20. Unfinished letter

You rummage through your attic one day and find an old, dusty typewriter with a letter still in it that appears to have been started but never completed by the previous owner of the house. It simply says:

Dear Mrs. Denenberg,
I know I’m not supposed to write to you, but I couldn’t resist.

On your own, develop some type of background story, and in a brief paragraph, explain who the writer is, who Mrs. Denenberg is, what they have to do with each other and the purpose of the letter. Then finish writing the letter.

Background:

     Mrs. Denenberg was the secretary to Mr. Thompson, one of the richest men in all of Kentucky.  There was always flirting between the two in the office, but neither one could act on it because Mrs. Denenberg was married with children.  One day Mrs. Denenberg’s husband mysteriously disappeared.  No one was sure what exactly happened, but because of his connections with people in higher places, Mr. Thompson was a suspect and found guilty for the disappearance for Mr. Denenberg.

     The man writing Mrs. Denenberg was involved in her husband’s disappearance.  The letter found was never sent, a relative of the man found it.  Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Denenberg and the man who sent the letter have all been dead for a long time…

Dear Mrs. Denenberg,
I know I’m not supposed to write to you, but I couldn’t resist.  I refuse to tell you who I am, but I know what happened to your husband many years ago.  This may come as a shock, but he was living a double life; family man when with you and your children, but secretly taking bets for races at Churchill Downs.  He was kidnapped by men who he “played” when they set their bets; Mr. Thompson had nothing to with his disappearance. 

What I don’t know is whether he was killed or not… that remains a mystery, but he was kidnapped, not by Mr. Thompson.  Everyday since his sentence I’ve tried writing you, but failed to send the letter every time. 

I truly am sorry about your husband, and for the false arrest of your boss.  I hope you have led a fulfilling life and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.  I am very sorry for the trouble that has been caused in your life.

                                                     Sincerely,

                                                                A friend.

21. Confess a secret.

Create a character who has a secret to confess, but who is afraid to confess it. Write the three diary or journal entries that your character would write as she or he considers the secret, explores why it needs to be confessed, thinks about who will be affected if the secret is known, and considers why she or he is afraid.

 

June 22

            I had the most surreal day at the beginning of the week!  While at work, I met the sweetest little girl.  Her name is Janine.  She has the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, just like Jack’s when we first met…  She even has his mannerisms; it really is eerie.  It’s strange how familiar she looks to me… I think I know her.  Seeing made me want to talk to Jack, so I did, because Janine came in again today.  I think its fate that she came back.  I talked to Jack; boy was he surprised, we haven’t talked since we were 19.  I told him about Janine.  He couldn’t put two and two together… I couldn’t bear to tell him…

July 5

            Janine has been coming in a lot.  We always talk; I feel connected with her.  I finally talked to Jack again and told him I think Janine is the child we gave up for adoption our first year of college; he hung up on me.  I don’t know how to tell my parents, they didn’t know I was ever pregnant.  Should I even tell Janine?  I don’t want to scare her away, but I know in my gut she is my child.

July 24

            I told my parents about Janine.  My mother cried; my dad sat there in silence.  It was the worst feeling at first, but I felt so much better for finally telling them.  I asked Janine to bring her parents with her the next time she came to the diner.  I pulled them aside and asked… Janine is my child, but I can’t tell her.  Her parents are afraid it would mess with her psyche, but they said I can be in her life.  I guess that’s better than nothing, I just feel good to finally know what happened to my baby.

25. You’re a cab driver in New York City

Describe an encounter you had with a particularly interesting passenger yesterday (this means you’re going to have to create an interesting character).  Make sure you use dialogue to recreate the conversation you had.  (Only those in Creative Writing 2 may do this assignment).

It’s Tuesday morning and Willy Johnson is hard at work driving his taxi.  He spots a young man on the street trying to wave down taxis, so he pulls over.

“Where to,” Willy asked as the young man slide into the back seat of the taxi.

Before answering, the man looks at Willy’s name tag, “Central Park please, Willy.”

“Sure thing sir,” Willy said in his usual happy tone.

“Call me Kevin,” the young man said.  “How are you today?”

Willy surprised by his friendliness responded with, “Well, I’m quite fine actually.”

“You sound surprised I asked,” Kevin said as he buckled his seat belt and sat back. “You don’t normally get friendly people?”

