DWP No. 077


Allow the prompts to sink in and inspire you. Shoot for somewhere around 100-250 words, and be sure to share those amazing words (in the comments section) with all of us here on Writing Practitioners.



  1. Her daughter was oblivious to the far reaches her heart could go if she allowed it. She teetered as if in a delicate upside down yoga pose, one leg curved, lilting, feeling maturity’s weight, the other leg straight, unaffected, refusing to give in. How could such a pristine childhood be tossed out like the La Croix cans in the recycling, like years once effervescent, now gone? How could she close the door to the slime making years, and horse camp, how could she honor that joy she experienced as she watched Eloise’s Christmas for the umpteenth time. She relished that sacred place of girlhood purity. It was once her and somehow she needed to carry a piece forward. How could she hear a message she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear? Her youth fleeting daily, superseded by intense emotions, a tug of her rational brain and her silly putty heart. How could she make friends with adolescence when she knew inside she was still her parents little girl? Or was she?… it changed depending on the day. Some days she knew very well, she could parent them. Her moods were a fledgling baby bird, experimentally bobbling about before here own eyes. She refused to wear make up and padded bras, or anything fitted she was unsure about those new curves. Yet she shaved her legs and showed interest in driving. The word woman made her uneasy. Just hearing she was becoming one would make her slide from her chair under the table. Her first romance was no where in sight but her spirit of budding, supple, youth was obvious to outsiders; so romance could not be that far off. She was soft and quiet and introspective but partly willingly, softly forming to the noise of the outside world. She wanted to be unchanged perhaps because it would be easier on her parents? If only she would open the door to her room and let us in, perhaps her parents could give her that needed permission, to tell her, it’s okay to grow up now.

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  2. And I begin to giggle before the scene even unfolds. Will Smith’s character is whisper yelling at Martin Lawrence’s character inside a morgue. A small chuckle. Smith and Lawrence’s characters sit in Smith’s character’s Ferrari, and Lawrence’s character begins rubbing the interior, [paraphrased] “This is some real supple leather, Mike. You ever rub your leather?”

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  3. Such a beautiful sight. He sighed contentedly and deeply. All the best moisturizers in the world could never achieve this effect, the smoothness, How very supple.He gazed adoringly at her, breathed in the scent of flexibility, the attitude of invincibility, her vulnerability. That was his favorite part. To be the victor over the victim. To dominate the dominated. He sighed again. She was aloof and unresponsive. So beautiful. Yep,she was beautiful all right. It seemed a shame to disturb her peace. But there was no time to kill, if you’ll pardon the pun. It was showtime in an hour. All those patrons clamoring to get in. He better get busy. He grabbed a cleaver and started chopping.

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  4. “Press. Further. Do you feel that? Do you feel how it gives a little bit? Even when it’s cool to the touch, you still kinda feel a warmth from within it when you squeeze it in. Please, indulge yourself while I-” she slammed the book shut. This wasn’t going to work. There were too many people around, and she was already feeling… …supple.

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