Prompt 4 - (sensory details) Write a scene that’s set at a summer carnival at night. It’s common to focus on sight, instead write it once using only sound and smell and once using touch and taste.
Sorry, its’d been so long between posts… Mama drama, has kept me away from writing and deep in the parallels of parent care. I was pleased to see both my brothers this past week. I’ve found I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. There are people willing to listen and help and that’s made me feel even more blessed.
NOW onto the other 2 writing prompts I promised you …
Prompt 4…A…
Mary heard the faint strums of the calliope rise and fall as she neared the merry-go-round. The tune was warped with age, but it pulled at her memory like a loose thread. As a child, she’d adored the painted horses; as an adult, she still enjoyed the gentle spin, a quiet pause amid the carnival chaos.
The air was thick with temptation—wafts of funnel cake, popcorn, and fried dough clung so heavily that her stomach growled on cue. Carnival barkers shouted over one another, their voices clashing like cymbals: “Win a bear! Step right up! See the freak show!”
Mary smiled. She wanted to linger in this in-between, to take it all in before the rest of the gang arrived. Maybe she’d sneak a ride and a snack first. She’d once fantasized about running away and joining the carnival. Heck, she could’ve fit right in, maybe even as the “fat lady.”
A nearby tent flap snapped open, startling her. Smoke curled out, thick with incense and melted wax, and an elderly woman’s voice rasped from the shadows:
“Missy, it’s time to read your fortune.”
Mary hesitated, the sharp scent of candle smoke stinging her nostrils. What did she really have to lose?
Prompt 4 B…
Mary staggered slightly as she stepped off the merry-go-round, head spinning but delighted. She almost never got to ride when her friends were around—too childish, they’d said, too silly for a high schooler. But tonight she’d beaten them here, and she’d made the most of it: two rides, a funnel cake, and now a hot dog balanced proudly on her plate.
Her fingers still tingled with sugar; she’d licked them clean, but the fine dust clung stubbornly, smudging her shirt like chalk. She brushed at it in vain, then sank into a rickety folding chair outside a nearby tent, clutching her plate protectively as the metal frame wobbled. The hot dog smelled divine, the bun warm and soft, the mustard sharp. She bit in, the snap of the sausage releasing a rush of savory juice. Nothing homemade could match this, she thought with a satisfied sigh.
She adjusted her grip just as the tent flap burst open. An old woman shuffled out, eyes sharp, head shaking.
“Finally, you’re here.”
Before Mary could react, the woman spat on a handkerchief, pinched her chin, and scrubbed at the smear of mustard there. The cloth was rough, and her calloused hand pressed firm into Mary’s skin.
“Missed a spot, deary,” the woman croaked. Then her grip tightened on Mary’s arm, strong as iron. “Now—let’s see about your fortune.”
Next installment….Prompt 5 - (Conflict in Every Scene) Write a “quiet” scene (making tea, walking the dog) but add some form of tension: an unspoken resentment, a deadline, a secret.
Thanks, for sticking with me. Being absent, these past few weeks, I have lost subscribers…as I am a free read, I was truly disappointed. So you that click on the tiny heart, or comment lift my spirits. Bless you, Di