Monday, May 2, 2016

Monday's Minute Challenge: Writing Prompt Challenge For Teens & Up!





A quick writing prompt challenge (and contest) for teens to get their creative juices flowing for the new week. A new prompt is posted, and winners are announced, every other Monday.



  1. The entry must be between 150 - 300 words. (In order to see how many words your entry is, write it in Microsoft Word, or you can copy and paste it here.)
  2. The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next. 
  3. The winners will receive a badge for their blog.
  4. The winner will be chosen based on the judges's preferences, as well as the following questions: Does this entry capture my attention immediately? Does it make me want to continue reading? Is the writing clear? They will also take into consideration the writer's voice and style--not necessarily technical issues, such as grammar, punctuation, etc. 
  5. This is only for fun and to stretch your writing muscles--not necessarily to be taken too seriously. =)

 


The judge panel chooses these winners based on a point system. Keep in mind that the judges are not aware of which entry belongs to which participant until after the judging is complete.

This week's judging was, once again, a huge challenge! Congrats to all of you for writing outstanding entries.




I had never seen someone look so lost in their home before.
Well, it's not something that normal people would think. Everything was the same. The leather couch in the middle of the room, the vase with cheery flowers in the side, and the television on and running. She stepped inside the room, after being frozen for forever. And looked around. You could feel her gaze penetrating each item in the room, critically analysing it and peeling off the layers of memories until she reached the ones that contained her. She felt the peeling leather of the sofa, the polished wood of the chairs, and smelt the aroma of the flowers. I continued looking at her, transfixed by curiosity. Where had she gone? Why had she gone? I mean, not everyone had the guts to just up and go. 
Crunch.
I looked at her, my eyebrows knitting together. But then I saw her gaze on me. And she screamed, silent tears still flowing down her face. When had she started crying? I ducked, but even my mind knew it was too late for that. And that's when I saw it. And that's when I started screaming too. The date was November 13. 
It's January 13 today. And I still haven't stopped.

Congratulations, Ipshita! Click here for your badgeand don't forget to claim your points here. =) 



The girl stumbled out of the smoking building. She started to stagger across the pavement, her feet torn and bleeding. She tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground. I stood on the sidewalk, and watched. And waited. It took over a minute for them to get there. It was longer than last time. I watched, my eyes narrowed, as the man rushed to the girls side, followed by the girls. The boy shouted and pointed to the building. Within seconds all three of them were inside. The man scoped up the girl and carried her away from the building. I counted to ten…8,9,10. Then I pressed the button. The building exploded.
I watched at debris darkened the sky before I climbed into my car. I texted my boss, Mission Completed. A simple twist of the keys, a little pressure on the accelerator and I was gone from the site of the explosion.

Michal looked up from laying the girl down on the sidewalk. The building had exploded! A scream tore through his mouth, as the debris shattered on the ground around him. He did not care if he got hit by one. The only thing he could think of was the fact that his friends were gone. Dead. He was alone…again.
Congratulations, Mary BClick here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)


Trudging through the parking lot, I kick a stone that lies in my way. He said he’d be here. The boss, that is. At twelve o’clock.
It’s twelve ten now. A funny feeling enters my stomach. He’s usually here on time. I fiddle with a pen to pass time.
Suddenly, ink splashes onto my hand. I bite back a curse and deposit the pen in my pocket. A quick glance at my watch tells me that it is now twelve fifteen. I frown at it. What could hinder the boss from being here?
Pressure on my shoulder makes my heart leap into my throat. I whirl around and breathe a sigh of relief.
The boss dips his head. “Do you have the package?”
I swallow. Maybe that funny feeling I have isn’t because of the boss’s tardiness. I nod. “Yeah. Follow me.”
He grunts and stalks after me. My movements are shaky. What am I doing? I unlock my car, but my hand wavers at the door handle.
The boss lets out a harrumph. “What’s wrong, Cody?”
I can’t do this. My hand falls from the handle. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No.” My heart is racing.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” A click sounds from behind me.
Gunshot echoes in my ears.
I’m not dead. My eyes snap open and I catch the gaze of a girl as she crumples to the ground, a gun in hand. The boss lies at my feet, gone for sure.
I connect the dots as to what just happened. I scramble towards the girl, pick her up, and start running.
I don’t know her name. I don’t recognize her face. But I do know that she just saved my life.

