Writing Prompt #9

Before I get to the prompt for this week, let me remind you that you can share your responses to the prompt either in the comments on this post, or in the comments on my response. If your response to the prompt is too long, let me know in the comments and we’ll get it posted as a regular post!

Sometimes the way in which we describe something can give it an entirely different connotation than it would normally have. For instance: At a meeting a few weeks ago, our IT guy started a sentence with “Well, when my wife goes pregnant…” and we all died of laughter. Why? Because his phrasing juxtaposed birth and pregnancy with language used with nuclear attacks.

So, what event, situation, thing, person, etc can you describe in such a way that it takes on an entirely new and unexpected meaning?

Beware Exploding Babies sign

3 thoughts on “Writing Prompt #9

  1. Another challenging prompt! Here you go.

    As she put her hand on the knob, Katy felt a sense of dread. She knew who was inside, waiting for her, and she knew it was going to take every iota of self control to confront him. Some of the things he had done made her skin crawl, but she knew she couldn’t allow him to see that. She had to be strong like a pack leader, an alpha dog.
    Katy opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark, but even in the dim light she could see him sitting in the center of the room, gazing at her. She could almost smell something wrong. More than almost. An empty pit opened in her gut but she kept her face stoic.
    “Its the same routine, isn’t it?” she asked. He made no reply, other than to cock his head to the side. The angle was unnatural and unnerving. 
    “Where is it? Where did you hide this one?”
    He slumped slightly, shoulders drooping almost imperceptibly, yet still he stared at her with those eyes--those eyes, she thought, he has such kind eyes. Her heart beat quickened and a sense of panic grabbed at her throat. 'If only I hadn’t shown him where I live, where I sleep... No!' Katy chastised herself. 'It isn’t my fault, he has that Ted Bundy charm. This isn’t my fault, he’s the animal.'
    “You think you’re untouchable,” she said, sterner than she meant to be, trying to keep up an unflinching facade. Oscar gave not a word in response, but instead flopped onto the floor, stretched, and rolled on his back. Behind those kind eyes, Katy could see that he was mocking her.
    “Is this a game to you?” she almost shouted at him. He was getting the best of her.
    “You won’t get away with this,” she continued, pacing the room and taking a deep breath to regain her self control. “I won’t let you. I’m going to find this one, just like I’ve found all the others, and you’re going to sit in that cramped little cage and watch me.”
    Katy took Oscar by the collar and led him straight into his kennel, locking the wire door in place. He looked at her through the bars, his kind eyes saddened, his tail tucked between his legs. It didn’t make Katy happy to do it; even animals deserve pity, and pity was all she felt. But she still had to know.
    “This is your last chance to tell me, pal. Where’s the poop?”


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