mess

Weekend Writing Prompt — Dorm Life

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Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, where the challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 88 words using the word “pristine.”

She grew up in a palace of polished marble and quiet footsteps, a place where shadows behaved and every mess vanished before it drew breath.

But college hit her like a bad joke told in a back alley. The dorm was a stew of dust, spilled secrets, and dishes stacked like evidence. No staff. No silence. Just the world, unfiltered.

She tried to keep pristine order, but grime kept winning. Eventually she learned the truth every soul learns. You clean what you can, and you survive the rest.

Image conjured using ChatGPT.

FOWC With Fandango — Mess

Fandango10 Comments

Welcome to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.).

Today’s word is “mess.”

Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.

Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Please check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.

And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. Show them some love.

#WDYS — The Muse

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After three hours of staring at the blank canvas, Felix’s headache worsened, despite having taken four Advil tablets an hour earlier. This lack of inspiration had never happened to Felix before. Whenever he approached a canvas with his brushes and paints, everything just flowed. But not today. He was blocked.

He stepped back from the easel, put down his palette of paint splotches, and sat down in the easy chair he kept in his studio in the garage. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes, cleared his mind, he’d feel refreshed and inspired.

That’s when he heard a woman’s voice repeating his name. “Felix. Felix. Felix.” He opened his eyes and looked across the room and his jaw dropped. Extending from the blank canvas were two arms. One was reaching out in Felix’s direction, beckoning him to reach out and take the hand. In the other hand we’re some fresh flowers.

“Felix,” the same woman’s voice who called his name earlier said, “Felix, I’m your muse and I’m here to give you a hand. Please take the hand I’m offering you.

Transfixed, Felix got up from his chair, walked over to the canvas and grabbed the hand with both of his. As soon as he touched the hand, Felix felt a bolt of electricity surge through his body. It was strong enough to cause him to fall to the floor of his studio, unconscious.

He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he came to, he looked up at the still blank canvas. He started to stand, faltered a bit, but was then able to get up, walk over to his palette, grab his brushes, and return to the easel with the blank canvas on it, and to start frenetically painting.

After a few hours, Felix stopped painting, stepped back from the easel, put down his palette of paint splotches, and sat down in the easy chair he kept in his studio in the garage.

Three days later, Felix’s housekeeper found his body slumped in the chair. She called the authorities, who came out and removed Felix’s body and took it to the morgue. His granddaughter, Felix’s only living relative, took the painting on the canvas that was on the easel to be evaluated by the head of the art department at the local university.

Felix’s final painting was declared to be a worthless artistic mess.

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt. Photo credit: Marti Alonso @ Unsplash.

Friday Fictioneers — Outta Sight

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“I will not have it,” Margaret insisted, “I’m embarrassed to have anyone come into our apartment. I know you’ve been working from home since this whole pandemic thing started, but you’ve got your crap spread out all over the dining room table and it’s ridiculous that we can’t use it for meals. I will not tolerate your mess anymore. I’ve organized all of your office supplies and put them inside the credenza. You can keep your laptop on the end of the table, but you need to keep your work area neat.”

Bill hugged Margaret and simply said, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

(100 words)

Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Jan Wayne Fields.

Friday Fictioneers — Why?

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“Where did you find that contractor you hired to do the work on our vacation house?” Lauren asked her husband.

“On Craigslist,” Dave said. “Why?”

“When was the last time you went the house?”

“Sunday. Why?”

“When was the last time you spoke with the contractor?”

“Last week. Why?”

“You should go check on the house.”

“Why?”

“I went there earlier today and the contractor was not there and the house is a mess,” Lauren said. “I took a picture with my phone.”img_0563Dave grabbed the phone and looked at the photo. “Damn, I paid him upfront.”

“Why?” Lauren asked.

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Mikhael Sublett.

Friday Fictioneers — Sick and Tired

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A7B75E21-C9C2-4EA2-80E7-A1AD4EAB1309 “I’m sick and tired of this, Steve,” Donna said.

“What now?” Steve asked.

“Look at this,” Donna said, pointing to the kitchen sink. “You made yourself a sandwich or whatever you ate, and you left a mess. You left the jars on the counter and a sink full of dirty dishes. And I’ve had it, Steve. You’re such an inconsiderate slob and I’m not going to clean up your messes anymore.”

“You’re right, Donna. Let me make it up to you. I’ll fix you a peach jelly and olive sandwich.”

Donna shook her head and stormed out of the kitchen.

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Ronda Del Boccio.

Time To Write — Ratted Out

Fandango4 Comments

8367FF00-E53A-4CFD-B703-0D32FBFCC9C8“How long have you been planning this heist?” Jake asked.

“A long time,” Bud said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Bud, but the whole thing seems like a big old mess to me.”

“A big old mess?” Bud responded. “Can you be any less ambiguous? How’s it a mess?

“First of all,” Sammy said, “You said that we weren’t going to harm anyone. But the first part of your plan is to take out the security guard.”

“Jeez, Sammy, I don’t mean kill him,” Bud said. “I mean take him out of commission. You know, like knock him upside the head with a big piece of wood, or something.”

“Oh, and you think smacking the guard in the head with a chunk of wood won’t harm him?” Jake chimed in.

“Not like shooting him would,” Bud answered.

Suddenly the door to Bud’s house was busted open. “This is the FBI. Stop what you’re doing and put your hands up,” the lead agent shouted. “We’ve got you in our crosshairs, so no funny business.”

Bud looked over at his co-conspirators and whispered, “Which one of you ratted us out?”

EE7F3200-C74E-4783-960C-A3EFF36EB49AWritten for Rachel Poli’s Time To Write prompt using these three random words: “harm,” “mess,” and “heist.”

Also for these daily prompts: Word of the Day Challenge (obvious), Ragtag Daily Prompt (eyebrow), Your Daily Word Prompt (ambiguous), The Daily Spur (wood), and Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (crosshairs).

In Other Words — Give and Take

Fandango5 Comments

D0067F8A-28E8-4779-A2A9-356137A8A178Since I met you, you’ve caused me nothing but heartache.

You’ve done almost everything you could to make my heart break.

Now yow want me to take you back when you were no give and all take.

So I hope you’ll understand, since you made my life a total mess,

Why I am telling you no in five lines or less.

Written for the In Other Words prompt from Patricia’s Place. The challenge this week is to write a story or poem of five lines or fewer using the word “heartache.” Photo credit: Pexels@Picabay.