A/N: This isn't a story. On fan fiction dot net, I hang out at a forum called Writer's Anonymous. There's a game there called Ten Minute Speed Prompts, designed to help writers learn to just write without worrying about editing and everything else that slows us down. Well, I went back and gathered up those I've written, and there are quite a few of them. Just thought I'd post these little snippets to see what you thought of them. I like to think I can write from any prompt, and some of these were a challenge. They're mostly unedited, and the site takes out the M dash. If you want to send me a prompt, it might be fun to see what I can come up with for the next "chapter," but I don't want this to be interactive.

Prompt: Breathless

It was only one kiss. It wasn't even the kind they wrote about in all the romance novels she read with a passion. There were no words of love, no clinging, and no tongue. They'd barely even opened their mouths. Yet she couldn't forget it.

The walk home had been filled with whispered confessions, funny stories, and dreams for the future. Chris didn't have to walk her home, but it was nice that they had time to share, away from the noise of their extended group of friends.

Then at her apartment there was the kiss. There were chapped lips and cold skin, and that breathless little feeling of everything moving in slow motion. Her stomach rolled and she closed her eyes and gave in. It was the next step, and she wondered should it ever be taken. It was Chris, not some new hot lover she'd just met.

She hugged the pillow in the safety of her apartment. And still the feel of those lips haunted her, taunted her, and made her wonder what they were thinking. It had been nice, chapped lips and all. But how in the world can they ever go back to just being friends? Did she even want to? Did she want to take up the challenge and accept the offer?

She flung the pillow at the wall with a screech. "Damn it Christie, you know I'm not gay!"

Prompt: Strawberry Jam

Even in the daytime, the numerous flashing blue lights brought the neighbors to their yards. I wished there was some way I could hide my face, but with my hands cuffed behind me, the best I could do was hang my head.

"MOMMY!" Oh please god, no. Kayla was only three, and she'd freed herself from my overwhelmed mother, her grandmother, to weave between the legs of police and neighbors alike. One of the officers caught hold of her as her little arms wrapped around my leg. He picked her up and was about to walk away when Kayla did her famous body toss, throwing herself backward and overbalancing the officer until he had to turn to keep her from falling from his arms. She reached for me, and the officer wasn't strong enough to pull a child away from her mother without at least one hug.

I felt her arms around my neck, and a sticky cheek pressed against mine. I inhaled her fragrance: peanut-butter, strawberry jam, Johnson's baby shampoo, and three year-old angel. I did my utmost to commit it to memory. He pulled her away, crying, and handed her to my mother. They made me duck my head as I was pushed into the waiting cruiser. My mother stared at me as an officer tried to get her to move back. The door closed, and I felt like my life was over.

My shirt was once blue, but it was covered in red stickiness. I tried to tell myself it was just strawberry jam, but the insanity didn't take. It was blood - blood from the man who'd joined with me to conceive the angel who'd just kissed me goodbye. I prayed silently that she never learn that it was her mommy who killed her daddy. I prayed that when she inevitably found out, she didn't learn the reason. It was my job as her mother, to protect and keep her safe.

Prompt: Lumber

Dale hefted his chainsaw over his shoulder as he headed for the next tree. It had been a long day, but the crew had cut a huge stand of timber. They'd have it ready for the lumber yard before they left that evening. Even with the sun slipping away, he felt good. It was the kind of work a man could be proud of at the end of the day.

As he approached the next tree, he noticed a buzzing nearby. He tromped through the tall grasses and underbrush, expecting to see a dead animal. Instead he came face to face with a body.

She was young, and maybe she'd once been pretty, but the only indication left of her looks was her soft blond hair and her fashionable clothes. The flies swarmed her, even as he tried to shoo them away. They seemed particularly interested in her open eyes, and the bloody wound at her neck-two deep punctures.

Dale felt his skin crawl, and a strong desire to be anyplace else but standing next to such a fresh kill. The girl didn't wind up in the woods by accident; someone had brought her there. Even armed with a chainsaw and over two hundred pounds of muscle, he felt inadequate to face his most unreasonable fear.

He then noticed the absences: The absence of the sounds of chainsaws or shouting, the absence of the bird calls, and the absence of the orange ball of sun, as it slipped below the treeline. He turned to leave, at first just a quick walk as if going for help, but then he became unsure of what was real and what was merely a product of his overactive imagination.

Was that shadow just a tree or was it something more sinister? He picked up his pace, then he dropped the chainsaw and broke out into a full run, challenging his work boots to carry him like running shoes.

Prompt: Wayward

"Carry On My Wayward Son," by Styx, blasted from my radio as I flew down the road with the windows open. It was a perfect day, with no work, no school, and no worries. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the fall air was still Indian Summer warm. The leaves were turning their brilliant shades for fall, especially the maples, which took on shades of flame in the sunlight. I looked forward to the day, just hanging out with friends, and maybe a pick-up game of football in the park. I sped up, breaking the forty-five speed limit by about nine miles on the empty country road.

