Writing Prompt

Just to preface- this story has nothing to do with the prompt, but one I found a few days ago. I would just do this in the free write feature but I don’t have the money to pay for premium.

Write a short story or poem that starts with a letter:

Dearest love,

August 3rd

I saw two shooting stars last night, it amazes me how fast they are gone. Blink and you’ve missed the falling shine against t...

The night glows,

Waiting for the perfect moment

To send millons of tiny fireflys out into the dark

My job is to help the trees

To fly out into the night

And be a witness to their sadness and resentment

I look through the eyes of the willow tree

Bear the pain its faced before moving on

To the next soul

Their minds are fragmented

There is pain and sorrow,

But also the joy and thrill of being ali...

Under a deep indigo sky, where the quiet of night drapes over the world like a velvet cloak, I took my first trembling flight. I was a baby owlet, barely more than a whisper of fluff and wide, curious eyes, venturing out of the nest that had cradled me since I first opened my eyes. Every wingbeat was both an exhilarating burst of freedom and a plunge into the unknown, as I dared to explore this no...

(Be advised: brief animal death.)

—

It was dark. Almost too dark if it wasn’t for the loving glow of the moon. Wind rushing by, his wings silent but brushing against leaves as the creature dove towards its prey. The mouse was too small, and slick, darting out of his grasps. No dinner for now.

A quick landing on a bare branch. Golden hues dancing across the frozen grass. Head jerking with the i...

The world is quiet tonight. A picturesque scene plays out in front of me, darkened by the moons waning eyes. The barn lays still but past its chipping red paint, and old rotting wood, the movement of barn animals is heard, though it is sluggish and seldom.

The farm is home to acres of land. Some of which is cultivated, and tilled, and some which has luscious greens already grown. The fields of c...

For me,

darkness is like light.

I come out when it's late,

for I can see in the night.

I coo and I cry—

no one can hear me.

I am different, strange,

perched high in the tree.

My head spins around,

my perception is wrong.

Black becomes white,

I don't belong.

People say I'm wise—

and they are correct.

I know what they're thinking.

I am a reject.

...

Perched on the moon light

Large eyes prowl the dim light

Head rotates 270 scanning the horizon

Flutter

Sound wing

Whoosh of wind

Bright lights of moon light...

From what I hear, everyone thinks owls are so freakin smart. Well, if that's true, why did I just try to unlock my burrowing hole with my work ID? Either everyone is wrong, or I'm the only dummy in this entire forest.

I'm a Regional Perch Allocation Analyst at Nestworks Solutions Firm. Basically I audit perch availability across regional forest branches and use the data to create the nest-to-bran...

I’ve always been one of the many servants of the night. Even as I migrate, I hunt only amidst the dark. Whatever forest I am in, I take what my talons can grasp and feast into the flesh and bones of my prey. And I delight in it while doing so.

Yet sometimes, I find my desires reaching for what lies when the light comes. This longing pulls me by the feathers towards the horizon, and just as I catc...

Dark night

Not a fright

See if the dark

Not on a lark

Live in the barn

Back at the farm

Country life

Calm no strife...