Prompt 27: Write a story about an empty glass.
It hadn't always been empty. Or even half-empty. Actually, for many years, to Kara, the glass was full, or close to it.
It wasn't gradual either, the draining of the glass. Rather, it was sudden. One day, Kara woke up and life was no longer what it had been.
The glass was emptied, shattered, with that one phone call. "Is this Ms. Delay?" Kara was still tired, she didn't know that by answering, she would ruin her very own life.

Prompt 127: Write about a heart that wouldn't quit.
It was slow. The realization that is. Falling for him was fast, too fast, but she couldn't stop it. One moment, she was pouring over her biology notes, her head buried in a book with stringy hair falling all about her face, and the next, she looked up and there he was. He, splendid in his solitude, leaning on a shaded tree with a guitar slung across his back.
She knew that she fell for him, but she attributed it to the heat, to the pre-test delirium. She thought it would pass. She didn't plan on seeing him again.
But it seemed that was all she could do, was see him again. Outside her dorm, stealing a quick cigarette while slouched with others on the wooden bench. Yes, there were others, often, but she never noticed them. Only him.
And when she realized it, it wasn't so bad - a little crush is healthy, she reasoned, it keeps life balance. Never mind everything else, she could count on seeing him - always at her most unstable moments - and it would make everything better.
But when she saw him , this time not with the others, but with another, she thought it was over. Her heart would surely forget because of the beautiful, perfect girl who sat with him on the bench, smoked with him. The girl on his arm who played guitar.
She didn't play guitar or smoke, she never sat on the bench outside of her dorm.
So she thought she would forget.
But five years later, her heart, a stubborn, foolish, thing, refused to forget, refused to stop loving him.

Prompt 50: Write about a town that ran out of a sugar supply
The children were the first to notice.
They cried for their cookies, and their other sweet treats.
The adults were the ones who knew what it really meant. The sugar was gone - the flour would be soon to follow. The butter, the bread...slowly to provisions would dwindle away. Some mentioned escape, but they knew they could not. They were too well trapped, their captors too clever. So when the children cried for their sweet treats, the parents smoothed their curls. And then, when the children had gone to bed, they sat with their heads bowed together wishing for someone to smooth their curls.
They knew that it was only a matter of time.