You know, I have absolutely no idea what to write. I just finished reading “The Historian” by Elizabeth Kostova, after several days of reading. My brain is so full of someone else’s prose right now… I’m a blank. And so there is your theme. Something to do with blankness. Blank in it’s roll as a noun or verb, it does not matter. You know the rules are lose. Except the word count!!
As for me, I’m going to have to sleep on it. I’ll have something in the morning. For now, I got nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Blankness.
EDITED TO ADD:
Princess Naomi’s Unmentionables
She couldn’t believe the damage. Chairs overturned, broken glass, books dumped everywhere, clothes hanging from the ceiling fan, it would take days to clean everything up. She made way to her dresser and opened the top drawer. Sure enough, they were gone, all her panties were gone. Dirty thieving unicorns.
He was stuck. The letters were all around him and he knew what he wanted to get out there, but he just couldn’t. He tried again to come up with something, and drew a blank. Smiling, he used all seven tiles and got a fifty point bonus. He loved Scrabble.
ok, I’ll try this.
Now and then I look at the night sky and think of the blank space between the stars, where stars should be. As the empire clock hangs, I feel a pull to the empty spaces as the stars envelop me; falling slowly in timeless grace to a blank canvas.
She leaned back, pressing against his blank.
He expertly removed that last bit of blank.
Her blank now electrified by his blank touch as he slowly progressed his blank across her soft blank.
A kiss, a breath, a gasp, a blank.
Intertwined they rose towards blank, anticipating that perfect blank.
She sat on the stairs crying. What did she have to show for all of her efforts? Nothing, zip, zilch! She knew she was tempting fate when she began this endeavor. Did she expect that she could amass a large collection of vibrators AND live in a sorority house unscathed?
(Sorry, it’s Monday a.m. and the creative juices just aren’t flowing like they should…)