Writing Challenges

The house was ancient, and Sophia worried about it betraying her as she crept down the stairs. If her father were to hear her, severe punishment would be in store.
Sophia's father stopped snoring as an audible groan came from the stair upon which Sophia had rested her tiny foot. She froze until the snores began again, then darted from the farmhouse, thrilled at not being caught. The night air was pleasant upon her face, and she didn't even mind the cold dirt beneath her toes.
With a careless whoop, Sophia skipped down to the pond that had been calling her ever since her mother's accident.
Sophia threw herself to the ground the moment she reached the pond, and was greeted by a familiar tune: the music box's tune. Mellow and soothing, the tune lulled Sophia into a trance. On more than one occasion, Sophia's father had found her missing from the house, and instead by the pond, wading into its water.
Sophia smiled softly to herself. Today, her father was sound asleep, and no one would stop her from retrieving the tune that reminded her so of her mother.
Sophia stripped and walked into the water. The mounds of algae didn't bother the girl, and nor did the fish nipping around her legs in curiosity.
She gasped as the water hit her thighs; for a summer night, it was surprisingly cold.
Deciding to get it over with, Sophia gripped her hair and dove. The music box's tune became clearer as she went farther in, and she was able to make out a familiar lullaby.
With a final kick, Sophia grasped the egg-shaped music box and made for the shore. She shivered as she pulled on her dry clothing, and flipped open the purple music box. A delicate ballerina opened with it, and twirled along to the lullaby. Sophia cried out in astonishment; it was the same tune her mother had sang to her at night, before this pond had claimed her life. This was her mother's music box; the one she carried with her at all times. The one that had been with her when she died.
The night air no longer seemed innocent, and Sophia fled.

Next: Must involve a red candle with streaks of white in it, and an elderly man who is under five feet tall.

Uncle Earl lived deep in a forrest that was filled with homes much like his own. His abode was of the humblest sort, a small shack to say the most. It was small, but Uncle Earl kept it free of dirt and clutter; this meant that two of his five couches had to be kept outside on his front lawn rather than inside of his minute sitting-room. Other than the sitting-room, Uncle Earl's home had three more rooms: an eat-in kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. Miniscule, but to him, such a wondrous, proud home. It only wanted for someone to share it with him. (Uncle Earl had no family outside of his mother, who had died when Uncle Earl was fifteen years old. Why he was called "Uncle", he never knew, because he had never been any sort of uncle to anyone-- he had never even been a friend to anyone.)
Uncle Earl, the weak old man, went to bed in his little bedroom vowing that he would indeed find someone to share his home with.
***
Three years later, Uncle Earl could be seen walking Pippy, the miniature schnauzer all through the forrest each day. By night, Pippy would choose from one of five couches on which to sprawl, and wait for the next day of long walks with Uncle Earl though the deep forrest, filled with sparkling lights that filtered through the trees, and many woodland creatures to stare at and explore.

---
Sorry, that story kind of bites. It was a good exercise, though.


Next prompt: Write about a purple egg-shaped music box, which contains a dancing ballerina, that was lost at one point, but is now found.

I'll start by listing a prompt of some sort, then the next person has to write out that prompt. You can write however much or little you want, just as long as it meets the prompt's requirement. After you're finished, leave a prompt for the next person to fulfill.

You can also just post "Edit" with the next prompt, to keep the game moving.

First prompt: Write about a man named Earl, and how he keeps two sofas on his front lawn.