Writing Prompt

To us Damaskians the weather is not kind. It is bitter cold, the biting type that tugs at your skin until it is chapped and weathered like gnarled tree bark. To hold each others’ hand would be like gripping fractured spikes of Velcro made of desert-dry skin. But yet, we still crave contact, warmth, and love, so instead we caress the folds of the fabric that adorns every one of us. It is much softe...

It was brilliant and dull; it was sensation and memory; it was a deluge of colors and an outpouring of soul. It was a vest. Simple and complex. The vest was made of a material that appeared to be something similar to a soft frilly blanket with feathers and tendrils of soft cotton. The vest came up to a V-neck opening that was rimmed with crinkly wax paper, that you'd find at the bottom of a box of...

Feathers for Heather

Stone for Shaun

Better together

Dust for Dawn

Wear what you feel

Feel so you can heal

Dirt for Kurt

Grass for Cass...

Perhaps the greatest artifact recovered from the site is a long, full-body suit of mail made for an extraordinarily tall person. It is possible that the culture used this mail, made of steel, for their ceremonies. We now know that the culture placed great importance on touch, so this artifact was shocking to archaeologists: it was covered with spines, sharp to the touch even after thousands of yea...

I heard the doors open so I reach for the next guests hand. I feel her glove woven of the finest silk with tenderness and love. The threads change from her fingers to her arm. They form embroidered ivy wrapping her arm.

‘May I take you to your seat miss?’ I ask as I grab onto the guide pool.

‘Yes, on the way may I ask you what you think of my dress?’ She replies opening what sounds like a fan....

Pat couldn’t stop running her forefinger along the pleats of her trousers. She did this repetitively throughout the day, caressing each fold like it was her favourite pet. Better than her favourite pet, because she got to wear the same garment, day after day, five identical sets of trousers that got worn exclusively for the entirety of the week. On Saturdays, she washed four pairs while still wear...

The ghastly article fit perfectly around the young woman, each curve pronounced and taken care of. Its colors clashed, patters mixing together either in a much too busy way, or in a fashion that just wasn’t appealing; cheetah print and fluorescent green palm trees. No sane person would wear it.

The clothing couldn’t be named in type. It was no dress or gown, but it reached the floor. It was neithe...

To someone without special sight, it would look like a normal white dress.

But not to us.

To us, it a spitting image of the future. With solar panel fabric and solar flare technology, it can be both powered and produced to create the wearer into a star.

Not only that, but the fabric is absolutely luxurious. It is built to not only feel amazing, it is built to look as amazing and as beautiful as i...

The dress is long, ever so slightly striking her shins as she walks. It’s the kind of feeling that grazes your fingertips, touches you in such a gentle way. Silky and smooth, billowing like the waves of the ocean, green, much like the trees, soft, just like the grass. Not too tight, just fitted around the edges, making it feel like it was molded to you, made into your skin as if you never even dre...

Push Into the cave

wrap it up tight

show it the suns

toss to the longnight

With her tiny bluegrey tongue poked to the side, Fressel adjusted her needles. Poke the needle through, wrap the luff around from below, pull the loop through, and with a gasp of relief she pulled the orginal loop from the left hand needle. Her first urge was to dance but dancing she’s had learned the hard way equalled los...