30 Days of Writing, Day 4: snowflakes
Today's drabble is brought to you by District 2 feelings, specifically the bit in Mockingjay where Lyme mentions having been ordered to attack The Nut head on time and again despite it never working.
using the prompts below, write a drabble (or whatever) a day for the next 30 days. find someone willing to hit you if you miss a day. look back at the end and go ‘oh! i’m a writer!’.
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
Silence rings as the screen turns grey, magnifying the shuffle of boots against stone floors. Lyme’s soldiers (Peacekeepers, quarriers, labourers) wait behind her.
Another head-on attack in the wake of the last failure. As if District 13 doesn’t read her mission reports; as if they don’t care whether Two’s handful of rebels perish at the base of the mountain. A few more missions and they can scale their corpses to the top.
Outside the first flakes fall, swirling up past the window in a pointless dance. Lyme’s laugh rasps her throat. “Maybe this time they won’t see us coming.”
using the prompts below, write a drabble (or whatever) a day for the next 30 days. find someone willing to hit you if you miss a day. look back at the end and go ‘oh! i’m a writer!’.
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
Silence rings as the screen turns grey, magnifying the shuffle of boots against stone floors. Lyme’s soldiers (Peacekeepers, quarriers, labourers) wait behind her.
Another head-on attack in the wake of the last failure. As if District 13 doesn’t read her mission reports; as if they don’t care whether Two’s handful of rebels perish at the base of the mountain. A few more missions and they can scale their corpses to the top.
Outside the first flakes fall, swirling up past the window in a pointless dance. Lyme’s laugh rasps her throat. “Maybe this time they won’t see us coming.”