Let your descriptions include a variety of the 5 senses and your imagination flow.
It’s the last prompt, so go out with a bang!
(The deadline is 9 a.m. Sunday morning.)
DWP #10: If coffee makers could talk…
Let your descriptions include a variety of the 5 senses and your imagination flow.
It’s the last prompt, so go out with a bang!
(The deadline is 9 a.m. Sunday morning.)
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Daily Writing Prompts 
Why do those Dutch people like me? It’s not that I ever gave them a hint saying ‘I like your big fat Dutch ass, please use me everyday’. No I didn’t.
I would prefer the Egyptians, much better climate than in the Netherlands. I truly hate the rain, it makes me could and dirty. I prefer warm and dry, please.
But as I am saying this now, I don’t know if I can move in such a sandy surrounding. Would that make me dirty as well? I like to show the shiny side of me, Gazelle loves that about me and I really like him too.
Ugh, I hear her talking about me ‘Maybe I should take the car, it is raining’, YES GIRL take that big ass Mercedes car of yours and go to work. I can really use a day off, I would appreciate that, thanks. Get my nails done for my date with Gazelle next Saturday.
But then you have her husband, who is a sport genius or something. He always gets in the way of my pleasure. ‘No, take her’ ‘Sweetheart, you need to exercise more. Let the car at home please’. Well, I don’t want to interfere in marriage or anything, but maybe you should focus on your health system. You haven’t use Gazelle in months, so who is lazy now ey…
Oh no she is coming my way, noo please take Mercedes she is made for such weather not me. Why do you always have to use a bike when it is raining woman?!
The Diary of a presumptuous Batavas bike.
Martine Schrik – EN2C
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It’s so fun to be truly kept guessing! Not until ‘Gazelle’ did I have an inkling (although, I admit I thought of the animal – more clever writing). You also captured the tone well: the indignance of the bicycle and the unsuspecting but well-meaning owners. I enjoyed this a lot.
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One day in the Cool Cat, my working place, I was just hanging around and standing in my ordinary position. On that day, I saw a black cat sneaking into the mall. At first, I thought it was cute, but hear me out, I will tell you what happened. You know what people say about black cats right? Well, after this day I serious believe the rumor, that these cats bring bad luck.
So, I told you that after the cat entered the mall, I thought it was cute. But then suddenly, the cat stared at me like it was going to bring a lot of trouble. I got a bit scared, but of course, I can’t move so I couldn’t walk away. When the cat entered Starbucks, the hell got loose in there. A woman spilled her entire hot coffee cup over her legs, the coffee machine was broken, and all the lights fell off. After that, the coffee machine started to catch fire. When all these things happened, the cat left and he looked straight into my eyes again! At that moment I knew he wanted to bully me.
What happened next has to be the most terrifying thing in my whole life as a mannequin. The black creature walked slowly towards me and I knew he wanted to do something bad to me. When he arrived in the store, he started to sniff my feet, as if I was food. But I wasn’t food for him, no, he must’ve thought that I was more sortable as a tree. He peed right over my feet! It was the most terrible day I ever had, and from that moment I really hate black cats. They scare the crap out of me.
Hanneke Hiemstra, 1B
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Cleverly written! I had really started to think you had misunderstood the prompt. I love the last line – an object with human form using a phrase that expresses a real human action, which it naturally can never perform. I applaud.
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Why does he keep doing this to me? It is like he thinks that I don’t have feelings, that I cannot feel any pain. Well he is surely mistaken, every day I get chewed on like I am nothing important. What I want is to be in a quiet place, where no one can bother me, and I have the day for myself. This will never happen, I know it won’t, but one can dream.
My day goes something like this. I wake up at 8 in the morning, and I use my alone time wisely, because I know once he gets up, my day will be ruined. I always hope that he just sleeps in, for the whole day or that he forgets about me. Unfortunately, my life is not a fairytale, an hour or two later he is up and about ready to attack me once more. He jumps on me and puts me in his mouth, then he walks to his owner and they start playing tug war. You would think that this would last 10 minutes or something, but like I said no fairytale here, this continues the whole day. If he doesn’t feel like playing, she will pick up where he left of. Luckily, this torture will end at around 6 in the evening, when they all have dinner and watch TV afterwards, but I know tomorrow will be the same all over again.
