Tag Archives: writing prompt

The Luckiest of Colors

The Luckiest of Colors

Katrin glowered at the two messy braids trailing down either side of her shoulders. Their coppery tones were even more bright with the fire casting its orange glow on them.

“It is your fault I’m out here,” she muttered.

She was the only child in her village with red hair, and that’s why her parents didn’t like her. Her mother would look at her, sigh, and tell her that they should have used black tea and sage to darken her hair before anyone saw her flaming locks. Her father thought she was bad luck and would blame every accident or ill fortune the family had on her. If Katrin caught a cold, it was because she was redheaded. If her brother fell and scraped his knee while playing with her, it was because of her hair. If a storm blew through and blew the shingles off the roof, if the crops didn’t grow well, if foxes came for their hens, it was all because of Katrin’s red hair.

And that’s why Katrin had to run away. She knew she was too young to be on her own—only eight—but she couldn’t stand anymore disgusted looks from her father and pitying ones from her mother. She would prove that she wasn’t “bad luck.” She would live on her own for a few days, and when no illness befell her, no trees fell on her, and nothing else happened that could be blamed on her hair, then that would prove that it must be someone else bringing the bad luck.

Katrin pulled a leaf from one of her tangled braids. She threw it into the fire, hoping it would give it a little more life, but the dying flame hardly seemed to notice Katrin’s offering.

“This is bad luck,” Katrin whispered to herself. She desperately searched the ground within the fire’s ring of dim light, but didn’t see any twigs she could add. Katrin gave a nervous glace at the shadowy trees around her, beyond the firelight. Her eyes played tricks on her, making the darkness wriggle and slide in way that made her sure something was out there, watching her.

As much as she didn’t want her only light to fizzle out, she was terrified of going out there to gather more firewood.

Katrin hadn’t been scared when she left her house before dawn, or while following a deer trial through the woods, or even as the sun began to set as she gathered firewood. But now that the moon was just a sliver in the sky and the sparks from the fire the only stars, she wished more than anything that she hadn’t left her house.

She may not have been allowed to throw wood in the fire (because her father thought her bad luck might cause the house to burn down), but at least there was a fire.

She wished she had gathered more branches, but hadn’t expected the wood to burn so quickly. She had been so proud when she lite the fire with the matches she took from the house, just like her brother showed her when her father wasn’t around. She had watched the flames leap unto the branches she collected and wished her parents could see her now. He father couldn’t say she was bad luck. She started a fire and nothing bad happened!

Katrin curled up in a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. She should go to sleep before the fire went out. Then she couldn’t be afraid of the dark because it was dark when she slept anyway. But Katrin didn’t feel any safer with her eyes closed. She kept imagining shapeshifting animals from the stories coming for her. They would start as tiny bunnies coming out from the shadows, then they would morph into wolves that howled and snarled.

When the sun rose, she would go straight back to her house. Being left out of every game the other village children played and having adults scowl at her when she walked by was better than being eaten by shapeshifting bunny-wolves.

Katrin bolted upright as an owl called out. She loved listening to owls from her bedroom at night, but out here they sounded menacing, like they were calling her to step out beyond the fire’s light so they would swoop down on her.

“Forget sleeping,” Katrin said. She made herself stand and inched toward the edge of the fire’s light. She froze. Did something move out there?

She listened, but didn’t hear any rustling.

Katrin took a deep breath, like she was about to dunk her head in the creek, as she moved from the fire’s small ring of orange light.

She squinted at the dark ground and let out a breath of relief when she found a stick. She swooped on it and kept looking.”

“One, two, thr—” Katrin let out a yelp.

Two silver eyes peered from the darkness just a few feet from the stick she was about to grab. She withdrew her hand and clutched her two sticks to her chest like they could shield her from whatever it was the eyes belonged to. A raccoon? A wolf?

There was the soft rustle and the eyes began to move. Towards her.

Katrin held the sticks out, one in each hand.

“Don’t come near me or I’ll hit you!” she said, even though she knew animals didn’t understand words.

The eyes kept moving.

