Tag: Am writing

“Don’t write the word” Challenge.

I decided to do a writing challenge called, “Don’t say the word.” I write a short story about one word and then do everything in my ability as a writer to not write the word once. I am trying to learn how to write with more descriptions and in an active voice. So to keep from a dull story, I am expanding my skill to challenge myself. They won’t be always perfect, but hey, writing should be about the fun and magic, not just the end result.

Please enjoy the fun little story as much as I did writing it.

– Turan

Challenge word: Sleepy

Groggily, Tim walked towards his bed. Each bone in his body creaked and popped from each step he took. Fog blurred the shape of the room, making it hard to distinguish the furniture around. A yawn held his mouth hostage, forcing its way out like a lion’s grand roar. His legs dragged across the wooden floor, thudding hard against the surface with the slap. Tim moved at a glacier pace, unable to move the mountainous body any faster to reach the comforts of the pillow mattress. The feeling of the silken sheets, warm blanket embrace, and heavenly cloud ascension into dreamland called to him in a siren’s song. The lulling melody crushed the worldly events of his day hard against his shoulders and back. The burden he carried of stress from work shot pain down his spine into his hips. Soon he would be whisked away, refreshed to start his day anew tomorrow.

Alas, he could not enjoy the wonders of his sleeping solitude. The phone rang moments before his towering body could collapse into the sweet abyss. Thunderous shrills cried out to him from the table in the other room. The cold tendrils of dread crept up his shoulders, grasping at his neck and face. Who dare called him at this hour?! Moments before his rest and graceful slumber? Slowly turning his furious gaze towards the door, the rings continued for a few more gruelling minutes. Finally, the shrieking calls stopped, leaving his home in a peaceful state. With a smile, he returned to the gentle tug of the bed sirens to be swayed into sleep once more. Tolling bells of alarm clashed with the soothing singing of his pillow sheets when the phone began to ring once more. This time Tim’s eyes shot wide with anger. His mouth sunk hard into his chin and his eyes shot wide.

With a swoosh of wind, Tim’s body found the strength to fly out of the room into the living room. The phone shook and shuffled from the vibrations, the ringing of the basic tones screaming for him to answer. Towering the table, Tim loomed over the wretched machine. The name flashed across the screen, blinking with a flashy dance of lights. Grim and brooding, Tim watched the name until it finally stopped. The moment the name dissipated and the booming ring tone died down, Tim grabbed the phone with lightning speed. No one was going to stop him now from his slumber. Opening his screen with his password, he held the buttons on the side of the phone. The most magical words on earth popped up on the screen, “Shut down.” Yes, this was what he wanted the most in the world. A smile broke on his face, his eagerness at large as he reached with a shaky finger towards the button. Soon he would be in bliss!

With a powerful force downward, he aimed directly for the power off button. Before he could achieve his goal, the button disappeared and the name of his tormentor flashed once more on the front screen. The alarm of chaos flooded the shadowy room. Internally, all Tim could do was whimper as his finger slammed against the talk button. Fear enveloped him and adrenaline shot through his veins. He now had to deal with the wild beast on the phone. Shakily, he raised the phone to his ear and spoke with a grumble. “Hello, mother.”

The Moment After Death

Writing prompt: All religions are real and the world just ended.

How did I get here? Jake looked around at the surrounding people packed into the white abyss. Slowly he was being shoved towards the same direction as the person in front of him. The last thing he remembered was a sudden blast then, Poof! Here he was alongside thousands.

There has to be some kind of mistake, He continued to think as he suddenly heard several shouts in front. The closer he got, the louder they had become as several people stood holding signs and waving their arms.

“Christians over here! Line up in the denomination once you’ve reached the markers!”

“Buddhists this way. You can choose your reincarnation after having tea and a group meditation!”

