Young Writers discussion

I was looking through this book I have [642 Things to Write About] and came across this prompt,

Write a story that is set in Detroit in 1956 in which a car floor mat plays a crucial role.

And because I can't think of anything else, I thought it'd be interesting to see what different ideas people came up with and use you guys as an experiment :P

It can be any genre, it's up to you how you portray it, etc.

Oh gosh... This is going to be a hard one...

I have an idea, I just don't know how to execute it.

I shall try because I love insane things XD

I will have to brainstorm... Or wait until someone posts to get an idea. XD jk.

Hahaa this is not going to be an easy one!

uhhhhhh ummmmmmm :/ hummmmmm


I don't think this can play in with any of my fandoms....
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. wait...DW

Ha! I have an idea! I must write it down before I lose it so I can get to it when I finally have time!

Stupid school :P Why do you give so much homework?!

@Anastacia haha thats actually really appropriate :P

Angie wrote: "Ha! I have an idea! I must write it down before I lose it so I can get to it when I finally have time!

Stupid school :P Why do you give so much homework?!"

Woo!

Ugh school is dominating my life right now.. I haven't been doing anything except assignments and studying for exams ;(

There's a writing contest in my school district; the deadline is this Friday and my English teacher has had me working constantly on my entry. Now that I'm finished, I have a ton of homework that I need to do cuz I blew it off... :(

Aw, good luck on both! I have 3 essays due tomorrow so I know how you feel :S

Good luck to you too!

fudgebutts. that is hard. Oh hey. Guess what. Accidentally wrote a poem that fit the last prompt days after it ended. Just my luck, huh?

Angie wrote: "There's a writing contest in my school district; the deadline is this Friday and my English teacher has had me working constantly on my entry. Now that I'm finished, I have a ton of homework that ..."

I hope you win!
What am I saying? Your a great writer, of course you'll win!

Halli wrote: "Aw, good luck on both! I have 3 essays due tomorrow so I know how you feel :S"

I have 4 days to study for my AP European History AND AP Statistics Final :(

Halli wrote: "@Anastacia haha thats actually really appropriate :P"

trying to figure out another fandom I could this for....because I kinda don't wanna do DW XD

@Halli :( That sucks. I only have AP US History this year. But I'm not looking forward to next year when I have AP Physics, AP English, and Calculus. That will be terrible.

School hasn't started for me yet... I went book shopping today and got my stuff, but I don't start til February. Super psyched though, because my school has a special, brand-new exclusive campus for year 9's where everything is much more fun and relaxed and they prepare you for "becoming adults" :D It's gonna be great.

Wait, I can't do this. There wasn't any car mats in 1956...well I don't think so anyways...

Yes there were, I know there are cars and all.
School hast started here yet either I start uh feb too. I'm plain nervous,I'm moving schools because my other one sucked, and it's going to be scary.

just because there were cars doesn't mean there were car mats...

Cars were invented in 1886. And these were the popular type in '56 http://www.pnwnash.org/common/gallery...

that's nice....still don't know what I'm doing though....

Here's mine!

June 27, 1956

She buys the green car. She gets in and drives away.

June 28, 1956

She somehow manages to get a record player in here and taps her feet on me in a most annoying way.

June 29, 1956

She's taken to yelling at people in brown cars at how disgusting brown is and how sleek green is. She seems to forget that I, the very floor mat she taps her feet on, am a very attractive dark ochre.

June 30, 1956

She started dating a man who finds that my friend, the floor mat in the passenger seat, is sandy. He also complains that she yells too loud, and has bad taste in music.

July 1, 1956

She has stopped yelling at other cars and instead curses under her breath.

July 2, 1956

She shook the sand out of my friend last night. He says it had been very itchy and is glad that she did, but he is not glad that she did it only to please her boyfriend because the man's feet smell.

July 3, 1956

She moved the record player out. I probably would have liked it more if it didn't play records.

July 4, 1956

She took him to an "Independence Day dance" last night. They came out walking in circles. I could feel her feet shaking on me, and she nearly drove the car into several trees before reaching the driveway and stumbling out. He said that a chicken could drive better.

