tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post8164247300582130835..comments2023-07-06T07:33:06.262-04:00Comments on * Writers' Spark * Every story has to start somewhere *: Prompt: A light in the window, waiting for youUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-23667217438710862492013-11-30T23:08:44.723-05:002013-11-30T23:08:44.723-05:00Thanks. I was actually dissatisfied with it, and I...Thanks. I was actually dissatisfied with it, and I might give it another go sometime...You know how you have a good idea, and then when you start writing it down, it sort of fizzles on you? Argh.Margaret S. McGrawhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18301618521427459626noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-37847320883477529772013-11-30T23:07:46.390-05:002013-11-30T23:07:46.390-05:00Oh, yes! Love it! Great world building and charact...Oh, yes! Love it! Great world building and characterization and small touches! Well done :)Margaret S. McGrawhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18301618521427459626noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-37173125422440885162013-11-30T19:08:07.309-05:002013-11-30T19:08:07.309-05:00Oh, how sad. Very good melancholy feel. And inte...Oh, how sad. Very good melancholy feel. And interesting end. Opens up possibilities -- why does one have a pipe-smoking cat, and what does Mary think of that?Annenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-36374785644342448492013-11-30T19:04:56.638-05:002013-11-30T19:04:56.638-05:00Prompt: A light in the window, waiting for you
A...Prompt: A light in the window, waiting for you<br /><br /><br />A car drove by, splashing up from the puddle a wall of water a good head-high on Spirit. She hissed in frustration and darted back underneath the doorstep where she had spent most of the recent rainstorm. She _hated_ water.<br /><br />There were no more headlights either way on the street. She stepped out cautiously again, resisting the urge to shake and lick each paw as it trod on the damp cement. Rollos was back at home, probably curled up all snug with a pipe and book. Spirit had expected to be home by now; she hated travelling out in the city where anyone who looked at her saw just a common housecat.<br /><br />They did not know – and could never know – that it was only reports from those like her and Rollos that let the humans continue to live their tiny lives on this tiny planet. She picked up a trot. The rain had stopped for now, but there was no guarantee the sky would not divest itself of more moisture at any moment.<br /><br />Spirit stopped short a mental tirade against weather. Lots of creatures liked planets, and thought stationers like her were odd for desiring constant unchanging conditions. And the more time she spent in the field, the more she was appreciating the concept of seasons and how some variation might actually be positive. But not water falling from the sky. That was just barbaric.<br /><br />She was in sight of home. A candle light flickered in the attic window. She bolted for the garden, leaping the front wall without touching down on its top and skidding around the back of the house. A light meant a message from above.<br /><br />Time writing: 15 minutesAnnenoreply@blogger.com