Nanowrimo and Halloween

Nanowrimo is nearly upon us! For those of you who've been thinking about writing a story but haven't gotten to it yet, this is for you. It is also for those who have begun a story and stuck it in a drawer somewhere--bring that sucker out and finish it! And for those who doubt yourselves and don't believe it's possible to write a 50,000 word book in a month, get to work!

You don't even have to join to participate, just do the daily word count! And don't edit! Editing is for later when the month is over.

If you've been reading my last few posts you'll know that I've been doing writing prompts by way of pictures. I have two for you today and they fit with Halloween. One is a sentence, the other is a picture --combine or not, this is your chice. Write on!


If I had only known before I walked through that door. But once my feet had crossed the threshold...

Once my feet had crossed the threshold it was as though something alien had taken hold of my psyche. I couldn't explain it even it I wanted to, that sensation of losing myself. I couldn't think, couldn't do anything but follow the hallway toward the stairs that looked too rickety to hold me. But despite my practical mind screaming NO! I was climbing upward toward a blackness that seemed too dense to be
merely an absence of light. My mind screamed at me to turn around and go back, but my feet kept moving upward, upward until I was inside that darkness, my mind going blank as I was taken beyond what my brain could process--lost in a place that could not exist.

#writing prompt/nanowrimo

One of my favorite exercises in English class was when the teacher/professor gave us a sentence and said: 'write for twenty minutes'. What I want to do here is somewhat the same, especially since November is nearly upon us and Nanowrimo! What better way to prepare? But instead of a sentence I'm going to be using photos or pictures to stimulate the creative part of your brain. So here we go:

When I saw the wooden door I knew--it had to be the one. It was old, older than anything I'd seen around these parts. And the color was exactly as she had described, a shade between turquoise and cerulean. It was set deep into the hand chiseled stone surrounding it, as if guarding something secret. I stood there for at least twenty minutes staring at the cracked paint, the rusted handle, thinking about what she'd said. 

"When you find the door all you have to do is step through and everything will be different."

"How different?" I'd asked, my skin prickling.

She'd smiled then, her eyes crinkling, her lovely mouth moving up at the corners, making me want to kiss her. But when I took a step toward her she backed away, her sweet smile turning into a frown. 

"If you trust me you'll do it," she'd said before turning her back and walking into the dusk and shadows. 

"Wait!" I called out. "How will I know it's the right one?"

But she was gone and I was left only with the  echo of my words. 

I put my hand on the rusted latch, apprehension moving through my body. Was I ready for this? How did I know she'd been telling the truth? After all we'd only been friends for a little over six months. What did I really know about her? I pictured her triangular face, the pale amber eyes that seemed to see straight into me. She looked like a pixie or a sprite, as though she might sprout gossamer wings and fly away.

I breathed in and out, picturing her waiting for me on the other side. My heart was racing. At first the latch resisted when I pressed down, as though it wasn't sure I had a right to be here. I pushed inward with my shoulder, feeling the stickiness of age and disuse, hearing the groan of rusty hinges, and then it swung open.

So you get the picture--(no pun intended) Now go for it!