Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Submitted by Arnold Carroway
Write a scene that takes place in mid air.
It could be from anyone, or anything's, perspective.
Writings
_I wonder what it feels like to die._
The thought came to Raesh’s head as he continued to fall. They always said that your life flashed before your eyes whenever you were about to die, but all he saw was the blurred images of land and sky as he tumbled.
Most would scream or cry in Raesh’s position, but all he could do was laugh. _How in the hell did I end up here?_
A combination of selfish ch...
What to say, the sky looked as bright as it could ever be. Looking at the clouds down below, Frank knew that if time were to freeze — just as it felt in this very instant — he would never have to experience rain ever again. A comforting thought, if not the least useful one, given the circumstances. Looking up, he could see his one way flight to Hawaii steadily making its way to his favourite desti...
What would you wish to be, my friend?
A bird, a dove, a tree, my end.
Too high to fly, the wind below.
I wash my hopes, what tragic blows.
As I fall, I pass you by.
My friend, my hope, alas, goodbye.
I will not cling on my descent.
The sun, so high, may boil my breast.
I wish the storm will pass me by.
My friend, how would I say goodbye?
What should I leave on the shoreline?
A bird, a dove, a t...
The birds make it look so serene
The breeze cascading off of their wings
A majestic suspended dance
Accompanied as they whistle and sing
Why now, though I soar just as high
Perhaps safer than seagulls and crows
For I am secured to my seat
Does fear penetrate the airplane rows?
Clouds turn my stomach to sawdust
Though I’d rather not look at the ground
In the turbulant wind I envision
Us burnin...
Where faeries dance
And pixies prance,
A child floats about.
The winged people
Laugh in a whirl
And twirl him up and down.
Rain falls like glass
On mildewed grass
But the little boy can’t see.
For he’s above the ground
And clouds
Heading to faerie land at sea.
His mothers at home crying
And the boy still has no clue.
The pixie dust is fading
But the wonder sprouts anew.
They float until they ...
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