#WeekendWritercize 8 - Same Start

Welcome to the 8th edition of the #WeekendWritercize competition!
Join in and spread the word to friends and family! 

(...and if you haven't had a chance to read entries from past weeks, check them out on the #WeekendWritercize tab - some seriously talented folks like to play)

writercize: Use the following sentence to start your scene:
She awoke at dusk in a field of daisies.
(Note - you may substitute "she" with a character's name.)

To enter the competition, leave your entry as a comment below. Be sure to include your Twitter handle and link to your blog or website. Tweet and Facebook fellow entries using the hashtag #WeekendWritercize.

Since this blog is used by teachers and students, I kindly request that you abstain from profanity and gratuitous violence. (In other words, keep it PG-13.) If your story can't be told without, just provide a link to your post on your own website along with a disclaimer.

Competition closes at 11:59 p.m. Sunday night (Pacific time). Winner announced sometime Monday, often knocking on midnight's door.

This week's winner and honorable mention(s) will receive a #WeekendWritercize Winner badge to proudly display on their website.


  1. This prompt really inspired me. It is nearly 2,000 words and bloody. Here is the link: http://www.lisamccourthollar.com/2012/03/chosen.html

  2. Sara woke at dusk
    In a field of daisies,
    Wondering where
    She had been.

    Blouse torn
    Skirt mussed
    Yet no one around
    To blame

    Something was taken
    Or did she give it
    Either way
    Nothing was returned.

    Rising, she dust off
    Pushes back her hair
    And goes on.

  3. Picking Eliza

    Eliza awoke at dusk in a field of daisies. Her lids fluttered open, eyes fighting to adjust to the dimness that painted everything around her deep shades of blue. The air was cool and damp, a light sheen of dew coating her skin and hair along with the daisies surrounding her. The typically perky little flowers drooped under the weight of the moisture, bending slightly as if in deference.

    Fireflies winked in the gloom, hovering in the air like glinting jewels. One landed on a daisy beside her head, its tiny legs probing the petals gingerly. Eliza was entranced by the explorations of the little insect, until it dawned on her that the last thing she remembered was being in this very field in the middle of the sunny afternoon. With Jeremy.

    Sitting up suddenly, her gaze panned the area, looking for a sign of Jeremy or their picnic. They’d laid out a burgundy and white plaid blanket and had a traditional woven picnic basket packed with enough food to feed four, even though it was only for two.

    There was no sign of their picnic anywhere here. That wasn’t entirely true—as she leaped to her feet, she spied the depression in the grass where the blanket had flattened the long blades.

    “Jeremy?” Her voice came out as a hoarse croak, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Jeremy?”

    Her only answer was the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs. As she walked toward the edges of the field, there was a rustling in one of the trees and the haunting “Hoo, hoo!” of an owl.

    Rather suddenly, the hairs stood up on the back of Eliza’s neck, and she spun around, nearly falling in the process. On the other side of the field was a figure clad in black from head to toe. The collar of his shirt stood up along the back and sides of his neck, and he was poised stock still. He could have been a wraith, a figment of her imagination. But deep in her heart, she knew he was not.

    She’d been denying the truth all along, refusing to believe that her gentle, loving boyfriend could be anything other than what she’d known him to be. Yet here he was, standing before her in all his evil glory.

    The Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll.

    “Jeremy?” She was breathless, sure he couldn’t hear her strangled whisper from this far away.

    “Eli-zaaa,” he cooed softly, a taunting smirk spreading across his face.

    “What’s going on, Jeremy? You’re scaring me.” Don’t lose it, she told herself.

    “You know.” Jeremy moved in closer until a shaft of moonlight fell on his handsome face, revealing dark liner around his eyes. There was no mistaking the glint of mayhem in his eyes. This was no prank.

    Eliza’s mind homed in on recent newscasts about a string of killings. All the victims had long reddish hair and brown eyes, were in their early twenties, and had some connection to law enforcement. She was a court reporter but never dreamed she might be lumped into that category.

    “Ah, you get it now. Excellent.”

    “Please . . . I don’t understand. You said you loved me.” Her fingers knotted together painfully.

    “I do love you. You fit the profile of my perfect woman quite nicely.”

    He reached into the front pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves. Snapping them, he slowly tugged them over his hands.

    “Eliza?” When he called her name, he almost sounded like the Jeremy she knew. A moment later, the feeling shattered when he issued a ragged snarl as he moved toward her.

    629 #WIP500 words

  4. All great entries! Thank you for your stories. Find out who won here: http://writercize.blogspot.com/2012/03/weekendwritercize-8-winner-sarah.html


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