“Ahh!” Katrin yelled and thrashed the sticks through the air, hoping to scare the animal. It stopped coming towards her, but it didn’t go away. Now that it was standing just in front of her, she could see that it wasn’t a very big animal. Bigger than a raccoon, but much smaller than a wolf. It hardly came to her knees. She could make out a slim body, pointed ears, a slender snout, and a long fluffy tail.

“A fox?” she asked. The silver eyes blinked at her. It’s tail twitched and Katrin thought it might pounce, but that isn’t what it did at all. Instead, it stayed where it was at, but it was definitely still moving.

The shadowy figure of a fox began to waver, dark shapes bubbled and morphed in the darkness in front of her.

Katrin walked backwards until she was back by the fire, still holding the sticks out. It was a shapeshifter. She was sure of it. Maybe the little fox was about to turn into a bear.

Her heart was beating so hard that she heard it in her ears. She was about to run, when a boy stepped into firelight.

He was about her height and looked to be eight like her. His hair and eyes were silver.

“You have red hair,” the boy said.

Katrin forgot to be scared. “Red hair? You’re a fox who just turned into a boy, and that’s what you are worried about? My red hair!”

“I’m a boy who turns into a fox.”

“I know that!” Katrin sputtered, still miffed that he pointed out her hair right away. Apparently, even forest animals didn’t like girls with red hair.

“You said that I’m a fox who turns into a boy, but I’m a boy who can turn into a fox. There’s a difference.” The boy smirked like he said something clever.

“Great. But you are still a fox boy. That’s weirder than having red hair.”

“I didn’t say your hair was weird.”

Katrin was about to say, “Yes, you did,” but then she realized that he actually didn’t say that. “Why did you say I have red hair then?”

“Because you do.”

“You have silver hair,” Katrin shot back, still not sure if this boy was insulting her or not.

“Yep.” The boy looked very pleased with himself.

And silver eyes,” Katrin said as if that would get to him.

The boy clapped his hands slowly. “You know your colors. Good for you. Or at least red and silver. What about the color of that tree over there.” He pointed to the darkness beyond the fire.

Katrin clenched her teeth, trying to think of something to say back. Oh, this will make him mad. “I see why you are a fox. I bet no one likes you when you are a boy.”

“I bet no one likes you either.”

Katrin smacked his shoulder with one of her sticks. “Go away!”

He held his hands up. “I didn’t mean that they shouldn’t not like you. I just meant that they don’t. Because of your red hair and everything.”

Katrin could feel tears prickling eyes. Even out here in the woods, she couldn’t escape people who teased her because of her hair.

The boy’s silver eyes widened a bit, then darted to the fire. He looked uncomfortable. Katrin wondered if he saw that she was about to cry. “I didn’t mean…I meant that people don’t understand us.”

“Us?” Katrin’s voice came out wavery.

“Yeah. Us shapeshifters.”

“I didn’t know they were people,” Katrin said. In the stories, they were always animals who turned into bigger, scarier animals.

The boy’s sliver eyes blinked and he cocked his head to one side. “Aren’t you a shapeshifter?”

“Of course not. Why would you think I am a shapeshifter?”

“Because you have red hair,” he said at the same time.

“What does that have to do with it?” She, frowning.

“People with red hair turn into red foxes. Just like people with sliver hair,” he pointed at himself, “turn into silver foxes.”

Katrin wished she could turn into a fox. Then she wouldn’t be afraid of being in the forest at night.

“I can’t turn into a fox,” Katrin said, shaking her head.

“How old are you?” the boy asked, tilting his head in thought.

“Eight.”

“Yeah, you have plenty of time before your awakening.”

“What is an awakening?”

“It’s when a shapeshifter first turns into their animal. It happens around eight, nine, or ten.”

Katrin wanted it to be true. If she could be a fox, then the woods could be her home, and she wouldn’t have to go back to her parents. Weather she was bad luck or not.

“Someone would have told me if I was a shapeshifter,” Katrin said. “My parents never told me that one day I would turn into a fox.”

He shook his head. “They wouldn’t. Normal people are afraid of us.

“They aren’t afraid.” Katrin sighed. “They’re just mean.”