July 5, 1956

They went to another dance hall last night. When they came out, she had some kind of cup in her hand, and she spilled its contents on me. She then screamed and passed out, and he slammed on the brakes and switched seats with her. He purposefully kept his feet off me for the rest of the ride. At home, he picked her up, brought her inside, and came back out to get me too. He put me in a basket, where I met a Wet Dishtowel, a Stained Apron, and many others. They told me this was the Hamper, and I was going to be Washed.

July 6, 1956

Being Washed means that I was taken to the Laundromat, put into a Contraption, and spun around and around with soap and water. Then I was taken out of the Contraption and put into a similar one, which spun me around and around in dreadful heat. I really thought I was in Hell. Then I was taken out and put back into the car.

July 8, 1956

Last night they went into a dance hall and didn't come out. The green car was towed and brought to Detroit Used Cars. I am disoriented and confused, but it appears that SHE is gone forever. This is lucky.

July 9, 1956

Today a man put a card on the windshield that said (so the dashboard has told me) "$600" in scrawled handwriting. Nobody bought the car.

July 10, 1956

Nobody bought the car.

July 11, 1956

Nobody bought the car.

July 12, 1956

An old man looked the car over and said, "Too big."

July 13, 1956

A man, a woman, two boys, a girl, and a baby came to look at the car. "Too small," the man declared.

July 14, 1956

Nobody bought the car.

July 15, 1956

He buys the green car. He gets in and drives away...

I like that, Miranda. It's cleverly done. :)

Thank you! I wonder what other people came up with. It will be interesting to see!

I can't remember what my idea was! D':

steampunk....DW.....steampunk....DW.....hummmmm

I hopped into the drivers seat while my younger sister hopped into the passenger's. "Okay, fine, I'll take you to the movie's but what are we watching this time?" I asked with a sigh as I brushed my black bangs behind my ear before starting the car.
Madeline smiled brightly, her brown eyes sparkled. "The new Disney short! I want to watch Chips Ahoy!"
I sighed. "Can't I just buy you a new comic book?" I muttered.
Madeline giggled and stomped her feet on the floor mat. "No silly! There isn't a new one yet! You've got me all of them, so far. Can we please go see it," she said exaggerated the 'please'. She faced me with her puppy eyes.
I moaned and pulled out of the driveway. "Fine, we'll go see your Disney short..." I muttered. I secretly enjoyed watching them with her, but I didn't want my peers to notice that I was watching such 'childish' things.
As we were driving I saw another car coming down the street. I quickly recognized the car as Tim's. I sighed softly as I thought of him, his slightly wavy red hair, the green eyes so deep you could swim in them, and the freckles as they shot across his nose. He was quite adorable.
The pounding of feet on the car mat caught my attention. "GOLL Hannah! Pay attention to the road, we almost drove off the street into a building!" Madeline snapped.
I shook my head and looked forward. "Yeah...sorry," I muttered.
Soon we arrived to the movie theatre. I stepped out the car and Madeline was right behind me. Soon I saw some girls walking down the street from my school.
"Yeah, I can't wait! He's coming here! THE ELVIS PRESLEY! Here to Detroit!"
"Yeah, I can't wait! Anyone who is anyone will be there!"
The third one noticed me and my sister. "Except a few of us will have to be watching little kiddy Disney shorts with our little sister..." she said teasingly.
I looked down at the ground and Madeline clutched my hand. "Maybe there is a new comic..." she whispered, "Wanna go check?"
I smirked. "Nah, let's go! If we don't hurry, we won't get any popcorn!"
Madeline cried out in glee. "POPCORN!!"
We quickly rushed in, bought the movie ticket and popcorn, and went to watch the short. The entire time I couldn't concentrate because I was thinking about what the girls had said. I liked Elvis, he was an amazing singer and I really wanted to see a live concert. Instead I was probably going to use my money up to watch a Disney short or to buy a comic for my sister. I sighed softly. If only something would happen that means I could...
"Come on Hannah, it's over!" Madeline said as she waved her hand in front of my eyes.
I shook my head as I came back to reality. "Huh, oh, right," I said as I stood up and stretched.
"Don't worry about those three, I promise not to want anything at all that day!"
I shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I won't have money to go anyways and mother and father probably won't let me go either, unless one of them came...and trust me, that would only make matters worst..."
Madeline frowned. "What if-"
"No what if, not showing up is better than showing up with you or mom and dad..." I said with a smile.
"Um Hannah-"
"No, no it'll be fine Madeline. I'll be alright if I miss a single stu-" I bumped into someone. I let out a yelp and stepped back. I looked up and came face to face with Tim.
Tim smirked. "Hi there, you alright?"
I blushed. "Uh, um,, yeah..." I muttered stupidly.
Tim laughed. "Please don't tell me you're one of those girls who find me attractive before getting to know me..." he said.
I shook my head. "Haha! No way! Guys are so lame...why would I ever talk about them. No offence..." I said.
Tim shrugged. "Well, guess I better leave then," he said.
I sighed. "Sorry...that's not how I meant that sentence. I-I meant that I have better things to talk about than how guys are attractive..." I said.
Tim laughed. "You're Hannah right?"
I blushed. "How do you know my name?"
"I hear a lot of our peers talk about how you and your sister are huge Disney fans and how childish you apparently are..." he said.
I blushed even more. "Child...ish?" I said kinda shocked.
Tim laughed. "Well, if you're childish would you both like some milkshakes?"
Madeline looked up at me with those puppy eyes again. "PLEASE!!!"
I sighed. "Fine, why not," I said. I smiled slightly. If Madeline had not tapped her feet on the car matt all those time, I'd probably never be in this situation.

