I Needed Some Inspiration, So I Wrote on One of Our Prompts
I've felt like I was dragging all day. It was hard for me to feel inspired, but I thought, what better way to break through that fog than to use a writing prompt. So I scoured through the Henlo Facebook timeline and found one! Writing prompts are a great way to get you moving when you feel stuck. They get your creative juices flowing, and can help open you up for the story you're trying to write. Using prompts while working through NaNoWriMo is a great way to get your word count up!
So I thought I'd play around with one of the prompts and show you guys what I came up with! Don't judge me too hard, I'm a little rusty at writing, but here it is! The prompt was: Take something mundane from your everyday life and write as if it was the most fantastic quest you have ever been on.
The summer breeze was light and cool, teasing its way into my jacket and caressing my midsection. I sighed in relief, though it quickly dissipated. The breeze was nice, but the sun was brutal. I pulled back the sleeve of my armored jacket to check my watch. Not even 10:00 yet. I grunted and pushed open the door to the garage. The smell of bare wood walls and the musk of items in storage hit me hard, but the heat hit me harder. Like a living thing, it wound it’s way up my body, invaded my armor and made a fresh sweat break out across my face and neck. Moisture was starting to roll down the back of my shirt, and my jeans were sticking to my legs. I frowned and hit the button for the garage door to open.
The sunlight bounced off the bike, making the paint of the plastics shine and glitter. I moved to the side of it and balanced my helmet on the seat while I tied my hair back, admiring the black and red lines over the white background of the fairings. It’s a pretty thing. Small, a 300, but I’m still learning. With my hair tied, I don the helmet, sliding it over my face and buckling it securely at the chin. I lifted the face shield and breathed deeply. This was my third season, but the butterflies in my stomach always fluttered a little harder before I mounted the bike. I took another breath, holding the nerves at bay as I unzipped the bag magnetized to the tank and pulled out my gloves. I slid them on, flexing my fingers and making fists to ease the fit of the fabric.
I pulled the key out of my jeans pocket and pushed it into the ignition, pulling the handle bars down to ease the transition from lock to on. I flipped the engine kill switch back up, and pressed the start button. The motor whined to life, the bike rumbling softly beside me. I threw my right leg over the seat and used my left to stand the bike up before swiping back the kick stand. The bike trembled beneath me and the smell of exhaust filled the garage space. I backed it out slowly, checking for traffic in the alley before I got the garage door closed. I paused briefly to pray for safety on my journey. I do so every time I’m on the bike. I pray for safety, and that people will see me. Some bikers aren’t so lucky as to be seen. My husband’s cousin wasn’t. I remember it every time I’m on the bike and it always makes me pause. Is the risk worth the ride?
I kicked the bike down into first gear and took off down the alley. I made a sketchy left turn, some gravel on the road, and made my way to the main road. As I gained speed the bike hummed and rumbled, whining when I needed to shift up. The engine makes the bike buzz against my inner thighs and the palms of my hands. As I merged onto the bridge to access the main highway, the nervous fluttering in my stomach was replaced with elation. I took another deep breath as the wind whipped through the open facemask of my full-face helmet. I spent several years riding on the back of a bike, but there is no feeling of power like riding one myself. I felt like a goddess with the wind pulling at me and the pavement streaking by beneath me. I didn’t go more than 5 mph over the speed limit, but it seemed like I was flying.
Too soon, I pulled into the church lot and parked the bike.