Writing Prompt #2
Jun. 23rd, 2016 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhAnother one of these writing prompts from my weekly writing group. In brief: one person picks a prompt, then we all have only 15 minutes to write something – anything.
This week's prompt was from >a NYT article about the 36 questions that, supposedly, can make any two people fall in love – by forcing them to feel intimate and close. Specifically, "If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"
The witch sat down behind the table and drew the heavy black cloth away, revealing a crystal ball beneath. She stroked it, her gnarled knuckles passing gently across the glass like she was petting a kitten. For a moment she stared down at it, her dark eyes soft with thought, but then she glanced sharply up, and caught him watching her.
“Well?” she snapped in a creaky voice. “Sit down.”
He took the seat at the other side of the table, awkwardly placing his hat in his lap. He looked around him, but the shadows were too thick to see much. The only item he could truly see was the crystal ball itself. It caught the light from the torch at the entrance to the tent and seemed almost to glow, a red flickering ember at the heart of the ball.
He felt himself becoming lost in that tiny heart of light, and yanked his eyes away.
The witch’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Careful, my dear.” She made a parody of the endearment, sarcasm and years of smoking turning her voice thick and harsh. “It’s not for amateurs.”
He nodded, and carefully kept his gaze on her face, not daring to look directly at the crystal ball again. In the shadows she seemed made out of crags and drooping skin, her wrinkles like crevices of darkness. She wore black too: thick cloth that covered her from neck to wrists, and more wrapped over her hair. Only her eyes were entirely revealed to him, sparkling and intelligent, entirely defying the rest of her appearance.
She settled herself and made several mysterious gestures over the crystal ball – mystical preparations? or a simply a show put on for the gullible? He had no way of knowing. In the silence, all he could hear was the occasional pop and crackle of the torch; the sounds of the fair outside the tent seemed to have faded entirely.
Finally she leaned toward him. Speaking in a whisper, she said, “Ask now. What is it that you want to know?”
He bit his lower lip, hesitating. How to put everything he needed to know into words?
(Yes, it is totally cheating to cut off right before I actually had to decide what question he would ask. But hey – only 15 minutes!)
This week's prompt was from >a NYT article about the 36 questions that, supposedly, can make any two people fall in love – by forcing them to feel intimate and close. Specifically, "If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"
The witch sat down behind the table and drew the heavy black cloth away, revealing a crystal ball beneath. She stroked it, her gnarled knuckles passing gently across the glass like she was petting a kitten. For a moment she stared down at it, her dark eyes soft with thought, but then she glanced sharply up, and caught him watching her.
“Well?” she snapped in a creaky voice. “Sit down.”
He took the seat at the other side of the table, awkwardly placing his hat in his lap. He looked around him, but the shadows were too thick to see much. The only item he could truly see was the crystal ball itself. It caught the light from the torch at the entrance to the tent and seemed almost to glow, a red flickering ember at the heart of the ball.
He felt himself becoming lost in that tiny heart of light, and yanked his eyes away.
The witch’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Careful, my dear.” She made a parody of the endearment, sarcasm and years of smoking turning her voice thick and harsh. “It’s not for amateurs.”
He nodded, and carefully kept his gaze on her face, not daring to look directly at the crystal ball again. In the shadows she seemed made out of crags and drooping skin, her wrinkles like crevices of darkness. She wore black too: thick cloth that covered her from neck to wrists, and more wrapped over her hair. Only her eyes were entirely revealed to him, sparkling and intelligent, entirely defying the rest of her appearance.
She settled herself and made several mysterious gestures over the crystal ball – mystical preparations? or a simply a show put on for the gullible? He had no way of knowing. In the silence, all he could hear was the occasional pop and crackle of the torch; the sounds of the fair outside the tent seemed to have faded entirely.
Finally she leaned toward him. Speaking in a whisper, she said, “Ask now. What is it that you want to know?”
He bit his lower lip, hesitating. How to put everything he needed to know into words?
(Yes, it is totally cheating to cut off right before I actually had to decide what question he would ask. But hey – only 15 minutes!)
