Writers Block - Quick Write

Let it be known that writing is not easy; anyone who claims it is is a liar and has never truly taken the time to write or learn the craft. Writers block sucks, but one of the ways I get through it is by doing quick writes. I find a prompt, set a ten-minute timer, and write whatever I can.

Now normally I would never look at them again, but since I’m posting it here I went back and did grammar edits as quickly as I could. It honestly felt refreshing to work on something other than the project I’ve been working on for over a year, and it reminded me that taking a break sometimes helps bring a new perspective.

This particular quick write prompt is from Mr. Morley so everyone say thank you, and if you’re stuck give it a shot. You can write for a shorter or longer time as you please but it’s a good exercise to stretch your skill.

Write a scene using the following Dialogue:

“One last time. That’s all I need, I’ve got this… One. Last. Time.”

I’ve known this would be the outcome since the beginning, there really was no other way my story could end. The life of a hero is a life of sacrifice, our stories end in one of two ways. We die, invisible and ignored by the public light, or we live our lives long enough that we become irrelevant.

Forgotten by the people we swore to protect.

“One last time,” I gasp, dragging myself up using the splintering crates beside me. The wood digs into my arms, embedding itself into my skin, but it’s hardly the worst pain I’m experiencing. I can’t help but wonder if they’ll be removed before my funeral. A lone mortuary technician selling them off as memories of my grandeur. “That’s all I need.”

She grins across from me, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her pants as she slowly crosses the destroyed ground between us. I’ve never thought much about where I’ll die, but for a moment I wish I had. I wish I’d had the forethought to pick somewhere nicer. Maybe in the forest, surrounded by the trees. Maybe the beach, letting the ocean flush away my form so that once and for all I could be at peace.

I should have picked a place where they wouldn’t be able to recover me. Death is a cruel thing for the normal civilian, but for people like me, us, heroes. It’s the only escape we’ll ever be given. Even then our work won't be done, we’ll be stuffed and paraded. Even when our bodies are nothing more than an empty shell we’ll be forced to put on a show.

The air here is slimy, it sticks to my lungs and my skin with every breath I take, and from the confines of this warehouse. From the battleground I chose, I can’t see the moon. It’s the largest mistake I’ve ever made, but then again, you know what they say about hindsight. “Your team is gone, there’s nothing left for you to fight for.”

Her voice is smooth like silk, she pushes away the crate sending me crashing back to the ground. Gravel biting into my palms as I fail to break my fall, my body already succumbing to the cold embrace of the end.

I know she’s wrong, that they had to survive, it’s a technique, a strategy to force me into failure. If I give up now, everything is lost, nothing left to fight for, I can’t believe that even if I tried. “I’ve got this… One. Last. Time.”

About the author

Milla Picket is a senior at Poudre High School, and this is her first year writing for the Poudre Press. In her free time, she is involved in the school's choir and theatre department. She is also a writer currently working on her first fantasy novel for publication.