New to Creative Writing

The_Gatsby

I've been trying to work with some writing prompts so here's my attempt at the following:

"As a psychological experiment, a man is brought into a room with a large red button and instructed not to press it, no matter what"

Maybe you could post your attempts to? Anyway, here's mine. Feedback much appreciated!

---

At 12pm Francis was brought into room 253.

“Inmate 19735, you are not permitted to press that button, do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand” replied Francis.

The clock on the wall now read 4:10pm. Francis looked down at his frail hands which were still covered in dirt from this morning’s shift. He couldn’t help but think that even if he had wanted to press the button; his weak hands probably wouldn’t have allowed him to. Francis stood in the middle of the room in front of the only light source. His body cast a fairly unimpressive shadow upon the waist high metal podium in front of him. The soft glow of the red button reflected onto his face and Francis thought he must have looked quite sinister to the people watching on the outside. They must be getting tired of watching now. Francis was certainly tired of standing there. Maybe they were working in shifts. Or maybe they weren’t even watching. After all, what was the point of him being here? What kind of experiment places somebody in a room and tells them not to press a button? It didn’t matter much to Francis; at least he was warm here. It wasn’t as if he wanted to press the button anyway. You do as you’re told in this place and he was told not to press the button. So he wouldn’t.

Or would he? The button was made of smooth red plastic. It was well polished and looked like it might be nice to the touch. It was hand sized, Francis thought his hand would be a perfect fit for the button. The button looked reasonably solid and Francis could tell it had been carefully manufactured. It was the kind of button that took some strength to press; this wasn’t like one of those buttons on your television remote. It was the kind of button you might press to launch a missile, or go to DEFCON 5 – a solid piece of equipment. Yes, this was a very nice button.

The clock read 4:14pm and Francis began to wonder what the button did."

RoyMcC

Is there a word count limit? I think you need to get to the agonising decision point and deal with it.

The_Gatsby

RoyMcC wrote: »

Is there a word count limit? I think you need to get to the agonising decision point and deal with it.

Well it's up to you, write 200 words or go ahead and start a novel if you want to.

Do you mean get to the point where he presses the button? The point isn't really to write about him pressing the button specifically, it's an exercise in creative writing based around that prompt

RoyMcC

I suppose I'm thinking that the creative bit is the man's dilemma, where you create a situation where he thinks he simply HAS to press the button but is under orders not to. Your piece stops before that point.

Maybe I'll have a go later.

sdevine89

I'll defiently give this a go during the week/when I get a chance.

The_Gatsby

sdevine89 wrote: »

I'll defiently give this a go during the week/when I get a chance.

maybe it could be a weekly thing to encourage some activity on the forum. Vote by thanks and have the winner pick the next weeks prompt. Just an idea, I know there's not much traffic in here

sdevine89

Yeah I really like that idea. It's like the Photo Challenge over in Photography http://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/showthread.php?t=2057145070

Probably leave it open for 2 weeks given people being busy etc. Let the winner pick the following challenge?

Might be cleaner to start a new thread for the purpose? Just copy/amend the rules from photography.

That's just my suggestion.

The_Gatsby

sdevine89 wrote: »

Yeah I really like that idea. It's like the Photo Challenge over in Photography http://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/showthread.php?t=2057145070

Probably leave it open for 2 weeks given people being busy etc. Let the winner pick the following challenge?

Might be cleaner to start a new thread for the purpose? Just copy/amend the rules from photography.

That's just my suggestion.

Yeah, that's where I stole the idea from haha. I'll put up a new thread now with a new prompt

Mindfulness

The_Gatsby wrote: »

Yeah, that's where I stole the idea from haha. I'll put up a new thread now with a new prompt

I'll get some practice in by writing something on the topic above.

I've been trying to work with some writing prompts so here's my attempt at the following:

"As a psychological experiment, a man is brought into a room with a large red button and instructed not to press it, no matter what"

---

He observed the button. It was smooth, round, concave. It looked to be made of soft-touch plastic. Of course, he knew that it probably was. That was the whole point of this exercise. He knew that by their use of a soft-touch plastic, the word 'touch' would be embedded into his brain and would gnaw at him, coaxing him to reach out and touch the button to see if his observation was correct.

They hadn't said anything about not touching the button though, they had just told him not to press the button. There was nothing to stop him from reaching out, circling his finger around the circumference and savouring the resistive, tactile friction of the plastic as his finger circumnavigated the button's edge.

He knew too though that this was what they hoped he would do. After all, once he had explored the surface of the button and touched it, it would make it all the more difficult not to begin to think about what sort of 'click' the button would make when pushed. Would it be a light click, a solid click or perhaps a 'thunk' with a deafening finality? They wanted him to ask these questions. They wanted him to press the button.

No, reaching out to touch the button would only begin that sequence of events. He would not do it. His attention shifted to the clock ticking rhythmically. Nothing in this room was an accident. What did the clock signify? Was the incessant tick-tock, tick-tock, perhaps a subtle reminder of Doomsday? Was it meant to encourage or discourage the pressing of the button? He wasn't sure but he was annoyed at himself. He realised that his attempt to stop thinking about the button had led him to the clock that only served to focus his mind more on the button.

