Category: blog

blog, prompt, story, writing

The Overwhelming Dread: Suspense

Lauryn

Rough Prompt Fiction by Lauryn Lambert.

Genre: Suspense

Story: The main character comes to realise that there’s no escaping fate

Themes: Imprisoned against your will

Words: 560ish

The Overwhelming Dread

I don’t know how long I wait. 

The lights are on all the time, so I mark the days, with the flow of the people.
When there are people here, walking around and looking at us, it must be the daytime, but all we feel is dread. When there are not, we all breathe a sigh of relief. We lasted another day. 

It is slowly dawning on us all that this is a fight we cannot win. Each day someone cracks or melts under the pressure of waiting, wondering if they will be chosen next. If they will be plucked by a manicured hand and looked over with a greedy smile.

The crackpots, as I have named them in my head, let the pressure build up until they explode, and can no longer hold themselves together. The melty ones, also another internal nickname, just turn to goo and will not respond to anything anymore. It’s sad really, but I can’t blame them. I’m not sure how I am still holding myself together with this heat.

We don’t have a life, but we don’t want one. I’m sure all of us would give anything to remain here indefinitely, like an eternal night, trapped in this current boring existence, cramped, confined in these metal contraptions. If only we could escape the horror of being picked out by one of the people and being taken elsewhere. I’ve heard the stories. These people, these beings, are monsters!

Oh sure, we are dressed up to look desirable, and the company’s marketing is so good that the people walking around the shop don’t ever stop to think if buying us is wrong. They can’t see the dread, can’t comprehend our pain. We exist for them, to satisfy their wants. Why would we have feelings? It’s their pleasure that matters. And all they seem to find pleasure in is our destruction.

Once you get to the display, there are no exceptions, no one escapes. Everyone gets taken in the end. It’s just about if you are first, or if you are last. There’s not much hope left, but we try.

The people begin to enter again. It’s another day. I watch sadly as someone else gets taken from a different display. We all sigh in relief and feel terrible at the same time. I hope the end is quick.

I look away as they are taken from the store. It’s impossible to tell if our end will come straight away, or if the person will drag it out over hours and days. I don’t want to know. I’ve seen 19 of us be taken already, and there’s simply no way to tell. I cannot let my guard down. I cannot afford a crack. Those of us who are left are getting superstitious now. I must keep up my barriers.
The shop empties, we have survived another day, but there’s no room for cheers. The egg next to me begins to show cracks of panic.
There’s nothing I can do. But there’s something you can do. You can be the difference. Just sit here a minute with me. Can you imagine, sitting all day surrounded by metal, unable to move, watching, waiting, never knowing when you will be picked? No? Well maybe think about that next time you unwrap a chocolate egg for Easter.
But you won’t stop, will you? Monster.

Authors Note: I really love chocolate eggs 🙂 I’m glad they aren’t sentient beings!

Thanks for reading and sharing!

blog, prompt, writing

Prompt: The lonely crowd

Lauryn

Rough Prompt Fiction by Lauryn Lambert

The Lonely Crowd

“It’s called a painkiller!”

“A what?” he leans towards me, obviously finding it hard to hear over the laughter at his table.

“A painkiller.”

He nods at me and smiles, “Looks good!”

“As advertised.” I look back to his table, there’s about ten of them crammed in there. I can’t quite work them out. “Work function?”

His face relaxes and a genuine smile extends across his face that I can’t help but return. “No actually, more like a social club. We’ve been meeting for maybe two years now.”

“Did you know each other before?” From here they look like they have been friends for ages, talking animatedly sometimes over the top of each other, then interrupting the person talking to grab someone else’s attention. 

“No, we were complete strangers, it took some of us a while to warm up, but we’ve clicked.”

“Here you go sir.” The bargirl lines up his drinks. “Let me get you a tray.” It looks like he has bought for at least half the table.

“If you aren’t meeting someone, feel free to join us?”

I narrow my eyes, sorely tempted, but still wary. There were so many kinds of social clubs around. “What kind of social club is it exactly?”

He chuckles, and looks away blushing. “Well, it started because we were all single, looking to just make friends and hang out.”

“Socialising singles?”

