Writing Prompt
VISUAL PROMPT
Using the three associated images above can you craft a story or poem out of them?
Writings
The coffee break
Tina crossed the road to her favourite cafe in the castle grounds just opposite her office. The park was at that very special time of year when the snowdrops were just going over but the daffodils were beginning to come out. On this particular Tuesday lunchtime the sun was weak but shining through the trees onto her face as she walked. A man with five dogs passed her and she once again thought how he must have one of the best jobs in world, being paid to look after other people’s pooches. The dream she had never made a reality. But new job none the less, after two and a half years hard labour with the wicked witch of Aberdare Tina is qualified to take on anything. Project Manager, working for the national team. She had no designs on this role, saw it advertised and thought why not. Second week has proved less frantic than the first, colleagues seem nice. There is a chap down the corridor called Steve who keeps eyeing her up.
Winter delights.
Scrumptious winter delights. Mother heats up the pot of coffee While I take out the aromatic gingerbread cookies The steam releasing such a sweet warm scent. A scent I had longed all year long
Could I’ve had made gingerbread cookies throughout the year? Yes but, sometimes it’s better to long something so when you finally have it you can truly appreciate it. The coffee intertwines with the aroma of the cookies. Nothing smelled better than that on an early morning of a winter day. Mother turned the television on and resumed we resumed our winter tradition. Finding a hallmark movie she hadn’t seen before. Which was impossible...
...but we enjoyed it. Rewatching our favorite Christmas love movies. While drinking our now warm coffee with our gingerbread cookies. Dunking and dipping away as the time passed us, As we were on our 4th movie. The month continued with the same schedule and ten extra pounds but we didn’t really care because it was our time of the year.
Tradition means this, Tradition means us.
Writing prompt #2
I was 14 when that sweet old woman invited me into that shack of hers. I'm aware this already sounds like a dodgy set-up; so imagine how it felt when I discovered this ramshackled ruin to be sat squarely in the middle of the Eden woods . I didn't really have a choice. I had gotten myself lost; about an hour ago I went exploring and in my own adventurous frenzy I had found myself in the swirling typhoon of trees and mysterious noises; utterly and hopelessly lost. So believe or not, I followed this woman into her house, at least that's what I assumed that was what it was, I remember that pungent aroma that lifted off her clothes, a sickly sweet smell, reminiscent of butterscotch with an earthy undertone, that smelled somewhat of moss. Her tone was soft and somber; soothing; yet some hidden digger masked inside those sweet melodies found itself running down my spine. I did hesitate before following her into that swallowing darkness, I looked back to consider my options and saw the dying light limping throughout the tree trunks. With a weighted sigh , my shoulders slumped and I dragged myself into the humble abode.
Again there was that sweet aroma, that stained the very walls and fabric . In the middle of one wall, a wood fire cackled with glee at the newcomer who had just blindly entered its domain. The entire time as my eyes scanned meticulously across the furniture, or rather , the lack of furniture which inhabitated the solitary room, the woman croaked on about how unfortunate my situation would, and I'm not sure what it was, but something about her caused a pit in my stomach and dryness to overwhelm my mouth- to the point where I couldn't respond- I saw a kindness gloss in the corner of her eyes , but it seemed glasses over, and long dead.
It was when she offered me a serving of tea; I finally began to soothe myself. Yet, The whimpering from beneath the floorboards got ever louder.
