arriving home, he goes to his father and tells him he will no longer be working with him, and has decided to open up a book store and attempt to become a writer.

Resolution: While working on his first novel and looking over the store that is just starting, a woman comes to him to buy a book that has been his favorite for years, one that he thought was completely unknown to others.  She tells him that it is her favorite by far.  They strike up a very nice conversation.

Writing Starter #4

If I were a cartoon character, I am sure I would take more risks.  Cartoon characters face life or death situations on a daily basis, and the worst they come out with are broken bones and bandages that manage to heal in minutes.  I would no longer have to worry about the repetitiveness of everyday life. Cartoon characters don't deal with tedious activities, they deal with adventure.  You don't see cartoon characters filing for unemployment and cutting down on unnecessary spending to save money.