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Daily Challenges: A new idea to explore and create each day. Use sound and photos, too!
 

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Note

Start your story with a character finding a note that totally surprises them. What does the note say? Keep the story going when the note is read and put down. [Photo Credit: Emma Parizo]
 

Responses to this Challenge

Jun 30
in poem 2 Comments challenge: Note

It's the Small Things

I was sitting at my kitchen table,
When a note flew through my open door.
I sat my asparagus green cup to the side,
And pulled myself up and forward.
The paper was about the size of my thumb,
And it was perfect.
It wasn't creased,
It had no lines,
And it was folded into fourths.
A robot couldn't even fold it that good.
I ran my pinky down its smooth edge,
And attempted to pick it up.
But my brain was reluctant,
And I just watched it.
Like something out of a storybook,
It sat.
I couldn't take it anymore,
My eyes ran dry,
My lips curved into that half smile half frown,
And my hand twitched with eagerness.
I grabbed the paper and unfolded,
Slowly.
When the last flap was opened,
I was astounded.
It was nothing like I thought,
And it spoke only one word:
Bliss.
I stood there,
Cardigan flapping to the wind from the door,
And stared.
Was it a message?
Was I suppose to make my life...happier?
Or,
Was my life already full of bliss,
And this little flap of paper just happened to notice?
I pondered until my head hurt,
And then I folded the paper back up,
Just as it had been found,
Accept for the little tear I had accidentally made,
Just in the left top corner.
I turned around,
Walked the five paces back to my table,
And sat in my chair.
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Jun 29
in fiction 1 Comment challenge: Note

Feelings

Every now and then, I am able to be in an empty classroom with just myself and reflect on what I do as a human being. Today, though, I saw a folded note on top of a desk and I was debating with myself for picking it up or not. In the end, my concience lost and I opened it and when I did I wish that I didn't. The note said, "Whenever you are here, I feel that I am no longer close to you." Those words are probably the most scary words that I will hear in my life. Even though they aren't mine, I would hate to be the one to say or recieve that note. But what will I do about it? Should I fold it up and put it back? Or should I just throw it in the trash? I know that someone put in feelings toward this note but I don't want him or her receive heartbreak when this person reads the note. On the other hand, I shouldn't have read this note and if I put it back and watch the emotions play through and I would want to be there for these people and when I do, it will be shown that I have read the note. What should I do?

 #sos17
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Jun 29
in fiction 2 Comments challenge: Note

A note with friends

I was surprised to find,
while walking into my kitchen,
a stray ♪ lying on the floor.
It was a small note, a quick note
all by itself,
silent.
Where are you friends?
The note didn't answer, 
though
even so,
I could tell that it was 
a quick note
a small note
a light note
made in haste
not a drawn out
affair.
♪
Why are you silent?
I scratched my head.
I didn't understand,
so, instead of
just looking,
and wondering, 
I went and poured myself
a cup of coffee,
black, no sugar,
and read for a while.
Then I went back to the
♪
and found
it standing up,
clearing its throat
and this time
this time,
It spoke.

 

And it spoke again.

 

 Where are your friends?

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Jun 27
in non-fiction 1 Comment challenge: Note

We Were Just Kids


The note was placed on the blue kitchen counter top, folded in a haphazard way, the edges not lined up. The paper was crinkled, seemingly used, like an afterthought. I gently reached out and took it from its perched place into my palms, hoping it wasn't what I thought it was. 

It was, of course. 

A note from you. I held my breath as I took each fold and opened your words up, smoothing the creases against the counter. I became anxious, wanting every wrinkle to be gone. This was your gift to me, why should it have these markings all over it, distorting your beautiful words, each written by your hand. 

I laid the paper in front of me, and let my weight be carried by my hands gripping onto the edge of counter, my knuckles white and red all at the same time. I gazed at this piece of paper, with three simple lines upon it:

Don't want you to think of this as some cliché of any kind, so I'll keep it simple. 
It's been good between us, and I hope we can meet again someday, somewhere. 
Don't feel bad, because I know I'll be okay, and more importantly: You'll be okay. 
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