three hundred and sixty five days ;; writing challenge

[- serendipity]

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365 ＷＲＩＴＩＮＧ
✰ ＰＲＯＭＰＴＳ
↷ site ↷ ✰ ↶ other ↶
i've tried several writing challenges
before, but most of them i gave up
on before they were finished due
to no time to do them and no muse
either. this however, is a different
story. found, through several other
usersdoing the same thing, was a
website that has 365 writing prompts
- one for every day of the year. so
this is what i'll be doing. my new
challenge. i may not do one every
single day, but i will certainly
try and although i won't be going
from the beginning of the year,
i'll try to get them all done by the
end of the year. please don't post
on the thread, but feel free to
stalk it and pm me with anything
you have to say. thanks c:

disclaimer ;; i don't own any of
the pictures or lyrics posted but, unless
stated otherwise, all the coding is mine.
as well as this, all of the writing is mine
and if you steal it i will not hesitate to
report you. i spent time and effort on
the following and i don't want you clai-
ming it as your own. the same goes
with the coding. my sources for the
pictures are tumblr and weheartit.
any lyrics used will be individually
referenced/copyrighted.

thanks to ;; moose, infinite stars and
an asian to the knee for letting me find
the website and all the prompts.

[- serendipity]

❝ ｓｕｉｔａｂｌｙ ｗａｒｍ ❞

The ball was dull. And that was all there was to it. These thoughts ran through Grace's head as she leant over the balcony, eyes studying the scene below her. Men and women stood around the side of the ball room, champagne glasses in hand, as they talked to those around them with an air of both politeness and haughtiness. In the middle of the ball room couples danced elegantly, the occasional mistake made only during the most fast-paced of dances. Elaborately decorated masks covered everyone's face and many sported brightly dyed feathers. Ball gowns rustled against the heavily waxed floor and the men's tuxedos stood out starkly against the myriad of colours. Grace could see her sister, her oval face partly covered by a white and purple mask, gently curtsying to her partner as a waltz came to an end. Her two younger brothers stood by the side whispering as they eyed the Marquette sisters across the ball room. Her parents were among a large group of people, arms linked as they laughed and spoke - Grace guessed - about the suitors that had been piling up for her sister. Rolling her eyes Grace turned, pushing herself away.

Her own dress was quiet against the marble floors of the first level and she was grateful no one had yet noticed her absence. The ball was a monthly ordeal and to the twenty-two year old, endlessly boring. The brunette would much rather be at her own home and out in the stables. The young woman walked away from the indoor balcony and down the large corridor, eyes dismissing the paintings that were hung proudly along the peach coloured walls. Her feet, clad in the latest silk shoes from Paris, led her even further away from the party and Grace made no effort to amend this. As far as she was concerned being as far away as possible from the ball was the best thing. Her blue eyes were watching the hem of her dress as she walked which was why she didn't notice the person advancing towards her. She only spotted the approaching person moments before she was swept off her feet and around in a circle.

Her dress spread out like wings and Grace felt some of her hair tumble loose. A cry escaped her lips almost as soon as she left the ground, but it was silenced just as quickly. Upon being set down, a few circles later, she immediately prepared herself to bite, scratch and kick her way out of the situation; Grace had assumed that, whoever it was, intended to harm her. Then though she saw her 'attacker'. Her full lips formed an 'o' and her fists clenched. The person before her was definitely not an attacker. And if he had caused Grace any harm it was through emotion. This was because in front of her stood the boy, no - man who had utterly ruined her life. And she loved him.

Her lips had started to form a smile but then she remembered what had happened the last time she saw this man. As it came to her mind she flew at him. He might not have been an attacker but that didn't mean she gave him any less of a break as her filed nails grabbed at his cheeks and her fists rained down repeatedly on his chest. Grace wanted him to fight back; stop her; try to ease the hatred in her hits but all he did was stand there. His body was braced and he flinched when she got a good hit in, but other than that there was nothing; only acceptance on his face and readiness in his stance. The woman continued to kick, scratch and gouge at him for several more minutes and still all he did was stand there. Finally, she could take it no longer. She stopped. Stared at him.
---------"What are you doing here?" Her words broke the heavy silence as she continued to stare at his face, trying to take all of it in. She'd missed him, she really truly had, and at the same time she hated him and yet she couldn't get enough of him either. His dark eyes met hers, sincerity edging into their hard cores.
---------"I came to see you. I came back." Those were words she had been waiting to here since he left. Inside her mind there was turmoil. Acceptance brinked, hate danced, fear wavered, love blossomed, forgiveness surfaced, memories flooded. This was the man whom she loved with all her heart and this was also the man who had thwarted her plans. He had prevented her from marrying, loved her, held her, and then disappeared.

Grace knew that he would come back; he had to at some point. She had had a plan. When he returned she wouldn't love him, she would be civil to him. Appropriately and suitably warm to him but as they had been before. All of that would be gone. Except he had come back sooner than she thought he would and she wasn't ready. Not yet. It had eight months since he left and she still wasn't ready. How could she be when she had loved him so?
---------"And why here? Why now?" Why when she was just starting to feel almost normal again; almost not-in-love with him. Why at this ball. Why in this corridor. Why why why. She hoped he could answer.
---------"Grace..." He was faltering. Why was he faltering? "I shouldn't have left, not then, not ever. I especially shouldn't have left you. You're something far too precious to be left," he reached out, as if to caress her cheek, then withdrew his hand quickly. "Forgive me? How dare he? was the first thought that came to her head. But then Grace realised she had already forgiven him. Even if he hadn’t approached her she wouldn’t have behaved civilly towards him; she would’ve forgiven him straight away. So now she tugged off her expensive masked, pushed his up his forehead, leant in and kissed him. A gentle caress. He pulled her to him; together again.

word count ;; 1,026
prompt ;; suitably warm

The above is basically just cheese. And it's definitely not my best work. Doesn't even reach my best by about a hundred kilometres. It was going well but the end was written in a sort-of rush and it's rubbish. Maybe I'll come back and edit it at some point. Or not. I'm happy I finished this prompt, but I'm not happy with what the prompt prompted. To be frank, I think it's rubbish. The description I think is alright but everything else is just cheese and bad dialouge and bad in-between bits. The next one should be better.

[- serendipity]

❝ ｃａｎｄｙ ａｐｐｌｅ ｒｅｄ ❞

Sitting in the window, staring down at me
Thinking she’s so much better.
No care in the world that I can see
An easy life looking out the window.
Sitting there, serving tea
A girl so fine everyone looks.
If only she could be me.

Porcelain skin and pretty locks of hair
She sits there and smiles.
Flawless dimples, bright blue eyes and
- - -hair so very fair
She sits there and gloats.
Her mouth as silent as her stare
The message as clear as crystal.

If only I could have that very pretty doll
Who sits in the window and smiles.
Her hair curly without no roll
And a dress as fine as silver –
How I wish she could be mine.

Candy apple red that dress may be
Sunflower yellow her hair may be
Forget-me-not blue her eyes may be
White as snow her skin may be –
I’m glad I’m not her but just me.

word count ;; 115
prompt ;; candy apple red

Don't ask me. First it was something to do with blood, then tea before you put the milk in, then halloween and now...well this. It's a poem (as you can most probably tell) and I'd say it was a limerick but I don't think it is. A limerick just happens to be the only type of poem that is coming to my head. I don't know if I like it yet, or if it makes perfect sense, but it is something and I kind of like the moral behind it. Even if I didn't exactly put the moral across. Just leave me alone.