Creative Writing Prompts

Mom's hair used to be strawberry blonde. The sort of blonde you would only see on American bombshells at the bar.

But mom was nothing like a bar-goer in her manner. On the contrary, she was a gentle caretaker of two kids, that would choose sunbathing on a midsummer's beach over intoxication any day. Her skin was painted a pale, ethereal gold from her days spent by the sea, and bright specks of c...

I was the clay

You sat to mold

And in your embrace,

I was all you wanted

And more

And as you threw me

On the wheel

My edges became curves

And I was becoming pottery

A prized piece of art

Painted and fired

Set to stone in the kiln

Only to be admired

I was set on the very highest shelf

Put as an art gallery attraction

And when I was draped round your arm

That’s all I was, a piece

Of the latest fashi...

I watch as the coffin lowers into the ground.

It’s raining and crowded.

Someone is speaking about him. His legacy. The good he did in the world.

People are crying.

I’m not.

If they knew what I knew, they wouldn’t be either.

He’s finally in the ground.

Seven years and he’s finally in the ground.

It only took a heart attack.

I don’t buy it.

I need to know for sure.

It’s getting...

He dried the same mug three times.

The rough surfaced tea towel rasped over the porcelain, slow, catching on a tiny chip near the rim. He didn’t look at the mug. Just held it too tightly, thumb pressed white against the handle.

Outside, the neighbour’s dog barked. Again. A high, yapping rhythm. Bastard ‘effing creature.

He set the mug down, gently, precisely, aligning it with the pattern on the...

The day I turned 18, sweet sunny, summer day!

Was I by forest’s edge, kept saying I’m okay,

That day, from all of days, wasn’t supposed to cry!

That day, unlike the others, wasn’t about goodbyes!

I wanted, one more time, first time in adulthood,

To hug a special oak tree, my friend so strong and good,

To tell him that I’m sorry I didn’t come to see

The forest, I was busy to grow and simply be…

...

“Oh that’s so cute..!” I munch on a fry. “And a little cheesy.”

He chuckles, a playful glint in his eye. He scrolled though his phone, looking for his cute date photos. “They usually like it.”

“I’m sure. Do they get to take one too?” I asked.

“Yeah, sometimes. Oh here they are!” He turns the phone towards me. The photo is of him and a pretty brunette in some night club. He swipes, to another wit...

When he’d say to me, ‘I’m not ready to die yet’, I’d just smile. Nervously - what can you say to that?

My mind would go to the water, I can picture myself standing there, still like a sheet of glass, shimmering a little in the sunlight.

With a pensive watching, I’d feel the wash of the breeze on my arms, a light tickling and repress the urge to laugh, or maybe to shudder.

The present hangs on ...

Birds cirlced overhead, swarming in the night sky before scattering away like pollen in the breeze. The night was cold, crisp and biting, but your words were the coldest of all. My eyes had drifted from your gaze, to the dark void above us. Stars squinted down at us, twinkling like distant lanterns over a midnight sea. To them, we are no more than a sliver of light, as they are to us. In that mome...

i asked for advice

up and down the bar

and every response

had something to do

with my heart

to listen with it

to view with it

to feel with it

to decide with it

and i thought about the thing

the horrible shape

the pumping

the blood inside

like a highway

keeping us going

doing a lot

but still expected

to do more

the hideous heart

so grotesque it had to be

put inside, away from sight

and i thou...

Behold a human in its natural habitat; gazing into the fridge!

Let’s get a little closer, shall we?

Look at its weird fleshy parts and non-transparent skin…

It is a beige hairy bag of organs ripe for the picking! Let’s brush up against it!

Ohh, a shiver up its spine. I can taste the first traces of fear and confusion as it wonders as to what caused it.

They close the fridge and settle down next...

"Hey, everybody. My name is Jay."

"Hi, Jay," a chorus of voices replied.

I sighed and sat back down on my chair, scratching the back of my head. My hand came back bloody, like last time, but I'd stopped freaking out about that hours ago.

"It's just... weird, you know," I began, unsure of what I should say, of what there even was to say. "It still doesn't feel real. It all happened so fast. I mean,...

I’ve lost

everything.

each part of myself

auctioned off to

the one on the

highest pedestal.

and they still

ask for

more? somehow

my entire soul

doesn’t satiate their

hunger.

they ask me for help

because they

“don’t have the time.”

instead,

I make the time

for them....