Writing Prompt

Originally published May 11, 2017

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This is an example of a list of writing prompts taken off a website (sorry, can’t recall the website I used, but type into google and there’s plenty to choose from; you can even choose themes and genres).

The man was bleeding.

People call her Kayla.

On Thursday I become a reporter.

People call him Dylan.

I’ve got my ugly box – now I’m ready.

This is a story that concerns Friday.

That summer, the woman was getting married.

First climate change, then severe weather, and finally marriage.

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“You’re bleeding me dry, Kayla. Where’s the next story?” the bald man said, waving his arms above his in emphasis. People called him Dylan, but I knew his real name was Diane. I assumed he held a grudge against his parents for the feminine name, but I didn’t know the real story behind it. I knew very little about him, really. He was a strangely energetic, bouncy fellow. Short and bald, with thick brown eyebrows and always wearing a bright polo. He was also a theatrical man.

Like just now, when he clutched his hands to his stomach like he’d been stabbed. The poor girl he was addressing practically cowered in front of him. As he staggered, she winced.

“The weather is so weird at the moment, sir. I thought it’d be the key thing to write about,” the petite blonde pointed out.

“Everyone around his is talking about the weather. You got this job through your climate change articles, which were fine. Controversial is great here and there. But now? We have a weather forecast section, we don’t need to know about it every single week.”

Even I was wincing for the girl. I hadn’t been sitting here long, but I could tell meteorology was a passion of hers. She’d been sitting out here with me just prior to being called to his office. I’d kept my gaze down as she chatted over the phone about strange cloud formations sighted somewhere. I’d found it interesting, but I couldn’t back her up. I wasn’t meant to be eavesdropping at all.

“You.”

The man’s voice pierced my thoughts. My head snapped up of its own accord, and I found myself staring at Dylan with wide eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, confused. His eyes didn’t register me for a second, then they went through the moment of recognition.

“Oh, Hailey, I didn’t realise it was you. Come in, come in,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide in welcoming.

I tentatively rose from my chair and creeped through his open office door.

“Are you up for a challenge?” he asked, his eyes daring me to accept.

“Of what sort?”

“Kayla here has until Friday to bring me a news article. You’re completely new, no training or experience. I give you the same deadline, Friday, and you bring me an article. Whosevers I like best gets published in our next issue. Deal?”

I blinked in astonishment. Kayla burst, spluttering in shock.

“But sir, that’s unfair. I went through so many pathways to get this job, and she’s just been plucked off the street.”

I hid my wince. Her reaction was sort of snobby, but she had a point. It did seem unfair that I get to skip protocol on pure luck. Plus, she was upset, and I didn’t have the heart to hate her for heated words.

“Kayla, you’re right. This is incredibly unfair. You have a huge advantage over this girl, and everyone will expect you to win. Hailey is my wildcard. She could write something amazing, and the chance of that will make you write your absolute best to ensure you beat her. Either way, I end up with a story, and it’ll be a better than this draft you’ve given me,” he flicked some paperwork from his desk into the adjacent trash can, “Friday is approaching quick. I suggest you get started.”

Kayla didn’t move for a long few seconds. Then, with a whirl of hair, she stalked from the room. Dylan waited until she was long gone, staring after her, before he finally turned back to me.

“So, do you accept?”

“No offence, but I feel horrible for being the one to do that to her.”

“She’s a good writer, Hailey. Her topics have been a bit boring lately, but she is definitely one of my best. If you can beat her, then you deserve the publication. And don’t tell her this, but if you both bring me back great pieces, I’ll just publish you both anyway.”

“Small consolation,” I pointed out.

“Look, there’s so many benefits. Write this well and you get published. That’s something you can put on your resume. Future employers will love it.”

My bottom lip found itself between my teeth as I considered. Since moving houses with my family, I’d lost my job and friends. The past few weeks I’d barely made any real acquaintances and my job search was getting further and further delayed. Perhaps this was the sort of opportunity I needed. Something new to start me off in a new city. If I was lucky, Kayla and I would both be published and I really could add an achievement to my CV.

