Trunk ~ Trunk of an elephant. Water Water WAter. Bath Time. PEanuts. Mikes birthday. Lazers! Star wars! Yoooda! …..weedies! High as fuck! Weediesss. Junk food! 711! Doritos! hot fries. weedies. Sexy time ;) sleepy time. wake up time. sexy time. breakfast time. work time. weed time. dinner time. sex time. sleep time. shower time. poop. poopy poop time. :D tooiiiiileeeeeeetttttt. ;) <3
Trunks. From the ocean to the back of camero’s trunks have been the cover for i bet a lot of conseivings. Many times both have been my kinda cover for sexual activities. :)
one day I went driving and all of a sudden I had someone or something in my trunk. I was frightened and didn’t know what to do. so I drove the car off a cliff and the stomachs that had been in my butterflies were then relieved.
We keep everything in the trunk, our passengers can open it whenever they’d like but they don’t really care do they? They’re just there for a ride, we both kept our secrets in the trunk, he looked in mine and I looked in his. And now we share the weight of the things we dragged around with us, what one else ever knew or cared to know about we know and we grew from it. And we travel smoother with our empty trunks.
The trunk was filled with things that Cassandra had never seen before. She just learned it existed when she was going through Grandmother’s things. Grandmother has some secrets!
elephants are beautiful giant beings and can remember everything. They can’t jump because they don’t have knees/ elbows. elephants are what keeps me connected with my grandmother who passed away.
i feel like traveling. i think about packing my trunk and leaving. or rather i feel like getting in one and leaving. i guess it means an escape. a trunk to go a trunk to leave a trunk TO GET OUT OF HERE! lets go.
It was large and brown, covered in pictures and memories. She kept it at the foot of her bed always. I could not imagine my grandmother any other way but with her silver hair and cane but years ago she carried that trunk all over the world.
There was an old dusty drunk on the bedroom floor, a trunk he had seen many times, but never had the courage to pick up. Open. Explore. His curiosity could never get the best of him, after knowing how many years that it had been there, and what it’s contents may be, with the house being haunted since the 16th century.
a trunk reminds me of traveling from school to school when i was a young kid. I went to two different boarding schools before i ended up finally letting one stick. Linden Hall, an all girls boarding school in the “middle of no where” PENNSYLVANIA> IT WAS AN EXPERIENCE> I GREW UP QUICKLY AFTER THAT> ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS TRAVEL AND CARRY AROUND MY BIG TRUNK FROM PLACE TO PLACE> IT ALWAYS MADE ME FEEL LIKE AN ADVENTURE WAS AROUND THE CORNER WAITING TO BE DESCOVERED>
dont make me go pop the trunk on you was one of the lyrics in yelawolfs hit songs. a great rapper he is but with a one way beef with mgk. Mgk claims to have the beef and yelawolf is oblivious to who mgk even is
of my car. not closed in. full of supplies. on the way home. food. blankets in winter. tire jack. mysteries stored in the attic. old. photos. dust. cobwebs in the corners. lock and key?
i think trunk of a car. i think tree trunk. Tree trunks are usually very big. Like the trees at the Red Woods. I always wanted to go to the Red Woods, Just never had the chance to. But there are many places I want to go but never had the chance to. Like India, Brazil, Ecuador, Borneo.
Pack up your bags, and toss them in the trunk. We don’t have time to wait, or to even look back. Step on the gas, or spread those damned wings boy, and get out of here as fast as you can.
Where all is dark and lonely
only the quiet know what it is like
the dead here, see, feel nothing
but here is where silence awaits
where there is no choas, where there is peace
but where the mind is not aware of it
did you close it? I meant the chest, not the car. truncate your verbs or maybe just shorten the distance between me and you, because no matter how much I stuff, your absence is the most overwhelming thing filling me. I miss you. that’s all.
I’ve got too much junk in my trunk! The trunk of my car, that is. Stuff to go to recycling & Goodwill. Rugs that I need to take to the laundramat. It just seems to keep adding up!
the trunk of the tree stood strong and firm, while the paws of the squirrel scratched at its surface, it was accustomed to how the nails felt on its skin. It had gathered scars throughout the years and the furry feet were nothing comparing what it had enduring in the past.
I open up the back of the car and start the search. Suitcase, suitcase, duffel bag, bag of food, oreos–oreos. That’s what she wanted. I hold the package in my hands, thinking, wondering what to say. When I go around to the passenger side, she’s gone.
The trunk of the tree was amazing. It was so huge that fifteen elephants strung tail to trunk wouldn’t have fit around it. She knew. She’d tried. It had taken sixteen. They didn’t really have sixteen elephants to spare though, so she knew her plan wouldn’t work. She’d just have to think of something else.
