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Writers’ Dash Prompts for Week Beginning 28th January, 2013

Published on Monday, January 28, 2013 by

Monday

am: soiree

pm: filipendulous

Tuesday

am: cadence

pm: presentiment

Wednesday

am: effete

pm: undulant

Thursday

am: bedlam

pm: tenterhooks

Friday

Friday is now our dedicated dash and drabble (100-word story) day, inspired and encouraged by our good friend Crap Mariner. Crap’s weekly challenge this week is ‘black‘. Try using both the dash prompt and the 100-word story prompt to create a Dash ‘n’  Drabble. Once you have your 100-word story feel free to add it to the comments section of this blog post as well as to Crap’s site.

am:  petrichor

pm: brontide

Please feel free to add your dash pieces to the comments section of this blog post below.

FAQs

I found #dailydash/#writersdash on Twitter, what is it?

The Writers’ Dash (#writersdash or #dailydash on Twitter) is a 15-minute free writing exercise held on Twitter, Facebook and Second Life® every weekday. At 5:30am & 5:30pm PDT we share the word prompt on our social media channels; the live event begins in Second Life® at 6am & 6pm PDT. Write whatever comes to you. Don’t fixate too heavily on what you are writing and disengage your inner editor – the key is for you to get the words on the page first; you can worry about editing later. If you are attending the live event in Second Life® there will be an opportunity for you to show your work to the other participants after the 15 minutes are up. If you are unable to attend the live event you can share your work on our blog. Just look out for the prompt post and leave your dash piece as a comment.

About Virtual Writers, Inc.

Virtual Writers, Inc. is a free online writers’ community first established in 2007 and committed to showcasing established and emerging writers in a range of interactive and immersive environments. Here we learn to experiment with digital, social and virtual world platforms to push the creative envelope and develop a strong, unique voice.

We provide a wealth of opportunities for writers to meet, share resources, access new markets, attend online writing events, workshops and interactive readings, and discover the best writers’ conferences, competitions, colonies and literary organisations.

If you want to become involved in an active writing community then visit us on Second Life® or our social media channels (Twitter, Facebook, Google+, & Goodreads) and get interactive. To learn more about our services please visit the following pages (Premium Services, Free Author Services) or contact us through our online contact form.

Whether you are dashing in Second Life®, on Twitter or Facebook we welcome your dashes in the comments section below.

7 Responses
    • Cadence
      A bit, a bite, a flow of a flight,
      A flight, I’m right, I’m right.
      A whisper, a moan, a sigh,
      Oh my, oh my… Oh my!
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

    • EFFETE
      .
      Come to Barron’s Barren Garden,
      where the Elite Effete meet
      on the first Saturday of each month.
      .
      All Ye with Black Gardening Thumbs,
      Ye whose cakes sink when taken from the oven,
      Ye whose Exercise Programs cease after one week.
      .
      See that you are not alone.
      We welcome you.
      We cherish you.
      We recognize you as family.
      .
      At Barron’s Barren Garden
      lawns are brown,
      bushes are Medieval withered threads,
      Atlas Men’s muscles shrivel to fried egg size.
      .
      You can relax there.
      .
      Franja Russell 1-29-2013

    • Presentiment
      The radio remained stubbornly silent. Only brief moments of static noise seemed to threaten the eerie quietness.
      “Move the antenna,” insisted Mary for the third time.
      “I have done that already, a million times. It’s no use. The radio is dead.”
      “It was working before. We need to find a higher place, we need to…”
      But she was interrupted by Peter, annoyed and impatient.
      “Mary, this is not the radio. The radio is dead. We have to find out what is making this noise or we are finished. Do you understand that? We are finished. Everyone is probably dead already. It’s the end of the world, I tell you.”
      “I hate to break it to you, Peter, but it’s not the end of the world if there are at least two of us.”
      Mary’s usual pragmatism seemed a bit too excessive for the dramatic situation they were in. Isolated in a desolate refugees’ camp, they had struggled to survive there for a few months.
      The perimeter was now closed and protected. When they arrived, the camp was empty, which made Peter prophesize a dreadful end for both of them. Mary dismissed his fears and went on to gather all the food and any useful objects she could find.
      “We would’ve seen them, if they were around.”
      “Mary, just shut up, ok. For a minute, could you please just shut up and let me think?”
      She sulked and walked away, hiding in the shrubbery behind the main building where she stayed for part of the afternoon while Peter rummaged through boxes stored in the barn looking for something.
      A piercing scream prompted Mary to run towards Peter. He was on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, his eyes rolled back.
      “I told you. We are dead…”
      When Mary looked up, a miniature alien drone shot a tiny needle at her neck. She felt weak.
      The drone buzzed. It sounded like static.
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

