Prompt for November 5, 2013 – Adverbs how not to use them

Our prompt this week was a departure although it was about the barn as a lesson in why using too many adverbs is not good for our writing we were to use as many as we could in the prompt to show how awkward they make a passage.

The only slightly visible light was a small one over by the old and ugly barn. Hurriedly, I donned my clothes and quickly I went for the brightly shining speck of light. I entered the barn and noticed a drawer in the old ugly cupboard that was slightly open. I approached and carefully, slowly, I opened it further.. Some sort of weirdly shaped object was giving off the light. That was not the only thing questionably different about it. It hummed strangely—stranger than anything I ever heard before. And, it shook slightly. I put my hand on top of the thing. It burned my hand very badly. Oddly it stopped the noise and its movement. Feeling very faint, I pushed the drawer gently closed deciding I would investigate further  in the early dawn. Wearily, I trekked back to the house and took to my bed, where I slept comfortably.


I slowly opened the heavy barn door. Inside the dimly lit room was an elephant. ‘How could have it come in here?’  I asked myself. Quickly I picked up the broom and made a sweepingly motion toward the beast. The pachyderm had a beautifully embroidered rug on top of its’ back. Slowly I approached the large animal and fondly reached out to touch its’ roughly dry skin. the elephant started to crotch awkwardly and rested on its’ haunches as if it had been thoroughly trained to take on passengers. Carefully I placed my foot upon its’ ear and jumped hesitantly up onto the back of the elephant. Gaily I shouted ‘HO’ and the pachyderm quickly rose up. Out of the barn we strode silently into the night.

Nancy Nation

I had walked languidly to the barn and looked in expectantly hoping to find my husband sleepily checking on our newly born calves. Amazingly that was not what I found. Instead a very large purplish alien was sitting in the center of the barn floor contentedly picking his nose.

“Where did you come from?” I asked in a quaveringly shaky voice.

“I am from the planet Nistra and on our planet we are devastatingly hard on people who don’t use adverbs at a minimum already you have blatantly exceeded the number we allow which is only two a year.”

I stared unblinkingly  at this monstrously strange looking creature, “what right do you have coming here and unthinkingly imposing your rules on us.” I asked bravely. “We’ve been over using them for nearly three hundred years and we will probably be doing it for practically that many more. So take your revoltingly purple self out of my barn and quickly go back to where you came from.” I tried to smile pleasantly as he left but I was unable to seriously do it.

Christine Howard

Nix On “Adverbs”

I opened the barn door quietly but it slid squeakily past the stops and came thumpingly to rest against Emily’s nakedly rear end as she was enthusiastically quantifying the historically loaded but perfectly balanced columnar list of spotlessly scrubbed pillory boxes which demonstrably and visibly restfully canted against her barely exposed posterior which, of course, was pinkishly tinted in concert with her peachy colored other beatifically membrane components.  

“Emily.” I said with shockingly delivery.  “What in the worldly realm of historically perfunctorily transactions are you doing?”

“Why, essentially, Lloyd,” said she assuredly, “Clearly, I’m intrinsically counting my adverbs!”

By Lloyd Rain

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