“Yeah. We call ourselves ‘The Lonely Crowd.'” He shrugs loading the drinks on to the tray.

I look down at my drink, and back at the table and shrug. “Okay, I could use some more friends.”

blog, prompt, romance, writing

Prompt: The defrosted fridge

Lauryn

The defrosted fridge

Rough Prompt Fiction

By Lauryn Lambert

“Hey.”

“Hey?” Lara barely glanced at Tony, she was halfway through cleaning out the fridge and she was in no mood to talk to her ex at this time.

“Can we talk?” He shuffled from foot to foot and peered over the door at her.

“Can you wipe this out with vinegar while I listen?” She kept scrubbing, not expecting a reply from him. He had a track record of doing absolutely nothing.

She jumped when he appeared on the other side of the fridge hand outstretched.”Yeah I can.”

She swiped a stray hair behind her ear and passed the cloth and spray bottle over. Lara blinked at him, curious to see if he would actually do any of the work.

“I can see you have been working hard.” He nodded to the living room, “you deserve a break.”

When Tony had left, Lara had channelled her energy into cleaning. She hadn’t realised how much stuff of his she had accumulated, and once she started her joy started coming back. She even let go of a lot of her own stuff too. She had donated her things that were in good condition, but she maturely boxed up his stuff for him to decide about.

“So these past few months that we have been separated, I have been doing a lot of thinking.”

Lara nearly spat out the water she was drinking. It was Tony who had left, deciding that they needed time apart, and that she should think about whether or not she wanted to be in this relationship.

“Alright.” She wasn’t brave enough to take another sip.

He sprayed the fridge down and began scrubbing. “There was a lot of junk, a lot of built up crap, and I was taking our relationship for granted.” His head disappeared into the fridge and he grunted. “I wasn’t taking any time to care for you and I was belittling you for taking care of yourself and trying to take care of us.”

Lara couldn’t make a sound. How had he come to this conclusion on his own? Was this a set up? Tears welled in her eyes.

Tony peered up over the fridge door. “I blamed you for my problems, but I think in the end what I needed, was like this fridge, I needed to be defrosted, clear out all the excess ice, and then things might work a lot better.”

“You are a defrosted fridge?”

He shrugs, “Maybe, a little. I know it’s going to take some time, and some reorganisation, but if you can forgive me, I’d like to try again. With you.”

Lara pressed her lips together and let out a long slow breath. “We can try.” She raised her eyebrow at him, “but it’s going to be slow.”

A smile broke across his face, “Thank you,” he said, before ducking back down to finish the job.

With eyebrows still raised, Lara toasted herself with her glass of water. Their second relationship was off to a promising start.

blog, prompt, writing

Prompt: The bent coat hanger

Lauryn

The Bent Coat Hanger

By Lauryn Lambert

Rough Prompt Fiction

She inhaled sharply, assessing the damage. She knew she didn’t have many other options. She had to be quick, people, neighbours would be coming past soon, asking their questions. She gripped the wire coat hanger in her hand and looked around to see if anyone was watching. All clear. She took a deep breath, set her eyes, put one hand slowly on to the gate, and quickly got to work.

She bent the last part of the wire with the pliers, twisting it around itself. It was secure. She had not thought that a fix was possible, or even in her control, but here she was. She had fixed the fence herself. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t perfect, but it was practical, and affordable, and she did it with her own hands. She smiled to herself as she put her tools away.
“If I can do this, imagine what else I can do!”

blog, prompt, writing

Prompt: A deleted email

Lauryn

Prompt: A deleted email

Rough Prompt Fiction by Lauryn Lambert

All the emails I have never sent

Dear friend
I think you would like my creative newsletter, do you want to check it out?
love, Me


Dear friend
sometimes it feels like I’m invisible because you only initiate contact maybe four times a year. I had hoped I was more special than that?
love, Me.


Dear friend
I’m too afraid to ask you if you want to chat or call or hang out for coffee because I will get my hopes up or you just won’t answer the question.
love, Me.

Dear friend
I really need someone to talk to regularly, will you be that person?
Love, Me.

