welcome readers & writers!
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here's my spin on today's photo writing prompt:
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The waiter set their menus and a handful of crayons on the table and leaned in to take their drink orders. Katie, who loved to color, made a face. Her dad ordered coffee and a chocolate milk. When the waiter stepped away, her dad said, "What's with the face, KatieDid?"
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"Poopy colors," Katie sighed. "Katie-Daddy day is ruined." He smiled at her pronunciation: 'wooned.'
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"Whoa there," he said. "Not so fast. Let's take another look, because Katie-Daddy day is un-ruinable. It simply just can't be done."
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Katie looked dubiously at the crayons. "Yuck," she said.
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Her dad arranged the crayons in a neat row on the table. She watched him intently as he opened up the kids' menu and flattened it out, blank side up. "Nah," he said softly. He picked up the black crayon and began to sketch. "Look here. You can use this dark brown to color in my tree trunk. And this soft green will make some oh so lovely leaves for these branches." Katie giggled. Her dad continued, "And this light brown color, well, that's the fur of a chipmunk with a jaggedy black stripe down his back. What's his name?"
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"Chip-Stripe," Katie said solemnly.
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"Gotcha. Chip-Stripe lives here in this tree. And today, well, it's kind of a cloudy, foggy day. See how the sky is kind of gray blue?" He handed her the sky color and she started filling in the sky at the top of the page. "But look, over here on the horizon," her dad said, "the sun is nudging up a bit. It's going to melt away the fog."
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"Uh-Huh," said Katie. "And then it will be sunny outside."
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"That's right," her dad said. "And then Chip-Stripe can carve his Halloween pumpkin."
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"Yeah," Katie laughed. "His Halloween pumpkin."
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Her dad finished sketching the scene and Katie worked on coloring it in, finishing up just as her pancakes arrived. "Wahoo," she said. "Just in time. You can't color while you eat. It woons the food."
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Her dad smiled. "I love you, KatieDid."
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"I love you too, Daddy."
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what does your imagination make of this photo? i'd love to read it. click on comments below to send it in - short story, poem or creative non-fiction.
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"Poopy colors," Katie sighed. "Katie-Daddy day is ruined." He smiled at her pronunciation: 'wooned.'
-
"Whoa there," he said. "Not so fast. Let's take another look, because Katie-Daddy day is un-ruinable. It simply just can't be done."
-
Katie looked dubiously at the crayons. "Yuck," she said.
-
Her dad arranged the crayons in a neat row on the table. She watched him intently as he opened up the kids' menu and flattened it out, blank side up. "Nah," he said softly. He picked up the black crayon and began to sketch. "Look here. You can use this dark brown to color in my tree trunk. And this soft green will make some oh so lovely leaves for these branches." Katie giggled. Her dad continued, "And this light brown color, well, that's the fur of a chipmunk with a jaggedy black stripe down his back. What's his name?"
-
"Chip-Stripe," Katie said solemnly.
-
"Gotcha. Chip-Stripe lives here in this tree. And today, well, it's kind of a cloudy, foggy day. See how the sky is kind of gray blue?" He handed her the sky color and she started filling in the sky at the top of the page. "But look, over here on the horizon," her dad said, "the sun is nudging up a bit. It's going to melt away the fog."
-
"Uh-Huh," said Katie. "And then it will be sunny outside."
-
"That's right," her dad said. "And then Chip-Stripe can carve his Halloween pumpkin."
-
"Yeah," Katie laughed. "His Halloween pumpkin."
-
Her dad finished sketching the scene and Katie worked on coloring it in, finishing up just as her pancakes arrived. "Wahoo," she said. "Just in time. You can't color while you eat. It woons the food."
-
Her dad smiled. "I love you, KatieDid."
-
"I love you too, Daddy."
-
what does your imagination make of this photo? i'd love to read it. click on comments below to send it in - short story, poem or creative non-fiction.
"Commander, I may have found something of interest." Observer First Class Labium Dewdimple underspoke with unusually fine-honed containment of her excitement. Commander Acutoto would not tolerate overstatement of the possible importance of a discovery. This was huge, she felt, and the best strategy was to allow her superior to be the one who designated it as such. His ears tightened slightly and his head moved unconcernedly in her direction, disdain dripping from his phlegmatic face, then suddenly he turned his attention elsewhere. She knew this game. She would not hasten to repeat herself. She fine tuned her scope, upped the contrast just a bit, and studied the signal bands electronically sculpted across her screen. They lay in the tawny spectrum, and sharp edges delimited them. Those hard limns were spectacularly significant. Something was going on. The word "intelligence" leaned with quiet insistence against her consciousness, which slowly expanded to her more distant immediate surroundings as Acutoto's presence tightened the skin of her back. He was bending over her left shoulder, no part of his body closer than twenty centimeters to any of hers. "Hmm." he murmured, apparently cooler than autumn, but she felt his body heat along her skin as his excitement pulsed. He straightened his body, the movement so deliberate she was impelled to turn her attention from the scope to his demeanor, and first she saw the hint of smile fold up along his eyes and the ends of his mouth. "That's not undesigned." he said. "you've found something, indeed." The thrill filled her head and heart as he spoke the words she'd never heard before "Analysis team! Pick up on Seven Forty One."
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