Write Now Anyway: In the Box

Rules

Rules:
1. Read the writing prompt, but only the prompt. I don't want your writing to be influenced by my (or anyone else's) response.
2. Sit down and spend 15-30 min writing whatever comes to mind. Poetry, prose, whatever you want, just write something. Don't make it something you labor over. Write. Enjoy.
3. Share in the comments.
4. Please keep it PG-13 and under. Don't go all 50 Shades or Chucky on me.
5. There is a time and a place for constructive criticism. This is not one of them. This is a stretching exercise. Please remember the words of Thumper, "If you can't say nothin' nice, don't say nothin' at all."
***All material on this site remains the property of the original author. Do not copy or share without permission. Thank you! **

Monday, September 16, 2013

In the Box

This is where I usually introduce my inspiration for the week's prompt ... but I have none. It just came to me. I hope it works out.

Without any further ado, this week's prompt:
The box was simple on the outside, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. On the inside, however, ...

Enjoy! I'm excited to see what everyone else has in their box this week. :-)

****************************************************************************

My response:

The box was simple on the outside, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. The first thing that gave it away was its weight. My maid handed it to me with a pained expression, and I struggled not to drop it. I hurried to the round table in the middle of my dressing room and let the box fall onto the hard surface, thumping terribly and almost upsetting the flower arrangement.

The paper and string gave way easily and revealed a beautiful box, its red wood oiled to a rich lustre and intricate patters inlaid across the top.

"Who is it from?" I glanced quickly at my maid.

"I have no idea, your Majesty. The Steward found it among this morning's deliveries, so he bade me bring it to you." She craned her head forward, staring at the box.

I lifted the lid. Before I even laid eyes on the object inside, I could smell the aroma. It was like standing in an apple orchard in the fall, with vats of fresh-pressed apple cider ready for bottling, warm and sweet. Cradled in black velvet padding was one large, red apple ... with one large bite taken out of it.

A shiver ran down my spine. My fingers slipped from the lid, and it slammed back closed. I stepped slowly away from the table ... from the box ... from what it meant. The bite was fresh. Not a touch of darkness marred the white flesh of the apple; there was not a dimple to be found on the red skin. The aroma was too perfect, too fresh. It reeked of witchcraft.

My body stood in the room, but my mind raced back to my youth, a time when a red apple had almost robbed me of everything I held most dear. After I'd been saved by the most powerful of all magics, my husband had killed the witch. Or so we'd thought.

I heard a voice calling to me.

"Your Majesty?! Are you okay? Talk to me!" My maid held both my hands in hers. "Your Majesty?! Snow White?!"

1 comment:

UnknownSeptember 19, 2013 at 3:36 PM
Fantastic! Continue the story of Snow White. Love it! I'll try to come up with something of my own later when I have time!
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Inspriation

In 2012, my friend and I attended an SCBWI conference. Alane Ferguson gave a "First 500" workshop and used a picture as a writing prompt. What I wrote that day became the base to my YA Fantasy about water nymphs, while my friend used the same inspiration to write a MG Historical fiction about a boy who works as a grave robber.
I am fascinated by the creative process, especially how two people can look at something so differently. That is my inspiration for this blog. I love to see how different people look at different things, and what amazing, varied pieces of art we can come up with.