Writing Prompts

The past week, I had some serious trouble writing. I don’t know if this was because I was feeling like I commercialized myself and therefore had to keep up the demand I set. For anyone who has a free spirit like myself, you can understand why this upset me.

To get the gist of it, it felt to me like the joy had been taken out of writing. I was, of course, looking at this the wrong way. Friday night, my wife had a going away party with her best friend, girls only. So that put me in a unique position to go and ruminate on my thoughts. So I sought out a restaurant, typical me. When life gets you down find somewhere nice to eat.

I didn’t find anywhere nice to eat, in fact, the place where I chose was anything but nice. However, it was good. I went to a place called The Angry Crab Shack. No dishes, no utensils, and a steamed bag of shrimp. The food was amazing and the ambiance was anything but peaceful. It was just what I needed. The chaos in the place allowed me to forget myself and just be.

Today, I opened my browser and noticed that new writing prompts had posted for one of my facebook groups. There was an image (below) and a writing prompt to treat this as a book cover and write a title and book description:

cliffs

Where Giants Walked

The era of giants has come to an end, but their footprints and the works of their hands still mar the land. Kylin Erk believes that giants still exist and she is determined to prove it. Embarking on a quest from the only home she has ever known, Kylin’s quest takes her to the ancient city of Velrith, where the giants were said to have fled. Accosted by a band of scavengers led by a roguish captain, Kylin must find a way to escape them and return home. However, Kylin isn’t ready to leave just yet. With the surprising help of Bairne, the scavenger captain, Kylin fights to avoid the dangers that await them in Velrith. They both learn that some things should be left in the past.

That was a lot of fun to write, so I decided to search out some more writing prompts and found a lovely spot on Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts

So I posted the two below:

[WP] You find out that world leaders have genetically altered common house pets for surveillance and mind control.

I knew he was watching me. Where ever I went there he was, watching. I couldn’t help it, I’d feed him and bathe him, but he never left, never went somewhere else. He just sat there watching me. I was in bed with the wife, doing the thing that married couples do. Mid-thrust I caught him, watching me again. It’s unnerving when he’s there, watching, waiting. Waiting for what I don’t know, for something I’m sure.

Yesterday it happened, he stopped watching. It was a brief moment. A feeling of not being watched, like a relief from it, came over me. I looked over and his head was in his crotch. I felt sick. I looked at him in disgust. “Hey,” I said. “Stop that, gross man.”

He seemed unaffected by my chastisement and instead started watching me again, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in that decidedly doggy grin. That’s when I saw it, a spec in his eye. Concerned I knelt beside my best friend, the creepy furry one that watched me all the time. I was concerned about cataracts or infection. He wasn’t an old dog, but who knows about these things. What I found was frightening. In his eye, that speck I had seen. It was a camera. He blinked and I swear there was a tiny flash.

“Mother of god,” I said, cursing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Needless to say I was shocked, spy dogs? Really NSA? You’ve gone too far this time. I mean I swear, spy cats was bad enough. I mean I can understand spy cockroaches, even spy ants, but come on this is a new low. Fido winked at me again and I suddenly felt pretty calm. I couldn’t remember what I was so worked up about. Sure the NSA is watching us, I mean who isn’t, it isn’t so odd that my dog is a secret spy for the government. In fact, it is kind of cool. Who can say they have a spy dog living under their roof?

[WP] Due to advances in cloning, premature neonatal care, and synthetic genomes, it is possible to make people who truly have no parentage, and are genetically related to no one.

“Fuck them,” he said. “Fuck every last fucking one of them. I don’t need no god-damned tuber mowing my lawn or serving my food. Fuck.”

Granted he had a point, even using the slang and slander as he was, he had a point. None of us really cared for the SEHs, but they were a fact of life now. Ever since the Synthetically Engineered Homunculus Act of 2067, we all had to live with them. Fucking scientists and their shitty naming, what the hell was a Homunculus anyway? It didn’t matter what it was, as much as what it represented to some people. Some years back, someone got the idea to create humans. Yes, you heard me right, I said create. It didn’t seem possible, you know? Who would have thought they could create a functioning human from synthetic genomes related to no one.

The Homunculus Project was the first of its kind. Scientists claimed it was better than programmed robotics because they’d have the human element, that factor X everyone says makes us the superior species on the planet. They said they’d be able to think and react, but they wouldn’t have the trappings of the Human race. They wouldn’t experience fear. That was a mistake. Its why I was here, protesting the SEH Act. A Human who has fear, doesn’t do a lot of stupid shit they otherwise would, a human without that fear … yeah, that’s the point, we just don’t know. Capitol Hill isn’t what it used to be, but they still hear the people sometimes. So, we gathered outside the capitol building to protest. Our picket line was pretty amazing, more people than I expected showed up.

Apparently it was more than the government had expected to show up too, because they deployed their new police force to keep the crowd in line. Bad idea Mr. Politician. The only way to escalate an issue to violence, short of starting it yourself, is to put in front of people that which they hate. As Mr. Fuck Everything was preaching his lack of need for a tuber, a whole regiment of SEHs dressed in police uniforms showed up in riot gear. Face to face with the adversarial embodiment of their hate, the crowd lost the proverbial it. I’m not sure what broke the tension, if it was the SEHs in uniform or if it was the fact that the crowd saw the embodiment of their anger, but soon I could hear the rage-filled cries.

“This is an unlawful gathering,” the SEHs said. “Please disperse or corrective action will be taken.”

They might as well be fucking robots, I thought. They just kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

That wasn’t the end though. Booming echoes of gunshots bounced through the air. I could smell the smoke and burning powder of tear gas. My ears rang with desperation as I tried to get back, to get away from the chaos. My lungs and eyes burned. Screams, more gunshots, and the monotonous voices of the SEHs over loudspeakers fought for my attention.

Shit, I thought. God damn tubers.

The screams grew in intensity. I could hear sobs in some of their voices and anger in others. My fists clenched until my knuckles were white. I couldn’t imagine the government turning on its people like this. What the hell happened to democracy? What happened to basic human decency? They made a better human, I thought. My face felt hot, I think I was bleeding, I don’t remember. What I do remember though, is charging with that crowd, the angry mob that had been incited by tubers, gunshots, and tear gas. We lost, mostly because we were afraid. I was afraid of dying, afraid of spending my days in prison, I was just afraid. The tubers though, they didn’t care. They just did as they were told and they didn’t fear. Later that year there was a ratification to the SEH Act that allowed the damn tubers discretion in legal matters.

I was arrested on suspicion of violence against government entities. I only had one thing to say in my statement, “Fuck them,” I said. “Fuck every last fucking one of them.”

Needless to say, I found my passion again. I think I’ll be checking Reddit more often. Until next time folks.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Author,

DJ Morand