Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Write a story about a toy that your main character has kept from childhood for a specific reason.
You could make it a description of the toy or a memory, or the toy could be a smaller part of the story.
Writings
_“What is it, mom?” Adam nagged like a bee buzzing impatiently in front of his mother’s face. Christmas morning came quick that year, bringing flurries of snow along the coast of Goldmere island._
_The wrapped box fell into his small, bony hands, opening in less than a second. _
_A toy carousel, adorned in gold and velvet, horses, embellished with saddles of silk and bells. It spun wildly, like it...
I still have my first rattle, gifted to me by my father when I was one. The toy has seen better days, but you can still make out what it was back then: pink and purple with a display of wings and sunflowers throughout. When you shake it, you can still hear the rattling within. I try not to shake it too much just incase what’s inside runs out somehow. What more is needed of a rattle? Now displayed ...
Grif set the package down with more than a little strategy. He had chosen to label it “From Santa” to make it more enticing. And its placement under the tree, near the front but not in the front, was quite specific. He knew his son well enough to know he’d go for it first. Maybe second but that was a maybe.
When the morning rush came and little feet battered the stairs, Grif smiled into his coff...
“…you keep staring, you wanna know why I keep that old thing around?” Mr. Atwell didn’t raise with his voice but his eyes opened. Sitting across the towering desk from him was Evan.
He tore his guilty eyes away from the stuffed rabbit. He took a moment to answer, trying to form something diplomatic.
“If you’re willing to share with me, sir. Sure.”
“If you’re willing to share…” the words were ...
The party had reach a fever pitch. The windows winced on the bass’ off-beat and the carpet, once white and spotless, now looked spotted from the blobs of sherry and merlot.
At least it was decent stuff, Lance thought, taking up his own glass. Only some of it missed his mouth.
The lions share of the partygoers had collected around the fireplace in the den and were enjoying a good laugh tossing…...
Deon threw himself onto the mattress and nearly bounced off onto the floor. Considering that the bed itself was resting on the hardwood with no frame, it wouldn’t have been the worst outcome.
Still, his arms flailed wildly, pinwheeling for purchase. Once he was steady, he took hold of the nearest packed and not-shattered bong and hit it. As if summoned by the bubbling call, Jane entered the room...
“Mom! I’m out again, I need another roll!” Drake’s voice carried quite nicely from his doorway, down the hall, down the stairs to his mothers ear.
She sighed audibly, even from such a distance then replied, “Then come get some!”
Get had some extra spin on it so he knew she was annoyed. He half chuckled, let it be. He might be the one leaving for college, but she’s surely the one who was stress...
I kept that toy out of the lime light because I knew it would hurt my baby sister’s feelings. Only five years between us and how could I forget me teasing of her for being chubby. We’re still kids. I feel bad. Mom even said dad, who was hardly present in our lives, had no business buying that Jabba the Hut plastic doll, a large fat slug character from Star Wars, so I could give it to her for Chris...
In the cold waiting room of her oncologist’s office, Fiona sat anxiously. Her right leg bounced up and down rapidly as she held her stuffed rabbit close to her chest. She stroked it’s worn paw as she always did when she was nervous. Her mind raced with all the possibilities. Would she finally be in remission or would it be another round of chemo? What if it had actually spread?
Dr. Pembroke jamme...
A small stuffed lamb
Missing an eye
His only friend
When he starts to cry
He’s now fifteen
Still sleeps with the toy
He gets made fun of
By the other boys
But they don’t know
What the lamb means to him
What memories it holds
Both good and grim
His mom made it
Before she died
She sewed it while
He sat beside
Now his lamb
Is worth more than gold
He’ll love it till
He grows old...
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