April Writing Prompts 2019

[labrathor]

April is here! So much has happened over the last few months, and we're pleased to welcome a number of new players and characters to the community! We're so happy to have you. A very special thanks also goes out to everyone who participated in the winter event as it draws to a close; you've all helped make this winter one to remember. And As always--

Disclaimer: I never close old writing prompts from previous months. People can and should be encouraged to post on old month's prompts and I highly encourage players to track these posts to catch stragglers or new people writing on old prompts.

Now. With that out of the way, onto this month's prompts.

April's Writing Prompts

1. "That was a lot funnier in my head."

2. Lord of the Fries or Nothing But Eggrolls? Think fast!

3. "That is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

4. A mental drain, physical aches. It's time to shed your burdens.

5. "Is there any mud left for the grass after you brought all of that inside?"

Bonus image prompt:

Comments

2. Lord of the Fries or Nothing But Eggrolls??

[lord_of_the_fries]

Our Spring Menu, submitted for your perusal.

Image prompt

[alittlehinky]

Nature's First Green

Double, double (prompt 4)

[subjectifying]

Ellen was one of Macbeth's witches, scratchy voiced and hollow cheeked. She hid behind her costume and watched a world both rich and strange. Oliver: alive. Geoffrey: untormented. Ellen: a mother.

A second, nexus crazed Ellen was redundant, but the food was good -- and the part. Where was her home but on stage?

Before the audience, she forced destiny upon Geoffrey-Macbeth, and he regarded her with appropriate terror. She felt it too: existential wrongness.

But she was no Macbeth, burdened with the need to control her destiny. She was the weird, visionary sister. She stayed, and strove for nothing.

Ludlow fair (prompt 5)

[anticdispossession]

"Fear no more the heat of the sun," Geoffrey sang, an early morning offering at winter's memorial. The sun was golden, and Geoffrey had a new clue to follow: bright as a shard of shattered glass slipper.

"Fear not slander, censure rash."

He slogged from portal to portal, asking questions, finding hungry insults and mudslinging. His picture of Ellen was getting dirty.

The day declined. Geoffrey sought information -- comfort -- within a bar. Much later, he stumbled out and fell to his knees in lovely muck. The world blurred. "All lovers must..."

Midnight struck.

"Consign to thee, and come to dust."