Jake stopped, allowing several people to push past as they began to herd towards the shooting men on stands, boxes and even rocks that lined against several gates, halls and building entrances. They were dressed in robes of different colours, sizes and even emblems related to each religion. To his belief, it reminded him of a university club week trying to recruit members for their activities. Jake made his way towards the closest man who was standing under a booth. The sign above was blurry as it shimmered with different symbols and characters before clearing up into a language he understood. It read, “Information booth.”

Jake waited until the man finished pointing to the lost soul before stepping up to inquire about his own fate. “Good Sir, I-“

The robed man interrupted. “Oh no no, I am not good. I am neutral. How may I help you?”

Jake bit his tongue a moment before giving it a shake. What an odd person!

“Hi, I am a little confused about what is going on here!”

Without hesitation, he replied to Jake.

“Well, you are dead. Which faith, belief or ideal did you follow in your life?”

Jake blinked for a moment. How could this man be so blunt!

“Wait what?”

The being before him gave a small sigh while giving a sympathetic smile. “This is the gates to your end. Everyone has different thoughts and believes and we are here to help direct them to the appropriate one.”

Jake shook his head. “What if they aren’t sure and change their mind?”

The man pointed towards a building behind them and to the side, one Jake didn’t see before on his way. “That there is a presentation where you can see the benefits and information clearly. Sometimes down on Earth, it gets a little muddied by changes and misinterpretations.  For those who are still unsure, they can stand by the gates in a waiting area to observe until they have decided.”

Jake scratched at his head. “But what of those who believed in hell and satan? If they know they are going to be judged harshly and meet their demise, why would they choose that!”

The man chortled. “Oh, you mortals. Fear isn’t always the driving factor to the decisions made in your lives. That you can clear up when you meet the doorkeeper where he can judge your life. Either you believe you were “good” or “bad” is all placed on a biased perspective. All we care about is making sure you get to the right place you want to be.”

“Well can I leave if I change my mind?”

The man scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Well of course! Seems kind of silly to stay in one place forever! Of course, you need to meet the requirements or terms needed before making religion changeovers, but that will be covered by the gatekeeper as well when he gives you the pamphlet.”

Jake stood perplexed. Was everything really that easy compared to what they believed on earth?

“Well, what if I was an atheist?”

The being lightened up. “Oh, well if you didn’t believe in any of the religions, then you must be the new helper! Take a robe of any colour and see who needs help ushering the lost souls to the right gate. You will figure out things fine. If you need anything else, let me know!”

And with that, Jake looked at the lined boxes behind the booth and picked a robe. What a strange place this is. He donned his robe and off he went to help the people.

The Meal Mother used to Make.

I decided to do a writing prompt I say, and this one actually made me giggle. 

Please enjoy.

Writing Prompt of the day: Write about the one time you made a meal your mom used to make as a child. 


    Derek was quite certain he would get it this time. Pulling out the cookbook his mom used when he was a little boy, he carefully traced the spine. All of her famous recipes had been written within the worn and brittle book. Her cursive handwriting was clear and crisp, as you could tell she gave it all of her love into the page. With a soft hand, Derek traced the page with a sweet smile. Since her passing, Derek had missed her greatly. When he was clearing out the attic of his childhood home, he found the cookbook within a small box of her things. His mouth began to water at the memories of savoury flavours he craved. Heading into the kitchen, he flipped through the pages debating which one he should try this time. 

Between stir fry, stew and a meat pie, he pondered which one would be feasible. He placed the book down on the stand before looking at his catch of the day as it hung to bleed out. He had taken special care to make sure the meat wouldn’t spoil in the cold room, pulling it down to begin cutting it. Stripping off the outer layer, he hacked and stripped the meat off the bone with precision. With talented handling, he managed to get decent cuts while discarding useless parts. Upon inspection of the cuts, he began to separate and pack several bits for different occasions. Holding a fatty bit, he decided to make a meat pie. The texture seemed right, and the amount he managed to carve would make for several other meals included. Taking the meat, he placed it into his meat mincer and turned the machine on. While he waited for it to process, he cleaned up the mess, making sure to keep the head of his trophy. 

