Forage – Weekend Writing Prompt #204

In the spring of April

On a Sunday afternoon

Bathed in petrichor

After the clouds had emptied themselves

In the wordless language

Of souls blooming

In a timeless forage

To find belonging

The world seemed perfect

Resplendently refreshed

In the golden flush

Of the sun after the rain

And she soaked in the moment

Reclined in a rocking chair

Frail hands wrapped

Around a warm cup of cocoa

While the orphan boy

She had often fed

Told her of his new home

I really like the keyword for this weekend’s prompt and this is how the words flowed for me. Thanks SammiCox and happy Sunday everyone.✨

Absurd – Weekend Writing Prompt #203

Amy squinted at the mirror, fingers pressed to its cold surface framed in mahogany. Her expression twisted, confused at the empty space that should’ve shown her reflection. Everything else in her bedroom had one, so where was hers? She yelled out as her mother entered her room, gasping when she saw herself…in bed?

But…that’s absurd! I’m standing right here!

…Aren’t I?

I’m a little sad since I broke my writing streak (unintentionally). However, SammiCox’s Weekend Writing Prompts still help me to stay on track.

I rewrote this entry a number of times, but I think this was the best way I could end it for a story in 61 words. I hope you’re all doing well! ✨

Yonder – Weekend Writing Prompt #202

The Caribbean blue
Uncharted waters
Ripple with the ambitions
Of a lone sailor
To find rumored treasures
Buried on verdant isles

Bottled messages
Wash ashore
The burgeoning tide
Reflecting indulgent ambers
Of a summer sun
Where children find
Of his unrealized dreams

Another weekend writing prompt completed! Thanks to SammiCox for thinking of such a fun challenge to keep our writerly muscles flexing 😅 Happy Sunday! ✨

Orbit – Weekend Writing Prompt #201

In orbit…
Of dandelion smiles
And winks of marigold
Magic dances
In the opalescent shimmer
Of a butterfly’s wings
Unfurling nostalgic zephyrs

Childhood memories
Sparkle from the dewy grass blades
Where we once played
Cupping fireflies
Within our sweaty palms
Full of starlight wishes
Blazing effervescent
With our juvenile glee

I really loved the word choice for this weekend’s challenge. Made me think of magic and light-hearted things. Thanks SammiCox for another word prompt! It keeps my writing practice alive!

Happy Sunday everyone! ☀️

Vista – Weekend Writing Prompt #200

Saya was paralyzed. Her mother screamed for her, but she could not look away from the towering sapphire waves, devouring the vista that had gifted her so many sunrises.


Is it just me or is the word count dwindling even lower? 😅 I hope everyone is having a wonderful Saturday filled with good cheer✨Thanks to the lovely SammiCox for another one!

Breaking Routine

What do you see, through the looking glass? Fingers part threadbare blinds of faded scarlet. Eyes wary of the world spinning on apathetic hums; familiar notes of a known pantomime.

Phantom arachnids crawl over the senses with itching persuasion. What’s the point of going out today? Hang the mask back on the shelf. Pour a bowl of cereal. Let the radio fill the quiet spaces. Today, we won’t hang ourselves on the puppet master’s strings.


Photo credit: Avogado6

Element – Weekend Writing Prompt #199

When energies like elements collide, something magical happens. Lightning bolts race down the spine as goosebumps chase the sensation of shivers so intense, it can hardly be contained behind a composed visage. That’s how it always happened in her mind, but perhaps she was being too romantic.


A day late for this prompt by SammiCox, because it slipped my mind. But better late than never! And this also helps me to keep up my writing streak. I hope you’re all doing well ✨🌼

Weekend Writing Prompt #196 – Possess

She only wanted his heart, but he wasn’t hers to possess.

It’s been a little over a year since I last participated in SammiCox’s weekend writing challenge. I didn’t get much of a chance to sit down with my books and thoughts today, but I still wanted to get something written — even if it’s just 11 words.

I hope everyone will have a happy Saturday 🌼

Staying Alive

Rupert’s hand would always go to his pocket when his sensibilities strayed too far beyond the fray. His focus would glaze, amber irises dimming like the telltale signs of life slowly ebbing from a character in a tragic film. He’d rub the things sheltered in his left pocket. Three rubiginous balls. Cold, plastic shells cocooning the essence of the lives lost to him in the fire that razed his home three years ago. His three girls.

He’d stopped questioning his sanity at the faint, pulse-like vibrations thrumming from within. Instead, he’d learned to draw comfort from the warmth ghosting the scars that scorched his crooked fingers. The bones had never truly slipped back in place after that desperate attempt to break the grill with his bare hands and get his girls out. He clenched the balls tight, eyes squeezed shut to snuff the flames that licked at the edge of his memories. The screams faded from recall. He was almost certain he felt a small hand grip his own.

He looked out to the cyan loch softly rippling as seagulls called. His vision focused to catch the sun in a bashful descent of soft pinks and purples. He stroked the balls again. Rolled them around gently in his palm. Whether it was real, or all in his head, it was all he had. All he could cling to. It was all he had to keep him grounded.

Museum – Weekend Writing Prompt #122

There was an old museum set for demolition in a few days. But no-one cared for the history preserved inside. Some thought it should’ve been destroyed a long time ago for its preservation of faces from a generation lost and forgotten to time. It was nothing like viewing the preserved skin and bones of animals. This was different. Horrifying. Grey faces maintained with bulged stitches in glass displays, that were kept stretched over expressions of terror. Children weren’t allowed in that room. But college history students, like herself, could still access the room as long as she presented her school ID.

She sketched those faces on the last day the museum was open to the public. It was said he who forgot his past was doomed to repeat it. Something cruel had wiped out an entire generation. And she was going to find out what it was.

Sammi’s writing prompt has become my saving grace to an extent. I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch with writing. My book is full of entries, but somehow I’ve become very hesitant to post these days. I don’t know what sort of funk this is. But I do hope everyone is doing well and having a happy weekend!