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:

So this is what it means to drown.

Calla focused her eyes on the glittery bits of sunshine filtering through the water above her. It really was pretty, even if it meant she was far, far below the surface of the pond.

She hadn’t thought the murky looking pond would have such clear water, but it was actually much more translucent than she thought it would be. From the surface, it looked a mellow blue-green. But from here, slowly sinking to the bottom, her gown floating up around her, it looked almost perfectly clear.

She blinked. That was a strange sensation. The pond water mixed with her eye’s lubricant and, trapped beneath her lid for the split second that her eyes were closed, felt like there was too much of something in there, like her eyelids didn’t quite fit over her eyes anymore. That, along with the pressure in her chest, the burning in her throat, and the steadily building throbbing in her head told her that her body was rejecting this new location as much as her mind should be.

So, she thought, this is what it means to drown. Less frightening than I expected.

Leave it to him to throw her away like this. The least he could have done was kill her in her sleep quickly and quietly. Painlessly.

She should have asked him to.

She’d realized very quickly that she couldn’t give him what he needed. She couldn’t help him. She could no more break the curse on him than she could feed that child with her breasts.

But he hadn’t believed her.

He’d demanded she be what he needed. What he wanted.

And she couldn’t do it.

She tried. She did. But it wasn’t meant to be. The gods had failed him. The gods had told him she was what he needed. They were wrong. They weren’t to be trusted. She’d known this her whole life. From the time her mother died, she’d known. She’d only been two years old. But she knew. They lied. They were tricksters.

And they’d tricked him.

And they’d finally tricked her. She’d begun to hope. She had hoped she could be what he needed.

And now she was drowning.

trishajennreads' black glasses

Your turn! Post your response to the writing prompt (or your link to it!) in the comments. 

Leave a Reply