Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Writing Prompt#1

Because it's been a long while since I last did a writing exrcise, I'm doing it now. I'm planning to go back to fanfic-writing after I finish some school paper stuff, but before I do that, I'll be writing this prompt I saw on some sort of a writer's forum yesterday. :) 

Writing prompt: Describe a building from the point of view of a man who just lost his only son in war. Do it without mentioning death, war, his son, or himself. Describe that same building at the same time of day and weather conditions, from the point of view of a man who has just discovered he's going to be a father. The same rules apply however, don't mention birth, or babies. (If you feel more comfortable change it to a woman's point of view.) The point of this is to challenge yourself to see through your characters eyes. What is ugly and brutal to one person, in one frame of mind, may not be to another.

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POV of the man who lost his son in war:


The day was bidding the city farewell, and though you know there would still be daylight the next day, it was a tad unnerving when you know the night’s going to be terrifyingly long. The building was there, standing like a foreboding sword blade stuck on the ground, roughly silhouetted by the eerie blood-red splash of the sinking sun. It looked more and more baleful as the evening slowly wrapped its starless arms around the alley where it stood. There were wriggling shadows falling on the translucent windows, probably some blue-collar employees now preparing to go home. Some windows were left open; in the dim light of the dying day, they shone like pairs of holes from hell.

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POV of the man who’s going to be a father:


The last rays of the day touched the windows of the building like gentle fingers, the resulting sheen akin to that of a ruby on a wedding ring. There were shadows moving across the panes from the inside, probably some workers who were excited to go back to their own families. The sinking sun pulled its butterscotch-and-strawberry glow with it as it caressed the edges of the building and plunged into the horizon, giving way to a mantle of wine-colored evening strewn with stars. And if the night was the drink, the building stood like a strong stem of an elegant wineglass, heavily festooned with precious dews that were actually some open windows with soft light emanating from the inside.

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