It’s Wednesday! We’re halfway through the week, so let’s have some fun today.
Here’s your writing prompt:
“You are hiking through the woods, pushing yourself steadily so you can make the summit before sunset. As you look ahead, you notice a large stick stuck into the middle of the path just in front of the entrance to a short rope bridge over a ravine. A ragged piece of notebook paper is attached to it with what looks like a thread pulled off a shirt, and in big, handwritten block letters, it says, ‘Do not continue down this path! Wait here for instructions.’ What do you do next?”
Finish this with as little as one sentence or as much as 500 words. Post your answer here or on Facebook or Twitter (please tag me if you do this so I can enjoy your answer!).
Or feel free to write it just for yourself and not post it anywhere.
Have fun and happy writing!
I grabbed the paper and stared down at it, vacillating between my innate fear of breaking rules and the common sense telling me to ignore this makeshift sign. The bridge appeared reasonably sturdy, with no visible breaks or unraveling. But halfway-across-a-rope-bridge is a terrible place to figure out you’re wrong. Starting to turn back, I stopped suddenly in my tracks. “This is what you always do: give up. And that’s why you’re alone now, instead of hiking this trail with your brand-new husband.” Squaring my shoulders and glancing down at the faint circle of untanned skin on the third finger of my left hand, I stepped past the sign and set my foot down on the bridge. It swayed a bit, but I clenched my teeth and kept going. My shoulders slowly released their tension as I made my way across. I was mesmerized by the view below, an undulating river sneaking in and out of sight behind deep green leaves and the kind of delicate flowers that wouldn’t last ten minutes in a vase of tap water. A mist obscured the sky above as I approached the end of the bridge and the final path to the summit. Then, just as I was about to step off onto solid ground, it happened.
SNAP!
My eyes flew wide open as I started to fall, my hands scrambling for some sort of anchor on the face of the cliff before me. To my horror, I spied the spiraling ends of all three ropes falling downwards. “This is what you get for ignoring signs, you idiot.” And then a hand clasped mine. I looked up into the angry face of a man whose muscled arm was the only thing between me and certain death. I felt a powerful jerk and then I was lying prostrate in the dirt, the stranger seated next to me, breathing hard and clearly still enraged.
“Didn’t you see the sign?
I nodded my head sheepishly, incapable of audible speech in the presence of the handsomest specimen of manhood I’d ever encountered.
“Women.” Disgust was evident in his tone. “Come on.”
Yanking me to my feet, he started walking up the trail. Terror and exhaustion, combined with resentment at his high-handedness, finally loosened my tongue.
“No.”
He turned swiftly, glaring.
“I appreciate you…um…saving my life, but I’ll be fine on my own.” I dusted off my shirt and tried to look independent and unconcerned as he stepped back down the path to stand in my way.
Looking me directly in the eyes, he responded, “Listen, lady. You’re in over your head. If you think that little rope bridge incident was the worst thing you’ll have to face on this side of the mountain, you’re wrong. Now are you going to be sensible and come with me?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“No.”
With a quick movement, he grabbed me around the waist and flung me over his shoulder, striding on up the path.
Love it! Thanks for posting.
You scratch your chin and ponder what it is telling you. Do not continue? You had planned the mountain trip for weeks, and had just begun to enjoy it. What could the sign possibly mean?
You decide to ignore it. Someone might have been playing a trick, or just meant to warn somebody else. Whatever it meant, you decide it doesn’t matter.
You continue down the bridge, increasing your speed, for the sun is slowly drawing nearer to the horizon. The sky grows darker and pinker. Finally, you get to the end of the bridge and are getting closer to the peak. The woods grow denser as you trudge along and soon the ground is littered with leaves and underbrush. You keep walking to the top of the mountain, which is only a couple hundred feet away.
As you quicken your pace, your foot sinks into the ground. In moments you realize that you have stepped on a pile of leaves and sticks with no ground beneath them, like a classic Swiss Family Robinson trick. The musty walls of the hole you fell into echo with your blood curdling scream as you plummet to the bottom of the dark, drafty pit.
Whoops, you think. You are mentally beating yourself up over the fact that you didn’t obey the sign. Why didn’t you? You might have had reasons, but you still should have been careful. Whoops.
Great story, Oliver! I read it to the kids and we all really enjoyed it. Thanks for posting!
Very good, Oliver! There is even a moral to your story. Your writing just keeps getting better and better.