One day I was driving downtown when a cop pulls me over. He asks to see what’s in my trunk. I pop it open. It’s an elephant I smuggled in. He releases the elephant, only to have it smash down tree trunks in it’s rage, it’s trunk flailing wildly. I put on my swim trunks and dive into the lake to get some seaweed.
the mid portion of the body and a tree. it stretches so tall into the sky, the tree trunk that is. the body trunk is best to hold. and listen too. the heart beats. and the tummy gurgles. all the organs work together. it can also be a large box that you put all your best possession into. kept in old victorian houses and castle. the trunk is where the most beautiful things are kept. those or bed linens
the place where special things are kept. smells like old mothballs and grandma’s clothes. There are lots of memories here that are waiting to be uncovered. Old photo albums and movie tickets, lettermans jackets and roller skates. something you find in every house .
sometimes mafia lords put their victims in the back of trunks. the best way to escape is to punch out the back lights and stick your hand through and start waving. This way, other cars behind will notice you but not the Mafia lord driving the car!
I was driving down this ill lit road just along the mexican boarder. I jumped into my car after I grabbed some tacos during sunset. I heard a noise coming from my trunk.
Harry tugged his trunk into the cabin, grunting a little at the effort and cursing the stupid laws prohibiting underage magic. It made no sense! He kicked the trunk in satisfaction when he finally settled it into an unoccupied corner. He stretched, cracking his neck and headed out to look for Ron and Hermione.
in the trunk of my car sit a heart. the heart i am taking to your house. this heart i am giving to you. for you to love. and to hold. and to never let go. because you love me as much as i love you. and it will always be that way. because luck is on my side. and we will always be perfect. even if the others don’t see it.
I never knew if someone would find out what had been inside my trunk that night. It was a difficult task, what with the struggling and all, but it was quickly…packaged. I tried not raise suspicion, although I was merely sixteen and looked quite young as I was driving towards the river at 3 in the morning on a tuesday night. Soon, I lifted the large, wriggling mass in the sack and hefted it over the bridge, into the fast currents of the river.
John was rather frustrated with Sherlock’s uninterested request for help. How had he gotten himself wrangled into unpacking his flatmate’s trunk? He hadn’t had any of the fun on the trip to… wherever it was Sherlock had gone. John’s musings on a revolt against the lazy man-child detective were cut short when his hand withdrew a black, lacy piece of lingerie .
Posted By floppybelly On 01.03.2012 @ 5:38 pm
I’ve already done this prompt. I really don’t want to do it again. Oneword, get your shit together and quit repeating yourself. Go look in a dictionary or something.
The back of the trunk was the last place I saw as the crab monsters from the time rift took me away. I was bound and gagged, but the trunk became a home to me during the 48 hour drive. No food. No light. Just rope and fear.
Hinges squealed in protest, as if to remind me yet again that I was not supposed to go through his things. I hefted the lid away, hoping that the answers to all of my concerns lay within the battered trunk. It was one of the few things he still had left from who he used to be before he emigrated. I had told me years ago, long before old age had garbled his voice and a series of small strokes had sagged his face, that his father had given him this trunk as a present for becoming a university student. Over all this time that I have played in this dusty attic, I have always wondered what lies within it. Even as I braced my arms to push up the rusted lock and raise the lid, I have difficulty imagining him, such a small, withered old man, ever being able to carry it. It is only after a few more tries that the lid comes free.
I look down in anticipation, feeling much how I imagine Howard Carter felt when he discovered King Tutankhamun’s tomb.
Nothing.
Well, nothing dramatic. A thin layer of photographs, yellowed and disinigrating, show the fixed paper smile of a woman. I brush those aside impatiently.
There! I spot a glimmer of gold hiding in the corner. My mind flashes back to a golden sarcophagus. I lift the gold in my hand and take a closer look.
It’s a pin in the shape of a swastika.
It seems like my unassuming Polish grandfather will have a lot of explaining to do.
A suit case, the trunk of an elephant. swinging its long number through the watering hole as other creatures surrond it. its slurps up water and eats peanuts. it tickles others fat bellies and plays with its young. the carresses the sarengetti sun and climbs inconspicously up trees.
I closed the trunk and walked to the front door of the car. My hands were shaking, and I failed to open the door as I fumbled with the keys. I could see my breath, and I feel my heart beating faster. It was 20 degrees outside, but I was sweating as I sat outside my car anxious to get away from his house and the bloodied knife I had left on the grass.
I already wrote about this word before I signed up so I’m going to go with something different.. I opened the trunk and there were flowers, booze and stripper gogo boots in there. When I grabbed the flowers they wilted in my hand instantaneously.
