Workshop OR Challenge? You decide!

Hey Everyone,

I sat down today to do a Prompt, but got distracted. I am in a new Creative Writing class right now and we had to write a Prompt along the lines of, write the action leading up to an Aha! moment. I guess this is one of those classic Prompts that seemed to be so out of the Fantasy world, they don’t really inspire me too much, but I did it like a good student because I paying a lot of money for this class.

Before we get to the story, today I am trying something new. You can either Workshop the story in the comments or try to figure a way to tie this into the Fantasy genre.

CHALLENGE – Workshop the roughest of rough drafts or Suggest in the comments what ways this story could transform into something Fantasy based. 

Here is the story! Remember, we are not writing realization, just the action up to the Aha! moment.

Numbing

The cold of the snow seemed to be stuck in my fingers. A snowmen army may have been over ambitious for the chilly December day. Snow was different in December. It was hard, unforgiving, perfect for snowmen and snow balls, but it could seep deep into fingers that had only seen eight previous winters.

It was hard to resist a snow filled Saturday, especially with a family of seven. My brothers and sisters were busy making snow angels with my parents when I tried to recover the feeling in my fingers.

As the wooden stairs creaked under my slight weight, a tingle in my pinky encouraged my current de-thawing method of shake and suck. My Power Ranger themed boots came off in a few practiced motions as I noted an odd flavor on my index finger.

The entry way to my family’s four bedroom haven was unnoticed as my coat was abandoned in the hallway that lead to the linoleumed kitchen. One benefit of the cold weather was ability to quick slide across the smooth patterned floor on socks that seemed to be made for this type of transportation.

A quick look in the fridge did nothing to quiet my stomach or regain the motion of my thumbs. The calorie burn of assembling an army made of frozen water demanded refueling and the flavor coming off my fingers as each got their turn de-thawing needed to be replaced by something less salty. I closed the yellowed door holding five Christmas lists of varying readability and looked for something to cure my current needs. My eyes found the perfect mark.

Upon the old maple table my dad said his dad made, holiday desserts awaited my hunger. The story of that table made me think of the Brawny paper towel man chopping wood in a forest, slaving away for something my family now used as a landing pad for food and school books. I wished my grandpa didn’t die before I could articulate that my fingers were almost back to normal functioning appendages.

With my parents busy outside, my siblings otherwise occupied, and my stomach soon to be appeased with sugar perfection, it was time for adventure. A new house renovation had caused some areas of the house to be closed off for six months to then be reopened as the first snows hit. A grand tour was given to educate the family of the new areas they could use.

This openness was short-lived. As soon as the new rooms opened, add-on-land was closed up for the season. Locks, which were a new concept for the house, were added to my parent’s room and my dad’s new office before a proper inspection of these rooms could be had.

This mystery would now gain my full attention. I walked out of the kitchen, glanced at the Christmas tree to make sure Santa had not come while we were outside, went down the new hall that connected these new areas to the original house, and prepared myself for some lock picking.

Since I had no idea how to lock pick, I just started trying to use anything to open my parent’s door. I soon realized without a key, this door would be impossible. The new office was next.

This lock was not as heavily guarded. A quick carpet slide down the hall, landed me outside of my own room hunting for a wire hanger. With some quick handy work, I was able to fashion my first lock pick. I thanked my cartoon education for the episode behind my new lock pick and slide back to the unsuspecting door.

The bent head of the hanger slide into the door and after some aiming, a click released the catch of the lock. I pulled the handle down, cracked the door, scoped the room for any danger, and then eased into the room like a shy animal that slithers. I looked around and saw my father’s life spread out like one of the story books he read to us at night.

Desk, chair, lamp, pens, all the boring stuff an office holds could barely hold my eyes suspicious judgement. The closed closet made me pause.

Three quick steps placed me in front of the most mysterious thing I had met since breakfast’s odd episode of a new method to making pancakes. My fingers trembled as I reached for the inset circular handle of the door. The cold in my fingers now totally replaced with the thrill of the adventure.

I slide the door open as if it was pressurized. SWOOSH! My excitement burst as I found trash bag after trash bag laying on top of each other. Either my dad had gone crazy or he was storing our garbage for future use.

Since a smell didn’t blast my nostrils, I took a chance and made my fingers untie one of the tied bags. The shaking stopped as the bag fell open.

END

I know there is a lot to work on, and since this is the roughest of the rough, you can just post your comments on the story in the comments section. I promise to post a more conventional Prompt later this weekend, but I wanted to see the reaction to this post.

NOTE – If you did have any comments, don’t post huge chunks of the story, try to just get the relevant areas to back up your claim. Just referring to a section of the story is fine by me, I will figure it out.

Hope this is a little different for your weekend boredom (that is if you are bored).

Have a Safe and Happy Weekend,

Sir Drewster III

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    • Allison Roehling
    • August 30th, 2011

    Hi Andrew! I was wandering through Facebook, found a link to your site, and couldn’t help but accept your invitation to comment on your story. I really liked how you developed your eight year old character. His actions and thoughts were made very youthful and alive with descriptions of Power Rangers, a cartoon education, and the Brawny Man. I could picture every movement and every pause for thought when looking through the fridge or gearing up to face the office lock. Aside from a few awkward sentences like the character wishing to tell his grandfather about his reanimated fingers (which I don’t think was supposed to read that way), it read well for a first draft. Anyways, I’m glad to see that you’re writing; I remember you mentioning it the last time I bumped into at the gym almost two years ago now (I think). Hope all’s well!

    • Hey Allison,

      Thanks for the comments and the thoughts, and mainly for taking the effort to type something. You are absolutely right in a half, this first draft is rough. I wanted to cheat and do a little editing before I posted but thought the more rough the better. The Grandfather lines might be dropped or developed more, can’t decide.

      On the other foot, you are correct, we are getting old. I believe our class should be turning 24 this year. Craziness. Did you have a WordPress or anything I can check out?

      Andrew

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