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Ever have one of those weeks where the prompt doesn’t spark a single viable idea? No thesaurus in the world can help. We all have them. Here’s the result of my brain freeze. 

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STREAM OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS

To Whom it May Concern,

I cannot write today. My imaginary friends won’t speak to me. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Mine are broken. All the duct tape in the world won’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again. The face in the mirror is blank. No reflection on you, of course. Have I reached 100 words? Nope. Thirty-three and a third to go. That’s an LP you know. They were vinyl CD’s back in the days before stereo was king. And nothing rhymes with orange. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Shalom,

Rochelle