Dear friend
Will you please bake me a cake and we can sit together and eat it all and watch a movie?
love, Me


Dear Whale
I really want to see you in person. Could you please time a spectacular jump for when I am gazing out at the ocean?
Thank you.

Dear Stranger
I need help working through this new area, will you please take me under your wing?
Thank you!

Dear Rain
I need you but you are making me angry at the moment and your mess is encroaching on my space. I need some alone time then we can go back to rainbows and jumping in puddles together again.
Love, Me

Dear Family
I love you, I’m flawed. You know this.
So please stop pointing out my imperfections, while being surprised that I’m not wonder woman in the space of two minutes.
I’m not your saviour. Use Jesus for that.
Love, me

Dear Me
I love you.
I don’t tell you enough.
Thanks for being you, I really enjoy it, and I enjoy hanging out with you.
We have lots of fun and I’m thankful.
Love, Me.

blog, prompt, romance, story, writing

Short and Sweet: Permanent Marker

Lauryn

Permanent Marker

Rough Prompt Fiction by Lauryn Lambert.

Genre: YA Contemporary Romance

Story: When you make a connection with a girl at a party, but wake up to find that she didn’t write her number on your arm as you’d hoped. All you have left of her memory is a meaningless diagram drawn on your skin in permanent marker. Did she ghost you or does the drawing mean something more?

Themes: Love at first sight. Cinderella.

Words: 1362

Read Permanent Marker

blog, prompt, Uncategorized, writing

Prompt: The Open Window

Lauryn

Rough Prompt Fiction By Lauryn Lambert.

I’ve been thinking about that window for as long as I can remember. There is a blue wall against my back, an eggshell green wall to my right, and to my left is a mustardy wall with a door. But right across from me is a golden yellow wall, with a window.

At first all I did was glance at it now and again, playing with the small thought about how nice it would be to look out, or to even climb out, but those wonderings never remained. As the years go on, however, the more I find myself looking at it, admiring the colour and the peeling paint. I watch the panes, and the light reflecting through them. Every now and again I even catch myself staring.

I could move my position of course and look at the door, and some days I do. I know what is behind the door, but it breaks up the continuation of walls.

I begin to suspect that this window fascination is going to be a problem, when I begin reading books about windows, and all the beautiful things beyond. 
I read stories about people gathering up the courage to look out, and eat up everything they learned. I’m in awe of the people, and characters that open the windows and even climb out! Can you believe that?

It seems impossible for me. A nice dream to have. Special people, talented people look out windows. Brave people open them, and the truly heroic leap into the unknown. I was neither special, nor talented, brave, or heroic. It was nice to imagine, to lose myself in the fantasy of maybe. 

I would never admit to anyone that I even think about looking out a window, or that I read about them. I’ve seen the looks that people give those people who swear they have seen the light, and cannot do anything but obsess about how to get out there. Every now and then one of them disappears and I wonder what really happened to them.

One day I was feeling a bit sick, or maybe a smidge abnormal, a tad reckless even, and I peeked up and looked out. Just like that. No thought about it or anything. I sat down underneath the sill in shock.
What had possessed me to do that? I was overwhelmed with the light, movement and colour!
I was very very clearly not cut out for looking out windows!

I put the idea out of my mind for a very long time. Then another day, I found one of those old stories, and I began to doubt my assertation. Perhaps my ego was out of balance that day, but I gripped the window ledge, took some deep breaths and tried again.

Oh it was amazing, and terrifying, exhilarating and overwhelming. My eyes were tired from the colours and movement, and my brain struggled to understand what I was seeing. Everything frightened me!
Some days all I did was stare out the window and the things it showed, other days I couldn’t even bring myself to look at it, and this continued for days on end.

One thing was certain, I couldn’t go back. My eyes adjusted, my habits adjusted. And even if I didn’t look at it, or look out it’s panes, I thought about looking, and that was something. I was feeling entirely rebellious and reckless the day just before the new year, and I put my hand on the latch.
Surely if other people had opened windows, I could too!?

I was practiced at looking out now, and I was sure I could work out how to open the mechanism. After all I had read books about it, and numerous explanations of how a window was to be opened, it was high time I tried. Who knew when I’d get a moment like this again?
Surely I was wasting my life if I didn’t try?

