Waverly slowly became aware. She had a raging headache. Her hands were tied behind her. She was in a rough wooden box of some kind – she couldn’t stretch out. For a long time she tried kicking her way out, but she couldn’t get much leverage for her kicks. She paused, breathless, and heard the buzzing of a mosquito. It landed on her cheek.
First 50 Words - Prompts for Writing Practice 
It was that time of the year when nature dressed itself in white. The fresh fallen snow made the trees look as if they had donned a white dress, and the bushes appeared as if sprinkled with powdered sugar. Mirella stood in front of the bay window admiring this beautiful landscape, but her thoughts centered on the summers spent at her uncle’s house. She and her parents would spend their summer vacation there every year for it provided respite from the cacophony and stress of life in the city.
The days were usually hot, but after sunset, the nights would tone down with a coolness in the air conducive to slumber. The only problem were the mosquitos. Mirella’s most vivid memory from that time was the nightly ritual of putting the mosquito netting on everyone’s bed in the household. Crawling into her four-poster mahogany bed, she’d listen to the nocturnal symphony of the insects coming from the open windows knowing that sleep would come fast and that the mosquitos wouldn’t bother her.
Unable to brush away the insect, Waverly scrunched up her face and quickly shook her head. Big mistake. She banged her head on the side of the box, and her pounding migraine screamed loudly inside her skull. “How did I I get here?” she thought through the pain. The last thing she remembered was being driven home by her biology professor after completing the last phase of their research on the powerful venom of the rare Africanized Delta mosquito.
The boots were three fourths engulfed in the salty sandy seawater , surprisingly warm . She had to practically pull them up , and finally , the liquid slush would yield with a sucking sound . Twice , the foot came off , sans the boot . Mosquitoes hummed around her ears as darkness fell , with swift ruthlessness . The seagulls had quietened , and the tide was slowly, inexorably , rising .
It was hopeless . Why did she agree to bring her here , in this godforsaken place . The beach was strewn with fish innards , and dogs fought with gulls at some distance , over scraps . The mosquito hummed urgently into her ears , again. Almost sounding like an omen , or a warning. She shook her head .
The island was getting submerged , rock by rock , right in front of her eyes .
She was downstairs in her basement digging around for Christmas decorations. When she heard the familiar sound of the infamous Maine mosquito buzzing around her head she was shocked. Usually, these monsters came on the scene in Maine searching for a good supply of rich red blood in late Spring through the summer. What the heck? She slapped at her head where the nasty female had landed. Darned it! She missed. “Dontcha know you miserable squito that it’s Christmas Eve. You have no business being in my thoughts or anywhere in my home during the Christmas season!” Happy Holidays To All!