And then the riot started.

Today’s post is based on a writing prompt I shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post. Keep reading to see what I wrote, and to access more writing prompts.

What I wrote below is based on the following writing prompt: Write a fictional scene that ends with the sentence: "And then the riot started." 

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The cool winter air was blistering. Cheeks and palms were freezing. And plain-colored scarves hung around necks of all shapes and sizes like loose nooses, ready to fall to the ground. 

Yet the throng of people looked on, despite the weather and crowd goers and party crashers and curious bystanders next to want-to-be warmongers and modern muckrakers, toward the podium where their leader, some would even say savior, stood pumping his fist emphatically in the air with every fifth syllable he uttered. 

“I understand your rage. It makes sense. But I am your redemption. I am the one who will lead you. Of course, I understand. It's time we take back what’s ours and take to the streets, lock those losers and crooks up and throw away the key. Who's with me?” he proclaimed as he flailed his hands.

Some chanted in agreement, some shook their heads, while others recorded the unfolding scene on their phones, ready with preordained captions and memes.

“It’s time we show them that we're not going to take this! We can't let them steal from us.”

“Hell yeah!” A lone wolf in the crowd cried to a bit of muffled laughter nearby. 

The lone wolf, afraid of being mocked, looking weak, especially on such an occasion and scene, turned around toward the laughter and punched an unsuspecting man wearing camo pants square in the nose. A man that had not been a part of the laughing lot after all, as it turned out. But that is neither here nor there, because this action precipitated a slew of fists and elbows and knees and feet to swing about wildly. 

One woman had her scarf wrung around her neck, and another had some of her freshly coifed hair pulled out, while a young man had his left eye blackened and another elderly man had his cane snapped in half, then prepared to use it as a weapon.

The guards tried to break up the fighting with commands and batons a minute later. But it was too late. The once calm audience members started forming a storm. Around the guard troops and in packs and against one another. One. By one. By one. 

Tear gas and rubber bullets were released. Some ducked, some screamed, all struggled to be mightier and free. Of what? Themselves? 

And then the riot started. 

[Write what happens next…] 

If you complete this prompt, share what you came up with in a comment or chat thread below.

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© All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton and Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Today’s Writing Prompt