    • CADENCE
      .
      “What are we going to do about the Vergrit Army out there in the dark that’s going to attack, most likely at sunrise?”shouted Rufus, the Red. “They know the sun will be in our faces as they march up the hill toward our city wall.”
      .
      Various Town Council Members shouted ideas.
      .
      “We can point mirrors at them. The sunlight will shine back at them.” offered Tall Tim.
      .
      Rufus wrinkled his nose, “That will just give them targets to shoot at.”
      .
      “We’ve been heating pots of lard for hours. It’s boiling now. We can pour it on their heads as they reach the Town wall.” offered George, the Strong.
      .
      Rufus’s nose wrinkled again, “Didn’t you hear that our neighboring town tried that? The attackers held their shields over their heads and weren’t bothered a bit by boiling lard.”
      .
      Everyone stood silent for a few minutes.
      .
      Then James, the Quick–newest Town Council Member–said, “My cousin says the Vergrit Army uses magic from the greatest Witch in their country. She’s cast a spell so they all march and move in cadence. As long as they do that, nothing can touch them.”
      .
      There were puzzled looks all around.
      .
      Finally Rufus said, “So…what’s your idea?”
      .
      James took in a long breath, stood up as straight as a short person can, and said “I think if we had the Ladies Church Choir come here and sing (loudly) in that new choral style they’re trying out, they’re off-key and off-tempo enough to cut through the magic spell they’re under. We can use our sonic-enhancer to magnify their singing.”
      .
      The men all looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and nodded in agreement.
      .
      “Since we have no better idea,” said Rufus, “we’ll do it!”
      .
      They did and the Vergrit Army–having never heard such awful singing before– ran away in fear for their lives.”
      .
      Franja Russell 1-29-2013

    • BEDLAM
      .
      Some words are overused, or incorrectly used, but…”bedlam” is the only word that suits the welcome the 49ers got at the Airport when they landed after the Super Bowl..
      .
      In spite of Airport Security being doubled, Fans streamed
      out onto the landing field to greet the Homecoming Heroes.
      .
      Three parachuted down from a small plane.
      .
      A dozen bounced in using huge large exercise bouncie things.
      .
      Some college athletes pole-vaulted over the barricades, then moved across the field like human slinkies, ka-soar, ks-soar, ka-soar, until they reached the plane ahead of the crowd.
      .
      The 49ers walked from the door of the plane and proceeded down the stairway until they were standing two-per-stair. Grinning and waving, they enjoyed the shouted praises.
      .
      .
      unfinished Franja Russell 1-30-2013

      .

    • PETRICHOR
      .
      After the long, dry days through Summer and Fall, I walk in the hills, mountains, or desert just before, the day of, or the day after the first rain.
      .
      Somehow the Earth knows that Spring is on it’s way.
      The air is filled with an aroma that feels as if every plant, rock,
      and creature is holding it’s breath in anticipation.
      .
      Ancient Greeks spoke of a fluid flowing in their Gods’ veins
      that silently flowed down to Earth
      to give strength to the new growth on Earth.
      .
      As I walk along,
      that fluid coats my body,
      and fills my lungs.
      .
      Then I too am ready to grow and be happy for another year.
      .
      Franja Russell 1-31-2013

    • Saturday Prompt: England, 1910; suffragette, march, angry, loud

      It was a dark and stormy night. No, it was the Dark Ages. Actually, it was England, 1910, where our story takes place. However, it felt like the Dark Ages for the women trying to win the right to vote. The term “suffragist” has been used to refer to members of suffrage movements — changing the laws to give the right to vote to those who do not yet have such a right. However, the term “suffragette” was given specifically to women petitioning loudly for the right to vote in England in the early 20th century. Early attempts were more passive — leaflets, flyers, and polite conversation. That group did not achive much success, so another group was formed, using more confrontational methods like angry marches and other displays of “uncontrolled emotion” that were the very reason for withholding the right to vote from women by the men in power.

      However, the ends do, in many cases, justify the means, as they appear to have in this case.
      In 1918, women in Great Britain were given the right to vote if they were over 30 and met certain property qualifications. Landowners paid higher taxes and fed money into the local economy, which also spurred more tax revenue. A decade later, the right to vote was extended to all women over 21.

      The moral of this story: The meek may inherit the earth, but they won’t control it if they stay meek.

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