Clever bastards.

Then his mind finally captured the elusive thought. He knew now why the tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock had been irritating him. It wasn't rhythmic. It was slightly asynchronous, not by much, barely noticeable but it was there. There was a slight inconsistency in the timing of the tick-tock motion of each second. Sometimes they were closer together and sometimes further apart.

Now the button no longer mattered, all he could hear was the damn clock. The disturbed wave-form of noise seemed to amplify until it was the only thing in the room that mattered. He tried to stand so he could rip the clock off the wall but couldn't. The momentary confusion was nullified by the memory of them shackling him to the chair, bolted to the floor...right in front of the button.

Then it hit him. He knew now what they had done. The only way to stop the clock was to push the button. The not-quite-seconds ticked on and on, each one longer or shorter than the other by a minuscule fraction, with no discernible pattern. It grated on his ears, it was tortuous.

He had vowed not to press the button but the pain in his head was getting worse. The brain was tricked into expecting a tick when none came. The tocks were happening earlier or later. He could feel the strain in his cranium. He was sweating and felt himself begin to twitch. He saw a hand reaching out towards the button and realised with horror that it belonged to him. He had to stop the noise. Slowly he watched as his hand touched the button. Soft plastic, he was right but there was still no relief. His finger found it's way to the middle of the button and he watched as the button began to depress. He heard the micro-switch click and the button descended another millimetre or two before coming to rest. He held the finger in place for a moment and then slowly, as he sobbed, his finger began the ascent that would complete the button press. As the button retuned to its original position the clock stopped, filling the room with silence.

He leaned forward, sweat dripping off his face, crying. They would punish him now, he didn't know how they would punish him but they wouldn't let this go. Then the asynchronous tick-tock started again. His hand shot out and he slammed the button down. Click. Nothing. The clock continued it's asynchronous beat. Click, click, clickclickclick. His finger repeatedly pressed the button with a rapid fire action.

The clock ticked on. It dawned on him that this was the punishment. He screamed.

Das Kitty

I played a bit with it.


Walter heard his boss’ footsteps click down the hall, so he sat up straighter and looked seriously at the screens in front of him. Judith stuck her head around the door. “Evening, Walter. Would you mind coming with me for a few minutes? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Of course,” he said, knowing better than to question her. He placed his hat carefully on his head and stood as straight as his gut would allow.

“How’s everything going?” Judith said, wringing her hands as Walter kept pace with her. Small-talk, of course, but Walter had an inkling that she might be fishing for something. He’d give her nothing.

“Very well, thank you,” he said, with an air of someone who neither knew nor cared why he was being summoned.

Judith stopped outside a room Walter had never been in before. “All the other rooms were being used. Sorry about that,” she said.

Walter winged a brow as Judith unlocked the door and went inside. He followed her in. The room was plainly decorated with a desk and two plastic chairs taken down from a stack in the corner. On the desk was a videophone. He hadn’t seen one of those in the prison before.

“Have a seat, Walter,” Judith said, and scratched her cheek. “I just have to pop out to the… ladies. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Walter blinked at her. Surely she could have done that before asking him to go with her? He made no comment.

She was almost out the door when she turned on her heels, and almost laughing said, “And whatever you do, don’t press the big red button.” She snorted as she let the door swing shut behind her.

Walter hadn’t even noticed the button until she pointed it out. He paced over to it, taking a cagey glance around the room for hidden cameras. None, as far as he could tell. He bent down and squinted at the button. It looked like an emergency stop button you might find on a piece of machinery to him.

He straightened up, and it struck him. “Hmm!” he said, and chuckled lightly. He knew exactly what this was. It was a thought experiment. He’d read about it in a magazine once. They judge the personality of each employee based on how long it took them to press the button. Well, he thought, decisive go-getter is how I described myself on the application form; I might as well follow through.

He punched the button decisively.

There was a mechanical whirring followed quickly by a series of clunks. Walter looked around, but couldn’t see anything different about the room. Perhaps he’d been wrong about that button. He decided to try to find Judith and explain, hoping she’d find it amusing, but when he tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. “Hmm,” he said.

The phone on the desk rang, and he edged over to it, hesitating for a moment before answering. He didn’t even get a chance to say hello before he was being shouted at.

“Walter! What did you do?” She sounded breathless and panicked, but it was definitely Judith. He could see her on the small video screen.

Before he could tell her his misunderstanding, she was shouting again. “Didn’t you read your training pack? You’re in the bloody panic room!”

Walter was sure she was about to say more, but he couldn’t see her on the screen now, and the siren on the line was hurting his ear, so he hung up. He had meant to read the training pack, once he found his reading glasses… It must have slipped his mind after that.

He went back to the button and squinted at it again. Nothing. He stood back and stroked his chin. “Ah,” he said, noticing finally the sign in large bold lettering that he didn’t need his glasses to read.

Emergency Cell Door Release. Only use in case of Fire. Ensure all staff are present before use.

“Hmm.”