prompts for the wicked…

The dead lay in pools of salt water and old tainted blood along the
beach where we used to sun ourselves during the long summers.

Yup.  Back to it.  I love prompts.

actively dying needs prompts…

Yup, another prompt.

The three of us had been discussing the most memorable way to die when a demon in blue strolled into my bar.

I love prompts. Different people read them completely differently. They take things I see and see something I’d never thought of. I need to start a writing circle…

prompt, prompt, prompt…

I should really start writing to all these prompts…

Caroline dug through the contents of her worn leather purse and gave him the last six dollars and forty five cents she had left.

For now, I’ll keep them safe and remembered while I wind DeHaven through his journey.

another prompt, I need to find my stride…

One bright day, a tall man died along side the abandoned train tracks.

I need to find my stride again. I used to write story after story so easily. Now they’re all laying like shards of brightly colored broken glass at the bottom of a cardboard box.

I need to find my stride.

And sort.

skeletal beasts…

I woke up on an empty train traveling across wide snow swept fields marred only by the skeletal remains of sleeping beasts.

Actively Dying always swoops in just as I’m feeling at my least creative and gives me a little nudge. I should really keep up with writing these prompts. They’re gold when it comes to getting my rusted up wheels spinning again. Thanks AD.

another prompt…

We danced until the sun set knowing it would be the last time.

prompt writing…

I initially had this as a page instead of a post, but as I’m discovering new to me things about wordpress I’m adjusting my bit of the universe to work better…

I adore writing to prompts. I never took a creative writing class in high school or college so I imagine these mini assignments are sort of like what went on in those classes. My first published piece, A Simple Warning in Black Ink Horror, was written from a prompt. Because I enjoy it so much I thought I should list all the prompts I’ve written to.

• On the far side of the river, a narrow piece of red rag, tied to the old rusted fence there, shivered in the breeze like a warning not to cross.
• I woke in the glass-encased lobby of some sort of apartment building, my mouth tasting of a mixture of puke and cigarettes and my left hand wrapped in a dirty white shirt.
• Crows hung like punctures in the sky and obscured the roof of the tin shack decaying at the very center of the long abandoned junkyard we played in as children.
• Lauren waited for him in the pouring rain, her umbrella bent beyond repair and only serving to channel water down her back.
• The train stops and it’s lights flicker off for a moment.
• Ribbons of light streamed through the wood planks above my head, the dust I’ve been choking on all night, like stars in the night sky.
• The note plastered by rain to the windshield read in big bold letters I know who you are, but at the moment, Mitch didn’t even know who he was.
• I skip rocks into the water as charred carcasses float past.

a new prompt to work on…

There was a pair of children’s shoes, small and white, abandoned on the asphalt next to a glass jar filled with dead beetles.

Some days I can write all day on my novel. Other days, I just want a writing snack. Prompts are my half a PB&J folded over with the crust cut off.

burning flesh…

‘I keep burning my finger with the match. To watch the flame glow & smell my flesh burn.’

I write with a few friends by trading prompts. This prompt is from ActivelyDying.