In the blink of an eye everything changed. One minute the road was empty, and the next she was there in my path. The brakes of my pick-up did their anti-lock best to stop, and I yanked the wheel hard to the right. I felt the impact of her small body before I skidded off the road into the embankment. The airbag deployed, protecting me from the steering wheel, but there was no protection for the little girl.

A hidden school bus stop and a wind-swept homework assignment had conspired to put her there, where I could kill her. What the hell did we do to piss off fate? What I wouldn't give for the chance to rewind time and take it back. Just give me one more chance, God, and I promise I'll do better. Let me take her place; just let this not be happening-please!

Prompt: Dust

"You're kidding me, right? There's no such thing as magic, Dana. Are you going to tell me little green men come from Mars too?" I laughed and tried to swat at her palm full of white glitter.

"Will you just shut up and hold still, Justin. I'll prove it, just close your eyes."

"Do you want me to tap my heels together too? Abrakadabra... A'la Peanut-butter sandwiches!" I laughed and she got annoyed. She looked cute when she was annoyed.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you. Forget I said anything-I knew I couldn't trust you."

"Don't be mad. Fine. I'll do it, I'll close my eyes..." I closed them, hoping the glitter didn't make me look like a doofus.

"Think about it. You have to concentrate on the other realm..." I concentrated on having her alone. I thought about kissing her-hell, that was close enough to a fantasy for me. I felt the fairy dust sprinkle over me. The stuff smelled weird. I brushed it off and opened my eyes, ready to gloat.

I took in a deep breath of air, then coughed. It wasn't normal air. Nothing was normal anymore, and I looked from the violet purple sky to the field of flowers-like that one from Wizard of Oz that put everyone to sleep because it was full of poppies. This wasn't some opium dream, it was as real as anything I'd ever seen.

"Dana!" My voice fell flat, and I heard a loud buzzing coming from the field. They rose from stalks and petals, and took to the air. Fairies. Oh but these weren't the creation of Disney, and there wasn't a shapely Tinkerbell among them. They looked like a cross between tiny children and bugs. Wide eyes and hungry mouths that would perfectly fit a straw or a stamen, animated their faces. They flew toward me, and there were hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. I worried what they would do to me, and I dropped to the ground, drawing my knees in and wrapping my arms over my head.

"There's no place like home-please get me the hell out of here!"

I waited, expecting to be swarmed, eaten, or dismembered, but nothing happened. An ant crawled on my arm, and I opened my eyes. She stood over me, with that smug grin on her face.

"I told you so!"

Prompt: Partial

"We need to bring that ass hole in-you know he did this!"

"Calm down Miguel, you heard the M. E. There's no evidence."

"What do you mean, there's no evidence? He's got motive, means, and opportunity! You know as well as I do, he's the one who killed her! Bring the scumbag in and let me alone with him for five minutes. I'll have a signed confession, or I'll have one more for the morgue!"

"You know as well as I do that we can't touch him. It's one partial print on a knife found two blocks from the body. It's not enough."

"What do you mean it's not enough? You heard him threaten her, we both did!"

"He's her pimp, that sort of thing happens all the time..."

"I bet if she was a homecoming queen instead of a prostitute we'd bring him in! She wasn't just a who...working girl. She was a mother. She was somebody's daughter. She didn't deserve to wind up like this. He killed her, and I'm going to prove it."

"Miguel, don't go off half-cocked, you'll wind up in front of IAB."

"Pull over. I'm going to get some answers while he doesn't have his lawyer to hide behind... I said pull over!"

"No. You're too emotional now. Maybe you should take some time off, get some perspective. I've never seen you like this, what's up?"

"She was just thrown away... like trash. Man there's just something messed up about that. He can't get away with it... she was only nineteen. Who's going to tell her little boy that his mommy's not coming home? She's not garbage-she's not!"

Prompt: Magnate

"Did you ever meet someone who was so passionate it almost hurt to stand in their orbit? I mean someone with a real zest for life-a zeal that took the world by storm? Someone who hugged you without reservation and laughed loud and long? Alex was that kind of man. I mean he was this impulsive, gregarious, larger-than-life... just so alive! I can't even explain it; he totally rocked my world-mine and anyone else who happened to inhabit his sphere of influence. He was the guy every man wanted to be, and every woman wanted to be with. He was amazing.

"But some stars just burn too bright. Who would have thought that the man who had every thing could lose it all? Who would have guessed that this jet-setting, real-estate magnate would find himself on the bottom of the heap, through no real fault of his own. One skyscraper and a serious structural failure, and it was all gone. He found himself figuratively at the bottom of the heap, when his construction company was buried under the collapse. The losses were just too great, with six dead, and four badly injured. He was the kind who took the losses personally. Even though the mistake wasn't his, he bore the blame.