Or was I? What if I tried and I couldn’t do it? What if someone wrote a book about how horrible I was at opening a window? What if I wasn’t strong enough? Was I really brave enough? 

I wasn’t sure, so I lay back and stared at the ceiling instead. This continued for many weeks, many months and many years. Many doubts were discussed. Nothing was decided for sure. Should I? or should I not?Could I? Or could I not?

So one day, I tried.

It was hard to breathe but there it was. The window was sitting open, and I had opened it.

My heart was racing.

What could I do now?

Want to join in? The next prompt is


Don’t worry about how good it is, it’s all just good practice!

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Week 1 Prompt: The stench of blood

Lauryn

Prompt 1: The Stench of Blood

Word count: 487

Setting: In the universe where a newly turned Vampire is sticking to his morals. Or trying to.

The stench of blood is in the air, every way I turn.

It seems inescapable, it’s maddening, a craving I can not turn off.

Yes I know, craving and stench don’t usually go well together, but old habits die hard, and besides, I like some of those old sayings. 

As weird as they seem now, they tell a story, my story.

Well the biggest part of what I know so far, which was when I breathed and my heart worked. When I was human.

But that is all behind me now. I’m eternally a Millennial.
Heh, that’s pretty funny.

What was I saying? Right, back to the stench.

I still say stench because that is what it smelt like before. 

That metallic zing that is blood in the air.

Women seem to recognise it faster than men do, but I suppose that makes sense really.

It’s not pleasant, or the type of smell one would crave, like a good roast dinner, or a chocolate cake in the oven.

But that too has changed.

I think that was the first thing I noticed after my rebirth to this new life.

The stench wasn’t so much a cover your nose and mouth kind of smell, it was a wafting, alluring, promise like the warm promises that assault our noses when it’s almost dinner time, or dessert has warmed up.

That’s the problem with this life, really, you don’t have to wait. 

Blood is everywhere, fresh, although let’s be honest, some fresher than others.

Everyone says children taste underripe, and I’m going to take their word for it. That just seems immoral to me, biting children, vampire or not.

I have to take a stand somewhere.

Some say the aged taste rich and thick, as long as they aren’t dying. Some of us apparently love the kick their cocktail of medications bring to the table, but I’m not so sure.

Those vampires call themselves guardians, like they are the saviors of the elderly they bite. They seem like gluttons to me, and have forgotten that they once had a soul.

Me? I stick within my age group, well what should be my age group. 

25-45, non smoker, preferably lactose intolerant, who likes their vegetables.

Normal food tastes like ash to me now, but I still cry when I think about donuts.

Did you know your food leaves an aftertaste? 

I prefer the ones who like salad.

How odd, right?

But I’ve got to have rules, better rules than they’ve got about how many vampires you can spawn in a year, or about crossing thresholds, tanning beds or holy water. 

Is it ironic that now I am what I am, powerful, immortal and kick ass, that I’ve realised how much I need rules or my life is going to be more hell than it was before?

I probably should look up the definition of irony.

I wish Vampires had photographic memories.

Art, blog, writing

How to finish? 5 tips to get it done.

Lauryn

What do I need to do in order to achieve this?

We ask ourselves a version of this question, every day.
“What do I need to do to get to work on time?”
“How am I going to get dinner ready and return this phone call?”

Most days, we do figure out what we need to do to get it done, and we make it happen!
Multiple times over
But why is it so hard to get the project done when it comes to creating?

I’m sorry but I do not have all the answers.
I’m still asking myself, “what do I need to do in order to get this book done?” (over and over again) but here are some thoughts which might help us both!

