Liberty

            Liberty McGhee was born on Independence Day, twenty-two years ago. Ever since she was old enough to wave the flag, she’d dreamed of serving her country, and joined the Marines Corps after graduating from high school.

        Liberty had spunk as well as beauty and brains.  She trained as a helicopter technician, quickly advancing in rank.  All the Marine pilots wanted her on their maintenance teams. However, one lieutenant wanted her on his home team. She ducked for cover whenever he tried to kiss her. But Liberty had no refuge the night he dropped to his knee and proposed marriage.

Check out what the others wrote with this prompt:

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Job Hunter

        Savannah sat at her computer, filling out the online application. Education: Which sounded more impressive, Harvard or Stanford? Work experience: Saks Fifth Avenue or Abercrombie and Fitch?

        She remembered her father’s advice. “Never tell the truth when a lie will get you through the door faster.”

        With a confident smile, she filled out the form and pressed “Enter”. The truth was boring. She had graduated from Idaho State University in Pocatello, Idaho with a degree in accounting. But Bloomingdale’s must never know that.

        Her phone buzzed and she answered the call. “Hi, Dad.”

         “How’s job hunting?”

        “Piece of cake.”

What did the others write:

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Sacked

Today’s prompt: The girl shouldn’t have been sacked, but if he said anything . . .

        Dreams Come True Mattress Company was a nightmare. The manager was literally an ogre. Most of the employees were elves—little people with pointy ears. The sales representative drank Bloody Mary for lunch. But Theobald needed a job. So he went to work in the shipping department where mattresses were wrapped in sheets before being loaded into cardboard boxes.

        This morning he heard a moan coming from the back of the warehouse. A beautiful, young elf struggled in the sheets. The girl shouldn’t have been sacked, but if he said anything, he’d be sacked too. Smiling mischievously, he climbed in.

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Who Done It?

There had been many theories about how she had been murdered.

        Becca studied the prompt and grimaced. Its wording was awkward, and the repeated phrases annoyed her. Bored, she glanced about the classroom. Ms. Walker, her English teacher, sat half-hidden by the laptop monitor on her desk. Was she playing solitaire again?

        The students scribbled madly, but Becca remained stumped. Theories were only rumors. What about evidence?

        She imagined Ms. Walker’s bloody body splattered on the pavement. Had she been pushed out the window or was she run over by a school bus? Smiling wickedly, Becca began to write.

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