Line to include: “There was a ruckus happening downstairs, which was odd because he lived alone.”
A short story.
Inspired by Ratatouille as well as in real life:
For the curious little critter who lives inside the walls.
The Tale of Bean (Part One)
“Shhhhh! Can’t you be just a little more quiet when you’re stepping around, Bean? You’ll wake the old man up with the way you’re going,” he squeaked.
“Dun’ worry, dun’ worry, you lil’ worrywart. And look there, that grubber’s snoring so soundly today,” Bean tooted, as she shifted through the chipped cracks in the springboard, peering from a cramped rat hole. “It’s safe for fetchin’. We’ll get a lot, so let’s go,” they scampered across the floor, lugging an empty basket after them.
She and her worrywart bud, Pinto, was assigned with the task of hoarding goods from the grubber’s kitchen. Supplying meals in the rat colony was an important job — a responsibility only given for your coming-of-age. At first it was just a way to mark adulthood, but over time it grew into a ceremonial competition with rewarding merits on the Whisker Rankings and the like. Depending on the success of your first mission, you would have an honorable chance to be placed in the Regulars, and your rat clan would also enjoy increased food rations — a dream that every family wished for.
When it rains: Write a story in which weather has a dramatically positive or negative effect on your characters’ day.
Often enough you’ll find some of your character’s toughest moments to be ones that are easy to remember. Think about when the weather changed during your character’s day. Was it a positive or a negative day? Did the rain start in the morning, or after the event that you are connecting with this story?
I haven’t written these sort of things in a year or so. I decided to try writing from this prompt, just to stir some narrative ideas. Pretty humorous, actually. :D Some profanity is used, so be warned:
“Goddamnit, fuck, fuck!” he jumped, realizing that a gaping hole on the sole of his shoes had been deluged thoroughly in a murky puddle mixed with city litter and other incredibly suspicious broken lumps of brown. The neighbor’s dog ran past him just then. “Oh, god.” The poor boy staggered unsteadily, increasingly disturbed by each burping, bubbly gush his soggy socks made.
Rain had been pouring since morning began, and John had woken up earlier (three minutes ago, actually) to the earth shattering screams of his mother about how late he’ll be to school for the fifth time, how he already got detention last week, while throwing his bag and lunch at him nagging to hurry the hell up. John grumbled tiredly, veering his way out of bed. He slipped on his converses, yawning and jogging pretendedly as he opened the door. His mother hurled him out, locking the door before he could snag the umbrella, as if to say now you’ll get your lazy ass running in the rain.
If he hadn’t been so irritated by her from being woken on a nice friday morning, then he wouldn’t have to be lamenting over his now awfully soppy and squelching shoe. The rancid waters of the puddle had closed in so quickly between each toe before he could react. Quite frankly, John was revolted at his clammy socks and sloshed steps.
Later on, his gang of friends jeered at him at school, how “it’s just a small thing, Jesus fucking Christ, you’ll live man.” Of course, his day got much better in the locker room when John took off his trodden socks and hurled it unsuspectingly towards his buddy’s face, the socks slipping down slowly, very painfully slowly.
“Yeah, just a smaaaall thing,” he snickered.
A short and storybook-like story written by me — this was inspired by some modern-day scenarios and situations like the idealization of beauty, conforming to social standards, and interracial relationships (or loving in spite of differences).
There once lived a Raven. Its suede body was glossed over beautifully with a shade of midnight black. It blended into the dark recesses of the darkest night, and you’d gaze at its piercing color as it flew in the light of day. When the people of the village saw a raven, they quietly hushed down as they peered from their window sills, and closed their windows in a soft, sad whisper. The Raven did not know why, and the Raven continued to grow to wonder why and why.
There once lived a Dove. Its feathers and wings were thoroughly washed with silky white, and it carried the youthful forever promises of love, because love itself was draped richly with ribbons and dainty pink primroses. The Dove blended softly into the lustrous locks and streaks of the airy clouds, and glinted with an entrancing twinkle at night. When the people of the village saw a dove, they quietly hushed down as they peered from their window sills, and opened their windows in a soft, excited whisper, nudging “here, here,” offering the little amount of bread that they had.