Writing Prompt from Writer's Digest Magazine
"Imagine you're riding the subway in NY City. Next to you is a woman writing in her journal. You notice that she's crying. Feeling nosy, you look to see what she's written and read this: 'I fear someone will discover the body soon.' Despite the risk, you keep reading. How does the journal entry begin and end?"
A Pumpkin Blossom Warning
"I was watering the garden, just like I do every sunny morning, when I noticed something odd about one of the pumpkin blossoms. It was all twisted and upside down, a dark spot stained the grass beneath it. Worried about some sort of bug infestation, I slowly turned the blossom around to see inside. I felt something squirm under the petals, so, naturally I dropped it and a gigantic bug zoomed out, aiming for my head. Had I still held the hose I would have squirted it, but instead I had to swat it. My hand made contact and the bug fell with a soft thud to the ground. I looked at the back of my hand - there was blood, but not mine. The bug wasn't moving. I grabbed the hose, just in case, and knelt about two feet away. The bug was not a bug. A tiny girl lay there, twisted and broken, and then she spoke.
"Don't let them find me."
"Who?" I asked, though I wanted to ask so much more.
"The Corbins - they will take me back, decapitate me, and put my head on display in their courtyard - all because I suggested we let some humans live."
And then she died. As gently as I could, I scooped her up and carried her inside. I grabbed a washcloth and a towel and cleaned her up. She had wounds on her arms and in her side, in addition to the broken bones. Part of me wanted to take a picture of this exquisite creature, but another part of me realized that was morbid and wrapped her up in the towel and set her in my travel bag.
I grabbed my journal and purse, put them in the bag with the body, and ran out the door. My only thought was getting to Anissa, so I drove to the nearest subway station and caught the train.
But I fear someone will discover the body soon. I think it's still bleeding. At least my bag is black, but I'm afraid there will be a smear of blood on the floor when I pick it up. Maybe no one will notice. I only hope Anissa can figure this out. She's always saying things like, "The Fair Folk are growing anxious - they don't like what we've done to their home," everytime I complain about the rise in gas prices or the expense of buying organic. Is the human race truly headed for disaster? Is there an enemy about to attack us from our own backyards? Wouldn't that be ironic? Here we are arguing over keeping our soldiers in a foreign war when the biggest threat hides in our own gardens and trees."