W-Wow!

is that good or bad....

It's good! I can't believe you thought of a good idea for this... Too busy focusing on finals for me. Though there is still time, if I can think of something.

I'm surprised people actually think it was good. I was struggling with keeping it sorta in this prompt.

I wrote something in time! Here it is.


The Worth of a Car Mat

Of all the years I spent in Detroit, there are three memories that I will always have.

First is the weather. Detroit was well-known for its constant humidity. It was the kind of heat that never heeded the earth, sun or moon, The kind that seeped through your pores until it was inside you, mischievous and alive.

The second was travel. Back in those days, there was a craze for news and cars; if one took off, the other was sure to follow. My Papa was a reporter in those days, and the hours of the day stretched on longer and longer as the temperature rose, and along with it, so did his work hours. I used to wait for him back when the business was still young, but like people a company grows with age, if it’s lucky, and so do its demands. He would come home at late hours, and I would already be in bed. Sometimes I would pretend to be asleep, just to wait up for him. Most of the time I would drift off long before he ever returned, but some nights I would hear the slight creek of my bedroom door, and soon the brush of his lips on my forehead would follow.


And that brings me to the third. There was a particularly memorable summer in 1956, on a day no less humid or bustling than most. I was drawing with chalk on our driveway, since school was on break and my Mama wanted to work on her baking and embroidery. I could see the steam from the pavement create lines in the air, distorting anything in the distance. All I could make out without venturing away from our property were the houses of our neighbors, which were the typical ranch-style homes with neatly clipped grass and the occasional dandelion or two in a spot that care forgot. That and the lines of cars crowding the streets. They were all shined and sleek, their colors bright against the dull, business-like grays. I remembered reading a book about beetles, something that I checked out from our local library once when I was bored of the usual stories, and the steady crawl of those cars matched perfectly to the description.

My dress was sticking to my calves, sweat making the polka-dotted fabric crumple around my waist and midsection as I bent to work on my scribbles. Then there was a rumble. It sounded like the crackle of old bones, like the geriatric patients that occasionally made their way out of special “homes” to air out before their loved ones visited, as evident on my walks to school. A beat up statesman started to pull into the driveway. The horn honked, and I picked up my chalk so it could park. The car door slammed and my Papa hopped out, still wearing his cap from work and holding a grocery bag.

“Papa, how was work?” I asked. “What’s in the bag?”

He gave me a stern look, only saying “not now, Mary,” before he trudged past me, stepping over the half-step under the front door and walking into the house. My Papa was normally such an easygoing man, though the stress of a workday sometimes leaked through his demeanor. Why did he seem so mad?

With no space to draw on the driveway, and my throat starting to feel parched I went inside. Before I could slip into the kitchen, however, I heard something slam against the countertop. My Mama’s various platters and tins rattled, and the only thing that followed the silence they left was the enraged voice of my Papa.

“Those dealers think they’re a bunch of damn comedians. Look at this thing!”

