You are here

Hey, you. Yes, you, reading this. You are here. You are interested in writing. Why not write something? It doesn’t have to be the world’s greatest 50 words, it just has to be something. Write something, anything. That’s what strengthens that writing muscle. That’s what frees your monkey mind from being so critical. Just write!

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “you are here.”

Advertisements

Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “You are here”

  1. You are here. You are alive and you are living right this moment. Living the moment to the fullest is critical in this fast paced world since any day might be D-Day. Do whatever it is that you need to do and feel free to pursue your heart, but be cautious and don’t do something reckless to make your life shorter.

  2. Thomas was homeless but more importantly he was a robot. Living out on the streets he discovered the only way to get by every day was believing that one day someone would take him in. It rained in May and he got so rusty he stopped working altogether, poor Thomas!

  3. “Dinnnngggg, Donggggggg”, the bell rang somewhere deep inside the caverns of that mammoth house .

    He waited , and waited . A tiny part of his brain kept telling him , “run , run! There is still time ! Run”.
    But he knew , this was it . He had to wait , or ring the bell once more . He was about to actually , when the massive doors creaked , very reluctantly parting , to reveal her .

    She was still the same . Tiny , spritely , and was still chewing . Her chewing slowed down and then altogether stopped when recognition hit her . He smiled . She frowned , ever so slowly . Then resumed chewing , furiously , in protest.

    “You’re here , you came back, Why ?” She asked ,he didn’t answer . She kept chewing , waiting for an answer . The same bossy girl he had left behind so many winters ago .

    Reluctantly again , she stood aside , the doors creaked open a wee bit more and he squeezed himself in , sideways , pulling his sack along , stomping out the snow that clung to his boots .

An open space for your story

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s