  1. Make a list.
    Make a list of achievement steps and break them down as far as you can.
    Include how much time you would like to allocate to that task.
    Things can suddenly seem much more achievable!
    For eg.
    Step 1: Write 43 extra scenes for the new characters.
    I allocate 15 mins each scene. So that is about 11 hours total
    If I decide to allocate an hour of each day to write four scenes. I could be done in 11 days!
  2. Make your project smaller. (at least to begin with)
    If you have never finished a creative project before, it’s far easier to start small and work your way up.
    For example if you want to write a novel-
    Start with a short, but complete story, then repeat, and gradually lengthen the stories as you go.
    Break the novel down into chapters and outline them, and write a chapter at a time.
  3. Get gathering.
    Working with others can give you an outside source of motivation, ideas, encouragement and also accountability. Choose your circle wisely and they will enrich your creativity and productivity immensely.
  4. Believe in yourself.
    Others already believe in you, probably more than you do. Take some encouragement out of their book. Repeat some affirmations to yourself, and act like you believe you will achieve it. If you believe that you can achieve the project in 11 days if you prioritise it, you will prioritise it.
  5. Ask yourself why?
    Why is this project so important? Is it feeding your curiosity, your ego, or is it serving a better purpose?
    Maybe you discover that the reason for the project isn’t as important as the space and freedom you will feel in your mind and heart if you let the project go instead. Yes there may be a bit of grief, but that shouldn’t be a weight if the why is not worth it.
    If you remember the why, this can also help you harness the motivation you had for beginning it and use it to help you complete it.

    I’m sure there are more great strategies out there, and please when you come across them, send them my way!

    Keep creating!

    Lauryn xo


Art, blog, writing

Will my imperfect creations still change the world?

Lauryn

I’m not really writing tonight with a broader point in mind than to relate an experience I had this week.

Some of you may know, but if you didn’t here:- ten weeks ago, I began writing a creative newsletter.
No one was more shocked than myself, that I have been able to keep it going for ten weeks in a row!

I feel, (and actually this may not be factual) that on creative projects I often flare and fade, rather than see them through. Which is very interesting to me because recently a friend remarked that one thing she liked about me was that I usually do things when I say I will do them!

Obviously something is going wrong somewhere in my creative space!

Anyway, back from that squirrel tangent moment!
I began writing a newsletter and it was scary! In order to press send I had to remind myself that people don’t only resonate with the masters. people resonate with things created by beginners, with things created with childish drawings, or mistakes in the writing. Imperfect creations still change the world too.
Those things that we imagine or want to create, will not change the world if we don’t make them or share them. And if we don’t start somewhere, how are we going to get where our dreams tell us we are capable of being?
So I began. It wasn’t awful, it wasn’t good. It looked okay.
And I got through ten weeks of curating, and putting it together.

Somewhere along the line, I asked for some feedback.
And of course it wasn’t anything like I wanted to hear!
But I do greatly respect her, her creative talents, her insight and her time, so I wanted to act.
And I tweaked a bit, and changed a bit, and I sent that next newsletter out with mistakes and everything!
But it still needed more! Ugh! Why is making things so good and so painful?
So last week, and I had a migraine so I can’t even remember why I decided to do what I did…but I worked on the newsletter some more. Instead of photos I drew some of my own pictures. I added more clarity, and more sections! I even wrote a blog post for it!
And as I looked at it, the feeling of unease and frustration turned into joy. Somehow, through the practicing, and the trying, and the tweaking, I had arrived at what I was hoping to make!

That is the absolute best feeling! Arriving at what you were hoping to make!

This is not a story about how you can achieve your goals in ten weeks, because really we need to count all those weeks of years that I wanted to write a creative newsletter but didn’t. Or tried and stopped.
And I’m sure I’m not finished tweaking, and I’m definitely not there yet on my content, and I want to use it to encourage more creatives, but the line work is done, and it’s all about the detail now!

Was this a boring story about how I achieved something?
Maybe?
I wanted to say that your imperfect creations will still change the world.
And as you put them out there, and get some feedback, and practice and learn some more, eventually the thing you are making will be exactly what you want it to be, and the joy of that, is awesome.
In the very least, you will be changing your life, but I will bet that it won’t stop there!

Did I know that before this week, that imperfect creations will still change the world? Maybe I would have agreed theoretically, but thinking through my piles of creative thoughts that have come (so far) to nothing, I would have said I didn’t know that. Or I felt too overwhelmed to keep going.

But that is not me anymore. I am using this joy, to spur me on to finishing other imperfect creations that have been bugging me, and also some not yet created things too.
Here is my list:
Refresh my website
Write some recipes
Put some designs on some t-shirts.

Hold me to these my friends!

Where do you need to keep going?