Two new people wrote with us! Hello!
Do eet again?
I love, love, endlessly love to see these prompts through your eyes so please, share again what you see with us?
And for anyone who wants a nudge about how to do this, I can highly recommend the JUMP IN WITHOUT THINKING school of writing.
Glance at the prompts and the first thing to arrive to your fingers goes on the page. This is by far the easiest way for me to do these and maybe it'll work for you?
It's Time to Take Time to Write
For the If Time Stood Still prompt we were gifted with time…
If time stood still, I would find you.
I would finally have the chance to get close to you, to see if you smell as much like home as I have always imagined. I could find out if your fingernails are manicured or bitten; and whether your face has laugh lines or tiny scars. I would finally know all of the tiny details I’ve been dying for.
And I would still miss you.
I will read my way through the world, synapses blazing with networks of new thoughts, new tales, new connections. They say that all the stories have been told already. They never reached far enough. They never walked deep enough into the inferno, words and words and words lapping like white hot rolling waves, until the consuming and the consumption are indistinguishable from one another.
“Come on,” she pipes, “come on, comeoncomeoncomeon!”
“What?” I grumble.
“You promised to go exploring past the river with Tineo and me today!”
“I’m not even warm yet!”
“You’re getting as slow as grandmother Pyraloidea!”
“Please, I uncooned only two days before you.”
the leaf is attached
and then it falls
how do we bridge the gap
from one moment to the next
when they never touch
Swear, complain, call me names – I’m used to all of it.
You say you hate me but at the same time you crook a finger at your friend – so good, the best! – and you say, “C’mere, listen to this.”
And you know. You know what you’re doing to them and you do it without regret because…
Welladay Jupiter Knight was a witch, like her mother before her, and her mother before her, and so on and on, back to the first of her line. The matriarch of this clan: Prudence Hawthorne Knight.
Every woman in this very old and very magical family could perform some kind of magic. Wella’s mother, Providence Star Knight, was a weather-witch. She knew when and how much
Heaven is the sound of a lone kookaburra chuckling the day awake. It’s the trickle of a hidden creek. The song of the bell and the lyre, the whip and the butcher, the wagtails and the shrike-thrush.
Heavenly fog, and mist, and chill. Drips dropped from on high, from canopies in the sky. The smell of good rot, soil, and bark. Mossy tufts and fairy wrens, sticks covered in lichen.
Remember, just go. Don't think. Go. Write. Start now…whatever came to your mind now.