Writing Prompt

What takes you back to the carefree days of a child?

Sometimes, I forget, I forget the good old days of being a carefree child.

I forget the imaginative imagination I had, like entering coins into a key hole wishing for love and happiness and joy.

I forget sometimes, the times my mum did my hair, how the magic serum was love.

I forget the tingles that ran through my head from the touch of my...

The plush embrace fills the air,

Its softness comforting,

My cute little bear.

With its eyes immense glare

And meager size,

The plush embrace fills the air.

Its brown skin quite bare,

With the sweetest little smile,

My cute little bear.

The tiny nose, a bit swell,

“I love you” engraved,

The plush embrace fills the air.

The little shirt and pants it wears,

With a vast pink heart on its chest...

**Dear Young Self**

Don’t you miss when we swing and jumped off playground equipment without a worry in the world. Jumping of a swing while swinging or jumping of a rock wall tower at the playground. What about playing Barbie’s and coming up with crazy role play ideas with them. What about drawing a yellow sun in the corner of your childhood drawings. But now your shadow just sits beside me unbek...

The first juicy bite of a freshly sliced nectarine always takes me back. Fall has always been my favorite time of year, beginning in my childhood. We had a nectarine tree that would always produce fruit right when leaves started to change and the air started to chill. The fruit was better than candy, and we could never get enough. Sitting at our kitchen table staring at a skeletal centerpiece as w...

His voice made me think back to the day first met. The day we first met was the day my mother was buried. To be exact I was nine. The body didn't look like my mother. I couldn't understand why no one was crying when I couldn't even sit through the ceremony then when I glanced at my dad my heart shattered when I saw he wasn’t even frowning. Some were good friends with my mom and those people were r...

Although most don’t like the mildew musty scent of an unfinished basement. That smell brings me home. To my grandmas basement with the steel shelves and the random pink shower in the back corner. And my playspace on the right of the very steep staircase that always gave my family a mini heart attack when I ran down it. I spent most of my summers down there playing cashier with my grandmas endless ...

Every summer I have grown a taller, stronger, and my hair grows a bit longer. And every summer I forget the way things used to be, they aren’t the same anymore.

I can’t say I miss being a child, but I suppose that nothing will ever go back to the way they were.

As I tended to my mundane evening one day in early June I was struck by the sun’s blazing heat and scurried to the shade of a tr...

I have a very particular morning routine. I awake and head to the bathroom to relieve my full bladder, rid my mouth of my terrible morning breath, and clean the sorrows of my dreams with fresh, warm water. I was unfortunately graced with bad eye sight, a trait from my mother. Most days, my left pointer finger touches each eyeball twice a day. But some days, I choose my glasses, which allows me to ...

I flipped the prompt and did indescript bits of multiple memories instead. Hope you guys enjoy the peak at my childhood.

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Dust in the air.

Rocks larger than life.

Laying down, watching the world fall.

Sand diapers.

Sinclair.

Fire burning my hair.

Standing on pillows to be taller.

Fixing my brothers collar.

Cutting my brothers’ hair.

Trying to get a good scare.

Secret t...

The woman next to me is smoking. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and exhales, and, against myself, I inhale deeply. She doesn’t know that I’m thinking of my grandmother, and all the summers with her growing up. She would smoke cigarette after cigarette and before long, the smell was like summer to me. When I was old enough I joined her for a while, but successfully kicked the habit, feeling...