– The chew toy of Tosca and Dino
Sabrina Spaan – VO Engels 2C
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Ha! I was afraid it was one and the same piece of gum… (perhaps your intention?). A good suprise. I think, however, that there was an opportunity here to use some more description of the toy’s experience (its ‘pain’, perhaps the slimy slobbering of the dogs, the smell… ).
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On my owner’s desk I wait all day, barely made use of. My owner, I’ll call him John for convenience. John doesn’t often have anything better to do. He’s a college student, you see, and wastes his time while he should be studying. He browses Facebook and Twitter (I thought twitter was something for old people, but okay). Now he’s installed Tinder, as if he has a real chance with the ladies.
I make some odd noises as I start up, always sounding the same, as if I have trouble with something, yet I always run smoothly. Until John needs me, that is. He has been postponing a very important essay for several weeks now and on the night before the deadline he gets to work. I listen in to his typing, undisturbed by it.
It’s morning and the deadline for John’s essay is due. He’s close to finishing it. While other students work much harder, he doesn’t care that much, the brat. To give him the satisfaction to finish something with such little effort? I think not. He has to bring his PRINTED essay to class, and now it is my time to strike. As he presses ‘print’ on his computer, I jam for absolutely no reason. Some sweat trickles down his forehead as he realigns the paper in my mouth, and then again two more times, making me feel like I’m choking. As if, I’m merely a printer. Class is close to starting. I make my final move and he breaks down in rage as the message appears on his monitor.
Ink has run out. View the ink details.
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The prompt was to personify an inanimate object, but I think in doing so you may have actually discovered a real life form: a race of diabolical printing machines. They are among us. It’s clever how I’m led from disliking John to absolutely sympathizing with him. The printer’s feeling of superiority comes through well.
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I absolutely adore my owner, Hannah, she is just the sweetest. She always keeps me near her and never abandons me. I am always right there with her, in her bag, pocket or hand. Hannah always keeps me looking pristine and feeling fit. No scratches or cracks to see on me, unlike those broken phones of Hannah’s sisters!
I never hear Hannah complain about me either, for I am a good phone. I am in prime condition and I work hard all day, every day. All this hard work pays off, of course, I am always rewarded with new cases for me to wear or other accessories.
She always keeps me clean as well and makes sure not to use me with greasy fingers. Thank god for that. The single worst thing that can happen to a phone, in my opinion, is dirty fingers prodding everywhere. Shoving filth into every orifice, forcibly feeding you their disgusting leftovers. Gosh, it makes me shudder to even think about it. I am so grateful that Hannah doesn’t do that.
Currently, I am lying next to Hannah’s bed, fully charged and ready for the day. Hannah is still sleeping though; she has had a wild night. I was obviously there to record everything, as it is my sacred duty to do so.
Juliet Wind, 1D
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That’s one lucky phone! It’s amusing to think of phones comparing themselves to other phones: such a human trait. It would have been fun to hear more about the accessories, or perhaps Hannah’s choice of apps.
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Death, a tragic tale be my life. The moment I was born, I was surrounded by many others like me, we were created by the titans for their own amusement, they laugh and play at night watching my kind burn up, melt away in a sea of flames.
My end is neigh, I can still remember the day when it all first started; first it was darkness, eternal and cold, oh how I wished then for this accursed warmth. I laid there discarded and forgotten, until a gate larger than the world itself opened and the titan reached down with his hand to grab my body. Journey wasn’t long, soon enough I was brought upon what could only be described as a sacrificial altar, the forms of my fallen kind laid melted away upon the cold floor, and three others still alive and screaming where being burned right before my eyes, the echos still haunt me now, my only solace be that soon enough it will all be over. The titan set me down besides wreathing corpses of my brothers and sisters, their bodies contorted, twisted and barely recognizable, I new this was the end, I knew my time had come, there was no escape from the pain that I was about to feel.
With a single motion the titan raised his hand and a brilliant light apparated right at the tips of his fingers, a bright orange flame danced in the titans hand seemingly laughing at my own demise. It was still and dark, almost everything disappeared, the only thing that remained was fiendish flame slowly creeping his way towards me, I could already feel its heat upon my skin, I could already see it bubble and burn up due to the flames effect and then just like that it was quiet. But not for long, as my senses exploded in pain as my head was set alight by the flame. I tried to move, but found my self unable, I tried to scream, but my voice was deafened by the ember ball that encapsulated my head. Right before my now boiling eyes, three others where set a flame by the Titan, three other innocent soul be the sacrifice for the maddened titan who just looks upon us with a smile and a spark in his eyes.