“Nah, they act mean because they are afraid of what you can do.”

“I can’t do anything.”

“Yet.” The boy gave a her a smile.

Katrin shook he head. “I need to go back home. Can you take me there?” The woods would be a lot less scary with a fox boy beside her.

“I can. Or I can take you to our village.” He turned and stared walking.

“Wait.” Katrin didn’t want to be alone again, but she wasn’t sure she should follow him. “What village?”

“The one all of the shapeshifters live in.”

“But I’m not a—”

He turned back around and rolled his eyes at her. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be out here.”

Katrin hesitated. Maybe she was a shapeshifter, and that was why everyone acted so strange around her. They were scared she would one day turn into a fox, right in front of their faces.

But maybe she wasn’t a shapeshifter. She could get him to take her home and then tell everyone that she’d survived a night in the woods without anything bad happening. That might be enough to prove that she wasn’t unlucky.

“Can you take me back home?” she asked.

He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

She smiled at the thought of going back to a big warm fire and a bed and all her dolls.

She frowned. Back to her mother’s disappointed looks and her father’s blaming of her for everything that went wrong.

Katrin stepped up beside him. “Let’s go to your village.”

The boy grinned and his silver eyes glinted in the dying firelight. “Are you going to keep those sticks the whole way.”

“Yeah,” she grinned and whispered, “There are foxes in these woods, you know.”

“Yep. Two of them.”

Katrin liked the sound of that. She wasn’t the only one with an odd hair color anymore.

Katrin put both sticks in the single flame left of the fire and watched them light. She handed one to the boy.

As they walked into the darkness, flaming sticks held high, Katrin looked down at her messy braids. They reflected the flame’s orange light.

She smiled. You’re the reason I’m on my way to a new home.  

As Katrin skittered through the shadows, listening to the boy describe her new home, she thought of something that she’d never thought of before. Maybe red hair was the luckiest of colors.

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Blue Bird Takeover–Pirates with Lace

So it’s time for another post. I’m not really sure what to write about. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to come up with something since that blue bird has been around.

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Never fear. I’m here to help.

Oh. Crap.

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Is that the kind of greeting you give to people trying to help you.

I thought you were gone.

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Of course not. I wouldn’t leave a friend in need.

I’m not your friend. And I’m not in need.

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On the contrary, you just said that you don’t know what to write about. So I will help you.

I don’t need help. The only reason I can’t think of anything to write is because you keep butting in and writing posts for me.

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You never could write in the first place. I mean just look at that post you wrote for Valentine’s Day.

What?! There was nothing wrong with that.

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Except for the fact that it was too long. People on the internet are looking for quick, short reads. Anything too long doesn’t hold their attention.

Unless you make it really interesting. Which I did.

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Oh it was interesting. Somewhat.

*Grits teeth* Oh be as smug as you want. You’re opinion doesn’t mean much. I mean what do you know about these kinds of things. You’ve never even written a story before.

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I could if I wanted to.

Ok, then. Do it.

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Alright then, I will. I’ll use this next prompt and write a story with it instead of a poem.

Oh this ought to be interesting.

 

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This little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and pirates with lace. 

 

Use pirates with lace as a prompt for a story, poem, or photograph and create a post on you blog.

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post and use my twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

 

Blue Bird Takeover–A Promise, a Smile, and Prom.

Monday’s post was just depressing. And it was such a promising prompt too. Strawberry Bride. It sounded so cute. But of course that blue bird would find a way to ruin it. If you haven’t read the Strawberry Bride poem, don’t. Save your eyes from the horror.

If you’re new to Invisible World, I apologize for this rant. And Monday’s post. And for the writing prompt in the post before that. Actually, I apologize for all the posts since January 5th when that crazy bird started ruining my blog.

All I did was put an innocent-looking Twitter icon at the bottom of my posts so people could find me on Twitter. Now the thing has come alive and is putting out terrible writing prompts and even more terrible responses to them. He pops up out of no where in the middle of my posts! He says he’s helping my blog, but I’m pretty sure he’s just doing it to annoy me.

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I am not. I resent your unappreciation.

I resent you being here.

