Prompt: Pandemic Dystopia

Pen Friends ~ Many people out there are looking for a ways to get through this crazy time. Joelle, a teen writer I know who lives in Asia,  just finished Laura Francis’s SLAVE, and was inspired to write a short dystopian prompt inspired by our current situation. After she sent it to me, we decided that we need to include you all in this.

andrew-amistad-4dGRiOoqudg-unsplashThe Prompt is Pandemic Dystopia.

Give us your best world, and scenario, adventure, romance, bravery, sneakery, and more. Post it in the comments or send it to me via thespinningpen@gmail.com, and I will add to our post! Let’s at least use our creativity during our crazy shut-ins.

Here is Joelle’s Prompt:

Setting: New Bend, United Republic. Year 3030. Character: Gen Avery, Female. Plot: none.
Fifteen days ago.
I don’t know what compelled me to do it. I’m not stupid. They told us to avoid public gatherings. But one night, around seven, buying my groceries after dinner, I took a detour. I guess I was that desperate for social interaction.
I walked into that bar, groceries and all, and watched everyone else watching me. We were all staring at each other over our masks. You’re crazy for being here during quarantine, we judged. I’m glad I’m not the only one.
I’d never been in a bar. That was the stupid thing about it. I didn’t know what to do and everyone was watching the crazy lady with the groceries. I wasn’t normal.
Therefore, I was a target.
I ordered a Corona from a strangely quiet bartender and sipped silently, looking around the room. The whole place was eerily quiet. Most of the people in here were probably regulars and sad alcoholics who were here for the drinks, not the activity.
And then what would I know but a man came and sat next to me on the bar. Suddenly I was scared. I didn’t care about being social. I wanted to go home to my dog and my kdramas where I was safe from the disease and creepy guys.
Signing off, Nova

Holiday Prompt

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Prompt time!

Finish this sentence in the comments below:

“I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when…”

Here are a few that were sent in already…

 

Winery Owner Isaac Schmid:

I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when my wife Gina put her swim suit on and said, “C’mon.. lets go”. It was an ‘ugly christmas’ suit like the sweaters but built for the water. We were actually going to do it. I put my matching trunks on, grabbed my beach towel and followed her down to the lake. “This can’t be good for humans I murmured.” Nobody seemed to hear me. The other three couples seemed apprehensive, Gina stood determined and unswayed by the 30 degree weather and the ice around the edges of the lake.

Author Laura Frances:

I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when I stepped off the plane at Miami International. Fat flakes drifting in blinding sheets. It’s a wonder we landed. This was supposed to be my escape…uneventful. I flicked a reluctant glance at the thick gray sky, then dropped it to my phone. Twelve missed calls. A shoulder rammed my own, followed by a mumbled sorry. The guy staggered on a few steps before stopping. He was staring at the sky too. Everyone was.

Teen Writer Elodie Lewis:

I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when I arrived. I didn’t know how to feel about it, seeing snow for the first time. It was cold, really cold. My fingers hurt and my ears and nose had gone numb… But there was something about all those bits of bright white transforming what once was a great expense of greenery into building sheets of frozen water. I tried to catch a few snowflakes, but they melted the instant that they touched my skin. It was really uncomfortable how beautiful and uncomfortable it was all at once. At least then I had an interesting story to take back home. But I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to return home, thought that maybe I should stay.

I didn’t know… 

Artist/Volleyball Coach Olivia Ramos:

I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when our submarine emerged from the depths of the Arctic Ocean…

Author Nova McBee:

I hadn’t expected it to be snowing when it was finally time to escape from Dexter Wellington, otherwise known as most despicable human ever at East High. Of course he asked me to stay just one more minute. Snow, ironically, was the reason we’d met in the first place and unintentionally discovered each other’s secrets.

Prompt: Warm Rain

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Warm Rain.

In 200 words or less, what scene do those two words bring to your mind?

