Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Prompts for W-F Fiction Class.

Choose one trigger statement and take off from it:

1. If it wasn't_________________, if you/s/he/I weren't________________ and they had not__________________

2. Without _________________ for so long now, we/you/I/s/he remembered instead__________

3. Say it's your house that______________, that it's you now living_______________

Without color for so long now, what we remembered were monochromes, memories that tested nothing against shadows or the food of shadows, the dim.

Without color for so long, I asked for Sam's bones from a little shack like the ones in Greece where my grandmother retrieved her sister's skeleton, broken-down, washed-clean, the bones like heavy dry-cleaning dropped off some decade before and neatly-laundered, picked up again. It was the kind of dream that wouldn't stop dreaming, running itself through itself reel to reel until the real life of my rumpled bed, early morning ran into the morphine river of my day and even, after waking, the shower, caffeination, I felt the strange weight of his bones in my arms as I lugged them through Monday.

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