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Sophie

Five Minute Writing Challenge

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I am going to propose a five minute writing challenge for all of you who would like to join me in flexing your creative writing abilities. 😁 I “accidentally” found a blank white page and got one of those urges to fill it. So I did. I wrote something random that does not apply to any of the books I am currently writing, and it isn't even my style. But it took about five minutes and was a REALLY fun challenge. Would anyone like to join me? Five minutes or under. Just write something random, the first thing that comes to your mind when you see a blank page. This is not a contest; simply an exercise to better your writing abilities. Have fun! (And please share what you come up with!! :))

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(Here's mine ☺️. . .)

 

Charla Chana Davis was, at most times, an ordinary girl.

 

When not walking she was running, and when not running, she was walking. When not smiling she was frowning, and etc., etc.

 

The street she looked down upon every morning was a gloomy one. It did not suite her nature nor her tastes, therefore she declined the unspoken offer to further remain in the captivity of the apartment above it. Her aunt held her captive according to obvious circumstances oblivious to Charla. She was a girl of her own ideas and opinions, and did not consider anyone to have control over her.

 

She wore glasses. Her aunt said they hid her distasteful features and rendered a smart look, making up for when she was ''dumb''. Charla did not care, and she could see better with them on, regardless of the fake lenses. Her hair was brown. Mousy brown, not rich and glorious. She wore it mostly in a high pony tail; it made her look taller. As for eyes, they were also brown. She considered them the most glorious feature she owned, and did not understand why her aunt would have her hide them behind lenses. But maybe it was to hide her face more than anything else, and her eyes must therefore be glossed over in the process. Charla did not care. She could see her eyes; they always answered in truth, and that was the beginning and end of her infamous career.

 

There was not an obvious thing she understood, and a hundred non-obvious things she did. She was silent most times when she did not understand, and loud when she did. For this reason did the glasses pay their dues. When she was silent, for more oft than not she was, her aunt concluded she might at least look smart while remaining so.

 

And as for being ordinary, she was rather just extraordinary, if anyone would ever acknowledge it.

 

 

Edited by Sophie
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Fun challenge! Thanks for sharing, Sophie. Here's mine:

 

Just write whatever first comes to mind? Jane shook her head and stole a glance up at the teacher, who was wearing a slight grin and twirling a pen casually around his fingers. Their eyes met and he raised his eyebrows at her. She cocked her head in return and raised the test paper slightly from her desk.

 

Seriously? Her expression asked. 

 

Of course, his own replied as his grin widened.

 

Jane looked at the blank page accompanying the test and began tapping her pen on the table, knowing it would drive Mr. Williams crazy. Two seats to her left, Tom raised his head and looked at her. She raised a shoulder in mute appeal. He grinned, glanced at Mr. Williams, and twisted his page for her to see. 

 

Scientific formulas littered his page from top to bottom and, she couldn't quite tell from this distance, but she was certain that he had written some in the margins too. Trust the school nerd to do that in an English test. 

 

Three rows ahead, the English guru of the class, Prissy, sat ramrod straight in her chair and was writing with deliberate care. She was probably writing down all the most random and useless grammar rules from all of the previous ten years of schooling. 

 

Meg, who always sat four rows back and two seats to the right of Jane, would most likely be drawing elaborate pictures involving dragons, trolls, orcs and, god help us, mushrooms. 

 

And herself? Average in English, weak in art and middle-to-bottom in math, she was staring at a blank page with nothing to say.

 

Write the first thing that comes to mind.

 

Jane stopped tapping her pen and turned the page to write across its length in bold letters.

 

HELP.

Edited by Claire Tucker
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Here's mine. Hope you enjoy it! 😉

 

 

Aurora and Ariel were twins; everything about them was identical: their hair, their eyes, their skin color, their talents. What color hair? you might ask. Or what color eyes? Or what about their skin color and their talents? Well, I am about to tell you.

 

Ariel and Aurora's mother had red hair. And their father had brown hair. Mix it together, and look at what you've got. Well, you've got several names for it, several of which are auburn, copper, chestnut, sorrel, reddish-brown, mahogany, among many others.

 

Their mother's eyes were blue. Their father's eyes were green. Mix this, and what do you get? Cyan. A mix between blue and green.

 

Their mother's skin was pink-and-white. Their father's skin was olive. Mix this, and what do you get? Don't ask me. Something queer.

 

Their mother was attractive. Their father was handsome. What do you get when mixed? Two very good looking children.

 

Their mother was slim with beautiful feet. Their father was lean with height to his stature. What do you get when you mix it? Two slim, beautiful footed, not-too-tall children.

 

Their mother was good at Math, Theology, Science, and History. Their father was good at English, Grammar, Geography, and Spelling. Mix this and what do you get? Perfect grades in every aspect of schooling.

 

Their mother was good at drawing, painting, taking pictures, singing, acting, and dancing. Their father was good at baking, writing, directing, music, sports, and cooking. Mix all these talents, plus talents of their own, and what do you get?

 

Two perfect children.

 

No. Life doesn't really work that way.

Edited by Sarah Daffy
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Out of all the gene joints on Level 13, why did she have to walk into mine?

 

"Hello,doc," she purred, real expensive, but not the kind of work I do."Still can't afford a receptionist, I see."

 

"' ...The well have no need of a physician...' but the sick have no credit to pay one. '

 

**********

 

Let's face it. I'm a compulsive self editor. But I'm saving this sci-fi noir idea for later.

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