What’s His Mirror Moment?

My last prompt for the month with my theme of tackling the middle of our stories. What’s his mirror moment? What has made him question who he is in the middle of the story? For more on the mirror moment, click here. Below is my inspiration.

This power was getting out of a hand.

I shoved my hand through my hair and clamped it on top of my head.

What was I supposed to do with this superpower? I couldn’t use it for my own entertainment any more, not with what I’d learned in the cafeteria. But if I acted on the information, someone might ask me how I knew. I’d never lied enough to be good at it. And I’d have to lie if I didn’t want to become the main specimen at a secret government research facility.

I fell back against the wall of the empty room.

Or I could just pretend I didn’t know what was about to come off Saturday night? Couldn’t I?

Click here to find more prompts for the mirror moment.

What’s the Mirror Moment?

Today’s prompt is to inspire a mirror moment in the middle of a story. What’s the mirror moment? According to James Scott Bell in his book Writing Your Novel from the Middle, it’s the moment in the middle of a story when the main character (MC) decides who he or she truly is. I’d also say it’s a moment when the MC decides on an irrevocable course of action.

So how could this photo provide a mirror moment? The woman looks deep in thought. Why is she thinking in the middle of a bridge with a guitar? Here’s my inspiration.

The wood of the old bridge felt warm on my bare legs in the afternoon sunlight. I sat and strummed. Music had always been my refuge and my joy. When had it gotten so complicated? I was a songwriter, not a singer. I didn’t care if people loved the singer of my songs more than the writer. That wasn’t why I wrote them.

But Jake said he believed in me.

I plucked some notes. Sitting on this old bridge had inspired some of my best songs. Maybe it could inspire me to make up my mind.

For more mirror moment prompts, click here.

Collaborative Speculative Fiction Part 4

Collaborative speculative fiction part 4 is the last photo prompt for our shared story. Below is the last contribution from last week and my addition for this week. To read all parts of the story, click here. On July 11, I’ll post the entire story. If you haven’t played yet, please feel free to add your inspiration to the the story in the comments.

The creature glided toward the light, its long body leaving a slow wake. My jaw open, I watched it too. Then a gentle splash to my left caught my attention. I stared for a minute and then realized that a second creature like the first was making its way toward the light. I quickly looked between the two animals, and then glanced back at the distant light. Clearly I had been forgotten by the enormous and mysterious creature. Had I also been forgotten by the hurt people back in my house? Now that I wasn’t about to be torn apart by teeth the size of my arm, I had a chance to go back and apologize. I blew out my cheeks, dropped my head, and took two steps toward home. Another thought crossed my mind. Now that I wasn’t about to be torn apart by teeth the size of my arm, I also had the chance to find out what that animal was. And who the person with the light was. And what they were doing. I looked back to the light and counted four distinct swells with tails cutting through the water. I turned my face toward home and heard the door slam. That was enough to make up my mind.

I strode down the pier, the only sound the slapping of those tails and a gulping sound. Through the mist, I saw a white head illuminated by a lantern. The elderly person was pitching something from a garbage can seated on a dolly.

I had the strangest feeling I was interrupting something but cleared my throat.

The person whirled to me, an old man, his face seamed from age and weather. “What’re you doin’ out on a night like this?”

“I-I-I–who are your…pets?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen the animals?”

“Yes.” I stepped closer, and the stench from the garbage can pushed me back.

“And you didn’t run away?”

I decided to be honest. “I thought one was going to eat me, but then it swam out here to your light.”

“Ain’t my light.” He dug a short shovel into the garbage can and heaved the stinking meat into the sea. “They smell the rotten fish. They can smell it on still nights.”

A thousand questions swirled in my mind like the mist. As I was trying to choose one, the old man stiffened. “That shouldn’t be on the water at this time of year.”

I peered at the sea. The boat that took tourists on pirate cruises in the summer chugged toward the pier.

The old man rummaged through items in a box beside the garbage can. “It’s gettin’ so’s a man can’t have any peace with a few friends any more.”

Collaborative Speculative Fiction Part 3

Onto the next installment of our group story! Here’s the photo for our collaborative speculative fiction part 3. In collaborative fiction, writers take turns adding sentences or paragraphs to a story. To read the first installment, click here. The second installment is here. Below is the last paragraph from last week. My next contribution is below it. I’d love for your to play along! Write your inspiration in the comments.

What was it? And why was it coming toward me? The creature’s eyes had to be as big as my head. And its eyes were fixed on me. It was approaching me fast, now only ten feet away. A wild cry, a high-pitched roar that seemed to slice my ear drums, raged from the creature’s throat. I spun on my heels, adrenaline surging and heart pounding, but I slipped on the wet pier and face planted the cement. Was this it? Why, oh why did I leave the house, slam the door, yell that I never wanted to see any of them again? Was that really the end of it all?

I whipped around to a seated position, expecting to see the creature opening its mouth for its first taste of me.

Instead it lifted its head and made a sound like a giant sniff. Then it swam toward the end of the pier.

Leaping to my feet, I was about to turn and put as much distance between me and the sea as I could when I saw a light bobbing at the furthest point of the pier. That bobbing had to mean a person was holding a light. I’d thought I was alone on the pier. Had the light or whoever was holding it attracted the creature?

Rescue Reads

What have been your rescue reads? These are books that helped you through a difficult time. As a Christian, the Bible is my ultimate rescue read, but I’d like today’s prompt to focus on fiction. What works of fiction rescued you?

Shortly after I was married, moved to a new city, and began looking for a new job, I was dealing with severe anxiety. The funny, domestic stories of Erma Bombeck were able to lift my mind out of its anxious rut and make me smile or laugh. When I’m depressed, I love to lose myself in the humor stories of P.G. Wodehouse. In his unique, wacky world, a character’s biggest worry is getting jailed thirty days for stealing a police man’s helmet or battling the relatives of the girl he loves because they think he doesn’t have enough money. And in P.G. Wodehouse stories, love always triumphs over snobs, cads, and obstructive aunts and guardians.

So what fiction has been your rescue reads?

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