Dear Whoever Fancies A Short Story Or Two,                                                             August 30th, 2012

This is a little tidbit I wrote from a prompt that I received in English class one time. The prompt was simply “The trapdoor in my closet…”

So here’s my spin on it:

The trapdoor in my closet leads to a stairwell that goes up to the attic bedroom that our house doesn’t have. Our house is a quaint one story house with three bedrooms with no attic. But in my imagination, it does, and nobody knows about it. A slide is hidden behind a stack of books. It winds down to my own private garden, full of yellow roses and a stone bench with a little tree with green leaves standing next to it. A little black pup awaits me. Slowly a smile spreads over my face as it jumps and softly yips in excitement of my approach.


This one was so short and I feel bad for the poorly written short posts lately. Even if it does mean I’m posting more often. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. So like I was saying,  I feel bad because my posts lately have been so short, because of that I’m offering up another little short one.

The prompt was something of this sort: You just won a five day trip to Paris and GO!

My response was this:

“I won a five day trip to Paris!”, I almost screamed I has so much glee within me.

“What?”, my mom asked.

“I won a trip to Paris!”, I repeated automatically with just as much excitement as the first time.

After much preparation, she took me to the airport and my adventure began. I arrived on time and the first person I run into was an artist.

—That’s where my answer ends. I totally meant to add more to that and write like a whole short story about an artist and how they change my character’s life somehow and all this… Needless to say it never got finished.

These are definitely not my best and I normally don’t share my writing or my thoughts so please feel free to comment and critique but don’t be too harsh. Be truthful but not just downright rude. I’ll leave that to your discretion.

-whatdya think? eshy,