Write for three minutes about…
…what you saw when you looked into that crystal ball.
Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day November 11 (put “Norman Wears Argyle Socks On Tuesdays” 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 are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…
…the elephant rummaging in your sock drawer.
Bigfoot
The elephant opened the drawers, one by one, searching for…what was it he had been looking for? He couldn’t remember. Was it car keys? No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t have a car. Besides, he’d let his license expire. He had a bad taste in his mouth. Had he remembered to brush his teeth this morning? Maybe he had been looking for a breath mint. No, that didn’t sound right. He closed the drawer stuffed with old receipts, coupons, and birthday cards he kept on hand to send to his friends. There were a lot of those because, unfortunately, he hardly ever remembered to send them, and when he did, he never seemed to have any stamps. Maybe what I’m looking for is in this drawer, he thought. He pulled it open. In it were socks. Purple socks, red ones, socks with tiny daisies, thick wool socks, and cotton, too. The elephant was perplexed. Where did these socks come from? He didn’t remember buying them. He definitely didn’t remember rolling them into neat little balls and lining the drawer with them. Nope. Not a single flash of recognition for any of the socks, not even the pair with zebra stripes. What would he even need socks for? He was an elephant. Uh-oh. These weren’t his socks. These weren’t his drawers. This wasn’t his house. He didn’t live in a house. He was an elephant. Where was he and how did he get here? If only he could remember.
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