Here is a fun game we play. We write 100 words about a prompt, and then our friends do the same. Here’s the prompt:
Here is what I wrote:
He itched to clear the ground, to look out and see nothing but the shore of the ocean. Which pounded against the coast in a constant trusted rhythm. The loss of his father had taken the ground from under his feet and Zeff no longer understood how to breathe. I am a fatherless child. No Whair is Fatherless. None. But I am. How do I exist without him. So he walked the land, pulling out the things that stood between himself and the open view of the water. Every briar that cut his skin, healed a bit of his heart.
Now check out my friends:
|Kaye P. Clark||kayepclarkwriter.blogspot.com|
|Laura D. Bastian||www.lauradbastian.com|
|Miranda D. Nelson||www.mirandadnelson.blogspot.com|