Daily Prompt
Phase
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt
When I think of the Moon I think Werewolves.
When I see the Moon hanging above me in the sky I wonder what it would look like it if all of the sudden it just stopped in its tracks and smashed into the Earth.
If I could go to the Moon I’d take my helmet off, take a selfie with the Earth in the background and post it to my Facebook before I died because that’s the way we roll now days on planet Earth, USA in the suburbs.
I’ve always gone through phases where my train of thought roars around backwards through crazy town, slams the brakes on at ” What the Hell ” and jumps the tracks at ” Really Anita Marie?”
I think its one of my more endearing qualities.
Happy to say I’ve always been like that.
I’m not afraid to write what I think, no matter how weird it sounds.
It’s a phase I went through when I started to write when I was nine years old.
Happy to say I never grew out of it.
A few years ago I did some art workshops and writing workshops and I dedicated loads of time to social media.
I learned nothing from that phase of my life.
Happy to say, I grew out of it.
I posted this on my Facebook page:
Some people thought it was funny, other people told me not to write about people or real life events because I’d get sued and one person asked me how I was going to portray people I knew.
Yeah.
And while I’m at it, I’ll just post my attorney’s phone number at the end of each story.
I wish stories just floated down from the sky, crawled into my brain via my nose ( I rode dirt bikes, I must have snorted half the bugs in Washington state, so having stuff slithering on up to my nasal passages holds no fear for me ) but alas that is not how the process works.
Stories have to come from somewhere- to think they come into this world without the aid of real life experiences is like thinking that babies are delivered by storks or their parents find them under cabbage leaves and that they are not made by two people combining their DNA.
Some people go through this phase where sticks find their way into their bodies and they walk around like that and looking like that giant thing is wedged in them until the day they die.
Makes you wish the Werewolf thing was real when we are faced with some of those phases, doesn’t it?
Nice quirky walk down the crooked avenues of your mind!
Thank you for joining me 🙂
Well executed! I love the Don’t f**k with writers part- there have been times where I’ve encountered terrible people, and my weapon was to pull out pen & pad and just start describing them from head to toe — sometimes it even yielded a good poem, most times it made them go all sheepish and walk away!