Trunk ~ Trunk of an elephant. Water Water WAter. Bath Time. PEanuts. Mikes birthday. Lazers! Star wars! Yoooda! …..weedies! High as fuck! Weediesss. Junk food! 711! Doritos! hot fries. weedies. Sexy time ;) sleepy time. wake up time. sexy time. breakfast time. work time. weed time. dinner time. sex time. sleep time. shower time. poop. poopy poop time. :D tooiiiiileeeeeeetttttt. ;) <3
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ariel……
Trunks. From the ocean to the back of camero’s trunks have been the cover for i bet a lot of conseivings. Many times both have been my kinda cover for sexual activities. :)
Not sure what is in my trunk anymore. It’s probably filled with things I want to save. with some fear.
one day I went driving and all of a sudden I had someone or something in my trunk. I was frightened and didn’t know what to do. so I drove the car off a cliff and the stomachs that had been in my butterflies were then relieved.
ii
We keep everything in the trunk, our passengers can open it whenever they’d like but they don’t really care do they? They’re just there for a ride, we both kept our secrets in the trunk, he looked in mine and I looked in his. And now we share the weight of the things we dragged around with us, what one else ever knew or cared to know about we know and we grew from it. And we travel smoother with our empty trunks.
The trunk was filled with things that Cassandra had never seen before. She just learned it existed when she was going through Grandmother’s things. Grandmother has some secrets!
elephants are beautiful giant beings and can remember everything. They can’t jump because they don’t have knees/ elbows. elephants are what keeps me connected with my grandmother who passed away.
i feel like traveling. i think about packing my trunk and leaving. or rather i feel like getting in one and leaving. i guess it means an escape. a trunk to go a trunk to leave a trunk TO GET OUT OF HERE! lets go.
It was large and brown, covered in pictures and memories. She kept it at the foot of her bed always. I could not imagine my grandmother any other way but with her silver hair and cane but years ago she carried that trunk all over the world.
There was an old dusty drunk on the bedroom floor, a trunk he had seen many times, but never had the courage to pick up. Open. Explore. His curiosity could never get the best of him, after knowing how many years that it had been there, and what it’s contents may be, with the house being haunted since the 16th century.
a trunk reminds me of traveling from school to school when i was a young kid. I went to two different boarding schools before i ended up finally letting one stick. Linden Hall, an all girls boarding school in the “middle of no where” PENNSYLVANIA> IT WAS AN EXPERIENCE> I GREW UP QUICKLY AFTER THAT> ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS TRAVEL AND CARRY AROUND MY BIG TRUNK FROM PLACE TO PLACE> IT ALWAYS MADE ME FEEL LIKE AN ADVENTURE WAS AROUND THE CORNER WAITING TO BE DESCOVERED>
dont make me go pop the trunk on you was one of the lyrics in yelawolfs hit songs. a great rapper he is but with a one way beef with mgk. Mgk claims to have the beef and yelawolf is oblivious to who mgk even is
of my car. not closed in. full of supplies. on the way home. food. blankets in winter. tire jack. mysteries stored in the attic. old. photos. dust. cobwebs in the corners. lock and key?
i think trunk of a car. i think tree trunk. Tree trunks are usually very big. Like the trees at the Red Woods. I always wanted to go to the Red Woods, Just never had the chance to. But there are many places I want to go but never had the chance to. Like India, Brazil, Ecuador, Borneo.
Pack up your bags, and toss them in the trunk. We don’t have time to wait, or to even look back. Step on the gas, or spread those damned wings boy, and get out of here as fast as you can.
Where all is dark and lonely
only the quiet know what it is like
the dead here, see, feel nothing
but here is where silence awaits
where there is no choas, where there is peace
but where the mind is not aware of it
did you close it? I meant the chest, not the car. truncate your verbs or maybe just shorten the distance between me and you, because no matter how much I stuff, your absence is the most overwhelming thing filling me. I miss you. that’s all.
I’ve got too much junk in my trunk! The trunk of my car, that is. Stuff to go to recycling & Goodwill. Rugs that I need to take to the laundramat. It just seems to keep adding up!
the trunk of the tree stood strong and firm, while the paws of the squirrel scratched at its surface, it was accustomed to how the nails felt on its skin. It had gathered scars throughout the years and the furry feet were nothing comparing what it had enduring in the past.
I open up the back of the car and start the search. Suitcase, suitcase, duffel bag, bag of food, oreos–oreos. That’s what she wanted. I hold the package in my hands, thinking, wondering what to say. When I go around to the passenger side, she’s gone.
The trunk of the tree was amazing. It was so huge that fifteen elephants strung tail to trunk wouldn’t have fit around it. She knew. She’d tried. It had taken sixteen. They didn’t really have sixteen elephants to spare though, so she knew her plan wouldn’t work. She’d just have to think of something else.