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I resent your hostility toward me when all I’m doing is trying to help.

You want to talk about hostility? Did you read the poem on my blog Monday?!

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I wrote it actually.

It was appalling! How many ways can people die because of strawberries?

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It was quite creative wasn’t it? And appalling…I do believe your vocabulary is growing.

The only thing growing is my anger. Valentine’s Day is coming up. The strawberry bribe prompt was a perfect for writing something sweet and romantic. You turned it into a bloodbath!

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Red is the color of strawberries. Red is the color of blood. They go together quite nicely in my opinion.

You. Are. Disgusting.

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Oh, quit complaining. It was all in good fun. People laughed. It was a joke. It’s not as if anyone actually died.

That’s not the point. The point is that Valentine’s Day is coming up and people want sweet, happy poems. But instead of chocolates and hearts they got bandits and elephant-hippo collides.

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Sounds like someone had a bad experience last Valentine’s. *wink* Care to share?

I’m not talking about my Valentine’s Day. I’m talking about you’re crazy poem!

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You sure you didn’t have a romantic dinner that involved bandits and elephants and hippos?

*scowl* Yes.

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How disappointing. I would have loved to hear about that.

Your poem was disappointing.

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What a clever comeback. *rolls eyes* It was quite a good poem actually. Did you notice that every single line ended with a word that rhymed with bride? That was a bit difficult to do. Or that the lines go from short to long, then back to short again? It formed a sideways strawberry.

 

………….Image result for sarcastic hand clap gif

 

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How mature…using a GIF to convey your feeling of displeasure. Did you run out of words? I thought you were a writer or something.

I thought I was too, until you showed up and started writing my posts for me.

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Well, I can fix that.

You’re going to leave? *Hopeful smile*

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I’m going to let you write the next post.

*shoulders slumping* Oh goody. What do I get to write about? Banana bridesmaids?

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How droll. Actually, you get to write about whatever you want because you’re deciding the prompt.

You’re letting me write the prompt and the response? Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? Finally realize how annoying you’re being?

Twitter_bird_iconI was just tired of your pouting.

I guess I shouldn’t hope for miracles. *eye roll* Well, here’s my chance to write something more Valentine-ish.

Time to end this post! See ya Monday Epic Dreamers! (Man it feel good to be the one to end a post again 😉 ).

 

The prompt for this week is a promise, a smile, and prom. 

 

Use promise, a smile, and prom as a prompt for a story, poem, or photograph and create a post on you blog.

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post and use my twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

 

 

 

 

 

Blue Bird Takeover–Strawberry Bride

I know these writing prompts are supposed to be silly, but come on. Shy zombies? That poem was the worst I’ve seen. I’m ashamed it’s on my blog.

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You’re only ashamed that you didn’t come up with something so cleverly funny.

It wasn’t clever or funny.

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Oh quit being such a spoil sport. Everyone loved it. Zombies are in. They’re cool.

They’re disgusting.

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And shy.

Ugh. You aren’t cute, blue bird.

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You aren’t nice, girl human.

Aren’t nice?! I let you hang around don’t I? Even though you ruin my blog posts, write bad poetry, and make me look ridiculous on Twitter. If I weren’t nice, I would have kicked you off here by now.

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You haven’t kicked me off because you can’t figure out how to kick me off.

*Glare*

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Well, since the girl human is out of words, I guess I won that argument. Now that there isn’t anything else to say, I’ll end the post.

You’re ending it? Already? We usually go on for another two hundred words or so.

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As much as I adore bickering with you, I really don’t have the time.

Pft…What else do you have to do? You’re a bird inside a computer.

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I have to come up with another poem of course!

Oh, what fun. What’s it going to be about this time? Vampires? Werewolves?

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I guess I’ll just have to end this post for you to find out. See ya!

 

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This little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and the Strawberry bride. 

 

Use strawberry bride as a prompt for a story, poem, or photograph and create a post on you blog.

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post using the hashtag #bluebirdtweets and twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

*(If you don’t have time to create a post and still want to join, write a tweet inspired by the prompt and use my Twitter handle and I’ll retweet you.)