"The captain must go down with his ship. Who said that? Alex believed it, that's all that matters. One small step. One long fall. One beautiful, beautiful man lost forever. My world will never be the same-this world will never be the same. We can all gather here to pay tribute to him, but not one of us can fully communicate how truly marvelous he was in his life. Each of us has been changed, just by knowing him. Words can't express how much I'm going to miss him."

Prompt: Anticipation

It seems sort of weird writing to someone I hardly know. But I guess there's a bit of honesty that can come out if we're never going to meet, right? I hope you're doing well, and that army life isn't too hard. I see all kinds of pictures, with you guys out there in the hot sun, sleeping next to tanks and those really big guns. I hope it's not really that bad. I mean, I hope that there's a nice, comfortable place where you can go to rest, and relax, and maybe watch TV or play video games. I know we're sending along some DVD's and stuff, so I'm sure there's at least electricity, right?

Anyway, I'm twenty-two, and a Christian girl for as long as I've been alive. I've been doing these kinds of projects, well... as long as I can remember. Last year we sent gifts to an orphanage in Africa. This year it was one of the other girls who suggested sending letters to the soldiers in Afghanistan. I hope this doesn't sound as lame as I think it does. I'm not exciting or anything. Mom would kill me if I did anything wild or crazy. I mean, I'm a senior in college, and I've never done much of anything you might think I should have done. I'm a twenty-two year-old virgin; don't laugh! Okay, I heard you all the way over here, and that's not funny. Okay, maybe it is a little bit funny.

I always wanted it to be special-my first time that is. I mean I always hoped that there'd be this anticipation when I found "the one." Well, I've dated a few different guys, and I just never felt it. I mean I had one guy I dated for six months, and he wanted to do it, but I just couldn't. I mean it just didn't feel magical. Is it wrong to want the magic? I know that sounds silly, and you're probably laughing, thinking about this stupid American girl who still has her V card. But marriage should mean something, and how can it mean anything, if I already gave away something that matters to me? It should be my husband's, right? He should be the first and the only, right?

Anyway, I'm really glad I don't have to meet you or anything, not that I think you're a bad person-I don't. I just... I would just be really embarrassed after writing such a personal detail. I'd worry that you thought I was some sort of challenge, since you know that about me. I don't know how I'd handle that. I'm sending a picture of myself, and I don't mean that you should feel like you need to get to know me or anything. It's just that I've lost a lot of weight this past year, and now I look good. I've been fat for so long... maybe that's why I've still got the V card? Anyway, I hope you want to write back, and I'll send the stamped envelope in case you're not like, totally weirded out by what I wrote. I won't share it with my prayer group, if you write something in secret. Promise.

Prompt: Twonker

Twonker? I can't believe she wanted us to look it up and give a definition! I swear that stupid Brit. Lit. teacher is off her nut. I almost went ahead and gave her the Urban Dictionary meaning, but she'd probably fail me on the spot. The closest I could come to finding a meaning, was "fool." That pretty much describes that teacher-twonker extraordinaire! I mean the whole time I was writing it, my spell check about went ballistic with red ink. I mean I thought it was bad enough when she made us come up with reasons why the Brits use lift instead of elevator, flat instead of apartment, torch instead of flashlight, and boot instead of trunk. How the heck should I know! I speak American English, I don't need to learn no new language.

I think I'm going to use Twonker a lot more now. Look at that girl, man what a nice twonker she has. And how about that guy, what a twonker-wad. You think that's funny? Yeah, well you didn't waste an hour of your Saturday night looking up this mess! Twonker my arse! Of all the things I'll need to know in my life, that piece of British slang has to go in the pile of "never gonna need it." I hope if they ever do brain surgery on me, they cut out the part that knows what twonker is! They can cut out the part that knows what Mel Dawson looks like naked too-ugh! I think she's got twonkers all over her arse! You just snorted milk out your nose-don't you feel like a twonker?

So, what are you doing tonight, wanna hang out? I dunno, maybe we can drive around and see what we can get up to. Fine, I'll give you money for gas, but you know they've been cutting my hours at the choke-n-chuck. I swear, I don't know how people eat there-buncha twonkers.

Prompt: Heap

It was a nineteen seventy-two Dodge Dart, and it was a heap of rust from the crooked front bumper to the bent license plate in the back. It was a shade of green that's no longer legal in forty-eight of the fifty states, and it leaked oil if it set still for more than a few minutes. I loved that stupid car! I mean even though the vinyl seats were split, and the floorboards were almost rusted through, I would give anything to have it back.

