“Sour”: Inktober Day #11: Writer Edition

I’m using Inktober prompts to generate daily writing

Photo by Lasse Møller on Unsplash

I’m always jealous of my visual artist friends, especially my sister, when Inktober rolls around. Then this year I realized that even though I don’t draw, I do write, and it might be fun to take the same prompts and see what twenty minutes of writing on the given topic elicits. So I thought I’d just play and see where things take me (knowing that a lot of what I write will be dreck), and maybe you’d like to join too. Here are this year’s prompts.

The little pucker of her lips. The small hands squeezing. The itchy drips running over the backs of her hands and onto the floor. Her tongue, lapping, and then the pursed lips again. But she won’t stop. We’re laughing. We’re pulling out our phones. More sprays out as she squeezes, as her little hands capture the juice. She finds a seed and lifts it up to us, in confusion. We tell her the word, and she tries to say it, and it sounds nothing like the word itself but we are all proud of her. We are proud of her for persevering. She squeezes more juice on the floor and her mother says something about it, gently, a suggestion to here, squeeze it into the sink. But she doesn’t want to squeeze into the sink. Her mother tries to touch it and she howls. She pulls it away. She pulls it to her lips again, and wails, as though we are robbing here. For this, we are even prouder, for her greedy fury. For the sticky mess of her face and arms and the floor.