“Funny you should ask, I had the strangest occurrence yesterday with someone a little too friendly…” Willy said as he drifted off thinking about it.

Kevin, now very interested in what could have happened asked, “Care to share?”

Willy looks down at his GPS, “Sure, we’ve got some time.  So last night I see a man in along trench coat just standing on the corner, waiting for a taxi, so I pulled over and asked if he wanted a lift.”

“Sounds normal so far,” Kevin said as he listened intently.

“Trust me,” Willy said, “It gets better.”  Willy makes a turn then continues the story, “Before saying anything he tosses the large black bag into the back seat and gets in behind it.  All he said was ‘42^nd Street’.”

“I’m sorry Willy, but I fail to see what is so odd…” Kevin said, getting a little disappointed by the story.

“Let me finish lad!” said Willy, now getting tired of Kevin cutting in.  “I wasn’t sure what to expect with the big black bag and all, but I thought what the hey, he needed a ride.  As I’m driving I feel his hand on my shoulder and he was breathing down my neck!”

For once, Kevin sat silent, so Willy continued, “Then I hear him right in my ear say ‘I’m gonna be a star!’ and with that, he opened his trench coat and sat there in this woman’s one piece bathing suit-looking outfit.  It was gold and covered in glitter!”

Kevin then started choking on the coffee he bought before boarding the taxi.  He finally started breathing again and said, “Um… what exactly did you do?”

“I didn’t know what to do, all I said was the ride was free of charge so long as he got out right there,” Willy said as he had a chill run down his back just thinking of the man.  “Luckily he did get out of the car, but heaven forbid he gets out like a normal person, he got out and attempted to tap dance down the street and sang songs from the musical 42^nd Street!”

            “Just like that,” Kevin asked, amazed at the characters New York City is full of.

            “Just like that,” Willy said.  “I then noticed he left without his bag and curiosity got the best of me…”

“What was in it,” asked Kevin, now deep into the story.

  “I opened it,” Willy said, then paused.  “There was a pair of woman’s size 13 tap shoes, a sparkling dress, and a blonde wig.  I guess the poor guy really thought he was in 42^nd Street.”

“You really did have some day yesterday,” Kevin said as Willy pulled the car up to Central Park.

“Yeah, but you’ve just gotta expect those things when you’re a cab driver in New York City,” Willy said as he smiled.  Although he has had some crazy people, he still loves his job and the people he meets.

“Well thanks for the story Willy,” Kevin said.  “You really do meet some crazy people here,” Kevin said with a laugh and at that Kevin got out of the car with a dog leash, but no dog and ran around in Central Park.

Willy just shook his head, “Gotta love the people of NYC!”

24. Think of your favorite movie. Now write a sequel for it. Part III

*****Please see CWcorbisiero before reading this******

(The Notebook)

The ghosts of Noah and Allie Calhoun can be seen out on the lake they both loved so much.  Both Noah and Allie are young again and although they are ghosts, they are enjoying each other’s company when out in the distance they spot something floating out in the distance…                      

Noah: (looking out in the distance) Allie, look out there, past the trees.  What is that?

Allie: (looks up from the lake with a confused face) Well… it looks like… (There is a slight pause as she rises to get a better look) Noah!  It’s, it’s a house!  A floating house… with balloons? 

Noah: (gets up and joins Allie) My God!  It is a house.  There must be hundreds of balloons tied to it!

Noah and Allie both watch as the house lands in an open filed close to the lake.  Their curiosity leads them to leave the lake and go to the house. 

The two are close to the house, but still in the trees.  As they watch four figures step out of the house.  Allie approaches and Noah follows her.

Allie: Hello?

Juliet: (leans in towards Jack) Jack, who are they?

Jack: (marches toward Noah and Allie) the one couple I feel has had a tragic end like the rest of us.  Miss Allie and her husband Noah. 

Noah: (scratches his head, it’s obvious he doesn’t know they are) Allie, would you like to introduce me to your friend?

Allie: (just as confused as Noah) I would dear, if I knew who he was…

Jack: Silly me, why would you know who I am!  (he grabs Rose by the hand and pulls her close) My name is Jack, and this is Rose. We loved each other very much, but our love tragically ended when I died on the Titanic. I’ve been haunting the earth for years waiting for Rose, but for some reason we are still on Earth, and we don’t know how to get to heaven. We thought that maybe Romeo and Juliet could help us, but they’re just as clueless as we are…

(The four look over toward Romeo and Juliet, they are standing around mindlessly until they notice the others looking.  They then join the group.)

