Loaded phrases. The ones offered in white on these writing prompts.They're a bit harder to come up with than you'd think. My favourite so far has been black water, maybe because it just sounds creepy-cool, or because I, like you, are mostly water and the phrase calls to some swimmy, old part of us down deep.
Anyway, what I was saying is the sayings…they're tough. Maybe you've no desire to fill this writing prompt but maybe you have something that sounds…creepy-cool? Two to four words for the white bit there? Inspire me won't you?
Be Careful Writer…and Write Us Something
Things were opulent last week, they had glory and were careful. Last week brought baleful warnings and banged heads, honeypot boys and syrupy drawls. But don't believe me…read on.
The fey honeyed boy drew the flies, but also the bee, a lad sumptuously large, striped black and golden, full of the solemn hum of life, heavy with a rich nectar. Where the fey boy cackled, the sumptuous boy smiled, his solemn hum lilting lighter. The fey boy burrowed into the dark loam of him, turned it upside down into the light. The gold inside one glinted in the burning sun of the other.
As I watched the emperor parade through our town on his dragon, her scales iridescent in the sunlight, her wings quivering as if she was about to leap up and carry him wherever he wanted to go, his hand resting firmly but gently on her shoulder, I saw the beauty of them together and I wanted that.
Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.
“Be careful,” the voice said. It was a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It oozed into your mind and clanged around, ricocheting off of nothing. Slowed now to a syrupy drawl, again the warning came, “Be careful”.
Of what? Nothing here would require such an ominous and dire warning. This tranquil cottage is yours; you created it and you are in control of what goes on here. It’s safe here.
A narrow safe passage was marked by the bright red and yellow buoys bobbing on the grey waves. Cheerful stewards when heading out but on the approach, with the dismal fug of Bay’s Bray ahead, and the looming mountains behind, those buoys were jaundiced and bloody omens, baleful warnings urging all who passed to turn back. Bug was on full alert. Her ears caught the distant peal of the harbour bells, shouts and creaks from dark ships as they passed alongside…
“Have you ever seen something so gloriously beautiful it takes your breathe away? Like someone spun gold so fine it became the very DNA in the heart of a molecule, so it could walk out into the world and straight into your heart?”
The paramedic looked up from his injured patient to the man standing awkwardly huddled in an oversized parka. “Are you sure he didn’t bang his head when the car hit him?”
Okay, your turn and by your turn I mean kindly look up above. Clock those words, kinda evocative aren't they. Mmmm, khol…piercing…tattoo and burnt offering. I'm getting a visual already.
Share it below, whatever you write it's all yours, you own it to the moon and back. Maybe it'll inspire a bigger story, a tall tale, a couple minutes quiet for your brain.
What's your visual?
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