Writing Inspiration

Today’s OneWord: Pins

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The dank smell of the basement crawled into Cheryl’s nostrils as she descended the steps. She wrinkled her dainty nose and stepped cautiously into the dark at the bottom of the stairs. She stepped forward, reaching for the light switch on the wall and felt her foot touch something soft. She jerked her foot back, afraid it was a mouse or rat. She found the switch and flipped it on and quickly looked to the floor.

A scream built in her throat as she took in the view of Miguel. He was obviously dead on the floor with sewing pins sticking out of his pupils and dried blood that had dripped down the sides of his face like tears.

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Today’s OneWord: Willful

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She was kind but willful. Her face was pretty, but not beautiful. She was not perfect, but she was not human. Tom watched her, marveling at how real she looked. He wondered at how her skin appeared to glow, giving the illusion of blood pulsing below the surface.

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Today’s OneWord: Hood

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He stood in the room alone, waiting for those he knew would come. It was dark, with only a thin stream of light coming from under the closed and locked door. He could hear himself breathing. It was not the quick and harsh breath of one who was afraid, but the smooth and steady breath of one who knew what was to come and was prepared.

They came, finally, their hard, quick steps resounding in the hallway long before the door opened. One of them came to him and the hood was placed over his head before they lead him from the room, his hands tied behind his back.

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Today’s OneWord: Torch

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I stood, disbelieving, staring at the hatred in her eyes. Her hair was wild, blown by the wind, it’s dark strands like slashes across her face. Beautiful hands clenched in rage.

“Torch it.” She said.

I opened my mouth to speak, to argue with her decision, but nothing came out. I struck the match on the box’s strike pad and watched the flame flare. I glanced once at her. She was drunk with her rage. I tossed the match and watched it’s flame tumble through the air toward the target.

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Today’s OneWord: Recycle

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How was I going to get rid of it? I quickly glanced around. There was a trash can, but that was too obvious. I heard the footsteps getting closer. I had to get rid of it and fast! I drug the bag around the corner and frantically looked around for somewhere to dump it. As the door to the lab opened, I spotted the recycle bin and crammed the bag inside.

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Today’s OneWord: Brunch

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“You don’t scare me.” He said it quietly, confidently. His teeth were lightly clenched and his hands were fists at his side. “You don’t scare me at all.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining black in the torchlight. “I’ll eat you for breakfast.” She snarled, saliva dripping from her pointy teeth.

“It’s eleven.” He said.

“Brunch then.”

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Today’s OneWord: Professional

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“Be calm. Be professional. And above all else, for the love of all that is holy, don’t fart.”

I had been coaching myself all morning in preparation for the interview. Unfortunately when nervous, I get gassy. I was terrified I was going to fart during the interview. It had happened before. I really wanted this internship.

To prepare myself, I had taken some beano, some pepto bismal, and not eaten anything for 24 hours. Hopefully that would work nicely.

 

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Today’s OneWord: Town

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The town was buzzing with activity. Everyone was decorating storefronts or the park. The town square in front of City Hall was shining with lights and flowered garlands. I smiled to myself thinking their happy celebration was about to be remembered for an entirely different reason altogether.

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Today’s OneWord: Generator

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With a hum that sounded like a dying seal, the generator died and the room went black.

“Shit!” Marty blurted. “Where are you, Jack?”

A diabolical chuckle came floating from the dark.

“You better figure out soon, Marty, or you’ll never know.”

Marty heard a shuffling sound and a thump. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, Marty squinted into the darkness. Too late he saw a figure advancing on him.

Today’s OneWord: Crescent

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The crescent roll sat in front of me, steaming, the butter melting down the sides and dripping onto the petite plate.

I sat with my hands in my lap, staring at the butter, thinking about adding some jam to the mess when my door buzzer rang. I sat there for a moment more, hoping whoever it was would go away when the buzzer rang again. Two short bursts of noise and then one long buzz.

“Great.” I thought. “It’s Marvin.”

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Happy Writing! 🙂