We took that car everywhere. It would be the first one on the road as soon as school was out, and as long as we could keep gas and oil in it, we had a ball. We'd take it to the river bottoms and spend the day fishing, and the night camping. No other car could make it over all those plowed corn rows and that rutted back road, but mine did. It didn't have no sissy air conditioner, and the heat only worked a little better than a buddy breathing really hard on you. But when it flooded down by five points, I could zip right through, where even Blazers and Jeeps got stuck.

I had my first kiss in the back seat of that car-Janet Caldwell-prettiest girl on the yearbook committee. I would have gone further, but she was worried about someone finding us parked up on that overlook. She dumped me for Paul Tucker a week later, but I'll never forget those kisses.

The memories of Janet were some of the best, but it was Andy who gave me some of the worst. He's the one who got sick in the passenger seat, and threw up all over the inside and outside of the car. I didn't know he was drunk when I picked him up, or I would have made him bring a barf bag. It took weeks for the car to air out, even after I hosed it out, and emptied a can of air-freshener in it. Ten years later, it was Andy who got drunk and wrapped his own car around a tree and died. It wasn't an old Dodge, it was something nice, like a Mustang, I think.

In that car, we were bulletproof. We'd cruise the Boulevard, around the park, and past the school, just wasting time and gas on a Saturday night. Even that awful shade of green didn't look half bad if I used enough Turtle Wax to shine it up. It actually looked respectable under the stadium lights, and it told the world I was somebody-a sixteen year-old with his own car!

Prompt: Tiger

"Tiger. Tiger. Tiger Lily. Tiger tiger burning bright. Tiger by the tail. Tiger in your tank. Tiger shark. Tiger stripes."

"Shut up Kyle!"

"Thomas, leave your brother alone, you know how he gets."

"I don't care, he's driving me crazy! It's been a week since we've been to the zoo, and all he talks about are the stupid tigers!" The teen pivots in his front seat, looking over the headrest at the nine year-old in the back. "I mean it Kyle, drop it!" Kyle doesn't look up, but turns a small tiger figure in his fingers.

"Tiger tattoo. Winnie the Poo and Tigger too. Bengal tiger. Siberian tiger. Man-eating tiger."

"We get home, I'm gonna pound you!"

"Leave your brother alone!"

"I'm sick of this crap, Mom! There's nothing wrong with him that a good beating won't cure. I'm sick of people laughing at me because of my feeb little brother! I've had it with him! Why don't you just lock him up and let someone else take care of him?"

Tires screech as the mini-van whips over to the side of the road and stops. A frazzled woman with unkempt hair glares at her teenage son.

"I've had enough out of you! That's your brother, not some stranger off the street. I raised you better than to have this attitude, and if I was going to lock up anyone, it would likely be the spoiled brat teenager who thinks he's the center of the universe! I don't give a rat's-ass about what your friends think about your brother. But I will not put up with it from you! Do I make myself clear?"

The boy nods mutely, shocked by the crazed look in his mother's eyes.

"Tiger cub. Tiger hunt. Tiger Woods, Tiger trainer. Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon..."

Prompt: Logic

It was getting too hot. She felt like Icarus flying too near the sun. She stared out over the city, feeling the blistering heat. The feeble air from the open window failed to cool the raging, oppressive inferno trying to overtake her. It wasn't offering any relief, but feeding the flames instead. She climbed onto the sil, dangling her legs over the precipice, admiring the landscape of concrete, steel, and glass spread before her. She imagined herself queen of the realm, presenting herself to her subjects below her, as she fought to deny the truth.

She looked behind her, noting black smoke and approaching flames, exploding into sparks, dripping from melted light fixtures, feeding on everything synthetic and artificial, and reaching for her. The flames would greedily consume her, and she would be gone, like she was never there. No! She decided she wouldn't burn. She stood on the open edge of the window, choking on the smoke that rolled across the ceiling and escaped to taint the clean outside air.

She couldn't hear the roar of the fire, nor the sirens below. She couldn't hear the shouts of the fireman dangling from the ladder of the rescue helicopter, nor could she hear the blades cutting the air. She existed in silence, alone with only the flames, and the heat, and the dream of one final flight.

"I'm coming home!" The words were never spoken. With arms stretched wide, she leaped for the sky, eyes fixed on the sun. She smiled as she felt the wind in her hair, and she flew.

It was hours later and the clean-up was almost finished. Debris littered the sidewalk, dirty water ran in rivulets, and the ambulance slowly pulled away, sirens silent.

"I don't understand it, Captain. I did everything I could to save her, just a few more feet and I would have had her. She didn't even look up, and I was yelling and waving my arms. It just doesn't make any sense. There weren't that many people working, it being a Saturday, or it could have been a lot worse. But they left when they heard the alarms and got out. Why did she stay? It just defies logic."