Prompt 65

“Hickory dickory dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The mouse ran down
Hickory dickory dock.”

He was cursed, this mouse was. His name was Remus. He lived in a hole in the wall, underneath the staircase of the Fairchild household, right across the room from the Fairchild grandfather clock that had been in the family for generations. He spent most of his time in his home glaring at the clock, hating it and the hold it had on him.

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Prompt 64

“What does writer’s block feel like?”

I think that just as much as every writer has their own process for writing, each and every one probably experiences writer’s block in different ways.

The easiest way to envisage writer’s block is a pair of clawed hands holding the writer back, rendering him or her unable to reach their pen, keyboard, or quill. It’s those hands, though, that take on different shapes.

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Prompt 63

“Making soup”

I feel like soup is more than just food, don’t you? Soup is nourishment for the soul.

Picture this: it’s a cold, damp day, and you’re feeling kind of blue because your boss yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault. You stop at the grocery store because you know that there’s nothing but a tub of mayonnaise and a half-eaten packet of Tostitos in your kitchen. You wander around aimlessly, trying to figure out what you feel like eating. Suddenly, as you sullenly walk through the fruit and vegetable section, you spot a butternut squash sitting on its own in the basket. You’re instantly transported to a day in your childhood when you weren’t feeling too great as well, and you see your mother place a steaming bowl of butternut squash soup right in front of you. You take your first sip and swallow. It warms you to your very core. It’s a warmth that begins at your centre and spreads out across your limbs, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.  Continue reading “Prompt 63”

Prompt 62

“Write ten sayings for fortune cookies”

  1. A friend is one who celebrates your good fortunes as much as he or she supports you in your downfalls.
  2. Seek peace in yourself before you aim to bestow it upon others.
  3. If you are surrounded by a flock of angry pigeons…don’t look up.
  4. Don’t forget to savour the journey on the path to your goal.
  5. If adventure knocks on your door, welcome it with open arms.
  6. Seek not for all-consuming passion, but for blossoming, eternal companionship.
  7. Listen to your dreams, for they are the shadows of your desires.
  8. Do not turn your back on good fortune, or good food.
  9. Trust that your steps will take you to where you need to be.
  10. Don’t listen to everything you find in a fortune cookie.

Prompt 61

“A tree from a leaf’s perspective”

She gives me life. Did you know that? This tree that I belong to. I am here, floating in the wind, basking in the sunshine only because she gave birth to me and continues to bring me life. She endured the toils of winter for me. For all us leaves. I am safe because she—tall, robust, elegant being that she is—keeps me secure on one of her tendrils, branched out away from her body. She gives me life and I, in turn, give her life, too. I use the cells within me to give her sustenance and nourishment. It’s an exchange that will continue until the sharp tugs of Autumn’s wind carry me away, pale but brilliant in my yellow hue.

She gives me life. Did you know that? And she will continue bestowing it long after I am gone.

Prompt 54

“Write from the point of view of a nurse who hates the patient she is charged with helping”

Rose had a routine. In fact, it was a perfect routine. She would come into work at the Redford Physical Rehabilitation Centre at precisely 7:50 in the morning, so that she could start her rounds at 8:00. She was a stickler for punctuality, particularly when it came to her being on time. It was vital for her to be on time to both start her day and end it.

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Prompt 53

“Set something on fire” 

I looked at the bouquet. It was a bunch of daisies. Bright yellow centres surrounded by pure white petals. Daisies. If he had been listening at all, he’d know I hated them. Loathed them, even.

Adding insult to injury, he had sent a note with them. It had two words on it. ‘Forgive Me’. It stared at me stupidly, silently calling me a fool.

How dare he?

How could he possibly think that this would work?

Idiot.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the box of matches that had been laying still and unused on the mantlepiece. I struck one against the strip on the box. It lit in one go. That almost never happened. The action of lighting the match was clearly fuelled by my anger. I lit one of the petals first, and watched it start to smoke. The flame licked around its partners and slowly reached the core of the flower.

I threw the whole bouquet into the fire place. The note followed soon after. I stared at it, feeling liberated as the words were erased by the charring that spread across the paper.

“Forgive me, my ass.”

Prompt 52

“A beginner’s guide to waking up in the morning”

Step 1: Open eyes. This might take some time as your eyelids might feel as if they are glued shut.

Step 2: Look around and find a time device to assess what time of the day it is. This can also be done by looking at the sun’s position in the sky. Time of the year must be taken into account for that to be remotely accurate.

Step 3: Stretch. By this I mean extend your limbs away from your body. This will help you move out of the comfortable shape your body adopted during sleep.  Continue reading “Prompt 52”

Prompt 50

“You bring someone back from the dead. Who is it?”

I think when we’re asked this question, we’re often expected to choose someone famous or someone who played a big role in bringing good to the world.

Selfishly, I’m quite baffled by that. I don’t think I could ever squander this wish like that.

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Prompt 49

“Come up with every possible way to describe something as ‘red’, without using the word itself”

The notebook was of a warm, vibrant hue. It blushed, somewhere between crimson and maroon, inspiring memories of fresh strawberries, bright peppers, and ruddy tomatoes.

The colour of a rose, perhaps, not quite as deep as an apple, but more akin to the flaming tones hidden within a sunset…sailor’s delight.

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