Writing Prompt

Walking the field and his middle detector found us a ring. I wonder whether the ring was so he immediately asked to evaluation. It turns out there was a from a married man in his 80s who lost the ring in the field as it was proposing to his wife....

I was never there when it happened. I was never by their side. I’m alone now. Alone in the world, alone in the wind.

I’ve held in my tears for so long. I always wanted to pretend it never happened. But I forced myself to come here- for _them_.

I forced myself to come here so I could accept it for once.

It had never felt real. I had kept pretending that they weren’t gone. That it was just yet ...

Il vento mi arruffava i capelli mentre le foglie di granturco mi tagliavano le caviglie. La luce del Sole era fiacca e le luci bianche giallastre coloravano il campo. Gli alberi della foresta circondavano il prato,nascondendo l’esistenza di quel posto magico e mistico. Non c’erano rumori ,forse per il brusio del vento o forse perché nemmeno gli animali osavano addentrarsi in quell’angolo di quiete...

Not by the snowdrops at the peak,

nor where we danced, or bled,

not where my hand caressed your cheek,

not with the fields of roses red,

or where we slept, or dreamt or wept,

not where the promise went unkept,

but where, oh where, dear lover, where?

Not by the way on which we went,

or near the evening laughing spent,

nor o’er the bridges we left charred,

not by the mercies of your heart,

but wher...

"What a random spot where absolutely nothing important happened,' you joked. I smiled as I looked around. The street had meant nothing to me just weeks before. Before you. The trees had just started to turn orange, yellow, and red, and there was a beautiful tree ahead of us. Just past it was the where the busses for our school waited every day until 3:30. I squeezed your hand tighter.

...

"I'm so...

The sun reflect off of the field turning the wheat orange and gold. She walked through, wheat trampled beneath her feet, hand brushing over tips of the long stalks. It tickled. She felt a smile tease her lips, but it was tamped down by the spike of terror that ripped through her. She glanced around her breath coming in gasps. She was alone. She was fine. But the terror continued to accompany her a...

The soil is damp from morning rain. This place is so peaceful. Clouds float above the grass that is gently swaying in the wind. Connie looks around at this place. Two years ago she wouldn’t have recognized it, wouldn’t have really believed in it.

Coming from the city to the field is like suffocating and finally finding oxygen. This is her favorite place to be. Maybe it’s a bit of her being franti...

This is a place

A place just round the bend

Where all good stories

Come to an end

Where treasures are lost

A peace is found

We soon all end up

Six feet under ground

They say don’t worry

It’ll be just fine

Yet they themselves run

From the monster called time

Flowers born of sorrow

Where trees are always weeping

Here is where we go

To begin eternally sleeping...

Stalks and stalks of corn. Miles and miles of corn. If you were tall enough and were able to peak out over a stalk or two, you wouldn’t see where the field of corn ended. It looked as if the tips of the corn stalks were reaching as high as they could to touch the sky, far in the distance. Much like the teal and blue waves of an ocean, majestically meeting the horizon as you stand at the edge of th...

The man wandered through the field. He wandered aimlessly but with a strange sense of purpose and goal. He seemed tired. His hair was disheveled. He had a black hoodie on and grey sweatpants on. The field had lots of colorful leaves on the ground as it was fall. He saw some interesting flowers and rocks. He also saw a duck shaped cloud. After he looked down from the sky he saw a deer that looked n...