Daily Writing Prompt Thread Thingy It'll Be Fun

[notabitail]

Awesome!

Well then, in honor of my 5,000th post, here's a prompt (if anyone's interested):

Your character is performing a task/action that it feels like they've done 5,000 times.

Enjoy!

Spoiler

Rupert woke up to the sun rising outside his home. He wasn't in bed. He was on the floor, again.

I wish I didn't keep doing this.

He stood up, his back hurting from last night's nightmare. His sheets were rumpled on the floor, and his nightstand had fallen once more.

This is annoying.

The nightstand righted, and the sheets tossed back on the bed, Rupert walked down the stairs to the townhome's small living area.

I'm tired of this. Every day, it's the same. Wake up, clean the floor, then eat.

Rupert slowly pried open the pantry to its bleak and meager selection of cereals. He had them every day. Every day, before another long, intense day of digging through archive after archive. The monotony was too much for him. The pantry was left open, and Rupert grabbed his bicycle, and rode off.

He rode until he reached the edge of the town overlooking the fields of food, grown to sustain life inside Gothic City, watching the tractors cut down plant after plant.

It's better than being famous, but I still don't like it.

Rupert rode back home, climbed into bed, rolled over, and fell asleep.

A few hours later, he awoke, still in bed, without any nightmares, let alone items knocked over.

Is this a dream? Did I really sleep. Is this what actual sleep feels like?

Rupert reached for his phone, turned it off, and threw it across the room.

I don't want to hear you anymore. At least for the rest of today.

Rupert rested, and slept better than he ever did since those first nights living there.

 

[Amer]

Enjoy!

Spoiler

Rupert woke up to the sun rising outside his home. He wasn't in bed. He was on the floor, again.

I wish I didn't keep doing this.

He stood up, his back hurting from last night's nightmare. His sheets were rumpled on the floor, and his nightstand had fallen once more.

This is annoying.

The nightstand righted, and the sheets tossed back on the bed, Rupert walked down the stairs to the townhome's small living area.

I'm tired of this. Every day, it's the same. Wake up, clean the floor, then eat.

Rupert slowly pried open the pantry to its bleak and meager selection of cereals. He had them every day. Every day, before another long, intense day of digging through archive after archive. The monotony was too much for him. The pantry was left open, and Rupert grabbed his bicycle, and rode off.

He rode until he reached the edge of the town overlooking the fields of food, grown to sustain life inside Gothic City, watching the tractors cut down plant after plant.

It's better than being famous, but I still don't like it.

Rupert rode back home, climbed into bed, rolled over, and fell asleep.

A few hours later, he awoke, still in bed, without any nightmares, let alone items knocked over.

Is this a dream? Did I really sleep. Is this what actual sleep feels like?

Rupert reached for his phone, turned it off, and threw it across the room.

I don't want to hear you anymore. At least for the rest of today.

Rupert rested, and slept better than he ever did since those first nights living there.

WOO HOO! Rupert update!! Is it my birthday?

 

[notabitail]

WOO HOO! Rupert update!! Is it my birthday?

I don't know if it's your birthday, but clearly Rupert decided it's Rupert Meltdown Day.

 

[Amer]

I don't know if it's your birthday, but clearly Rupert decided it's Rupert Meltdown Day.

Every day is Rupert Meltdown Day

 

[notabitail]

Every day is Rupert Meltdown Day

I should stop being such an idiot and use my Shadows on the Wall prompt to explain why Rupert always wakes up on the floor.

 

[notabitail]

Ooo. I just figured out a good prompt.

Shadows on the wall.

Spoiler

Very early in the morning, Rupert sat up with a start. A big, fat, and angry cat was in his room. And it was trying to attack him.

The cat reached out to grab him, its mouth drooling as it imagined how tasty one wimpy little Rupert would be. And then it spoke.

"You think you can hide, don't you? Come with me and you'll be famous, and I'll leave you be".

Rupert reached to grab his phone, and hurled it at the cat. He heard it clatter to the floor, but the cat didn't flinch. He then reached off his bed to grab the lamp, only to roll off of the bed, hit the nightstand, and land on the floor.

The cat laughed. "Pathetic human. You really do think a lamp will stop me? Too bad you didn't bother, oh, I don't know, keep a gun in here or something."

It advanced, mouth drooling even more now. Its massive jaws opened, and it reached to grab Rupert. He kicked and screamed, and tried to fend the cat off, but he couldn't. The cat's mouth closed on him, with a surprising lack of pain, and...

"Wuhhh?"

Rupert was laying on his back, with his bed an absolute wreck. He turned to look at his clock, which had landed right next to him. It claimed that it was two in the morning.

He turned to look at the wall, and saw the shadow of a cat walking by, causing him to scream. The shadow promptly disappeared, leaving Rupert in a very confused state.