The visitor asked, "Can you write a story without a prompt?"

"I don't know," said the writer. "I've never tried."

"Really? You mean all those stories you wrote arose from something you'd seen or heard?"

"Or something I'd read. Tasted. Felt. Wondered about."

"And the novels? The poems? That terrible album you wrote and recorded?"

The writer smiled. "Yes, all of them. I need to have something to start from, some germ of a concept that I can build on. It's like the way a jazz musician riffs off a set theme. They start with what they have and make...

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My life has always been a mess. First, my parents get into a big fight and are now divorced. Then I had no choice but to go live with my cruel mother. But life changed when she gave me that hug. When she made me feel loved. Ha, that rhymes! But it was when my college axeption came that my mom started to show affection towards me. It was uncomfortable, at first. But now it's part of what makes me move on from all those times she made me feel small, and unimportant to her. Now, that I'm married and...

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I was home alone but i hear in the distance footsteps. The footsteps get louder every time I get farther. I was going up stairs as the footsteps follow and things shatter. All of a sudden the footsteps stop as i go down stairs i looked down and i see my shadow looking at me as it has something in his hands.

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I was home alone but i hear in the distance footsteps. The footsteps get louder every time I get farther. I was going up stairs as the footsteps follow and things shatter. All of a sudden the footsteps stop as i down stairs i looked down and i see my shadow looking at me as it has something in his hands.

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There was a young man but so much unlike a normal man he was. He was always put in solitude, never let neer others. There was a reason for this his, he was to dangerous his father would say to him. But he did not think this he did not think people would fear him. One day he had been walking through the courtyard and he spotted something in the corner, this was what he needed a tunnel. So the following night he crawled through and ended up in a town and smelled something so sweet.....blood.

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Prompt: Lola
“Who’s for another?” it came out as one word. Jack knew it and hid the knowledge with busy bustle. He wove towards the bar with a half-dozen empty glasses and the promise of help when he was served, but that detail was forgotten as Emily spoke in her soft voice.

“Does anybody here know the library?”

“Not since school,” was one answer. “Not old enough yet,” was another.” I have the internet at home,” said a third. I didn’t want Emily to lose interest in the face of such flippancy, so I tried to help.

“I go sometimes,”...

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Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"

"Come on, then," she said, impishly.

"I can't. You know I can;''t cross the line. I'll have to go back."

"Why?"

It's just how it works. It's a liminal space. I'll explain if you put the book down and step away."

She looked baffled, then nervous. "I can't! It's stuck to me."

On no! "Then bring it to me. Quickly. Please."

"What's happening." Her voice was flat, lacking timbre. She was fading and I couldn't get to her. I only had seconds.

"Stay where you end up. Don't move....

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My stomach felt like a balloon under my fingers. The cold gel pinned my thoughts onto the effort of not peeing. “The fetus sack is visualised”, the operator announced to no one in particular, startling me out of my penance. I looked up at him, then at the screen he was facing. The patches of grey kept moving, like clouds on a breezy day. A dot stood out. A tiny dot that seemed to throb. Both of us stared at it, though only one did with any knowledge.

I knew it was mine. I had made it, maybe the first...

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When we go to work. We have memories of all kinds, from the good, the funny, the annoying. Just all kinds of memories that you will still remember as time goes on.

One of my recent memories from work was when one of my co-workers had scared my supervisor on purpose.

We were sitting at the desk when me and another co-worker of mine noticed her acting a bit suspicious, albeit in a funny way. When she hid under the desk, she put her finger to her lips telling us the "shush." Picking up the hint, we acted as if...

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They laughed at the little thing as it squirmed
The dark water so close but so far away now in their minds
The way things change the eye flits away reconstructs
Safety is everywhere in this dangerous time, safety is in the struggling eyes of a small thing

They left it to it's toil the diurnal nocturnal pull of it's nature
Clinging to the raft looking at the shore
The sun warm and pure on it's matted fur

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