- 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.)
- A new MMC will be posted once the current round receives at least 6 entries.
- The winners will receive a badge for their blog.
- 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.
- 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.
"How could you?" The accusation spills from my mouth before I can stop it. He grimaces.
"How could I." The question sounds like a statement on his lips. He runs a thin hand through his dark hair already tipped with grey despite his thirty five years.
"I could because I wanted to and I didn't want her." I hear the tone of the spoiled child he once was in his voice.
"You just threw her away, used her and then got rid of her." He turns towards me in a half-hearted protest.
"I never used her. She was the crafty one. She used her guile to charm my parents, to take what she wanted. Money. My money." His voice begins to strengthen, receiving vigor from his anger, as he speaks of the woman he hates. The woman I know he once must have loved.
"She took it. Used it till it was gone. Then she left. Without my money, I meant nothing to her." A note of sentiment creeps in only to be crushed by his next sentence.
"And what do I care! I never really loved her. She was never part of my plan." He stops for breath.
"You were never part of my plan."
I gasp. Tears I had never allowed, rose in my eyes.
"Dad."
Congratulations, Anna! Click here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)
"I want to know who I am." She whispered.
Dr. Tyler glanced at the drawer to his left. He had though that he alone knew what it contained ... but perhaps he'd been wrong.
This girl certainly seemed to know.
He turned to her. "You know that there will be repercussions, do you not?"
"I do," she said, primly folding her hands together. "I do."
Tyler sighed and slid the drawer open. One bottle laid inside, cushioned in fabric. 'Identity Finders' was scrawled across the front. He had been too afraid to use the pills for himself, and no one else knew about it.
Except this girl, apparently.
"Please," she pleaded, "I'm willing to suffer the consequences. But I must know."
For a moment they were silent, both staring at each other. And then Dr. Tyler picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid, spilling pills onto his hand. He put them into a glass of water and handed it to her.
She swallowed them without a second thought. And then she began to scream. Screamed until Dr. Tyler wanted to cover his ears, just to escape the noise. But he just stood there, frozen by the shrieks.
Those shrieks still haunted his nightmares.
He didn't know what the pills had done to her. But everyone who saw little Vivianna after that could truly say that she saw not the same. The light was gone from her eyes.
And Dr. Tyler intended to bring it back.
Two weeks after the incident found Dr. Tyler standing in his office. The identity finder pills rested in his hand. His heart beat a frantic rhythm in his chest as he dumped the pills into a glass of water and downed them before he could think twice.
He was going to save Vivianna.
Congratulations, Savannah Grace! Click here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)
I squint against the piercing gusts of wind that whip my cloak around my near-frozen body. Footprints, barely legible in the packed snow and speckled with particles of dirt, lead north.Of all the places, north.Gritting my teeth and battling the uneasy feeling inside, I trudge onward. Frost glints in the spare sunlight, snow sparkles in an eerie way. But these are all normal sights for me since the beginning of the Winter.I maneuver around a patch of ice, keeping an eye ahead of me, and yet glancing behind every minute or so. I have done well enough hiding my tracks, but if the beasts were sent after me…I shake such thoughts from my head and come across an open meadow. Not the safest place for me, but I gasp. There he is.“Henrik!” I hurry to the crumpled figure. No response. “Henrik!”When I’m steps away from the fur coat-covered body, he bolts up, remaining on his knees. Surprised, I fall backwards. I don’t even try to get up when I see the blood-dipped knife in Henrik’s hand, the crazed look in his eyes.They don’t hold the joy or mirth I knew.“I never really loved her.” He cradles the knife closer to him. A drop of scarlet spreads on the snow.Alarmed, I search him for any wounds from my vantage point. None. Then where… There is no body. No sign of a fight, nothing.“Who?” I breathe, watching a cloud form in front of my face.“She made me. I didn’t want to, but she made me. The light… But I never really loved her anyway.”Another drop of blood. But it isn’t coming from the knife.“Who didn’t you love? Who made you?”Henrik looks up. “Her.”
Congratulations, Micaiah! Click here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)
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.
- Write a passage using these items: wooden box, doll, essay (submitted by Anon)
- Write a passage based on this picture (submitted by Anon)
- Write a passage either incorporating this phrase OR based on this phrase: "It's hard to know you'll never remember me." (submitted by Anon)
If you're posting your entry on your blog, please add your link below:
Tag your friends!
Do you have an idea for MMC? I'd love to hear!
Send me an email at christiswrite (at) gmail (dot) com.
(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!)
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:
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.
Here's my entry, 297 words. Based on the sentence prompt.
ReplyDelete“is it hard?” she asks. She was sitting cross-legged on my bed, doing something on her phone. I was packing some clothes into my suitcase, checking off my to-do list. Then she goes and asks.
“What hard?” I reply, turning to the desk to organise the papers for the millionth time.
“Oh you know, moving around so much. Never making friends. Forgetting.” I pause at her last words, as their sting hits me. I glance over my shoulder at her, but she seems completely oblivious.
“I have friends!” I protest, nudging her comment aside and hoping she won't notice. She looks up at me over her phone, her eyebrows raised, her eyelids halfway shut. It's her yeah sure I “believe” you look.
“I have you at least.” I tell her, then I cross my eyes and wiggle my ears. She laughs and tosses her phone down on the carpeted floor.
“You gotta be more careful with that.” I tell her.
“Or what?” She stretches languidly.
“Or I'll stop-”
“Remembering?” She finishes. I turn away again. How can she be so unfeeling? There is an awkward silence. Rather too tense for my taste. But I am too exasperated to care.
“It's not like I want to forget!” I yell at her. She narrows her eyes, and sits up.
“You think I don't know that?” She yells back.
“Well I just don't know!” I throw my hands up in surrender. She stands up, her jaw clenching.
“Then I guess you never knew me at all, did you?” that remark hits me so hard it aches.
“Wait, An-”
“No!” she yells back. She storms from my room without a backward glance.
I stare after her a moment, and then turn to my closet door.
“Are you happy?” I ask wearily.
Prompts:
ReplyDeleteObjects: stool, pearl, Sharpie
Picture: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/743586588445539664/
Sentence: That's it?? I wanted your gun!
My entry is 299 words, and it's written using the word prompts: wooden box, doll, essay.
ReplyDelete“They rode into the sunset and lived happily ever after.”
“What’s a sunset?”
I looked down at Sabrina.
She doesn’t know what a sunset is?
“I know what it is!” William chimed in “It’s the sun going to bed.”
“Oh, okay. Wait, then how did they ride into it?” Sabrina asked, understandably confused.
“Well... you’re just too young to understand.” William told her. Though he was only a year older than her, he enjoyed acting like he was much older.
“It’s how good stories end.” I told the three kids I was watching… even though I’m not sure how I ended up here. Honestly I have no idea who they are, or why they live for the most part alone in an underground bunker. Nothing about these kids made sense, but I was told that such was the case with children.
Small people are so strange. I think I’ll always be surprised by them, no matter how much time I spend with them.
Katherine got up and walked over to a wooden box. I had almost forgotten about her, she was so quiet compared to her older siblings. She opened up the box and then walked over to me.
“Can you play with me?” She asked quietly.
With that face how can I tell her no?
“Sure.”
I’ve got nothing better to do with my time.
“Here’s my doll, and here’s your horse.” She handed me the toy. After fiddling with it for a few seconds I saw something in a hole in it. I pulled a piece of paper out of it.
It looks like an essay. Who would hide an essay in a child’s toy?
Once I read it I realized the kids weren’t kept in to keep them safe, but to keep others safe from them.