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Writers’ Dash Prompts for Week Beginning April 29th, 2013

Published on Monday, April 29, 2013 by


am: sear

pm: tumult


am: shadow

pm: cull


am: homily

pm: stanch


am: brobdingnagian

pm: graze


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 ‘blank.’ 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: dormant

pm: mesa

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


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.

10 Responses
    • Tumult
      People were hungry, they were cold, they were ill. It was time. They decided to go to the city which was already bursting with people looking for shelter. The plague had driven them inside the city limits looking for safety, healing and food. They got none. After a few weeks, people started disappearing. No one could believe the rumors, but there was an awkward odor in the air, both vividly appealing and strangely repulsive. People gathered in the streets to protest, inevitably the tumult moved towards the castle. From the tower, the king couldn’t understand the reason for such an agitation. “There is food, but ungrateful as they are, it’s not the food they would like to have,” he said, chewing on a crispy finger seasoned with herbs, salt and pepper.
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

    • SEAR
      Darn these recipes!
      They all say to sear the meat first.
      We’ve had searing temperatures for a week.
      I don’t want to cook.
      Let’s go out to dinner.

      Sam, I fear,
      has had too much beer.
      I see him veer
      too close to the weir.
      Oh dear,
      he’s really too near
      the edge of the pier.
      I don’t want to jeer
      I’ll just shed a tear.
      Bye, bye Dear.

      Franja Russell, almost awake 4-29-2013

    • Shadow
      Shadow chaser
      In the dark
      Collapsed archways
      Quivered days.
      A shudder of hope
      A stillness of mind
      Collapsed pathways
      Elope always.
      And the story flittered
      Afloat, adrift
      Shadow chaser at odds
      A word, she obeys,
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

    • Homily
      Chained, preach.
      A word
      Of a tree chained,
      Of a leaf.
      Train of thoughts
      For deaf ears,
      Unwanted certainties.
      The clouds, black and red,
      Travel fast above.
      The sky, not blue,
      Chained away from Life.
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

    • HOMILY
      A homily needs to be long enough to tell a story,
      but short enough not to lose people’s attention.
      It has to be relevant to those in attendance,
      which isn’t easy because people aren’t clones.
      A homily should give people a new angle to ponder,
      or lift their spirits when life is difficult.
      I used to think being a Monk with a vow of silence would be hard,
      but being the one to deliver the Homily is definitely more difficult.
      Franja Russell 5-1-2013

    • The Tumult Card (Tumult)

      Dante was always drawing Safe Passage and blank Time-Outs, until that first time the Tumult Card turned up. It brought real storms. Fresh tribulation. Deep trouble.

      Last time, it was a car crash and two cracked ribs. Before that, a banishment overseas. But this time, Dante was determined to crash and burn, or crash through and end this cycle of bad luck, karma or what ever psychological self-sabotage was going one. Three tumults in a row! He was gambling against it.

      Franco dealt. Dante turned his card over with trepidation and then, relief. It wasn’t Tumult. He’d drawn Shadow.

      The Shadow Card (shadow prompt)

      The lights blew out.
      “Franco,” Dante called. “Joe, Krystiana.” No answer. “Hey guys, this isn’t funny.”
      But all could hear was panting and growling across the table.
      “Alright, I’m done. You win!”
      There was the scratch of a match. Dante still couldn’t see much until the flame became a lit candelabra. He was shocked. Were these his fellow players? A leopard, a lion and wolf were sitting around the table.
      Their eyes narrowed about to pounce and rip.
      Where was the door? No. He’d never make it.
      There was no option. Damn it! He reached for the deck and drew Paradise.

      The Paradise Card (Homily – prompt)

      Dante found himself on a beach. Was this Heaven? He didn’t know, but was relieved to have escaped a sticky end in the dark.

      Lying on a deckchair he was composing a homily to the sun, surf and ocean. He seemed to have turned a corner breaking the Tumult Card’s influence.

      But the respite wasn’t to last. The three beasts sprang out from the palms. The leopard dropped a Playboy magazine on his lap, the lion Dante’s own autographed photo and the wolf had The Deck in his mouth. They growled. He had to choose one. It was the Heart Card.

    • Laughs wickedly at today’s word….

      (adj. extraordinary size, gigantic, enormous, behemoth
      Johnathan Swift–Gulliver’s Travels–the Land of Giants)
      There was a time, eons ago, when brobdingnagian-sized reptiles ruled the planet. Over time, they grew larger and larger.
      About 25 million years ago, the dinosaurs died out. The brobdingnagian, the small, and the in-between.
      Scientists speculate about why they died out. I’ve read and heard many thoughtful discourses concerning the cause. Was it a meteor? Was it climate change?
      Personally, I think they ate everything they could get their teeth into. Then simply ran out of food.
      I wonder if there’s a lesson there for businesses that get too big, for entertainers who believe their own press releases, and for politicians who get too enamored of their own words.
      Franja Russell 5-2-2013

    • Brobdingnagian
      The building was quite overwhelming, they thought, unsure of the direction to take. Most of its surroundings were covered in green grass, the beginnings of a garden dawning timidly. The new building was the talk of the town and most people felt irresistibly and inexplicably drawn to the place.
      A lean, stern-looking middle-aged man peered through the window from the top floor. “The populace, here they are, like busy bees,” he said to himself.
      The little bees didn’t know it yet, but as in every town before this, he would draw the life out of them and move on. Well, he would be kicked out of town, to be more precise, with threats of being impaled and burnt in the fire.
      He didn’t mind. He always left a thank you behind, a palace of brobdingnagian dimensions.
      ©2013 Lizzie Gudkov

      Self: Yoo hoo! Brain wake up!
      Are you just dormant or completely blank this morning?
      Brain: Ummglfurzz. ZZZzzz.
      Self: Today’s word prompt is “dormant”. Start thinking!
      Brain: ZZZzzz…dormant, doormat, dimwit, doodle.
      Self: Yeah! That’s it.
      Hey! Wait a minute. Did you just call me a “dimwit”?
      Brain: Werbliz…fuzzle…splat. Huh?
      Self: Come on! Wake up! THINK !
      Brain: Why? Dormant is nice.
      Self: It’s Friday. Get a head start on your weekend. Think! Think!
      Brain: Dormant, in fact–blank, IS a head start on MY weekend.
      I intend to sleep 24/7 from now to Monday morning.
      Self: No! I want to get out and enjoy MY weekend. Wake up!
      Brain: Tough! ZZZzzz.
      Self: Aaaaa! Help! I don’t wan…to…do…thaaa….ZZZzzz.
      Franja Russell 5-3-2013

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