Writing Prompt

Staring at the sun,

The wind blows my hair.

I’m standing on the edge again,

Water covering the limbs of the trees

Morning dew sitting on the blades of grass

Staring out into the suns face

Where i am always welcome,

To go and explore

The grassy dunes

Where the elements and monsters clash

I jump of the cliff

And let the wind blow through my wind glider

Smash down and let my sword slice through the ...

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. Although this time it is not to wave off my family from the docks, this time it is the end of my journey.

Beneath me lies the swirling depths of the North Ocean. It calls to me and storms my thoughts with crashing waves. On the water’s surface rages a reflection of the ship as it descends into the sea’s icy fist.

But now the ship is crumbl...

Trigger warning-

‘The wind blew my hair. I stood on the edge again.’ “It’s sad that this felt so normal to me,” like stars in the sky or fish in the sea. It’s always been a part of me. “I wish I was a beautiful butterfly, who could soar freely above the mountains, forests, and streams.” _

__

_I cry because I’m so empty from all the abuse, pain, and lies._

_I cry because no one truly listens to m...

The wind blows my hair

I’m standing on the edge again

Not knowing what to write

If only someone would give me

An idea

A prompt

If they would tell me

What (long) story I should write...

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. My bare feet on cold hard stone. I shouldn’t be so close to the edge. Shouldn’t be standing so near the end of the building. It’s dangerous, but does it really matter? He’s gone. My Kobe is gone. Forgotten. Buried. Kobe Grey, a charming young man. My charming young man. He would light up my whole world, but now the fire that is him ha vanishe...

The wind blows my hair.

I’m standing on the edge again.

I wonder how many times I’ve been up here already, how many times I’ve given in and decided to try.

The edge, it’s comforting. The cold air breathes against my shoulder, my shorts clinging onto my skin. Everytime I look over the edge, I try to wonder how life would be on the other side of the bridge. Would I be happier? Would I be comfortabl...

The wind blows my hair,

i'm standing on the edge again.

Face battered by the rain,

'the sun would make this fair'

Soaked to the bone,

staring at the cliffs below.

Time came in slow,

'why am i alone?'

Cold in my soul,

the woods to the back of me,

as far as the eye can see,

'is it good for my soul?'

Fleeing into the trees,

branches breaking against my skin.

'How did this begin?'

'and why did i ch...

The wind blows in my hair. I’m standing on the edge again.

Physically, it is only a thumbtack; a few small, white ovals rattling around in a bottle; a pair of scissors; a couple days absent from school; one or two days of nothing but the endless shows on TV, the endless scrolling on my phone, the ignored texts which I both send and receive.

Or, in the words of a writer:

It is like I’m drowning...

My eyes gaze upon the sediments falling down as my heartbeat thumped against my chest. My palms are getting clammy the longer I peer over a precipice, seeing the large blanket of snow beneath the cliff. Snow falls down my hair, then to my face while my cold hands that are hidden in my gloves battled the temperature. Warmth enveloped me with the way my sweater and jacket hugged my figure as I look ...

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on

The edge again.

With Micheal down their, with bloodstains on his hands.

I can’t believe I did it, I killed Micheal.

As the sunset came, the light started to leave but my wet face became solid. Memories flooding my mind, the redness of his dark metallic blood hardening on me by the minute. The wind blowing my obsidian curls.

The weapon still in my hand,...