(this submission is from Laurel, age 9)
Lucy looked around and noticed a robot-like creature carefully nestled in a big tree. The robot was noisy now because its gears were turning. She observed that it sounded a bit like her friend’s printer. Then Lucy realized she was right; a piece of notebook paper came gracefully to the ground. Lucy picked it up and read:
“I am the robot called 012. I am the one who gives you instructions according to the warning on the stick. A man will take you to where you wish. It’s just because I few days ago a man was almost eaten by one of our dangerous animals. It’s just to keep people safe.”
A whistling sound told her someone was approaching, so Lucy stopped reading. Soon enough a tall man could be seen walking toward her.
“Hi,” the man’s gruff voice said, “want to go to the summit?”
Lucy gave a quick nod.
“Alright then, follow me.”
I love it, Laurel! Thanks for posting!
Nice writing, Laurel, but I am filled with nervous fear. I hope this situation doesn’t end badly!
“Uhhhhhh…Sargent Link, sir?”
“Yes?”
You might want to take a look at this.”
“Yes boy, what?”
“Well…um.”
“Out with it!’
“Well, I-”
“Never mind, just give it here.”
The piece of parchment was faded, it appeared to have been ripped out from a book. No tracks could be seen leading away from the pole-of-a-stick that had been stuck into the ground, only a few yards away from a bridge that crossed a ravine were water roared in the distance. The ink on the parchment was still wet, meaning only one thing. Whoever had written this word of warning had done it very recently and hurriedly, but was still able to conceal their whereabouts. It was a mystery, and, as anyone fighting under his command knew, Sargent John Scott Link was dearly fond of a mystery.
It was the height of the American civil war, and both sides, union and confederate, had been scrounging for an advantage over the other. The union, also known as the north, had finally found one: a high vantage point. It wasn’t much but might give the their side an edge in the oncoming battle. The forces of both armies had been stationed too close for comfort. The tension was rising. Both sides had known there was was going to be a battle and had been preparing for it the past few days. The problem was that they were in confederate territory. The southerners knew this place better, and to win, the union had to know the lay of the land.
That was why Sargent Link and his small band were ordered to climb the mountain, and, that is why the words on the scrap of paper were so daunting.
“Do not continue on this path? Wait here for instructions? Outrageous! Preposterous!”
“But sir?”
“Yes? uhhh-”
“Private Cobb, Sir.”
“Ah yes, Private Cobb, What say you?”
“Well…perhaps we should heed this warning.”
“Nonsense, we shall continue!”
“But-”
“No buts, private. Now onward, lads!”
Sargent Link strode forward and stepped on the bridge. It creaked a little but stayed sound.
“It’s safe!”
He walked forward, but before he took three steps…
CRACK!
The sound of gunfire echoed through the ravine, ricocheting off the dirt walls and fading into the mist.
He fell forward and hit the bridge.
Sargent John Scott Link had been shot dead.
It’s pretty interesting that you were able to turn this into a Civil War story. Good job!
PS.
I don’t usually write that much, but when I do, I like to write in the 20th century time period also. I probably changed the time period that was intended to write in though! Here is a little background info on my little story.
The sign that Private Cobb discovered was laid down by a confederate defector by the name of Finch. Now, as you may know in the civil war the confederates were fighting for the “right” to keep slaves. Finch knew this was wrong and in knowing that there was going to be an ambush on the union soldiers, he made that makeshift sign. of course they did not heed his warning.
By the way, the idea of confederate defectors is not actually fictitious.
Mrs. Hoang probably already knows this though!
As you wait, wondering what to do, a friend walks up beside you. You jump as she puts a hand on your shoulder.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Nonsense.” You say. You two continue down the path not saying a word.
You come to a fork. You say, “Which way?”
You turn around. Your friend is gone! You decide to go… right.
You step in some mud. You try to pull your foot out. You gasp!
Quicksand!
Why did you ignore that sign?
You try calling out. It is no use. You wriggle around.
“Help!”
By Lily, age 9.
I look at the bridge. “It looks steady,” I think. I throw a stone at the bridge. I watch it hit a board on the bridge, hard. It detaches and falls! Slash!
“Not stable,” I think.
I look around and see a tree. So I do the only thing any boy would do – climb the tree.
From in the tree, I can see a log that fell over the ravine.
“Great!” I say. I can use it as a bridge. I will not walk over it, but I will crawl over it.
I know what Mom would say. She would say “No, Tom.”
But Mom is not with me, so too bad.
I lie on the log and make my way across.
I made it! Is it just the bridge the sign was talking about? I ask out loud.
Yes, it was.
I head up the mountain towards home.