Running Away with Your Writing

Today's individual writing prompt is this:

Ever wish, with every cell in your body, that you could run away? From home, from a person, from your job, from yourself? Physically or emotionally, on foot or purely in your own mind? … We’re looking for short prose—fiction or creative nonfiction—that explores the need to leave, to escape, to run. We love a speculative slant, whatever that means to you. It can mean the strange or surreal. It can mean horror or fantasy. It can simply mean it’s not what you’re supposed to wish for.

For this prompt, the goal is to write something you feel comfortable sharing. You'll have today's class and next class to work on it. Whatever you write may very well not be finished, but the idea is to write knowing that you'll share your writing with an audience.

This particular prompt could inspire a short story, a creative nonfiction essay, poetry, or a play. Escape into words!

Comments

  1. The house was grand, that was readily apparent with great halls and a large courtyard. The fields were vast and there was endless space to be free before reaching the inevitable fence in the distance. There was an abundance of things to do, a teenager would surely never be bored here.

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  2. The number 22 bus to Greenfield Commons had long since passed the Commons, had since passed the edges of the city, and trundled along out of the metropolitan bubble and into the soft green fields of potatoes and legumes (soybeans, peanuts, etc; Thomas wasn’t exactly sure).

    22 had indeed completed the first leg of its journey, but upon changing the LCD to read ‘22 to Wakeland Mall,’ Thomas (Tom to his friends, of which there weren’t many, even fewer that knew his name), found that his heart was not in it for another trip through the bustling city, which would prove to be his last, not matter how he tried to convince the board that he was sound of body, and perfectly able to push a few pedals for a couple hours a day. Unfortunately, they were unconvinced, and so Thomas chose instead to display ‘Not In Service’ in big gold letters, and continue his route out, and away from his Last Stop.

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  3. “Oh, it’s so hot in here,” Beatrice sighed, fanning herself with her hand. She turned to the math teacher, “Would it be possible to open a window?”

    “Of course,” Mr. Jacobs responded, walking to swing the room window open. A breeze came into the room, flipping pages on all of the notebooks.

    Beatrice didn’t think about what happened next, and if you asked her to explain, she wasn’t sure she would be able to. But without a second thought, Beatrice moved towards the window, leaned her head out, then jumped.

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