Hey friends,
I had so much fun reading your entries for the last writing contest that I thought we’d try it again!
Here are the guidelines:
- Write a blog post (no more than 500 words) inspired by the picture below. It can be fiction, non-fiction, funny, serious, whatever you want – it’s your interpretation. If you do not have a blog, you can still participate. Just email me: spaghettipie(at)yahoo(dot)com!
- Leave a message in the comments with a link to your post.
- Deadline to enter is Friday, October 17th.
Prize is a $20 gift certificate to your choice of Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, or Starbucks AND bragging rights. (I guess I need to come up with a name for this contest, huh? Any suggestions?)
Have fun, and I look forward to reading your entries!
Picture details:
My mom spent the summer in a cabin on an island off the coast of Maine. She found this note one morning in her driveway, right near the entrance to a path that leads to the beach. It was crumpled up, and I unfolded it enough to read it.
As you can see it’s a folded post-it note. On the top half of the note (the front side shown below) it reads: “Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you. Over again. (heart) I love you.” The bottom half (the back side in this picture) has a phone number, written in the same blue ink and hand as the blue ink on the front side. The entire note (text and phone number) is evenly spaced.
10 responses so far ↓
Heather // October 1, 2008 at 3:15 pm
Sounds like fun. I’ll see what I can work up.
mike // October 2, 2008 at 1:28 pm
hmmmm…this one seems much tougher. At least, I can’t think of any way to incorporate undead mailmen or zombies. Unless!
spaghettipie // October 3, 2008 at 12:24 am
H – I would love to see what you come up with!
M – You can do it! Zombies and undead mailmen are always welcome. . .
genny // October 3, 2008 at 1:50 pm
That note is great! How sweet. What a great prompt for writing…
Writing Contest - Reminder « spaghettipie // October 13, 2008 at 8:50 am
[...] 13, 2008 · No Comments Don’t forget the writing contest ends this Friday. Check out BJ’s entry for inspiration (and give her a little [...]
Daniel C // October 15, 2008 at 8:13 am
found you thru becca and my sister beth, here’s my entry…
http://www.xanga.com/NGCspeedbump/678411994/same-planet-different-worlds-writing-contest-entry.html
Enjoy!
spaghettipie // October 15, 2008 at 10:43 am
From Beth via email:
Rhythms
She watches him
His hands fall down.
One
two
three.
Watches his passion flow
through the muscles in his thick brown arms,
and down,
falling into his rhythmically dancing finger tips.
One
two
three.
Unable to keep her eyes from the mesmerizing beat
so her body moves
shuffling her feet
gliding along
like the ocean reflecting
One
two
three moons
this night will not be over soon.
He catches her eyes with his own
lost in the hypnotic sounds.
His mouth opens wide
she shuffles closer
leaning on her cane
One step
two step
three.
the words are never the same
but his voice never changed
“tonight will be the night
I fall for you again.
Tonight will be the night
When the music in our eyes
Takes us where we’ve never been
One
two
three
Love of my life
Will you dance with me?”
mike // October 17, 2008 at 10:36 am
Miller Time
-Mike
spaghettipie // October 17, 2008 at 2:53 pm
From Sarah via email:
Over Again
Spring 1996
“MO-OM! Michael will not leave me alone!! He keeps on wiping worm guts on me.”
Jessica’s mom glanced up from slicing watermelon. “Just ignore him; I’m sure he’ll stop eventually.”
“Hmmmppfff!” grunted Jessica and flounced off. “Michael Alan Winslow, my mom said you need to leave me. . . OOOOWWWWWWWW!!! Stop pulling my hair right this instant!!”
After a well-placed kick to the knees, Jessica’s tormentor ran off to join his friends, who had discovered hornets’ nest and were poking it with sticks.
“At least now Michael will leave me alone,” mused Jessica smugly as she finished her pb&j by the riverbank. He looked pretty miserable, though, sitting there icing the welt. Jessica strode over to the boys’ table. “You know, Michael, you shouldn’t have been poking that nest. . . . Do you want some watermelon? I heard you can spit the seeds really far.”
Spring 1999
Jessica laced up her skates amid the scent of stale popcorn. “Walk this Way” blared from the loudspeaker as Jessica’s friends motioned her onto the rink.
The YMCA and the Chicken Dance were disastrously fun. And then the lights dimmed and the music slowed. Jessica’s heart remained in the pit of her stomach, surrounded by at least a hundred agitated butterflies. She felt a tug on her ponytail and then a warm hand taking hold of hers.
The music floated up and around her as they skated. She felt a little dizzy, as if all those butterflies had left her stomach and were flitting around her head now instead. When had Michael stopped smelling like a dirty little scoundrel? Tonight he looked and smelled so . . . nice.
Spring 2004
Square blue hats flew in the air. Jessica collected her cap and made her way to find her family, and him. She dreaded what was coming and what she had to say.
He asked what they would do as they headed to different schools. She gave the answer she’d been practicing. She just wasn’t ready; she wanted to be on her own for once. They’d been together for so long and she just needed some freedom. Michael hugged her and walked away, the sag in his shoulders barely noticeable.
Spring 2008
Jessica sped to the church. She could NOT be late for Ashley’s wedding. It would be pretty obvious if she stumbled belatedly in the doors wearing a fuchsia bridesmaid’s dress.
The music was playing and the candles were lit. Jessica took a breath and stepped down the aisle. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw him standing at the front of the church beside the groom.
The vows were beautiful. Ashley was beaming as the guests left the church. Everyone began piling into cars and heading toward the river for the reception at dusk. Ashley knew what she needed to do. She grabbed a post-it out of her purse and scrawled a message. She stuck it to his windshield and hopped in the limo with the other girls.
“Where was he?” she wondered anxiously watched the guests arrive. “OW!” She felt a jerk on her ponytail and a familiar hand slipped around hers.
As they walked down to the water’s edge, she smiled when she saw a crumpled yellow paper tucked in his pocket.
T.T. // October 17, 2008 at 3:52 pm
I can’t believe I wrote something, but here it goes:
http://musingsoflmichelle.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-always-knew-hed-come-back-writing.html