The dry heat of the desert was making him dizzy.  He’d been out here for three hours already, on a fool’s quest.  The animosity he felt kept switching between the weather gods and the man who had sent him on this particular run.

It was supposed to be an easy snatch and grab.  However, the general forgot to mention that he would need to get past a squadron of heavily armed terrorists first.  He shook his head again at the faulty intel.  After radioing in the new info, he was told to hold position and wait for orders.  That was two hours ago.

The sun beat down on his back as he observed the camp.  Somewhere in there was the hostage he was here to rescue.  He had yet to see her, so she must be in one of the tents.  As if his thoughts had summoned her, he saw her being dragged, kicking and screaming, from one of the tents.  Her red hair and fair skin glowed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the darker features of her captors.

“Command, this is Alpha One Niner Seven.  Target is being moved.  Twenty-five reds visible.  Please advise.  Over.”

“Alpha One Niner Seven.  Hold position.  Repeat, hold position.  Over.”

‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘they’re going to let her get moved.’  He sighed.  Orders were orders.  “Roger, WILCO.  Out.”

Writing prompts:  heat, dizzy, animosity

The first thing I noticed about New York was the noise.  The city that never slept also never shut up.  Growing up outside of Canyon, Texas didn’t prepare me for this.  As I closed the door to my apartment, better known as a large closet by most standards, I again wondered why I had left my beloved small town life behind.

The job offer was decent and the lure of the big city was great, but really, if I was honest, I had left to follow a man.  My feminist side howled in protest but it was true.  Ryan was perfect.  Tall, dark, and handsome plus a gentleman to boot.  Or so I thought.

After three months here in New York, he decided to “move on” and kicked me out of our apartment.  The breakup was messy but I couldn’t find it in me to care about the things I said.  He deserved even more, especially after I found him with the blond bombshell while getting the last of my things.

I looked up at the sound of children’s voices raised in joy.  I was approaching our park–an empty lot between two run-down buildings that housed an ancient swing set.  The swings were long since lost but the slide was still functional and the neighborhood kids loved it.

Today a game of tag was being played on, under, and around it.  I gasped as a little boy jumped from the top of the slide to the top bar of the swing set.  His hands were just able to grasp it, keeping him from a nasty fall.  He swung his legs up and hung sloth, taunting the person who was it.  I laughed as he nimbly swung down and landed in the dirt.  There is nothing like the fearlessness of youth.

I had been contemplating returning to Canyon with my tail between my legs, telling my parents that they were right, but now something had changed.  Seeing that little boy’s leap of faith, confident he would make it, had stirred something in my soul.

I liked my job here.  My apartment was tiny and nearly in a slum, but it was mine.  I needed to stop dwelling on the past and move forward.  Take a fearless leap of faith into the future, confident in my ability to make it, instead of doubting myself.

I tried to catch one last glimpse of the little boy that changed everything but he was already gone, moving on to some new adventure.  I would do the same.

Writing prompts:  New York, Texas, Slide

With NaNo coming up fast, I’ve found myself with a lack of ideas (though a “sequel” to my as-yet-unfinished novel from last year is always possible).  To try to alleviate this problem, I’ve decided to do a little writing exercise for the next thirty days.

I’ve randomly wrote out 105 people, places, things, etc on slips of paper.  Why 105?  Well that’s how many fit after I made the boxes.  Plus it gives me a few I can veto if I decide I don’t like them.  Every day for the next thirty days I’m going to choose three and start writing.

Some days it’ll probably be little more than a paragraph; others it’ll be a more coherent story.  Most won’t make a lot of sense because it’s essentially going to be a brain dump.  None will be genius, but the idea is to get my brain back into the habit of daily writing before I take on 50,000 words in November.