Go. 

Then POST your prompt in the comments!

Here are two example prompts from SP writers Nova and Noah.

Nova:

I wake to small warm drops on my face. A splash on my eyelids has me wiping away what feels like a tear. But tears were for yesterday. Today is for survival. My eyes crack open to a brilliant rainbow light coming thru the mist. I squint and try to remember what exactly happened last night.

My arms push my body up. That is when I notice the bruise on my leg. Dang it. So it is true. I’m marooned. On an island. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. And all because of one little lie.

There’s a rustle in the palms and a rhythm that sounds like footsteps. With great pain, I bend my leg and scoot behind a large bush doubtful it can hide me. Whatever it is, its getting closer. Maybe I’m not alone after all.

Noah:

Thunder rumbled in the distance as I ran across the field. The clouds rolled over head as I ran faster. I always loved to race the rain. The thunder was like our gunshot letting me know the race had begun; the long grass brushed against my legs as I barreled past. My calloused feet pounding on the dry I earth. I could hear the rain coming fast from behind me, a loud, overwhelming whooshing sound, that seemed to come from everywhere and meant no escape.  l saw my small home in the distance and laughed to myself.

“The rain always won,” I thought as it finally caught up to me, instantly drenching me. Slipping in the fresh mud I fell onto the ground and laughed again.  

 

**Photo by Pete Nowicki on Unsplash

Prompt Reply: In Hiding

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Thank you to all of you who participated in our Prompt!

We selected Lily Cushman’s to share:

 

As I descended the crude man-made trail through the ruined city, pungent scents of smoke and mildew sting my nose. Graffiti filled walls guide me to the once safe haven to find a young soldier, very young, gasping for air on the ground, lying in pooled blood, though whether it was all his own blood I couldn’t tell. The smoke was thicker around here, reminders of the firefight we had interrupted with our medical helicopter mission. 

 I knelt beside him, QuikClot gauze in my hands and my jump kit heavy on my shoulders, filled with my field gear, IVs, medicines, bandages. Do you know how many pounds medics carry on a battlefield? I don’t know, but it’s a lot. A lot for my skinny person. 

 The soldier looked at me, fear and hope in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he could see me. That was a good sign. If he started babbling about seeing lights and such I would worry more. 

 “Hey,” I said as gently as I could. “I’m a medic. I’m here to help you. We are going to help you so you can go home. You read me, buddy?”

 He nodded vaguely. I gave him a small smile and then started looking at the damage. There were multiple gunshot wounds, and some lacerations on his hands and face. He was in bad shape, bleeding a lot, and his breathing was ragged. But I had seen worse. I started treating with QuikClot, a gauze that helped stop bleeding quickly, and then bandaged the small cuts on his face. The bullet holes, beyond QuikClot, could not be treated anymore effectively at this point. I started getting a 20 GA needle, an extension set and a saline bag ready so I could start an IV. 

 “I won’t – die?” He asked quietly. 

 I looked down into his face, and saw the hope taking over the fear in his eyes. You’re never supposed to lie to a patient or tell them something you don’t already know the answer to. But I had hope. Hope that he would pull through. Not just hope like ‘I hope it won’t rain this weekend.’ A genuine hope, like a ray of light piercing a dark cloud cover. A glimmer of good after so much evil. 

 “You’re going to be fine.” I said. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “We are going to get you home. Home to your family. I promise.” 

 Hope filled his whole face, even during the pain. 

 Hope is a gift, and when you can give it, it gives you a little hope as well. Hope that the darkness you face every day in everything won’t win. Hope that life is worth living, it’s worth pushing through the hellishness to see a hurting person smile, a broken heart be healed, beauty pulled from the ugliness that is rampant around our world. 

 As I descended the crude man-made trail through the ruined city, pungent scents of smoke and mildew sting my nose. Graffiti filled walls guided me to the once safe haven to find hope. Hope even in the despair.