Describe yourself in the third person - your physical appearance and personality - as though you were a character in a book.

Astrid sat on the couch, engrossed in the writing exercises in the notebook in her lap. Every now and then, she would lift the pen and stare at the sentence she had just written, her mind grasping at hwat would come next.
 It was her vain hope that these exercises would make her a better writer, that someday people would read the words she wrote and be impacted by what they read.
 But a lot of the time it all felt for naught.

Pick a small object to be given one day to your great-grandchild. Write a letter to that child explaining why you have chosen this object.

This was the key to my Grandmother's house. That makes her your great-great-great-grandmother.
When my Grandmother died, my Mum had copies made of the key to her house and gave them on silver chains to me and my sister. I think of this key as a key to my past, my family and my heritage. Mostly it is a key to love.
Think of love when you see it and wear it. It's nice and heavy, so you'll be aware of its presence whenever you wear the chain around your neck.

You have just swallowed your pride and done something you didn't want to do. Your friend wants to know why. The two of you are driving around an almost-full parking garage looking for a space for the friend's oversize pickup. Write the scene.

This scene takes characters and plot from the old project from a few entries ago. Sarah is the protagonist and she is in the car with her friend Ashleigh.

'Why?' she says, pulling at the wheel to turn us down yet another aisle in the parking garage. I let the question hang in the air and search for a vacant spot.
'There!' I sit up and point; one of the little lights on the roof is green. We slow down as we get closer, then speed up again to the sound of frustrated sighs. My friend's pickup is too big to squeeze between the sparkling SUVs that sit right on the lines.
Ashleigh's jaw is tight as she scans for another space. I can tell she's still waiting for an answer. My stomach roils uncomfortably and I press my back into the seat, struggling to find and explanation that will appease my territorial best friend.
'I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,' I say, twisting my hands in my lap. I'm not use to feeling this uncertain.
'He's my brother!' she sayd and her voice rises, 'and you're my friend. I'm mad at both of you.' She closes her eyes for a fraction of a second and I look out into the lot until I'm sure she's focused on the road again.
'I told him no anyway,' I say.
'But you still saw him. Without me.'

Tell a complete stranger about a beloved family tradition.

Don't ask what the rhyme means. I'm not sure my Aunt even knows what it means :D

Tell a complete stranger about a beloved family tradition.
When my sister and I were little, we used to stay at our Grandparents' place in Bondi. It was a big, beautiful house with green carpet on the stairs and the first floor. The master bedroom was huge, as was our Grandparents' bed.
In the mornings, my sister and I would climb into bed with them and while away the morning. Part of this was singing a song made up by my Aunt when she was a kid.
'All in together,
This fine weather.
Stacks on the mill;
More on still.
Ah-ah, ah-ah-ah,
Ah-ah, ah-ah-ah.'

Write a scene where the only spoken dialogue is 'Uh-huh,' 'Ummm,' 'Urrrr,' 'Mm-mmm.'

I'm really curious what you'll think is happening in this scene. Please leave a comment with your imaginings!

Write a scene where the only spoken dialogue is 'Uh-huh,' 'Umm,' 'Urrrr,' 'Mm-mmm.'
She threw a look at me.
'Uh-huh,' I said, nodding.
'Umm,' she said, chewing her lip. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. I waited. She looked down at her lap, and from the fluttering of her lashes, I could tell that she blinked away tears.
'Urrrr,' I said, uneasiness settling in my stomach. Standing up, I went to her chair and knelt by her. I took her hand and made her look at me. I tilted my head at the couch.
Drawing a shaky breath, she nodded, 'mm-mmm.'

What a character holding a blue object is thinking right now

This prompt led me to revisit a character from an old project that I may revisit one day. I kind of miss Sarah, the protagonist of the book.

What a character holding a blue object is thinking right now
Staring at the blue pen in her hand, Sarah thought through her day. Ayla, her boss, had been curiously reserved. Sarah didn't know what to make of that. She was sure she hadn't done anything wrong - as  Ayla's apprentice, she would have been made well aware of any misteps - which caused her to realise that she knew very little about Ayla's personal life.