My life lacked challenge, and I craved it.

“Hailey?” Dylan asked.

“Challenge accepted, sir,” I answered. He beamed for a long second before practically leaping over his desk to rummage through his drawers.

“Don’t worry about format and word limits, just don’t be overly short or long. Here, sign this legal stuff and you’ll be under our insurance.”

“Why would I need insurance?” I asked, looking down at the paper he’d thrust into my hand.

“Hopefully you won’t. If you do I’m in big trouble because you’re not technically meant to be covered, but I’ll cover you. But stay away from the dangerous stories and you’ll be fine.”

I skimmed the document briefly, reaching for a pen on his desk. It seemed to cover everything from breaches of privacy to property damage to personal injury on the job.

“Can I keep this?” I asked, holding out paperwork. It’d be a good guide to what sort of trouble to avoid.

“Of course.”

I nodded and ripped off the back page that contained the formal statement. The pen scrawled its way through my signature and then I handed the paper back to Dylan. He was beaming. I gently put the pen back on his desk, perfectly align as it was before. He was still looking at me.

“Is that it, sir?” I asked, unsure.

“Yep, you’re free to go.”

“Not quite, I was actually in your waiting room for a reason. My father wanted me to give you this.”

I switched the insurance papers for a tightly bound folder. My bag seemed a lot lighter from the exchange. Holding the folder in an outstretched hand, I waited for Dylan to take it.

“Ah, thank you. I’ve been awaiting this the past few days.”

He turned away from me and towards the single window in the room. Flinging the curtain aside with eloquence, he held the file against the glass, peering at the contents inside. I watched him for a moment as he turned the folder this way and that. After a while I realised he wasn’t going to move, and wasn’t going to dismiss me, so I quietly left.

Walking out into the empty street, I looked up at the looming clouds. What was I meant to do a story on? Weather was out of the question, which left endless other possibilities. Looking around, the sidewalk lent me little inspiration. Tiny shop fronts lined the sidewalk, taking up the first floors of the multistorey buildings. Tight doorways between the shops lead up into the second or third storey businesses. I wondered how many people knew about them, hidden away up a creaky staircase out of sight.

Maybe I could do an article on small businesses. There were plenty small stores to choose from, any one could give me something interesting to go off. I pulled the dice out of my pocket, my constant companion, and squatted on the sidewalk. Rolling it somewhat carefully to ensure it didn’t roll too far, I watched as it landed on six.

The sixth shop up, which I could just make out if I tried, I’d walk in. I wasn’t sure what exactly I would ask when I got there, but at least picking a shop was a start. Sliding my dice back into my pocket, I continued my walk. Store fronts passed me by; a dog groomer, a bakery, a pawnbroker, a café, a tattoo parlour. Then, finally, I rested my eyes on my chosen shop.

Complete Bridal and Formal. An extravagant white gown stood in the centre of the window display, around it was a rainbow of matching bridesmaid dresses. They were beautiful, but I didn’t even want to guess at the price tag. I looked back at all the other places. It was probably wishful thinking, believing the grass was greener on the other side, but they all seemed better choices now that I stood here. I’d rolled the dice though, and this was where I’d ended up.

Taking a breath, I carefully straightened out my shirt and pushed open the shop door. Charms played a melody through the shop as I walked in, and I frowned up at them. So much for gathering my thoughts before drawing attention to myself.

“Can I help you?” a lady called as she stuck her head out from around a corner.

“I’m not really sure, I’m more here on a whim,” I said as I covered the space between us.

“Well, shoot, and I’ll see what I can do,” she smiled at me.

“I’m a new reporter, and I’m just looking for something inspiring to write about. I thought the shop fronts looked interesting, so I picked at random and here I am. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

“Of course not, but hold on one moment,” she held up a finger and disappeared back around the corner. There was a hallway behind the front counter, and she went in a room somewhere off from that. I heard quiet talking, but couldn’t make out what, then the woman reappeared.

