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Writing prompts

This category contains 18 posts

Captured

He can’t find the colour photographs; the ones with the vibrant fields of tulips from their trips to Holland, or the ones with seas of golden sunflowers on the Tuscan hills.  They must be somewhere.  Perhaps Helen’s moved them.  Maybe she’s arranged them inside one of those gilded albums she likes to keep within arms’ … Continue reading

The Monsters Aren’t Under The Bed

He’s gone now.  But he’ll be back. There’s an odour under here which reminds me of something; of somewhere I’ve been, but I can’t recall precisely.  It’s a holiday smell – like a floral scent in a cleaning solution or sun-cream – something like that anyway.  And I can’t make sure by breathing in more … Continue reading

To Do

The blossom’s out now.  One branch of the cherry tree hangs in a wide arc across the kitchen window, obscuring part of the curving path which leads to the back gate. She can’t see the garden properly though – and not because of the cherry blossom.  She widens her eyes but doesn’t blink.  Something fat … Continue reading

‘Not Long’

He’d timed himself by doing three dry runs this week so knew it was possible. In ten minutes he’d be across the open plan office, down the five floors to reception (lift, not stairs, and he’d factored a 30 second wait), straight across the busy lunchtime main road (because walking 20 yards to the pedestrian … Continue reading

Pre-loved

When he’d agreed to look after the shop for Rose he hadn’t quite known what to expect.  Okay, so he knew from the times he’d popped in to browse and/or have a mid-morning cuppa, that she had specific things arranged in different areas for ease of perusal.  For instance, there was an old tea chest … Continue reading

The Surprise

He’d positioned the gift it so that it would be hidden all through Christmas.  Then on the twelfth night, once the decorations had been removed and they were carefully packing the tinsel and baubles up ready for next year, she’d find it nestling securely between the inner branches of the tree and she’d be so … Continue reading

Softening the Blow

Betty wishes she’d brought her cardigan with her now.  The morning looked fine and sunny from her bedroom window but this far out there aren’t as many trees to shield the chill of the wind and  goosebumps are starting to prick her skin. But it doesn’t matter how shivery she might be feeling because she’s been … Continue reading

“Once”

Judith remembers the fan of spider legs which creased from the corners of her father’s eyes when he smiled.  She remembers the musky tang of spice which bloomed like a warm breath from the collar of his shirts whenever he leant in close to her.  And more than these things she remembers how safe he … Continue reading

The Camel’s Back

The last time he’d told her she looked like a shapeless lump in cast-offs even charity shops wouldn’t take in, she’d felt the familiar twist of shame and sorrow fill her sagged body.  She’d even folded her arms over her stomach and tried to hold in whatever it was that threatened to burst out, avoiding … Continue reading

Under Cover

There wasn’t much time.  In less than a half hour, some other Bobby would turn the corner and find his latest offering.  He had to look sharp.  He checked again down the cobbled street for signs of movement, of any activity at all, and was rewarded with none. And yet this half-angered him; that he … Continue reading

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