I never thought of that .. . Prompt # 225

Winter landscape with falling snowflakes, snow and hills

Part Three of a three-part series of writing prompts inspired by Susan Bono’s Jumpstart Writing Workshop.

A rewarding aspect of writing is when writers create scenarios that offer illumination for  readers . . . that  “aha moment.”

                       Inside a Snowflake

Tiny snow droplets slide into the snowflake

as it falls to the ground. if you listen, really closely,

you can hear the sun crunching together.

The weather is stormy—a snowstorm

with little snowflakes inside the big snowflake.

A girl lives in the snowflake, with golden hair in pretty braids

with a ribbon on the bottom.

At midnight she watches the snow fall outside the snowflake,

and the icicles drip. the next day she goes out

on the frozen lake and ice skates.

Sparks of ice fly up behind her.

By Emily Osborn, Grade 3, Poetry In The Schools

I love this fun and creative perspective, “. . . little snowflakes inside the big snowflake.”

Our unique ways of seeing things and capturing our thoughts in the written word can inspire readers, “Oh, I never thought of it like that.”

But how do writers access those sparks of creativity? Just Write. Be  yourself. When you sit down to write, shed your inner critic, get in touch with your child-like world of discovery.

Writing Prompt: Write about being inside something.

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  1. mcullen Post author

    Being inside a 50-foot sailboat in the middle of the night, barreling along, during a storm in the middle of the Pacific Ocean . . . oddly, can feel comforting.

    Indeed, it was a dark and stormy night. The vessel under consideration is a wooden-hulled, two very tall masts, four sails, a vessel built for ocean sailing.

    It feels like being in the safety of a cocoon. I roll to one side and bump against the bulkhead. I hear water rushing underneath as if we’re sitting still in the water and it’s rushing past us.
    I hear lines buffeted by the wind. The sails are full of air —huffing us along towards our destination: Hawaii.

    With dreams of warm sand, I’m thrown to the other side of my bunk—a curved teak railing stops me from hurtling onto the galley floorboards.

    There is a fire blazing below in the miniature custom-made fireplace. The logs snap and pop every so often, sounding human in its desire to communicate—I’m here, it says. I’ll keep you warm. Go to sleep now. I’ll watch over you.

    Pots and pans and lids clang in confusion under the galley stove, a mere four feet from my head at the top of the bunk. Silverware rattles. But these are not friendly sounds. They annoy in their persistence to keep me from sleeping. I can feel their glee as they succeed in depriving me of sleep. I want to go to the fire—she’s friendly and welcoming with her orange glow and warmth. But hard benches are her neighbors so I stay in my cozy bunk, snuggled in a down sleeping bag that envelopes me. I peer out at the clanging pots and pans and lids and will them to stop. Just stop for a moment’s peace.

    I feel the wind lighten, the boat maintains an even tilt and I know the storm is almost over.
    When it’s safe, I pull on my jacket and boots and hat and gloves. I climb on deck and traverse as if going uphill to the bow. Clutching onto lifelines, I lean over the side of the boat. Dolphins ride our bow wake. These beautiful dolphins are beacons, transmitting a message —the storm is about to end. You’re safe. You will be fine.

    Take that, you clanging pots and pans and lids. I have a warm fire and dolphins. And I know I’ll sleep great tonight.

  2. Lisa Goben

    I love this Marlene! I could picture myself in this scene. Wonderful details and descriptions. Thank you for sharing!

  3. mcullen Post author

    Thanks, Lisa. It was fun to write, trying to use detail that felt real. Glad it worked for you! Marlene

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