Writing Prompt

The key sat near the garbage bags,

Half-buried in damp leaves,

It’s metal slick with something dark.

I shouldn’t have picked it up.

It was heavier than it should be,

As if it had been waiting,

As if it had a purpose.

I walked around my house to see which keyhole it fit in,

But none took the key.

Then I remembered,

“The basement.”

The basement door was locked.

I had never seen a keyhole before...

Grace Asop approached the house of the girl she co-worked with, Rocio Yani. Who stood beside her was another girl, named Nene Kusanagi. It’s been hours since Grace heard anything from Rocio. It’s almost been a full day. Yesterday after a fueled argument with the two, she stormed out, leaving Rocio to deal with whatever damage she had. But upon one of her friends saying she was nowhere to be seen, ...

In the cold breeze of Georgia’s blue ridge mountains, holds the most memorable fire department that has been there for over 40 years saving others no matter the cost and fighting harsh blazing fires. There was always one fire chief in particular who was praised for his dedication and bravery, the one and only Fire Chief Allen. He had been working as a firefighter for as long as he could remember. ...

I rubbed my index finger across the neck of the key, mocking Cameron with each stroke.

Cameron looked at the raging river behind me and took a panicky step forward.

“Hey! Backup or I’ll throw it!” I screamed, throwing my arm above my head with the key gripped tightly in my fist.

“Melissa fucking please!” Cameron cried, dropping his shoulders with defeat.

Ahh Cameron. That naive, stupid fucking...

As I held the key in my hand, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was as if, suddenly, a door opened in my mind, and memories began to flow without stopping. I could see vividly those days when the sun shone with a unique intensity over my Caribbean island, and the sound of children’s laughter echoed through the dusty streets of my neighborhood. It was as if time had stopped just to let us live...

A runner losing faith rushes to the end of his so called happyness feeling meaningless, carrying heavy stones on his back, when his body wants to lay down powerless.

Running , running , trough this neverending running , the spirit , the divine touch gets lost in the wellknown woods of his deep mind and soul when he makes a final choice.

He leaves his “home” in this forgotten place, he buries th...

His heart dug beneath the earth.

Weighed by shackles of bare bones and undertones

Every step hurried

It’s beautiful unkept depth

Until his path had crossed another’s

Her heart dug beneath the earth

Weighed by shackles of scarlet cries and unmarked eyes

Every step hurried

It’s beautiful unkept depth

Until her path had crossed another’s

Their eyes glared at the glimmer key named

“Hope”

To ...

To some, it was a key.

To others, it was junk.

To people who could see its power, it was a treasure.

To her, it was the holder of her friend’s soul.

And she vowed to never let anyone destroy it.

Which meant hiding their ancestry from her only daughter.

Did their bloodline matter more, or did her friend?

They were the last of their kind.

Withholding the information all the way to her death ...

This was a reality and still is

**The Nakba of 1948**

The Nakba, or "Catastrophe," of 1948 marks one of the most harrowing and devastating events in modern history. During this period, hundreds of thousands of Palestinian Arabs were forcefully expelled from their homes as violence erupted with the establishment of the state of Israel. Entire villages were razed, families were torn apart, and coun...

Somewhere out there in the abyss

Is a key that opens a floodgate

A floodgate or perchance a wall?

Tis a wall if shut

A floodgate if unsealed

Only then shall my emotions be revealed

This key can be found in a multitude of places

In the nostalgia of objects and artifacts of my past and present

Things I am attached to by an invisible key ring

And in every person I hold dear

if one looks far enough...