Writing Prompt

Like the city, she’s never tired.

Every morning, she’s up like the sun: bright, early, glorious, with her short hair slicked back and her shirt tucked in. Her green eyes are always full of energy, buzzing like streetlights, decorated with a quick swipe of black liner across their lids. Everything about her is vibrant, from her wide smile to the chunky rings on her fingers, and she’s always in a...

Chance turned his collar to the cool of the grim December evening. The bones of the branches were strewn, reaching for the covered horses and the farmers out in the fields, shuffling in the morning. The snow fell above him in the soft formation of ashes, covering the once vibrant landscape in a lifeless quilt, an array of pillared, soft fixtures on the boughs and rooftops the hue of burned charcoa...

I understand you

I hurt myself too

I know what it feels like

Don't do that to your self

You don't know how many night I just sat there pointing out each and every insecurity listening to sad music didn't help. Thinking my friends dont care. Who am I kidding what friends? I didn't use scissors or anything I used my nails and bit the eraser out of pencils bit thw metal part flat so the corners wer...

Fey were an unusual sight in cities. While modern building regs required iron to be magically insulated, the amount of it involved in any urban sprawl messed up leylines no end. To a fey this made walking down the average human highstreet like trying to navigate a funhouse corridor; things were constantly closer or further than they seemed, a left turn got muddled with a right, stuff popped up out...

Joey weaves through the crowded sidewalks of New York City, heading toward his favorite food truck. The air is rich with fragrant spices—cumin, sage, and something smoky he can’t quite place. Aromas from nearby carts drift around him like a symphony of cultures, and he breathes them in with familiarity and joy.

Raised by a Filipino mother and a Peruvian father, Joey’s palate is as diverse as his ...

City streets

Not for the meek

Busy week

Weekend treat

To the country

Living quietly

Sleeping silently

Not quite for me

Cars speeding

Everyone heeding

No one needing

Quiet bleeding...

Oh, how I love the city

With all the lights out

The city is full of people

Busy with whatever they’re doing

Just like me

Going to their job as such

I’m going to work right now, actually

Wearing my suit, my tie, looking formal

I’m going to court

I have to solve a case

To prove this man is innocent

To prove that he did not steal from a bank

I’m walkin’ here

On this fine sidewalk

Swinging my arm...

I woke up that morning feeling empty. The morning, that is, of my first day at my new job. The morning, that is, of my first full day out in the rinky-dink town of Autumn Hills.

A month ago, I began my move here. I’m still not sure as to why I woke up one day and decided to move from my hometown of New York City.

Seriously, I loved it—the honking cars, the yelling, the nasty looks, the rush of...

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Step.

Step. Step. Step. ...

“What are you looking for?” I asked the young lady who barged in. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder bulging with misshapen miscellaneous items stuffed inside. From this distance, I could make out some tissues, a laptop, a second phone, and half-opened makeup palettes although she didn’t wear any cosmetics on her face.

Her eyes finally darted over to mine and she didn’t finish registerin...