"Reality leaves a lot to the imagination." --John Lennon

Curently we have no prompt contests. Enjoy the works from past prompt contest winners below:

Send any questions to prompt.klio.psu@gmail.com

Check out past prompt winners:

2016 Prompt Winner: "Bare"

Samantha Friedman, Penn State University Park

The prompt: Write a myth/legend/fable/allegory as to why trees lose their leaves every Fall. Or interpret this photo any way you please, with a focus on fall.

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Bare

By:  Samantha Friedman

I am a Maple Tree. My leaves are usually the colors of a pumpkin pie. They absorb the warm tangerine and lemon rays of the sunlight that beats down on me from above the wooded plains I live in. My leaves keep me warm. They are who I am, my protective barrier. The leaves on my branches differentiate me from the Oaks, the Birches, the Beeches, and the Firs that I share this earth with. As you cling to your chestnut colored wool sweater, as you hike along these woods, I tightly hold onto my leaves for the same comfort and support. I feel more appropriate keeping my leaves on, rather than exposing myself like us trees must do every year. We do so during the mating season in the hopes of finding a male who believes that our naked trunks, raw branches, and leafless twigs are beautiful.

It is rare for us trees to keep our leaves through the months of October to December. When I first started to grow into this life as a young sapling, I never thought I would be a part of it. I saw the trees around me without their leaves to be lonely, in longing search of a spouse. As all of my friends around me lost their leaves, I began to see it as something I had to be a part of, or at least experience. I would listen to their stories of how they confidently shook off their leaves for the first time. “But didn’t you feel so helpless?” I would ask the older trees, searching for advice or guidance.

The first time I experienced the month of October, I felt cold and transparent. I wanted to be seen and accepted but I felt like I was just going through the motions. It was hard for me to believe that the older trees saw losing their leaves as a holy ceremony. My first time did not feel special. When the time came, I felt like I was being taken advantage of. Your kind would even walk by and photograph my nakedness to show to all of their friends. I stood bare among other trees whose bodies were unique and intricate, unlike my own. My bark was plain and vertical striped, while the Beeches beside me had bark as smooth as stone. I looked around at the Birches that had peeling bark and the other maple families that had rough ridges. Some trees enjoy October and stand firmly rooted in the ground during this time of the year because they feel desired. Meanwhile, I hunched over and waited as the time passed until it finally ended. They shook their branches beside me, as their leaves fell to the ground and the world suddenly became silent.

To me, I feel most beautiful when I am able to decorate myself, to cover the wooden pieces I am made of that remain as hard as steel. As trees, we are taught to trade our strength with fragility and to lose a piece of ourselves just so we can gain approval, a part in which we never really needed. This deep belonging, the need we all have to fit in is rooted within all of us. Human or nature, the immense hole I have in my trunk is not unlike the one you feel within your stomach.

2017 Prompt Winner: "Return Voyage"

Jennie Graham, Penn State Altoona

The prompts: A forgotten spirit revisits a place from their past life.

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Return Voyage

By Jennie Graham

Before me the Queen Mary stretches, as majestic as its namesake. If I remembered the rules, I could go inside. The first rule: never let your emotions rule you, or small disasters will begin. The second: don’t reveal anything, except to the person you are supposed to find.

I smooth the skirt of my blue velvet dress and begin scanning the other guests. My eyes are drawn to a girl with light brown hair wearing a breezy sundress. Her aura is bright, but tinged at the edges with blue. I stride over to her.

“Hello, my name is Delores, and I was hoping to find someone to walk around with today. I’d be happy to show you around the ship.” She is polite enough to ignore the forced brightness of my smile.

“I’m Nora. I’d love a tour. I’ve heard the ship is haunted, and I’m very interested to go explore.” She says.

“I can show you.” I say with another smile. “Follow me.”

“This is the Queen’s Salon where people see a lady in white dancing. Can you not hear the music? They say the band had to play until the last guests stopped dancing, but they always seemed happy. Everyone was happy, until they weren’t.” Did you know the Queen Mary was painted gray and used as a transport ship during the Second World War? It was know as the Gray Ghost and on its return it was packed full of the critically wounded.” I pull her toward our next stop. “Can you not feel their anxiety? The uncertainty of war weighing on them? It permeates the atmosphere.”

“I suppose so.” Nora answers uncertainly.

“I’ll show you where the saddest deaths happened. This is the bow of the ship, where the Queen Mary collided with the HMS Curacoa killing 239 British soldiers. You can still hear the screams of the men dragged under the propeller and cut up.” She seems uncomfortable.

“Delores, I really would prefer to stop now.” Nora says.

“Stop? We’ve just begun.” Nervous laughter bubbles up and escapes. “You must come see the first-class swimming pool. Don’t talk to Jackie, the little girl by the pool, she is drawn here by the negativity surrounding the ship, but she is not a little girl.” I warn.

“You talk as though you know them all.” Nora comments.

“But I did. I drowned in the swimming pool after all. I was so unhappy. My fiancée had left me at the alter, and they said it would do me good to get away. When I came here I was so happy, so very happy. I never wanted to leave, and then I drowned.” She stares at my unflinching smile in horror. Comprehension comes to me.

“Your Grandfather’s name is Stephen isn’t it?” She nods. “Now I understand why I found you. I watched him be transported to Europe, but never learned his fate. Give him this broach and ask to see my travel journal.” She stares at me dumbly. “And Nora, stay away from water. If you don’t it will be the death of you.” She calls out for me to wait, but I vanish leaving behind a puddle of water, watery footprints, and the sound of a splash.