Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
VISUAL PROMPT
Write a story or poem where the past meets the future.
Writings
A home with a crooked spine
Bent and notched with age
Painted walls wrinkled and worn
With telling marks of time
When the years come and go
And thatched roofs crumble
Or wallpaper peels
And wooden steps rot and buckle
At least the foundations will remain
A pitted depression in the ground
Filled with fragments of memories
Recollections of babies rocking in cradles
Late Sunday brunches
And...
I come up to the grassy field. My shovel scrapes the ground. This is where I buried my time capsule. I dig a deep hole and finally, I hit something hard. I drop to my knees and pull out the wood box. I open the lid.
First, I pull out a scrap of rusty metal. When I was 8 we sold our house. Right as we left the house,I ripped a piece of metal from our shed. I swore I’d always keep it. I lied.
Seco...
I stand in front of the gated house, no lights shining through except for the setting sun. I haven't been here in twenty years. The name of the building is faded so that 'Institute' is the only word visible. It was only a matter of time before I would've been standing here.
I push open the gate and pick my camera up. If I wasn't doing this for a potential promotion, I wouldn't even be walking tow...
I looked at the house I used to live in all those years ago. I walked past it the day a new family were about to make this house their home. Funnily enough, they looked oblivious to the horrors that had taken place five decades ago when I lived there with my family. Feeling generous, I went to their front door introduced myself as Anne and offered to help them settle in. The couple seemed eager to...
I was woken up by the knock rattling my windows on my barracks. “WHO’S THERE !?”
No answer ..
I get out of bed and frustratingly open my door to find nothing but a note on my door, whoever it was didn’t even have the decency to stay around.
“I was told this way of contact was the only way possible, I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust in me, without ever meeting me. I am you, Dave. I have travel...
Where- no When am I? Why is it light outside when it is midnight? I don’t understand what these people are wearing. No one is walking around and it’s so quiet. The people that I see are covering their faces with some masks and they look like doctors. Their clothes are loose and they’re all staring at me. Probably because I am in my night shirt but that’s beside the point.
Update, I’m being taken ...
Isaac limped slowly towards the shattered gates of the old garden. Once stood proud, and delicate, the wrought iron snaked and coiled full of imitations of many vines and roses. Even now, bent and broken, and overgrown with a thick tangle of thorns and weeds, they remained strikingly beautiful. He recalled many memories of when he was a child. All the times that he would reach his little hand up t...
The weather is perfect. A breeze sends the leaves dancing and the branches clattering together like bony fingers. I love autumn.
But there is a sadness here that permeates all the beauty. The trees that grow so lush and thick hide the crematorium’s towers from view. My soul is screaming in agony for my people. 6 million of them and 5 million others.
My great grandparents died here, and so did ...
I hold in my hand
The photograph
This small, square, thin paper
The colors match the day
I became a mother
It feels like so many years
My body has changed
Face more wrinkled
The shape of the baby
Is no longer the shape of a baby
With every passing day
This photo stares at me
From the fridge of our new home
Well, no longer new
But to the girl in this picture
It would be
When I see her,
I thi...