One day I was driving downtown when a cop pulls me over. He asks to see what’s in my trunk. I pop it open. It’s an elephant I smuggled in. He releases the elephant, only to have it smash down tree trunks in it’s rage, it’s trunk flailing wildly. I put on my swim trunks and dive into the lake to get some seaweed.
the mid portion of the body and a tree. it stretches so tall into the sky, the tree trunk that is. the body trunk is best to hold. and listen too. the heart beats. and the tummy gurgles. all the organs work together. it can also be a large box that you put all your best possession into. kept in old victorian houses and castle. the trunk is where the most beautiful things are kept. those or bed linens
the place where special things are kept. smells like old mothballs and grandma’s clothes. There are lots of memories here that are waiting to be uncovered. Old photo albums and movie tickets, lettermans jackets and roller skates. something you find in every house .
sometimes mafia lords put their victims in the back of trunks. the best way to escape is to punch out the back lights and stick your hand through and start waving. This way, other cars behind will notice you but not the Mafia lord driving the car!
I was driving down this ill lit road just along the mexican boarder. I jumped into my car after I grabbed some tacos during sunset. I heard a noise coming from my trunk.
Harry tugged his trunk into the cabin, grunting a little at the effort and cursing the stupid laws prohibiting underage magic. It made no sense! He kicked the trunk in satisfaction when he finally settled it into an unoccupied corner. He stretched, cracking his neck and headed out to look for Ron and Hermione.
in the trunk of my car sit a heart. the heart i am taking to your house. this heart i am giving to you. for you to love. and to hold. and to never let go. because you love me as much as i love you. and it will always be that way. because luck is on my side. and we will always be perfect. even if the others don’t see it.
I never knew if someone would find out what had been inside my trunk that night. It was a difficult task, what with the struggling and all, but it was quickly…packaged. I tried not raise suspicion, although I was merely sixteen and looked quite young as I was driving towards the river at 3 in the morning on a tuesday night. Soon, I lifted the large, wriggling mass in the sack and hefted it over the bridge, into the fast currents of the river.
John was rather frustrated with Sherlock’s uninterested request for help. How had he gotten himself wrangled into unpacking his flatmate’s trunk? He hadn’t had any of the fun on the trip to… wherever it was Sherlock had gone. John’s musings on a revolt against the lazy man-child detective were cut short when his hand withdrew a black, lacy piece of lingerie .
Posted By floppybelly On 01.03.2012 @ 5:38 pm
I’ve already done this prompt. I really don’t want to do it again. Oneword, get your shit together and quit repeating yourself. Go look in a dictionary or something.
I stuffed the body in the truck, Frank.
I don’t know what we’ll do.
But it was out of love.
He sat in the trunk of a car- rather hidden there. He was crossing the Berlin Wall. It was his last hope to live.
The back of the trunk was the last place I saw as the crab monsters from the time rift took me away. I was bound and gagged, but the trunk became a home to me during the 48 hour drive. No food. No light. Just rope and fear.
Hinges squealed in protest, as if to remind me yet again that I was not supposed to go through his things. I hefted the lid away, hoping that the answers to all of my concerns lay within the battered trunk. It was one of the few things he still had left from who he used to be before he emigrated. I had told me years ago, long before old age had garbled his voice and a series of small strokes had sagged his face, that his father had given him this trunk as a present for becoming a university student. Over all this time that I have played in this dusty attic, I have always wondered what lies within it. Even as I braced my arms to push up the rusted lock and raise the lid, I have difficulty imagining him, such a small, withered old man, ever being able to carry it. It is only after a few more tries that the lid comes free.
I look down in anticipation, feeling much how I imagine Howard Carter felt when he discovered King Tutankhamun’s tomb.
Nothing.
Well, nothing dramatic. A thin layer of photographs, yellowed and disinigrating, show the fixed paper smile of a woman. I brush those aside impatiently.
There! I spot a glimmer of gold hiding in the corner. My mind flashes back to a golden sarcophagus. I lift the gold in my hand and take a closer look.
It’s a pin in the shape of a swastika.
It seems like my unassuming Polish grandfather will have a lot of explaining to do.
A suit case, the trunk of an elephant. swinging its long number through the watering hole as other creatures surrond it. its slurps up water and eats peanuts. it tickles others fat bellies and plays with its young. the carresses the sarengetti sun and climbs inconspicously up trees.
He opened the trunk, half expecting to see what was left of a two week old carcass staring back at him. As usual, it was just the tire and jack.
I closed the trunk and walked to the front door of the car. My hands were shaking, and I failed to open the door as I fumbled with the keys. I could see my breath, and I feel my heart beating faster. It was 20 degrees outside, but I was sweating as I sat outside my car anxious to get away from his house and the bloodied knife I had left on the grass.
I already wrote about this word before I signed up so I’m going to go with something different.. I opened the trunk and there were flowers, booze and stripper gogo boots in there. When I grabbed the flowers they wilted in my hand instantaneously.