Wednesday Writing Prompt (WWP) is a biweekly challenge for you and for me. I’ll post a writing prompt on Wednesday morning. Then anyone who wants to participate can write a 250 to 500 word scene or story in response to it. I’ll post my story on Thursday. You’re invited to to post your scene or story in the comments of my response post. Let’s see where this wacky world of writing takes us!

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Write 250 to 500 words on this prompt:

She fixed her hair and hopped nimbly through the window.

Go ahead–get writing! Write whatever comes into your head and just let the words fly. Don’t worry about editing. Just write. Then share your scene or story with us on tomorrow’s post.

What do you think of writing prompts? Will you be participating in WWP?

  1. She fixed her hair and hopped nimbly through the window. Would it follow this time? Last time she didn’t fix it securely enough and every Reclaimer knew the stuff had a mind of its own.
    Hot wind bombarded her from ahead and the right. The Vidal had not taken the left and all her instinct yearned to edge over there and hide among the shivering rebels. Would they help this time? Last time they chose a feeble path and eventually fell to the evil Scorcher.
    Her helmet fit well, good assurance that the hair had stayed behind. As she glanced down her skin tight uniform graduated from light blue to soul orange. The bombardment is fierce, she thought. If I have even one strand…
    Every step cost her a shade of blue. The rushing wind blasted from above now, though the left continued to hold. On the horizon she could see the gray tube, the source of the invasion, Scorcher’s launch pad.
    Am I alone? She wondered.
    A faint giggle made her grit her teeth.
    Where are you? She questioned.
    As she strained forward she scanned her body for abnormal sensations.
    Not my scalp, she thought, too obvious. Nothing itching on my neck, shoulders, elbows. My hands are numb, but that’s from holding the shield and neutraliser.
    Relax you grip, she heard her teacher’s voice say. It’s not the physical force of the wind that destroys.
    She gave up scanning her flesh and narrowed her eyes, targeting the gray tube.
    The giggles flitted through her mind again. One strand had defied her fixing, she knew. A small one, maybe a single hair, yes, that would explain the faintness of the giggle. She had to extinguish the wind before it caught that strand. No uniform would protect her now, it might as well dissolve into a particle cloud and leave her naked. The hair had a special alliance against her, with the Scorcher. The drought would expand. Her home would strangle in thirst.

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