And from the looks of it, it’s my turn to repay the favor.
Congratulations, Micaiah! Click here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)


Honorable 
Recognitions

  1. Anonymous
  2. Esther
  3. Angela
  4. Allie Taylor

    Thanks so much to everyone who participated!

    • Submit your response in the comments below, or post it on your blog via InLink (below).
    • Your response should range between 150 - 300 words. 
    • The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next. 
    • If you'd rather not submit your post in the comments or on your blog, you may email it to me instead.





    Choose at least one:

    Note: You can always combine the prompts into one entry.

    (Optional) Write a passage continuing your entry from last week week (or whichever week you'd prefer). If you can, try to continue it using one of the following prompts.
    • Write a passage using these items: lullaby, poison, window (submitted by Angela)
    • Write a passage based on this picture (submitted by Allie Taylor)
    • Write a passage either incorporating this phrase OR based on this phrase:  

      "Once upon a time, I was free."    (submitted by Micaiah)


    Post your entry on your blog!:


    If you're posting your entry on your blog, please add your link below:






    NEW: Tag your friends!

    (Optional) If you post an entry on your blog, tag at least 3 writers who have never participated in Monday's Minute Challenge. Be sure to comment on their blog to let them know they've been tagged. (Thanks to Micaiah for this suggestion!)


    Do you have an idea for MMC? I'd love to hear! 
    Send me an email at christiswrite (at) gmail (dot) com. 



    Submit your prompt idea!:

    The prompts that are used for Monday's Minute Challenge are submitted by the participants. 

    Here's how this works:
    • You will be able to submit 3 prompts each week in the same format as above: three objects, one picture, and a piece of dialogue or phrase.
    • On Mondays, I will choose 3 prompts that have been submitted by 3 different people.
    • If your prompt is selected, you will receive 2 points!
    • You may submit in the comments below.


    post signature

    12 comments:

    1. Not sure if this counts as a story or not but it's 181 words and I used the sentence prompt.





      Once upon a time, I was free.

      I was not bought or sold or thrown away carelessly. I was given freely and received freely. I didn't come with a label that says "What will you give me in return?". I had no hidden strings or clauses written in fine print.

      That has all changed now. I am a fake. A knockoff. A slave to the masses of humanity that buy and sell me and lessen my value more with each passing day.

      My name is Love and I am not alone on this black market of virtues.

      Around me see others like me suffering the same fate. Hope, Kindness, Mercy, Compassion. They're all here. All cheapened and all slowly dying.

      It doesn't have to be this way. There are still people who use us as we were meant to be used. Those people possess other virtues which are even more scarce than us. Honor, Duty, Selflessness, Responsibility.

      The only thing is we need each other. If one of us we're to die the others would soon follow.

      Don't let that happen.




      HP

      ReplyDelete
      Replies
      1. I love this!! I never would have thought to do something like that. :)

        Delete
      2. I agree, this is really good!

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      3. Wow thank you both so much! :D

        (That's supposed to be "were" in the second to last sentence by the way)

        HP

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    2. Three words: hourglass, mirror, attic
      Picture: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/559642691174645029/
      Dialog: "I know it was an accident but that doesn't change the fact that you burned down his house!"

      ReplyDelete
    3. Angela BeatriceMay 3, 2016 at 1:00 PM

      I used the three words :)

      The lullaby was my poison. Dangerous, volatile, and sweet, it allowed me to focus on the important things. Such as getting this baby to sleep without anyone noticing. In this world, no one sleeps. We are a society of wakes and walkers; there is no time for sleep. Sleep is weakness; when you do not stand, you are vulnerable. Sleep is useless. It is a form of the past that does not exist anymore and that is why that lullaby was my poison. I don’t normally hold children but that one, that one was special. He had something no one had; the ability to be still and remain alive. The year he was born was survival year so, naturally, he was built for survival. I was born in the year of destruction. I am built to destroy.

