This seemed interesting, so I shall use it. It comes in five parts. It wants you to pick a real person "you have strong feelings for," but mine will probably be a fictional person. That's much more fun.
Part one: Describe the person's hands.
The evenly colored, soft skin gave away the hands' secret--they'd never plunged into the depths of dirty dish water or scrubbed the rim of a convenience store toilet. They hadn't been washed the customary twenty times a day like a single mom or toiled away in the topsoil of a garden. They simply sat, politely crossed, in her lap. Expertly applied, subtly colored creamy clear nail polish shined on the tip of each finger, projecting cleanliness and efficiency, with a smallest hint of luxury. The ring finger on the left hand bore the brunt of a brilliant diamond ring, almost too big for the dainty hand to carry. Barely visible beneath the monster ring was a small circle of slightly paler flesh. The hands were young and beautiful but maybe slightly naive.
Part two: Describe something he/she is doing with his/her hands.
A little smear of ink smudged off the paper she was writing on with a calligraphy pen. The hands glided across the paper, effortlessly leaving behind a series of perfectly balanced loops and lines that spelled out "You're Invited." Beneath, in simpler script, the hands scribbled the details of forthcoming nuptials. The hands folded the elegant stationary with a sharp crease and slid each invitation into its envelope. Suddenly, the left hand jerked to her mouth as a small dash of blood pooled on the ring finger. To nurse the papercut, she slid the engagement ring off and put a bandaid on the wound.
Prompt three: Use a metaphor to say something about some exotic place. (It must know me well--there is a note that says not to worry about it coming together, just write it. Will do, prompt, will do.)
The private beach in the Bahamas is something of an old hole in the wall. People pool there looking to show off their impressive physiques or hook up with other hot singles. There are vacationers trying to get away from it all, to forget the monotony of their lives for awhile and have fun. Or perhaps they sit seaside to meditate on their lives and the points that brought them to that beach at the moment. Maybe they just like the scenery--the familiarity of the waves crashing over and over, the consistency of the bar's regulars ordering their usual poisons. The waves crash methodically, reassuringly, toppling expertly crafted sandcastles, like the bartender's rag routinely wipes away the remainders of bar patrons past.
Part Four: Ask this person a question somehow involving Part 2 and 3 from above.
While she nursed her hand, the girl noticed a colorful brochure poking out from under the pile of wedding invitation carnage. "Enjoy the romantic beachside view from your deluxe Honeymoon Suite!" it commanded.
"Are you going there immediately after the wedding?" a voice asked from behind her.
Part Five: The person looks up, notices you there, and gives an answer that shows he or she only knows part of what you were asking.
"I think so. Jack makes most of the decisions..."she trailed off.
Then it tells you go to make a short story out of it. Mine was shaping up to be something of soap opera... the girl is marrying some rich dude, but she doesn't actually want to cause she just broke off her engagement with a poor guy cause he's poor. (As evidenced by the smaller ring from the poor guy's tan line being overshadowed.) The guy that enters could easily be the ex-fiancee.
But that is horrible and includes themes I don't really want to write about. Since I made her good at calligraphy, she could work as a person who makes wedding invitations, and she keeps getting engaged and breaking it off, which results in a huge pile of wedding invitations she's made for herself stacked up in her closet. And all of that most culminate in the bar/beach comparison, which I actually rather like. Perhaps she could actually marry one of the guys, get the honeymoon part, and realize on the beach why she's been so indecisive, in a rather Edna Pontellier-esque scene.
What do you know, this exercise provided lots of fodder. Sorry for thinking out loud all over the internet.
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