Twitter_bird_iconIf you haven’t been following me on Twitter, you’re missing out on all my tweets with different takes on the prompt. If the prompt above doesn’t get your imagination going, my tweets will!

Blue Bird Takeover–Shy Zombies

Ok, so that was one weird poem. Sorry you guys had to suffer though that.

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Suffer? Excuse me, but that poem was brilliant. The only people who suffered are the ones who weren’t intelligent enough to understand it.

It was about frogs and flies. I think anyone over the age of three could understand it.

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Nonsense. It was about more than that. You just aren’t smart enough to grasp my genius.

What genius? It doesn’t take a genius to write about a brave frog.

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Reckless. It was a reckless frog. Brave and reckless are two very different things. You should know that being a writer and all. I’m beginning to doubt that you are. Don’t writers actually have to, you know, write?

Don’t give me that blue bird. I’ve tried to write. But the last two post I started you ruined. And lets not even talk about last week when you decided to write your own post.

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Which you ruined.

Just returning the favor. *Forced grin*

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I don’t know why you’re complaining. Nothing is stopping you from writing.

Except you.

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I only pop in to spice things up again. Excuse me for trying to give your readers something interesting.

I was giving my readers something interesting before you came along.

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*Yawn* Oh, I’m sorry. Were you saying something interesting?

Grrr…You’re lucky I don’t have a cat, blue bird, or I would–

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*Gasp* Are you threatening me? Me? Who only tried to help you and your floundering blog and boring Twitter feed. You think it’s easy to come up with clever tweets? Do you think it isn’t hard work thinking of a prompt that’s original and unique? Of course it isn’t! But I do it for you. *Wipes tear*

You do it because you like the attention.

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Yeah, and that.

*Rolls eyes*

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Still, there’s no reason for you to complain about not being able to write. I mean I give a prompt every week. That makes it pretty easy for you.

You think I’m going to use one of your prompts? *Laughs hysterically*

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I guess it’ll be up to me to use it then.

NO. Wait–

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Too late. I’m writing something from this prompt and going to post it.

I can’t have another ridiculous poem on my blog.

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It wasn’t ridiculous if you understood its meaning.

Which was?

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Ok, girl human. I guess I’ll explain it for you. See, at the beginning of the poem it says that the frog was reckless.

I know. I read it.

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Shh. The frog did all these things because he wanted to appear brave, but that got him into trouble at the end because he was willing to cross the river which happened to be where the crocodile lived. And the cowardly fly learned that running away wasn’t always the answer when he escaped the frog by facing him.

Oh, I see. The cowardly fly learns to be brave and the reckless frog learns to think things through and not just to do something to show off.

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Actually the frog doesn’t learn anything.

Huh?

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He’s dead.

Very funny.

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Speaking of funny. It’s time for me to end this post.

How is that funny?

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I always end it with a prompt, and the prompt is funny.

 

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This little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and Shy Zombies

 

 

Use shy zombies as a prompt for a story, poem, or photograph and create a post on you blog.

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post using the hashtag #bluebirdtweets and twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

 

*(If you don’t have time to create a post and still want to join, write a tweet inspired by the prompt and use my Twitter handle and I’ll retweet you.)

 

Twitter_bird_iconIf you haven’t been following me on Twitter, you’re missing out on all my tweets with different takes on the prompt. If the prompt above doesn’t get your imagination going, my tweets will!

Cowardly Fly, Reckless Frog

There once was fly so cowardly

He ducked low when he saw a bee

He hid behind a leaf when the wind blew

And jittered and jumped at a dove’s coo

 

There once was a frog so reckless

Did such stupid things that he seemed brainless

He thought that dangerous acts made him brave

So to every challenge he wouldn’t cave

 

The frog was dared to catch a fly

And at that challenge he didn’t bat an eye

The cowardly fly saw the frog coming

He knew he’d better get running

 

The fly fled and hid, as he did best

But the reckless frog was up to the test

He chased up trees, over mountain and hill

Through canyons and volcanoes he chased still

 

The fly knew that the frog’s daring would last

And his little fly life was about to be a thing of the past

There was only thing left to try

The fly would have to stop being cowardly, or he would die

 