Allie: I thought they looked familiar!  Now, could you please explain why you think it is Noah and I can help you? 

Jack: I’ve watched you and Noah and I know how tragic your story is.  I thought because we all have something in common we could figure a way to heaven.

Noah: (still confused) is this a bad dream? (and pinches Allie who yells) guess not…

Allie: (pauses and after a moment of thinking responds) Did you ever consider this is just our destiny, to stay on earth?

Noah: (grasps Allie’s hand) we’re much happier now, than when we were alive and we can be together.  Aren’t you happier too?

Rose: Of course! When I was alive I couldn’t be with Jack, but now we can spend as much time as we want together.

Jack: (disappointed) I never thought of it that way… Maybe we are all meant to be happy together, but not in heaven.  I guess it’s time we go back to where we came from.

And at that, Jack, Rose, Juliet, and Romeo all get back into the house, release the balloons and go on their way. 

Allie: (waving to their new friends then grabbing Noah’s hand) Let’s go back to the lake.

Point of view diary entries

In order to write a diary entry from a character’s point of view, you must consider the character’s perspective and point of view. Remember parable of the prodigal son. (If you don’t, you can read about it here: http://christianity.about.com/od/biblestorysummaries/p/prodigalson.htm.) Write diary entries of the three characters involved from the night after the prodigal son makes his return. Think about point of view as you do it. What is each character’s motives and what is he/she thinking and feeling at this point?

“The Prodigal Son”

            I’ve been away for so long.  It really is good to be back!  I’m so happy my father has let me back into his home; even if my brother doesn’t seem happy.  I’m sure he’ll come around though.  My father is too good to me, all I cared about was getting my share of his fortune, finding fun for me… everything for me me me.  I know now, that my father knows best, but if I do stray away again, my father will always be there for me!

“The father”

            Never in my life have I been so happy to see my son!  I know he doesn’t work as hard as my older son, but just knowing he is not too big of a person to ask for help lets me know I’ve raised him well.  It truly is wonderful just to know he knows he will always be welcomed here no matter what he does!

“The Brother”

            I can’t believe he’s back!  Things were going well with him gone; father finally started noticing all the hard work I do and have always done, but no, he just had to come back.  Then again, what’s wrong with father for letting him back?! Not only letting him back, but killing a fattened calf too!  I do so much, but ask for so little, yet am I thanked?  Of course not, because my brother is too busy looking for attention… at least I still have my share of father’s fortune!

23. Write a letter to yourself at the age of 10.

Jan 8, 2010

Dear Mary Kate,

         I wrote a letter already, but I’ve decided to change it.  My original letter told what you should and shouldn’t do to reach what I’m like at 18, but it was all wrong.  By telling you what to avoid and go for I’d cause you to stray from the present moment you’re in. 

       My only advice for you is to live in the moment, live from day to day and don’t get caught up in thoughts of the future.  My worry is had I told you what was in the original letter you would spend your time looking for those moments, rather than living in the present.

      Treasure each day and don’t take things for granted!  Work hard and you will do well.      

                                          -Mary Kate =)

29. Write from the point of view of a spoon inside a dishwasher.

Carelessly tossed in, as dishes and cups are handled with care I am a lowly spoon, forgotten and tossed into the basket.

I’ve gone through this epic adventure many a time before;

this one no different from the last.

From the bottom rack I can see everything, the spinning arms, the dirty plates and dishes, even the lonely measuring cup off to the side.

This basket, it restrains me.

Restrains me from escape, but also keeps me here to be whipped by the violent water

As the arms spin faster, the water comes gushing out.

I am soon coated with suds,

But before long the warm water washes them off

Hot air whirls around, sweeping across every last utensil

Once all the commotion stops, there is nothing left but to wait

How long will I be in here?

A few hours? A day?

None of it is known, but what is known:

I am clean.

27. Write the conversation two strangers have while sitting at a bus stop. Two rules: They can only ask questions and each person must speak at least 15 times. See how long you can make the conversation last but still make sense.

As a young man approaches a bus stop he notices an attractive woman already there, waiting, on the bench reading a newspaper.

            “Is this seat taken?” he asked, trying to be sly.

            “Do you mind?” the woman said as she quickly raised her eyes from the paper, then soon continued reading.