Its kind of funny, I’m still screaming right now, I’m aware that my body is being melted down, I’m dying yet I am still capable of this conscious thought. Why do these mad entities create us, only to see us suffer? They do not even pay attention to this spectacle, this dance macabre brought upon by them, as soon as we start to burn, they turn their gaze away. Is this some kind of sick game to them?! Are we not even deserving to be witnessed by them as we burn away, generation upon generations giving of a faintest of light and for what?! What is the purpose, why where we born at all if our only purpose is to die!!
Its getting cold now, once more the dark blanket of the night is taking me. I cannot feel my body no more, the fire has taken it all away from me, there is no beautiful afterlife for me, there is no light at the end of the tunnel and if there was one, Id give everything in me to get away from it, away from the light and back to the caring mother that is darkness, as it is she who hides as all from the Titans atrocities. The last embers are still desperately clinging to my head, the smoke now rises slowly from my charred carcass and my eyes are closing. I can still hear the screams and right before my final moment I can see the vicious cycle continue, it did not end with me, it will not end with me. Here they are another batch, 4 new bodies to be used as sacrifice, this be a life of a candle.
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Outstanding! Your piece is skillfully constructed and imaginatively told. Your use of a great range of vocabulary makes it a real pleasure to read. It was as equally enjoyable to read when I knew what the object was as when I didn’t. My only request would be to carefully edit your work so as to eliminate the small but repetitive hiccups (particularly run on sentences) that can distract from the wonderful flow.
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Picture Frame
The sun is coming up again. I read the clock, 7:30 A.M. It is time again to do my duty for the day. Angela will soon be up and that means I have to look presentable for her morning routine. I hear the birds chirping outside and have a feeling today will be a better day. Yesterday Angela held me for hours in her hands, tears falling on my glass. I felt the sadness and grief in her and didn’t know how else to help her than to just be there for her.
Floorboards start creaking and I know she just got out of bed to make her coffee. Every morning is the same. She gets up, makes coffee and then holds me in her hands as she sips. She only starts work at 9 A.M. but she can’t leave the house before having seen me.
The smell of coffee makes me excited as I now am aware that my time is coming. There she is. Pale, exhausted but still as beautiful as ever. Her cold hands pick me up from her coffee table and she places me on her lap. One hand gripping the coffee mug, the other gripping me. This time her tears don’t fall out of sadness. She is smiling at me and I realise she has finally let go. She will always miss him, but the picture I hold will always stay close to her heart. She loosens her grip and lays me down beside her. Her fragile legs get up and exit the door, ready to start her day. My work is done and I feel gloomy but I know it is for the better and that no matter what, I will always be here for her.
Femke Calame Fonville, 2A.
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I love the idea of a picture frame – really a quite mundane object – being able to feel such compassion, empathy and loyalty. The emotion the frame relates of its owner really comes through. A very nice piece.
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I am my owners happiest place. The place they go when they are upset, the place they go to when they are tired. The place they can unwind and be themselves. I am the place my owner goes to when they need rest, so they will sleep or rest on me. I am the place my owner goes to when they are sick. I am the place my owner brings their significant others. The place where they talk, sleep or do their bouncy game.
I am the place my owner comes to after a long day, where if they have the tine and energy they will grab their laptop and watch a movie or show. If my owner needs to they will do schoolwork on me.
I am my owners happies place. The place my owner cuddles up and recharges for a new day. The place my owner lets go of emotion and can laugh, cry or rage. I am the place my owner goes to at night, where I can make my owner feel better by being a warm place in a cold room.
I am my owners happiest place.
The perspective of a bed, specifically mine.
Samara Sahar, 1b
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Your bed is witness to a myriad of its owners’ emotions and actions! I would recommend taking time (in bed?) to look over your work after writing it: there are a few spelling mistakes, errors in the possessive, and I got confused in the first paragraph with the change in single/plural ‘owner(s)’ and the corresponding verb.
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