The fly stopped fleeing and faced his fear

The reckless frog came at him with a leer

I bet you can’t jump to the other side of this river

The fly challenged the frog with a shiver

 

He puffed his neck, he was the bravest frog in the land

And the frog took the challenge, as the fly planned

In one swift leap, the frog was midair

The fly knew he wouldn’t last, this was the crocodile’s lair

 

Blue Bird Takeover– Cowardly Flies and Reckless Frogs

Twitter_bird_iconHey there Invisible World! Or uh, Epic Dreamers as the girl human calls you…. I’ve been thinking about this whole writing prompt thing and–

Wait just a minute. Are you writing a blog post?

Twitter_bird_iconWhat does it look like?

You are! You’re wring a post on my blog. As if tweeting wasn’t enough. Now you think you can takeover my blog too?!

Twitter_bird_iconPft…as if I’d want to take over your blog. If I were going to take over a blog, I’d go for one that was popular.

*Sticks out tongue* At least I have a blog. That fact seems to be making you jealous.

Twitter_bird_iconI’m certainly not jealous of this little space on the internet you call a blog–

Hey!

Twitter_bird_iconAnd did you really just stick your tongue out at me? Are you incapable of defending yourself with speech or do you enjoy impersonating a five-year-old?

I have been defending myself with speech for the last two blog posts and it doesn’t seem to be working.

Twitter_bird_iconAnd you call yourself a writer.

I write stories. I’m not supposed to be using my words to argue with some little blue bird.

Twitter_bird_iconThen don’t. You are the one arguing. I’m only trying to help you.

Help me be writing my blog posts for me? I don’t think so. You’ve already ruined my last two posts. Now you are trying to take my place!

Twitter_bird_iconRelax girl human. I could never take your place *cough* I’m not crazy enough *cough*

Stop with the coughing. We are not doing that again. And if you know that you can’t take my place, why are you trying to take over my blog?

Twitter_bird_iconAs I said earlier, I’m not trying to take your place. I only wanted to talk to your readers about the writing prompts.

Finally, you said something that I can agree with. They’re my readers.

Twitter_bird_iconYou know, if you don’t stop with that scarily possessive attitude your readers are going to desert you. *whispers* You may want to run for your lives readers.

Speak up! Why are you whispering like that?

Twitter_bird_iconWhispering? Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t whisper in a blog post.

Ugh! Forget it. Just leave so I can try to salvage this blog post.

Twitter_bird_iconI can’t leave yet. I didn’t get to say what I wanted to about the writing prompts.

Fine. But make it quick.

Twitter_bird_iconReally?  You aren’t going to insist I leave or insult me? Admit it. You are warming up to me girl human.

More like I know you won’t shut up until you get your way.

Twitter_bird_iconFinally learning, aren’t you girl human? *wink*

It’s human girl.

Twitter_bird_iconAnyway, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted–

Interrupted? You want to talk about interrupted?! Try the last two blog posts–

Twitter_bird_iconAhem. I thought you were going to let me talk.

Oh yeah. Sorry.

Twitter_bird_iconDid you just apologize? You are warming up to me.

*Scowl* Don’t get used to it little bird.

Twitter_bird_iconSo anyway, like I was saying. I’ve been thinking about the writing prompts and I think that it is unfair to make you guys do all the work. I mean I do come up with some pretty impressive tweets, but maybe it’s time I do more than that. So for this next prompt, I’m going to write a responce.

NO. WAY.

Twitter_bird_iconWhat’s wrong girl human? Scared my stuff is going to be better than yours?

If your stories are anything like your tweets, they are going to be rediculous.

Twitter_bird_iconThanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll be sure to come to you the next time I need a pick-me-up.

You don’t need any confidence. You’re already so full of yourself, you’d pop like a balloon if you had any more confidence.

Twitter_bird_iconThat’s quite a clever line. You must have learned it from me. *Wink*

The only thing I’ve learned from you is how to control my temper. And I’m not sure how long I’ll remember that lesson. *Glare*

Twitter_bird_iconI guess that’s my cue to leave then. Let me end this post with the usual…

 

Twitter_bird_icon

This little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and Cowardly flies and reckless frogs.