“Would you like to come sit in here? Just so you can ask questions while I’m working.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding. She gestured to follow her, and I went around behind the counter, feeling instantly like I was violating the store. Then I followed her around the corner into a small room full of mirrors. They made me nervous, but I perched on the seat the lady gestured too. Another woman stood in the centre of the room wearing a beautiful white dress that skimmed the floor. She smiled to me.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi,” I answered back awkwardly.

“I heard you say you are a news reporter?”

“Yes I am.”

“That’s interesting,” the woman asked, looking at me from the folds of her dress as the other lady skimmed around her with a needle between her teeth, “how do you get into that business?”

I couldn’t help but smile a little, laughing at the question and what was soon to be my answer.

“I have no idea, it was somewhat of an accident.”

“Oh, now you do have to tell. I’m Amelia, by the way.”

“Hailey,” I introduced myself.

The lady with the sewing needle and handful of pins muttered a quick “Jules” from between her teeth.

“So how did you become a newbie reporter then?” Amelia asked, turning on command for Jules. I watched her for a moment, then quickly overlayed what had just happened to her. She seemed lovely, and laughed at my predicament.

“So you just waltzed in here looking for inspiration?” she commented as I finished.

“Pretty much.”

“Have you found it?”

I couldn’t answer her at first, so I just shrugged, looking around as if the answer was painted on one of the endless mirrors.

“What about you, why are you in here?” I asked, changing the subject, “I assume you’re getting married?

“Yep, this summer. I’ve been trying on dress after dress, and finally settled on this one. For now. We’ll have to wait and see if Jules can resize it to fit.”

“Do you always resize them? Or do some people perfectly fit the dresses first try?”

“Most of them require some alterations at least, though some less than others,” she replied, “Amelia’s dress is more difficult than most because it’s the last of its kind, which means I really have to shrink it down to size.”

I nodded in slight understanding, and then looked back at Amelia. I asked her why no one was in here with her, and she replied that all her friends were busy with full time work and kids. I nodded in understanding, but felt bad for her going through such a milestone on her own. Eventually my questions became full conversations about marriage and kids. She was having trouble deciding a place for the wedding, and didn’t know who to ask to be the celebrant. She also needed a photographer for the day, and that was another decision she didn’t know how to make.

“There are so many details that as soon as I even consider a solution to one, five more pop up. I can’t keep track most the time.”

In that moment, as she expressed to me the struggles of planning a wedding, standing before me in a beautiful white gown with Jules flitting around her feet, I knew my inspiration had hit.

“I think I know what I want to report about. Amelia, do you mind if I do a story on you?” I asked.

She showed a slight blush for a moment, but smiled at me.

“Of course not. You’re welcome to ask me anything.”

First climate change, then severe weather, and now a marriage. I would be breaking from the theme Kayla had been focusing on, which was what Dylan wanted. After a little longer chatting, Amelia admitted to me that she was struggling to get from place to place, with car problems adding to her huge list of issues. I offered to act as taxi in exchange for following her around on her list of chores tomorrow. We continued to talk and plan while her dress was altered, and then as Jules began to go into details about the dress I started to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Hailey. Thank you for this,” Amelia smiled.

“No, thank you for the opportunity. And thanks for letting me in, Jules,” I replied.

“Any time, dear,” the seamstress waved.

I left that tiny store front feeling alive with the challenge, ideas racing through my mind. I needed so many things. A notebook to jot everything down. Some new pens full of ink. A new sim card for my camera so I could record everything in images. Suddenly I had a purpose lending strength to my step.

Returning home that night, I began to prepare for the next morning. The ideas followed me into my dreams, and I woke enlightened. Grabbing the keys from the hook by the door, I raced out to my car. It was an old ute, red paint peeling from the various bumps and scratches it had attained over the years. My father had always looked down on it, calling it the ‘ugly box’. I’d never cared much for his opinions.

I had my ugly box, and now I was ready for anything.