writing that writing prompt story
The sun rose for the final time...
Wow. Pretty scary. This is the writing prompt I'm currently working off of for a new story. When I first saw it, a few ideas popped into mind for what this story could be about. What comes to mind for you?! Obviously, the line sounds a bit Menacing. Like end of the world menacing. And, honestly, I've had enough of that. So, pushing all those doomsday thoughts aside, I knew I wanted this to be an unexpected twist on those words.
WHAT IF a street magician brother and sister duo were performing a trick for a crowd on New Year's Eve and a powerful magician mixed her magic with theirs which caused the sun to disappear.
MOVING ON how about a surprise birthday party for a thirty-year-old lawyer who's pretty miserable at work and makes a wish on a cupcake for something to happen so she doesn't have to face The Big Scary Thing at work the next day.
AND THE ONE I'M GOING WITH sisters who own a mysterious traveling salon arrive in a town as the sun is setting for the final time, and open their doors to give makeovers and new looks to everyone as the city has been Cursed to live within an eternal Nighttime Soiree.
As mentioned, I'll be delving into the mystery of the traveling salon. But, it's nice to have some backup options for another day. Hoping to finish the prompt by Thursday. Enjoy this little snippet till then!
As the sisters in matching pointed silver boots watched the sunset for the final time, their eyes twinkled with the prospect of what was to come next. They removed the invisibility shields from their white stone cottage and illuminated the bright sign advertising: Moontime Makeovers.
"Are you ready?" Clara asked as the door blew open to the tune of tinkling blue bells. Her bronze hair shimmered with golden yellow highlights spun from stars.
"Let them in!" Farrah shouted after turning her auburn hair midnight blue.
The sisters strode outside to the stone pathway lined with large white moonflowers and purple star-shaped primroses. Already a line of pajama clad women, men and children wound down the cobblestone street nearly to the Lunar Lake.
Already, the bustle of activity wafted through the town as large tents and wooden stalls and glass dance floors were fabricated from the newcomers wearing silver masks and black leotards.
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