 

 

Seriously? Cowardly flies and reckless frogs? That’s what you are going to write a story about?

I’m going to write a poem actually.

Ugh. This is going to be awful. You can’t post that on my blog. People will think I wrote it.

Probably not. They’ll realize that the poem is way too intellectually stimulating for you to have written.

You know what? I’m to intellectual to continue with this conversation. Goodbye.

Now that she’s gone, I can give you a quick reminder of how this works. Use Cowardly flies and reckless frogs as a prompt for a story, poem, photograph, or even just a tweet if you don’t have a lot of time.

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post using the hashtag #bluebirdtweets and twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

 

*(If you don’t have time to create a post and still want to join, write a tweet inspired by the prompt and use my Twitter handle and I’ll retweet you.)

 

Twitter_bird_iconIf you haven’t been following me on Twitter, you’re missing out on all my tweets with different takes on the prompt. If the prompt above doesn’t get your imagination going, my tweets will!

 

A big thanks goes to KetCage for being the fist one to use the prompt (dragons and computers). His post is a fun, energetic take on what life would be like with a dragon around. You’re day will definitely be brightened. 🙂

So make sure you check out…

Imagine Dragons

 

Blue Bird Takeover–Dragons with Computers

Magical daydreams in Antarctica. There are tweets on my account about magical daydreams in Antarctica. Please disregard them. They aren’t from me. They are from that annoying bird that showed up last week. Please don’t unfollow me. I’ll figure out a way to keep him from doing it again.

Twitter_bird_iconWhy would you want to do that?

You again!

Twitter_bird_iconYes, me again. I told you I would help you out, and I don’t go back on my word.

I never asked for your help. You rudely barged into my post last week and told me–not asked–that you were going to start posting ridiculous lines on my Twitter account.

Twitter_bird_iconBrilliant lines.

I don’t care what adjective you put in front of it. The lines aren’t mine and they should be. And *cough* they are ridiculous.

Twitter_bird_iconPeople hire people to tweet for them all the time. It’s called being famous. Not that you are, but with me handling your tweets for you, you can at least enjoy the illusion that you are famous. And *cough* they are brilliant.

I don’t want to give the illusion that I’m famous, feel famous, or be famous. I want to be the only one tweeting on my account. And *cough, cough* they really are ridiculous.

Twitter_bird_iconSounds like you have some control issues. You may want to see a psychiatrist  about that. And *cough* do you really think coughing more times makes what you say more believable?

See a psychiatrist about control issues? If there is any reason for me to see a psychiatrist, it’s because I’m talking to a symbol of a little blue bird. And *cough, cough, cough* I think you are trying to change the subject because you know I’m right.

Twitter_bird_iconHmm…yeah you might want to get that checked. You probably should get off Twitter and WordPress for a while too. Someone as crazy as you shouldn’t be influencing people. And *cough* are you really going to keep this going? How old are you?

Ha! I’m not going anywhere. You just want to take over my blog as well as my twitter account. Not happening. And *cough* you started it.

Twitter_bird_iconPlease. I don’t want your silly blog. Keeping up with all those posts is too much work. Why do that when I can jump in at random times? And *cough* I estimate that your mental age must be about five. Did you really just play the ‘you started it’ card? It wasn’t even an accurate accusation. You’re the one who started having a coughing fit.

*deep breath* Look, I don’t want a fight. I just want you to leave my blog posts and my twitter account alone.

Twitter_bird_iconYou just don’t know how badly you need help. After you finished The Hashna Stone, your readers had nothing else to look forward to. They were bored. I was bored.

My readers weren’t bored. They love me. And if you were so bored, then why did you keep coming to my blog?

Twitter_bird_iconYou forced me to, remember? You put me beside every one of you little ‘please follow me on twitter, I’m desperate’ messages and the only thing to do all day was read your posts. Are you just as desperate for blog readers as you are for twitter followers. Because if you are, I know a couple of other images you can put at the end of your posts. They might actually enjoy your attempt at writing. Oh, and *cough* your readers love you? That sounds a bit narcissistic. Would you like me to schedule that psychiatrist appointment for you? I’d hate for you to forget.

