"What do you want?" - Mr. Morden.
16. Where do you go when you want to get away from the pressures of life, family, work, etc? Write about that place.
Its warm, and quiet. Assuming the weather's nice. I have a nice little spot in the sun that I curl up with a book or fanfiction and a can of soda, and just sit there for hours on end. If I want to work on writing, I've got a place in the shade as well where I can go if it's too sunny to see the laptop. I'll listen to music, ignore my phone, and just do whatever the hell I please. Sometimes I'll visit corner store guy first, get something that ISN'T soda for once, or maybe a little bag of chips. Anything I feel like. There's a tree I like to sit under, with branches low and leafy, so much that you can hide in there against the trunk and not feel crowded. It's an old tree, in an old place. It whispers quietly and if you listen you can catch glimpses of the past. A history that no one remembers now; not worthy of the history books, but lasting in the memories of the trees.
17. In 400 words, create your ideal place.
(I'll go with the 400 words or less idea.)
My ideal place would be green. It would be huge really, With an ancient, thick forest, full of all sorts of plants and animals - the animals would all be just as wild as the place they lived in, but they would be tame for me. Wolves, dear, hawks, rabbits - all of them calling me their friend. There wouldn't be anyone for miles, just a small town with a few places to work near by, and a gas station to keep it running. I'd have my car -my baby- and some pets, and that's it. Just a place where I could live from one day to the next, writing, and being with my pets and my creature friends in the woods.
18. Write about what you'd say to an uninvited guest.
What would I say to an uninvited guest? At a party? I would tell them kindly to leave. If they refused I would make them; force them out and call the police. A criminal? I would disarm them, then hold em off with a machete until the police arrived then. A particularly psychotic ex? Stare them down with the crossbow pointed between their eyes and wait for them to leave on their own - as long as I could tolerate them being near me that is.
Well that's what I would do in those situations if I had balls... Who knows, maybe I would.
19. Begin a story with "There was once a chance I didn't take..."
(STOP; drabble time.)
There was once a chace I didn't take; a choice I didn't make. I'm glad I didn't. My life has changed now, for the better - I hope. If he doesn't come for me, then things will be calmer. Safer. Quiet. If... but no. He has no reason for me anymore. Unless he wishes to kill me. If he wished me dead though, I would be - there would be no coice in it for me. His power is unmatched, at a level that few even dare to dream of. While some are satisfied with turning red ripe strawberries to golden rings, he doesn't settle for something as low as to bring the dead to living. It's not enough for him. So I take great hope in the fact that I've lived this long; every second longer I live leaves the possiblility of one second more.
20. Write about the color of hunger.
The color of hunger is not the same for anyone. Some hunger for passion; their strong and red like the life pumping through them. Some hunger with greed for material wealth, thick and green. Scum. Every penny more they get, it is never enough. They hunger with a dark uncaring grin, while others on the street hunger for simple bread and water, their hunger a bright and blinding white. Sill others hunger for darker things, blood on their hands - black, power at their feet - purple. Every man's hunger is his own, and no two feel it quite the same.