Once the meat was minced, he scaled and packaged the rest in which he would use later. With enough to make a few pies, he nodded with satisfaction. Derek headed to the kitchen with his bowl of meat in one arm and his mother’s cookbook in the other. First, he needed to cook the meat and boil potatoes. Starting up the skillet, he seasoned and spiced the meat to his mother’s instructions. Covering the meat, he began to peel potatoes and waited for the pot of water to boil. Standing back, he quickly tapped the book to read. Somehow he felt like he was missing something. Right, he snapped his fingers with a hand gunshot, the recipe called for some corn. 

Brushing his hands on his chest, he headed to the panty. Usually, he kept a good stock of canned veggies and soups for this occasion, so having a small can of corn wouldn’t be a problem. He shuffled a few cans around, eventually finding one as he cheered with a happy grunt. It was cream of corn, which in his mind was a better option. Can’t always follow the recipe to a T, he thought with a chuckle. Returning to the oven, he checked the process of the meat before grabbing the can opener. After opening the can, he placed it down and turned the oven on. With a spoon, he mixed both the meat and the potatoes, making sure they were well on their way. The meat was partially ready as he pulled it off the stovetop. No point in over-cooking it when he was going to bake it all.

 Derek pulled out a glass bakeware bowl, pouring three-quarters of the meat into it. Next, he took the cream of corn and created a small layer of it across the top of the meat. He took a small silver spoon to help smooth it all out, making sure it was covered entirely. Lastly, he checked the potatoes. They were the perfect cook to mash as he pulled it off the stovetop and drained the water. With a good mash, milk and butter, he whipped it up something fierce before globbing it up with a wooden spoon. Craftily, he plopped it on top of the layers in the glassware, covering the corn and meat without spilling it over the edge. With a fork, he fluffed the layer about, giving it a good texture to bake. With a small smile of delight, Derek was excited to see the potato crisp into a lovely golden texture. Placing it into the oven, he stood with his fists on his hip in triumph. 

Now all he had to do was wait. Blowing as raspberry, he looked around at the dishes. Well, he had some time to waste. With that, he began to clean up his mess, then set the table. He had just finished lighting candles when the timer ran for the pie. Licking his lips at the delicious smell, he opened the oven to take a peek first. His expectation of the crispy potato design on the top was spot on. There it was, the beautiful masterpiece from his mother’s recipe. Pulling it out, he hardly could wait as he skipped to the table, placing it down on a cork trivet.  Before sitting down, Derek quickly ran to the kitchen to grab a wine class and his finest red. 

Oh, how he waited for this moment, rubbing his hands together he anxiously poured himself a glass before cutting into the meat pie. With a big scoop, he dished it to his plate and delicately picked up his fork. The moment of truth to see how well he was able to cook his own killed game. With trembling fingers, he loaded his fork with a bit of each layer and took a bite. The flavour swirled his taste buds. The tenderness of the meat, the creamy corn and potato perfectly mingling the juices and spices. The more he chewed, however, the more that there was something missing. It was everything he was hoping for but it wasn’t like his mother’s. He took a few more bites, his euphoria dissipating quickly as he frowned into his meat pie. What was he missing? Was it the cream corn? Maybe the meat was too fresh since she always just made it with store-bought products. 

With a heavy sigh, he finished his plate using a bit of bread to scoop up the juices running amuck on his plate from the meat. Sitting back he smacked his lips, grabbing his glass of wine as he stared at the head of his prized kill sitting on the other side of the table. With a narrow glare, he took a sip as he stared into the eyes of the blue eyes of the man whose body he cut up. Maybe it was the meat, Derek thought as he swished the wine within his mouth to clear his pallet. With a crooked smile, he continued to stare darkly. Next time, I will get it right.

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Turan Turnip