Welcome to Week Three! Can you believe we’re at the halfway mark for the challenge?
You all did so well with your stories last week! There were so many interesting and unique ways you interpreted the prompt. It’s now the third week, so it’s time to do it again! Will your story have aliens? Zombies? Maybe it’ll have a dragon in it! Whatever you decide, we can’t wait to see what you come up with.
So, without further ado, here’s your next prompt!
Week Three Prompt – The Starting Sentence Prompt
Write a story that starts with the
following sentence: So this is what drowning feels like.
Wait…what’s a “Starting Sentence” prompt?
A sentence prompt is a prompt that uses a particular sentence. It doesn’t matter where your story takes place, who’s in it, or what’s said. The only thing that matters is that your story must start with this sentence: So this is what drowning feels like.
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question, not a “comment”. 🙂 You’re all doing such a great job! I’m so proud of all the stories you’ve posted.
Happy Writing!
Will you notice if someone is like 1-25 words over the 1000 word limit (asking for a friend hahaha)
what if i accidently posted my story as a comment last week lol? does it still count?
Hey Izzy and Ava,
If you accidentally post your story as a comment instead of an answer, you should get an email to alert you! It will still count for points for your team, but no one will be able to vote for it.
And, to answer your question for your friend 😉 As far as word count, for your story to count for the challenge, it does need to be 1,000 words or under. Great questions!
Team Reepicheep (Team 1):
Safe
So this is what drowning feels like. I can’t say I am actually all that disappointed. Afterall, I’d waited six and a half years for this.
Let me back up and explain.
Six years ago, the farmer planted onions. I’d wanted to eat them every year, but this year the farmer had put them close enough to my cage that I could get a single mouthful before he pulled the basket away. They were amazing.
Five years ago, the farmer’s wife planted potatoes. I didn’t so much care for the part the farmer’s family wanted to eat, so I had gotten to eat the discarded scraps each year.
Four years ago, the farmer’s daughter planted carrots. Those were delightful. Every year since they’d been put in the garden, I’d made a point to sneak in and get a bite at least once a week. But in all honesty it was much closer to once a day.
Three years ago, the farmer’s son planted thyme. I never understood why they called it that, but I had no complaints since it tastes so good. As they say, “A rose by any other name would taste as sweet…”
Two years ago, the farmer’s brother planted rosemary. That too tasted delicious, but I was partial to the thyme and carrots more. He often bragged that he planted his crop in such a way that none of the animals could get to it.
Last year, the farmer’s nephew planted garlic. Honestly, I don’t know why. Like, seriously? Garlic is supposed to be so smelly it drives away vampires. They did know that there were no vampires, right? Why bother stinking up the garden like that?
And then there’s the farmer’s niece. She’s nice. She’s been sneaking me stuff from the garden every time she comes over to the farmer’s house. Every Tuesday and Friday, if I’m not mistaken. Those days I don’t have to sneak into the garden to get a bite of carrot, she brings a whole carrot right to me. A whole carrot!
Now we’re caught up to the present. The onions, potatoes, carrots, thyme, rosemary, garlic, and me. All waiting in one large pot.
Don’t ask me why the farmer’s nephew put me here, he had to know that I would eat as much as I could and then leave.
As of right now, I have eaten all the carrots, most of the thyme (some fell to the bottom of the pot) and half the potatoes. But I hear a sound.
“You want me to put water in the pot?”—That’s the farmer’s nephew— “Does the bunny need a bath?”
Aside from being offended at being called a bunny, I was also offended at the suggestion that I needed a bath. I had taken a hop through a puddle not three weeks ago!
“What do you mean, Harry?”—That was the farmer.
I paused mid chew, a sliver of potato peel hanging out of my mouth.
The farmer’s face suddenly blocked the light coming in from the top of the pot. “I meant for you to grab one of the rabbits from the freezer, not let one of the living rabbits eat our dinner.”
“But he looked hungry!” I couldn’t agree with the farmer’s nephew—Harry—more.
“Here.” The farmer reached his hands around my middle and placed me gently in Harry’s hairless arms. “Take him to your daddy, he’ll know what to do.”
“Okay uncle!” Harry ran outside the little farmhouse and to the back shed. “Uncle George said that you’d know what to do with the bunny.” The kid didn’t seem to notice that his father’s hands were already full holding an axe.
“Thanks son,” The farmer’s brother propped his axe against the side wall. “You go tell your mother that the meat will take a little bit longer than normal.”
I watched the kid run out to the garden. I looked back at the farmer’s brother, who held me against the table with one hand, and grabbed a knife with his other hand.
Suddenly, I realized what was happening. I started kicking my legs and flailing my arms in every way that I possibly could.
The farmer’s brother must not have noticed, because he lifted his head to look out the doorway.
“Put down the bunny!” Even though she called me bunny, I wholeheartedly agreed with the farmer’s niece.
“This is dinner Ellenore.” The farmer’s brother spoke firmly. “He was fed so he would be big enough to eat.”
“But he’s my pet!” Ellenore cried.
Actually, I lived in the forest since I was born, but I don’t think that fact would have meant anything to the farmer’s brother.
“He’s not your pet, he’s dinner.” The farmer’s brother answered.
“How about we wait until after dinner to decide?” Ellenore begged.
The farmer’s brother just about said no, I could see the word formed on his mouth, and then I was saved.
“Dinner’s ready!” The farmer’s wife shouted and rang the little bell that hung by the door.
The farmer’s brother relaxed his grip on my neck. Not much, but enough that I could squeeze out of his grip and jump into his daughter’s arms.
She squealed in delight, but not as much as I would have if I could squeal. Because, once in the arms of a little girl, any animal is safe from murder.
Wait so if we like accidentally post our stories as a comment here, will it count or be ignored?