Focus on a single emotion using bumper cars as the central metaphor. Let the impact of the collisions, motions and thrills guide your prose or poetry....

An unbidden memory rises to the surface, causing the protagonist to question everything. Start your story with the protagonist in the middle of some unwanted act....

I watch as the candle flickers in my parent’s bedroom, casting funny looking shapes on the wall. Is that… an eye?

I turn to the window. From here it looks like the moon is resting on our apple tree, smiling at me. In that crescent shape—

“Focus, Mindy!” I chide myself. At this rate, I’ll be an adult before I ever start my training.

You see, I turned thirteen yesterday. The age where young ladie...

Daughter:

I watch the palm trees wave as we head down the main road. By all accounts it feels like a regular school day, with my Papá behind the wheel. But, today my heart is beating a samba. I glance over at him.

“Papá, mi prima said something strange yesterday.”

“Your Cousin Panchita? Oh, what’d she say?”

“She said that, um… if you and Mamá told me to stay, that I should say ‘no’.”

“Hmm? T...

Who are you?

I am you

That’s not true!

Yes, we’re two

That can’t be

You heard me

That’s enough!

Oooo, so tough

You are not I

Why would I lie?

I’m all my own

Am I your clone?

Wait, whatdya say?

Your hearing okay?

Just who are you?

Check out this view

You’re my reflection?

Have an objection?

You’re just a mirror

You’re not in error

You agree with me?

I do, partially

Say what you will then

You’re a...

Sooo not a fan of Chris Stapleton

Same here, I find him bland

I listen to Chris on my Peloton

Oh yeah?—I love that band

Hate Meghan Trainor’s new ‘booby’ lyric

Lacks sensitivity

I love what she did, it’s like totally slick

Exudes positivity

Dissonance aimed at me erupts like fire

This need for everyone

Approval, object of my desire

I’m a chameleon

Opinions of others I’d amplify

Laugh just to fe...

Invisible, in this little glass booth

Sound enters my ear, then exits my tooth

Foreign ambassadors deliberate

Tone-deaf boss, joking inappropriate

I interpret his words just as uncouth

Then the next day, while chatting on the phone

My daughter chides, Mom, you must be a clone

You gotta know that you talk just like him

Biting words, my daughter’s criticism

My, when did my little girl get so grow...

I know how this looks. A grown man crying on the floor of his bathroom, while eating a pizza—clearly I’ve gone mad. Rest assured, I haven’t. This story actually has a happy ending. It all started in interrogation room 2B.

***

“Has Agent Lear been in contact with you?”

“No, I’ve already—”

“Do you know where she might have gone?”

“No, what’s this abo—”

“Do you have any children, Agent Garret? ...

As I stare again at the scrap of paper in my hand for like the umpteenth time, I think that I might spontaneously combust.

“_Meet by the excavator after work, Rachel. I have your dirtbag girl. Your turn!_”

I take a deep breath and call my daughter who should be home from school by now. It goes to voicemail, and I leave a quick message telling her to call me back ASAP, then check the Life360 app ...

I float through the decades-old patchwork of tunnels. The stone feels warm somehow in the darkness as I descend through Gaia. When I finally reach the bottom, I am momentarily surprised by the shadows hugging the walls like small creatures, despite the absence of sunlight.

Then I see _him_.

Unconsciously, I churn faster, feeling the furnace ahead. As I do, I am greeted by the taste of hope—if s...