There were so many insults in that paragraph, I didn’t know where to begin…

Twitter_bird_iconI’m good, aren’t I?

You’re bad. And mean, and rude.

Twitter_bird_iconGreat comeback. Why don’t you add “you’re a poopy-head” while you’re at it.

*grinds teeth* Look blue bird. You’ve had your fun. You’ve paid me back for forcing you to read my posts. You’ve made me look like an idiot on twitter–

Twitter_bird_iconI made you look clever.

Can you please leave me alone now? Go post nonsense on someone else’s twitter.

Twitter_bird_iconFirst, I don’t post nonsense. Second, I don’t think it’s safe to leave you alone. Not unless you promise to see a psychiatrist .

I’m not seeing a psychiatrist.

Twitter_bird_iconThen I’m not leaving you alone. Someone needs to look after you.

If anyone is crazy, it’s you. You tweeted about magical daydreams in Antarctica. How sane does that sound?

Twitter_bird_icon*clicks tongue* “First sign that patient is indeed crazy; they think everyone else is crazy.

I’m not crazy!

Twitter_bird_iconYou write don’t you?

Why do I feel like I shouldn’t answer this?

Twitter_bird_iconYou don’t have to answer it. All these posts on your blog answers for you.

Why do you sound like you’re trying to frame me for a murder?

Twitter_bird_iconSince you write, that would make you a writer, wouldn’t it?

Umm…I guess.

Twitter_bird_iconSo, you’re crazy.

How does that make me crazy? That doesn’t even make sense.

Twitter_bird_iconWell then, you are saying that you don’t make sense. You wrote a post called Writers are Insane.

It was a joke. Wait, how did you see that? I wrote that before I started putting you in my posts.

Twitter_bird_iconLet’s just say, I’ve been browsing.

I thought you didn’t like my blog.

Twitter_bird_iconBrowsing for blackmail purposes. It most certainly wasn’t enjoyable.

*steam coming out of ears* Alright blue bird. I’ve had enough of your insults.

Twitter_bird_iconAlright girl human. I’ve had enough of your unappreication.

Then leave.

Twitter_bird_iconThat wouldn’t fix the problem.

Then what will?

Twitter_bird_iconYou to appreciate me of course.

That won’t be happening anytime soon.

Twitter_bird_iconI guess I’ll be around for a while then.

I guess you won’t. I’m ending this post right now.

Twitter_bird_iconOh good! I’ve got a great new line to give everyone.

I’m ending this post. Not you.

Alright everyone, sorry to end this post so abruptly, but I’m sure that saucy little bird was giving you a headache anyway. Hopefully next week I’ll have a better post for you to read. I’m sure if we don’t give the bird attention, he’ll go away.

Twitter_bird_iconI won’t.

Anyway, thanks for sticking it out through this painful post. See ya next week!

 

Twitter_bird_iconThis little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and dragons with computers.

 

Twitter_bird_iconIf you come up with a story, poem, photograph, or tweet using dragons with computers as a prompt, I’ll retweet you!

No, he won’t.

Twitter_bird_iconLink your story or poem and use the hashtag #bluebirdtweets and twitter handle @meganbedwel so I’ll know what to retweet.

Don’t do it.

Twitter_bird_iconDo it, and show her what kind of genius stuff you can come up with!

 

There are 2 things to do after you put your post out there:

  1. Put a link to your post in the comments along with the title to your post and I’ll list your link in the next blog post.
  2. Tweet a link to your post using the hashtag #bluebirdtweets and twitter handle @meganbedwel and I’ll retweet!

Use shy zombies as a prompt for a story, poem, photograph,  and create a post on you blog.

 

*(If you don’t have time to create a post and still want to join, write a tweet inspired by the prompt and use my Twitter handle and I’ll retweet you.)

 

Twitter_bird_iconIf you haven’t been following me on Twitter, you’re missing out on all my tweets with different takes on the prompt. If the prompt above doesn’t get your imagination going, my tweets will!

Take me to the next prompt!