I quietly scurried to a small alcove where the kitchen door and living room met, for once glad that my body was still small. I saw my Mama leaning against the oven, the timer set to go off at any moment. The smell of apple pie wafted through the room, and I willed my stomach not to growl. Papa was pointing toward the bag with contempt. All I could see was something flat and square.

“Honey,” My Mama said, “why don’t you just start from the beginning? You’re fuming; maybe it will help clear your head.”

“First they decide to lay off factory workers because of their new mechanical assembly lines, and then they have the guts to question the paper’s authority.”

“They can’t just get rid of you like that. What about company compliance? They scheduled an interview with you.”

My Papa gripped the table to stop himself from pounding it. “They apparently think ‘our town paper is declining in priority, and therefore the need for news coverage is less important than productivity.’ Now I understand that it’s all new to them, but they lay off a bunch of men, some of them being my buddies even, and they had the nerve to criticize the longevity of my career! And to top it off, they apologized by trying to buy me off with this.”

He pulled the bag closer to him, and finally pulled out the item inside. It was a car mat, black, sleek and simple. “They’re so full of themselves, they bragged about how the value of even these things will go up with costs cut and customization. And then they sent me home with one thinking I might promote their sorry asses!”

“Why didn’t you just leave it there?”

“Some stupid yes-man gave it to me as I was leaving. Annoying as he was, he wasn’t worth my time. I doubt he’ll even have a job if they find some toy to replace him soon enough.”

With his tirade over, he put his head in his hands. My Mama walked over to him, pulling up a chair. “Frank, I can understand your frustration. Heck, if some of the girls got fired from their seamstress jobs I would be fuming. But you seem...different. Like there’s more to the story.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The paper—the paper has been doing poorly lately. I have been putting in the extra hours just so I can get my paycheck, but with the printers protesting the company’s conduct, and the noticeable lack of interest in readership, I’m freaking out. The opportunities around here are getting rare, and town behavior is going to hell. All I hear about is how layoffs and crimes are rising, and I’m getting to the point that I just want out.” He glanced at her miserably. “I just want our family to get out while we can.”

Mama started to rub his back reassuringly. “Frank, there’s always going to be troubles, wherever we go. It’s just the way things are.”

“But we can make a better future for ourselves, for Mary.” Papa took her free hand in his. “It’s not like it was when we first married. People can afford to buy cars and travel, and there are new places to go. We can get away.”

“I don’t know. We just have so many roots here. This is where our family started, where our lives really began.”

“But I want better for us. What happens if I get fired? You only bring in a little bit of money, and I don’t know if that will get us by before a job opens up again. Please, Susan” he pleaded, all the anger in his expression replaced with an aching desperation. “At least say that you’ll agree to think about it.”

“Okay.” Mama leaned over to hug him, her voice shaky as she said, “I will think about it.”

After they finished speaking, I crept upstairs, careful not to step too heavily on the wooden stairs or close my door completely, just in case they heard it. I plopped down on my bed, sweaty body, damp curls, parched throat and all, the thoughts of play leaving me as I stared at my ceiling. Why was it that the most ordinary things could have the most profound effects on people?

The weird thing about watching your parents talk when you’re younger is that their emotions seem so much more affirming than your own. It’s like the foundation of a house shaken in a storm; only then do you realize how little security its shelter actually has to offer.

Sorry this is late, was just seeing if there were any other submissions :P

idk I find it so cool to see how everyone interpreted this..
All your stories were brilliant, great job you three!

But the winner is...

Miranda

I like how you actually took it literally and made the mat an actual character, I hadn't thought of that, even though it seems most obvious.

Congratulations!

GOOD JOB!!! :D

Thank you! I like writing in first person, and I think the best way to approach something challenging in writing is to think of feelings, so I chose to narrate as if my story were a diary.

Awww.... I ran out of time. Hopefully I can enter next time.

Wait. How did the "www" of Awww turn into a link?

Oh speaking of links and URLs, this is totally random but...

www.wwwdotcom.com

Trust me, it's funny.

Uh... Miranda. What's the next contest?

I'll try making one.

Miranda wrote: "Oh speaking of links and URLs, this is totally random but...

www.wwwdotcom.com"

LOL :')

Did the name of the group change while I was gone?

Yes, Steph, there was a group discussion on it and everything. Get with it Steph, GAWD!

Hey! I haven't been here for a while! Give me a break!