Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
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Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
-Sigh- I really wish we'd get a bit more response here... But anyway, here's this week's topics:
Write about something wrapped
---
Write from the point of view of a clean sock in the dirty clothes hamper
Remember, you can also go to past topics! Write!
Write about something wrapped
---
Write from the point of view of a clean sock in the dirty clothes hamper
Remember, you can also go to past topics! Write!
Paradox- Moderator
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
I just find them a bit...odd
kio- Potty Mouth
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
I try to make them a bit different... But I run out of ideas at times. Any suggestions Kio? I'm more than willing. :]
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
Unfortunately my imagination has been a bit frazzled recently. Cant help for the moment
kio- Potty Mouth
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
That's okay. ^^ I'm just going to try to come up with more practical ones.
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Ramblings of a Sock...(I need help)
(I've kinda got two stories going on here, but I'm pressed for time and can't seem to extend either story, so I kind of mushed them together. Any help with this will be appreciated ^.^ P.S. I like the topics! I just haven't had time or a computer to write on them)
I’m not sure how I’ve come to be here…among all these smelly, stiff, slightly damp ragamuffins, wearing their stains as if they were medals of Honor. What’s more horrifying, besides being condemned to this dark pit and besides not knowing exactly how I came to be here, is the fact that I am here, alone. My soul mate was lost, it seems, somewhere between our humble drawer and this hell. How odd it is to wake up and not have her tucked under me, or hear her on my right or left as we work, creating perfect shields between our Master’s skin and the not-cushioned-enough bottom of Her shoes. Without her, I am lost. I feel myself unraveling a bit at the neck…my strings are catching on the walls. I pray that she is still sleeping that undisturbed sleep in our drawer. I pray that our Master has pity on her soul and does not fling her away. For what use does one lonely sock have?
Why am I here?! Frustration has gotten the better of me. We, that is to say my soul mate and I, haven’t been to work in a week. Perhaps I am being punished for something. I left my youth behind me a long time ago, but there are no holes in me, and when it is my turn to be cleansed, I always let the cold water flow through me, and I take great care to let the soap seep into my skin as deep as it can, unlike some others around here that cling to their stains, and seem to stay stiff as a board even after being cleansed and dried.
A light!! I block out the screams of dread that are coming from the others of my kind. It is not the cold, soapy water that they fear; it is the Great Dryer, with its burning heat. They all know that those among our people who are unworthy to protect Her skin are judged by the Great Dryer. Anyone found unworthy vanishes, leaving their soul mate to return to the drawer alone. A fate worse than death, in my opinion, because odds are, you shall never be of service again. I am not afraid. I have already lost my reason for living. She lies, unaware that I am about to go through this cleaning ritual without her. Unaware that she may wake up and realize that she will be alone forever...
I leave this message in lint on the walls, in case I do not make it out of the burning heat. My love, if you should make it into this hamper before I am retuned to you, remember that you were always the only one I would wrap myself around…the only one whom I would share the pleasure of working alongside.
I am forever proud of your stainless white skin.
I’m not sure how I’ve come to be here…among all these smelly, stiff, slightly damp ragamuffins, wearing their stains as if they were medals of Honor. What’s more horrifying, besides being condemned to this dark pit and besides not knowing exactly how I came to be here, is the fact that I am here, alone. My soul mate was lost, it seems, somewhere between our humble drawer and this hell. How odd it is to wake up and not have her tucked under me, or hear her on my right or left as we work, creating perfect shields between our Master’s skin and the not-cushioned-enough bottom of Her shoes. Without her, I am lost. I feel myself unraveling a bit at the neck…my strings are catching on the walls. I pray that she is still sleeping that undisturbed sleep in our drawer. I pray that our Master has pity on her soul and does not fling her away. For what use does one lonely sock have?
Why am I here?! Frustration has gotten the better of me. We, that is to say my soul mate and I, haven’t been to work in a week. Perhaps I am being punished for something. I left my youth behind me a long time ago, but there are no holes in me, and when it is my turn to be cleansed, I always let the cold water flow through me, and I take great care to let the soap seep into my skin as deep as it can, unlike some others around here that cling to their stains, and seem to stay stiff as a board even after being cleansed and dried.
A light!! I block out the screams of dread that are coming from the others of my kind. It is not the cold, soapy water that they fear; it is the Great Dryer, with its burning heat. They all know that those among our people who are unworthy to protect Her skin are judged by the Great Dryer. Anyone found unworthy vanishes, leaving their soul mate to return to the drawer alone. A fate worse than death, in my opinion, because odds are, you shall never be of service again. I am not afraid. I have already lost my reason for living. She lies, unaware that I am about to go through this cleaning ritual without her. Unaware that she may wake up and realize that she will be alone forever...
I leave this message in lint on the walls, in case I do not make it out of the burning heat. My love, if you should make it into this hamper before I am retuned to you, remember that you were always the only one I would wrap myself around…the only one whom I would share the pleasure of working alongside.
I am forever proud of your stainless white skin.
kryslee- Mistress of Ended Arguments
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
I thought that was cute Krys. ^-^
I may even write as your counter sock.
I may even write as your counter sock.
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Re: Writing Prompt IX: Wrapping in the Hamper.
thanks! And you should. That would be interesting.
kryslee- Mistress of Ended Arguments
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