      However, I want to change. And this child will help me.

      But first, I must jump out the window.

      ReplyDelete
    4. “Lullaby, lullaby, go to sleep my darling.”
      I can still hear my mother‘s lullaby playing in my head. The last song she ever sang to me. I still remember the look she had in her eyes, a look that said ‘I’m sorry’.
      I was too young to understand. Too young to understand the tears streaming down her face as she sang me to sleep. Too young to understand what was happening when she opened a tiny black bottle and drained the contents.
      Too young to understand why she never moved again.
      But I remember.
      I kept that bottle and wouldn’t let anyone take it from me. I still have it.
      I take the bottle out of my pocket now and finger the label. It has started to peel, and I can’t read it anymore. But I know what it said.
      Poison.
      On accident, my fingernail rakes away a portion of the sticker. I grimace, even though no real damage is done. This bottle is all I have left of my mother; they took me from her, the night she died.
      And then … then I see it. Words beneath the label, words I can’t make out in the dim light. Shocked, I move closer to the candle. Maybe they’re a clue to my mother’s death.
      So I scratch, scratch, scratch away until my fingers are sticky and the bottle is clear. Then I read.
      “Once upon a time,” the bottle says, “I was free.”
      … so much for that idea. I sigh, about to stick the minuscule bottle back in my pocket, when I hear a noise. I freeze.
      Tap. Taptaptap. Tap.
      My blood runs cold, and slowly, very slowly, I turn around.
      There’s someone at the window.

      ReplyDelete
    5. Picture prompt: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w6RiE7LqKPU/Vd4zLT-Qf2I/AAAAAAAADW8/p1KixAYDICk/s640/perfectly-timed-photos-35.jpg

      Sentence prompt: The rumors were true.

      Object prompt: Battery, concrete, box.

      ReplyDelete
    6. Woohoo!! Only 267 (I think) words! :)


      Leanora climbed the dusty steps spiraling up. She lifted her skirts with one hand, and in the other was a candle. She paused at each step, listening for any awakening noises, but the house was still. At last she reached the attic door. It creaked as it opened, and Leanora breathed a deep sigh of relief. At last, her own room. No heavy breathing cook Martha, or snoring Beth, the scullury maid. No Maclean to order her to do needless tasks, just to keep her busy. Nothing but the musty smell of the attic. She stepped inside, careful to stay away from the creaky boards. She had memorized the way across, so that even in the dark, she would make no noise. At last she made it to a small desk. Sitting down at it, she closed her eyes and let the sound of the rain on the roof envelop her. She breathed deeply, and picking up the pen on the desk, dipping it in the ink she opend the blank book. She wrote with care and dexterity
      Once upon a time,
      She paused to refill her pen, and held it in place over the paper. What next? What should she write? She looked down at her dark skin, barely illuminated in the candle light. What could she write? What would make a difference. The thunder cracked overhead, the rain persisted in it’s tireless dance on the world. And Leanora thought of her mother, her father, and her baby brother in heaven. The pen met the page once more, as she finished
      I was free

      ReplyDelete
    7. Item prompt: bricks, stubble, ashes.

      Sentence prompt: He fumbled with the gun in his hand. "Well, that's an interesting story."

      Picture prompt: http://pinterest.com/pin/365917538454021519/

      HP

      ReplyDelete
    8. Hey, Tessa, I posted my story on my blog on May 24, but I forgot to put my link here. Sorry about that! I understand if it's too late to qualify.

      http://ingodswritinghands.blogspot.com/2016/05/burnt-mmc-may-16-2016.html?m=1

      - Maddie

      ReplyDelete

    Thanks for stopping by my blog!