My Storytelling Mind

"Warning... Warning... Warning..."  The boy tugged on his mother's skirt, using his other hand to cover one of his ears. "Mommy, what's my label going to say?" he asked. His mother shrugged, uncomfortable herself with the high volume of the label system.  As they neared the main door, she knelt down and fixed his shirt. "You be brave for Mommy, darling. It’s going to be very loud, but I promise it won’t hurt. Just stay extra still, alright? Can you do that for Mommy?" she said. The boy nodded. She stood again, adjusting her blouse; they were now second in line.  "What's your label say, Mommy?" he asked. She sighed and glanced at her label for the twentieth time that morning.  "My label warns people about my poor balance.”  He nodded, watching the boy in front of him part from his father and step onto the conveyor belt. “How does the machine know what to put on your label?” the boy asked.  “Well, it – I don’t know, darlin...

"I hear there's going to be a party," Jeremy announced as he passed them in the line. They stopped immediately, nearly spilling their food.  "You're crazy, Wentworth," Thomas said, shaking his head.  "Come on," he replied, shrugging. "I hear the Saint Margaret girls are really something, Albright. What about you, Sampson?"  "What?" the smaller boy asked, startled by his name.  "You game for some games?" Jeremy asked, winking. Adam blushed furiously.  "Adam and I aren't interested," said Thomas. Jeremy shrugged and continued to the cafeteria line.  "Come on, Tom," Adam said, when Thomas still didn't move, and pushed him toward a table.  Find this blurb on Pinterest ! Photo: Victoria Hely-Hutchinson .

He stood on the sidewalk outside the gate, hands in his pockets, looking through the bars intently. His gaze was on his favorite window, in which was the light he watched flicker off every Thursday evening and the faded curtains he watched give him a small wave in the dark. He had only seen the other boy once.  Find this blurb on Pinterest ! Prompt: Promptuarium.

The creature was hardly believable, and even less believable was the fact that she had created it - simply by overstretching an ordinary balloon. All he could do was watch it wriggle its little nubs and gaze at them, full of curiosity and naïveté. Find this blurb on Pinterest ! Photo: Art installation by Hans Hemmert.

The cocoon was found in the woods, not to far from the south end where the King and his sons rode in for sport. Gently, with great care for the delicacy of the twigs and leaves, the royal family ordered the cocoon brought into the palace. The King, and his council, hemmed and hawed over whether to open such a fascinating object. The council was so engrossed in their thoughts that they hardly noticed the small yellow butterfly larking about the room. Find this blurb on Pinterest ! Photo: Model Milena Stepien, photo by Luki, for Hian Tjen.

This is the seventh post in a series leading up to the premiere of Netflix's 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' on January 13, 2017. The series will cover each of the 13 books and 'Lemony Snicket: The Unauthorized Autobiography.' Be warned: there are spoilers ahead. In a take on the well-known saying, "It takes a village," the Baudelaires are to be cared for by the village of VFD, provided they do several daily chores and do not break any of the multitude of rules. The siblings, with the help of handyman Hector, begin discovering a series of couplets, clues that could lead them to the Quagmires. When a captured man named Jacques Snicket is declared to be Count Olaf, sentenced to death by fire at the stake, and then found dead in his cell, the entire village proves itself to be just as frustrating and inept as the rest of the adults in the series. Utilizing mob psychology and the last in a series of bad disguises, Count Olaf manages to execute a Sn...

There was no sign of him at the old Morgan House, and there had been no sign of him at the abandoned railway station where they played as children. She had convinced herself that they had just missed each other each time, despite having slept in each lonely building for a night. Just one more time, but one more might be one too many. She hesitated in front of the boarded-up theater, hand clutching the key in the lock. Was it worth going in only to be alone again? Find this blurb on Pinterest ! Photo: Prompt from Mandy Wallace.