Wednesday Writing Prompt (WWP)! is a biweekly writing challenge for you and for me.
Here’s how WWP works: I’ll post a writing prompt on Wednesday morning (that’s today!). Then you can participate by writing a 250 to 500 word scene or story in response to it. I’ll post my story response on Thursday and I’d love it if you share your scene or story (or the link to it!) in the comments of my response post.
Let’s see where this wacky world of writing takes us!
This week’s prompt was:
Very little grows in the desert.
Very little grows in the desert. The sun is filled with animosity and scorches everything that comes into its path. The sand is bleached, continually being shifted by the whim of the winds. Few creatures can survive the harsh temperament of the desert region. Yet, somehow, some find a way to do so. Evan is one such anomaly.
Evan James is a young man, avoided by many. He dwells in the desert, living a solitary life. A small grey tent is called home and fits into an army green hiking pack with the entirety of this lone man’s belongings.
No one knows where he came from or where he is going. He moves around on impulse; he does not seem to have a pattern or a plan. What he eats and drinks, how he survives, no one knows.
Soon all that will change.
Everything will change.
And for a girl named Rose.
Evan sat at his campfire. He unfocused his eyes as he gazed into the murky distance. By allowing his eyes to relax, he finally saw it. The movement. It wasn’t normal desert movement. There were creatures out here. Yes. Many of them. Some much larger than you’d expect.
But that movement wasn’t from one of those creatures.
That movement was distinctly human.
And distinctly dehydrated and disoriented.
Evan closed his eyes. He didn’t want to have to deal with this tonight. Not tonight. Of all nights, tonight was the one that he wanted to get lost in his memories.
But he couldn’t let that person keep wandering. Not in the state they were already in. And it was about to get cold, very cold.
He shifted his dinner in the coals, made sure it wasn’t getting overcooked, and stood up. Tying his scarf around his head to cover his nose and mouth–who knew what state this person’s hygiene would be in–Evan grabbed a flask of water and started trudging through the dunes. As he walked away from his camp he sent an apology to Maya. Their tradition, one he’d carried on alone for the last six years, wasn’t going to be carried out tonight.