What a difference a week or two makes.
Sorry there wasn't a writing prompt up last week, as we know, shit got real for a lot of us. That's when Trinity College Dublin shut down, where I'm doing my masters degree, and like you I had Other Things On My Mind.
Without further ado here's this week's writing prompt. I'd super duper appreciate a short comment of hello, a bit of companionship as it were, even if they don't feel inspiration brewing for this particular prompt.
Just for Writing Inspiration
And a reminder, these are always and ever just to inspire you. If you write something without the word freckles, ashore, start over, or stone's throw, if the colours or patters mean diddly to you, ignore 'em!
But if this weird four-square image (or the one from two weeks ago, or next week's) make you think of a thing that reminds you about a thing you always meant to write about, then these prompts have done their job.
So jump in, the writing water is fine!
A stone’s throw: not too far. That’s what it’s supposed to mean, right? ‘Just a stone’s throw away’ is what you say when something is nearby. Really close by, in fact.
But this wasn’t a stone.
Starsky stared at the badge in Hutch’s hand, his fingers wrapped white-tight around its edges.
Once upon a time, it had meant something special to them both, a symbol of their oath to serve and protect. Earning it had been a point of pride, carrying it an honor and a privilege.
Time, however, had a way of changing things, of blurring the lines, twisting the letter of the law into a mocking parody of its spirit. Who were they even serving any more, who were they protecting?
Starsky reached into his pocket. He could feel Hutch’s intense gaze as he slowly removed his own badge from its holder. He rubbed his thumb against its shiny surface. It was so small, so thin.
And as heavy as a millstone.
Starsky’s eyes met Hutch’s. A nod, a breath, a mutual decision. They raised their arms in unison and let fly.
The two shields arced in the sky, getting an extra lift by the offshore breeze. They glinted briefly then disappeared, swallowed up by the Pacific. Starsky listened for a splash, but could not distinguish their sound from the gentle lapping of the waves at their feet.
“So what now?” he said, after a minute.
“We start over,” Hutch said.
The two of them stood on the beach for a while longer. Starsky marveled at the sense of calm that filled him.
Start over, him and Hutch.
Yeah, they could do that.
(A.N.—Real Life has been sucking the creative mojo out of me for a while, even before all… gestures at the world. But something about this prompt set made my muse take notice, so I bookmarked it and… well. I wrote a thing! So, thank you for the prompts <333)
These are all delightful but I love the merman and Alan particularly!
I sit on the pier and watch the waves that lick the stones, glistening in the afternoon light. The pebbles in my left hand are slowly getting warm as they take some of my body heat. I take one and throw it as far as I can, imagining the way it tumbles through the water until it hits the ground.
You said you’d be here by three and now it’s four, so I’m guessing you are not coming anymore. Actually, I never really expected you to come anyway.
I close my eyes, the sun warm on my face despite the cold winter day. Suddenly I feel a shadow fall and a presence next to me. I turn my head and there you are.
You sit down next to me, so close that I can see all the freckles on your nose. I counted them once, when you fell asleep with your head on my pillow and honestly, I was pretty sure I’d never be this close to you ever again.
You smile, not your usual radiant smile that shows all your teeth, but a small one, tinted with insecurity. You smile and you say, “Let’s start over?”
Libby and Torrie were down on their knees, wriggling their little fingers into the loamy soil in their Granddad’s garden. Seed packets were strewn everywhere, and the watering can had been knocked on its side.
The dirt had been previously cultivated into neat rows that were ruler-straight. The girls’ Grandpapa had made sure. Now all those neat rows were scrambled into lumps and divots.
Granddad came back to the garden from his tool shed to find the happy mess his little loves had made.
“Well, you’ve made a right mess of all your Grandpapa’s hard work.”
At this, two identical faces, framed in ginger curls and dusted with freckles, looked up in fright.
“Now, don’t take on so. We can start over. It’s the first day of Spring after all, and that is what Spring is all about. Starting over. Making things new again.”
The girls looked relieved and each grabbed hold of one of John’s legs and hugged it.
Sherlock, a stone’s throw away and sitting contently on a garden bench, watched his little family.
Who knew his life could be so full of love?
The first thing he noticed was the freckles, dusted across the merman’s nose and cheeks like blue and green stars.
The second thing he noticed was the piercing silver eyes glaring at him from above that beautiful constellation of freckles.
“Do you mind?!” The merman snapped, waving the smooth white beach rock that Alan had just tried to skip across the bay. “You could have taken my bloody eye out!”
Chagrined, Alan glanced at the bruise now forming above the merman’s eyebrow.
“Sorry, I… well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be swimming in the bay at this time of year.” He said.
It seemed that the way his voice trembled made his apology sound more convincing than he’d hoped.
The merman shook his head ruefully and threw the rock over his shoulder. It landed on the wet sand with a splat.
“Oh, look at that, the tides gone out.” He said, and winked. “I supposed if you really want to apologise you can buy me a drink… and lend me some trousers.”
Well, Alan had moved to the coast to meet new people and make a fresh start of things.
So far that was going very well indeed.