Write for three minutes…
…explaining why you didn't do your homework.
Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day November 18 (put “Norman Would be a Straight-A Student if He Went to School” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.
Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…
…what you saw when you looked into that crystal ball.
Tren Rewy Steb
The crystal ball is foggy, like there’s a candle in there and somebody just blew it out. I think it’s starting to clear. I catch myself blowing a little, and wafting my hand at it, as if I can push the fog away. I want to see what’s in there. At least, I do at first. But then I get nervous. What if I don’t like what I see? Is the crystal ball all-knowing? Is what I’m about to see what will definitely happen? There’s an image forming, coming into view so slowly. I turn away, afraid it’s going to be something bad. I consider getting up and leaving, but I don’t want to be rude. The fortune teller has been nice. Plus, I gave her my last ten dollars. I might as well get my money’s worth. When I look this time, the fog is totally gone. I see myself sitting at a desk, in front of a computer screen. I’m wearing a long-sleeved white shirt. Well, there’s one thing different next year—a new shirt. I’m typing. There’s a can of pop next to me. I reach for it and my hand fumbles. The can tips over. Brown liquid spills out of it and soaks into my shirt. Rats.