The Last Prompt of July! I'm going to write my response to this prompt and post it tomorrow. I'd be interested to see what anyone else comes up with. Feel free to post your writing as a comment.
And again: the idea is not to create the best writing ever, but to create some writing.
Today's prompt: You have seven minutes to tell everyone in the United States anything that you'd like. What do you tell us? What would you show us? What would you want to happen after you were done talking to us?
OR:
Two people knock on your door and call you by a name that is not yours. You pull out your wallet to show them your identification and it says...the two people are right. That is your name. What do you do? What happened? WHO ARE YOU?
Two people knock on your door and call you by a name that is not yours. You pull out your wallet to show them your identification and it says...the two people are right. That is your name. What do you do? What happened? WHO ARE YOU?
OR:
Write whatever you'd like.
And remember...have fun!
Write whatever you'd like.
And remember...have fun!
1 comment:
I pull the door open and blink into the morning sunlight. Two men in dark suits stand on the other side of the threshold. They say nothing.
"Good morning?" I ask, still not sure what these two people are doing. The clock by my bed had said 5:17 when the knock came at the door.
"Is it?" the man on the left asked.
"I think so. It's pretty early," I respond.
"I believe it is, Mr. Carlos," the man on the right said.
"Oh, oh, I think you have the wrong house. My name is Jim Mohr."
"I don't believe it is, Mr. Carlos," the man on the right said.
"Here, I'll show you my identification," I said and turned to get my wallet from the table by the door. "I keep my wallet here so I can pay for pizzas."
"We don't care, Mr. Carlos," left man said.
"This is quite serious, Mr. Carols," right man said.
"Look, here it is," I said and started to pull my identification out. There was my face - it had been a rough day when I had my identification picture taken at the Central Identification Office on Registration Day - my hair is sticking up in the back, askew from the struggle I'd had on my way in. But that's another story. I looked at the name and saw...Roger Carlos?! That can't be right.
"There must be some mistake," I said.
"There is, Mr. Carlos," left man said. "We never should have let you out."
"Let me out of where," I asked. Right man started to walk in. "I didn't say you could--" I began, but was silenced by the tranquilizer he injected into my arm. As I succumbed to the tranquilizer, I wondered who I really was, and if I'd get more answers when I woke up.
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