            Confused, the man asked, “Excuse me?”

            “Was that not clear enough for you?” the woman with the paper responded with, this time without looking up.

            The man just looked at her as she read, “But is someone sitting there?”

            Frustrated the woman looked up and said, “Why does it matter?”

            “Well, can’t I sit there?” he said as moved toward the bench.

            “Are you hard of hearing?” she asked as she slid to the open seat, blocking it from the man.

            The man stepped closer to the woman, “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

            The woman leaned back, “Could you get out of my personal space?”

            “What is your problem?” he said as he stepped away from the woman. 

            “What’s it to ya?” the woman asked as she moved her neck. 

            The man cocked his head to the side as the woman moved her neck while she talked.  “Is something wrong with your neck miss?”

            The woman slammed her paper on the bench and threw her hands in the air.  “Why do you keep talking to me?” she asked as she broke down in tears.

            Unsure of what he had done, the man started to back away.  “uh-h-m, a-are you alright miss?” he asked, stumbling over his words. 

            The woman’s face was now getting red and more tears streamed down her rosy cheeks.  “You don’t remember me do you?”

            The man became confused and took a deep breath.  “Sorry, but should I remember you?” he asked as he took a step toward the woman.

            “How,” she paused, “How could you not remember me?” she got out through deep breaths.

            “Would you mind refreshing my memory?” the man asked as he examined the woman.  He studied her face, but it didn’t ring a bell. 

            “Why should I do that?” the woman said as she pulled out an old hankie and dried her tears.

            “Don’t you think that would help me remember you?” the man said as he stepped closer and tried to sit down.

            The woman blocked the seat, “Didn’t you hear me before?”

            The man now getting frustrated raised his voice and said, “I still can’t sit there?”

            “Does it look like I want you sitting with me, you monster?” the woman asked as she exclaimed.

            “Monster, I’m a monster?” the man asked now yelling.  The two were causing a scene among the other people waiting for the bus. 

            “Sorry was that too confusing for you?” the woman said.  She had now stopped crying and was giving the man attitude. 

            “Why would I know a nut like you?” the man asked as he went to sit down.

            The woman just looked at him, “You really don’t remember do you?”

            “No, so can you please just tell me?” he said.  The man was pleading with the woman by now.  He really couldn’t remember why he would know her.

            “I’m guessing you don’t remember killing my husband in that car crash?” she asked as her eyes began to fill with tears again.  With that the woman just got up and walked away.

           

28. You’ve just been on the worst date in the history of mankind (fictional). Write your diary entry from when you get home, recalling the events.

                                                                                                                 December 2

Diary-

            That could not have gone worse!  After weeks of waiting, Ricky finally asked me out!  (Who would have thought it would have been so terrible?!) First he picked me up in his car and BOY did it smell bad!  I saw a large sub wrapper in his backseat and the whole car reeked of onion.  AND to top it off, his breath smelled.  I don’t get it; if our date was to go out to dinner, why would he eat before hand? 

            Sad thing is that isn’t even the worst part!  He took me to a Thai place.  Now don’t get me wrong, it was a nice effort, but I hate Thai food.  And he knew that because we talked about it at our lunch table one day.  I didn’t want to be rude though, so I tried eating, but little did I know I ordered the spiciest plate on the menu.

            One bite into it and there were tears rolling down my cheeks.  I had just finished my drink too!  In a panic I grabbed Ricky’s drink and gulped it down.  It was very lady-like… NOT.  My makeup had completely smeared and there was some mysterious stain right on the front of my blouse.  I couldn’t bear to stay for dessert, so we went outside for a walk.  A light snow had started; it was magical, until I slipped and twisted my ankle. 

            Ricky had to help me back to his car and drove me home.  Once there I tried to get out on my own and hurt my ankle even worse.  BUT the worst part was when we reached my front door.  After we said goodnight, he leaned in to kiss me and right before our lips met my little brother pulled the front door open and sprayed us down with a water gun.

            My night was a COMPLETE DISASTER!

Poem Visual Prompt

Wet

Everything about me is wet

Standing, playing, working in the water

And I am wet

I splash and sing

I sing to the trees that stand tall

I sing to the bushes that scream with their colors

I sing to the skies above

That dropped the rain onto the rusted tin roofs

The rain that has made me wet

Rain that gives the bushes a glistening personality

This rain that has brought rebirth