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Writing Prompt

WRITING OBSTACLE

Write a story using strong imagery representing the passage of time during a scene.

Here you could utilise typical time-based imagery, like ticking clocks, the changing colour of leaves etc, or you could create some interesting metatphors of your own.

Writings

Tick Tock

A random prompt? The passage of time? What was I thinking!? But there it was. A challenge. How could I pass it up. So I set my timer and started writing.

Tick…

Digital timers do not make tick tocking sounds, but I could still hear it in my mind.

Tock.

Talk about annoying.

Tick.

Then I realized…

Tick.

The tick tocking was real.

Tock.

And did I mention that it was...

World Pass By

I sit still. I’m always still.


I watch as the waves move in and out.


In.


Out.


Like a steady breath.


The leaves above me change from green to yellow to orange to red before falling off their perch. They rot by my feet as the winter winds bristle by me.


Wicked cold and winter storm with crashing waves.


When it’s quiet, you can hear the crickets sing with the waves.


In, chirp.


Out, c...

3
Time And Differences

The clock ticked once.


ā€œI want to see other people.ā€


The clock ticked again. There was a defeaning silence all around, a vacuum, in which time didn’t exist. But it did, and the clock ticked once more.


ā€œFor how long?ā€


ā€œFor however long it takes.ā€


One more tick.


ā€œI don’t want that. I want to be with you.ā€


ā€œI’m sorry, then. I need something new, something fresh.ā€


ā€œYou feel we’ve been ...

Too Little, Too Late ļæ¼

Time, relentless in its passage,

Marches forward, forever in different,

Leaving in its wake a trail of memories,

Once ever so vibrant, and full of life,

Now tinged with the stains of regret.


For it is in the wake of reflection,

That the heart weighs the burdens of yesterday,

The could have’s, the if only’s,

And the heavy load of days gone by.



These are the quiet moments,

When the scale...

Stay

Couldn’t we just stay

ā€˜Stead of turning the tides?

Watching it fade away

Til the end of our lives?


They’re pictures, not mirrors

Couldn’t we just stay?

The mist’s growing clearer

And blurs what they say


Our ties are all frayed

With this time-driven sorrow

Couldn’t we just stay

And try again tomorrow?


The future is calling

But keep it at bay

Before we go falling

Couldn’t we just stay?...

Thirsty

I held out my cup

For a drink

From the fountain of youth

And watched

As the water

Flowed over the sides

I could see

My reflection

Peek up from the pool

Waiting

For a change

To appear in my eyes


Somehow

I had thought

That the curse of old age

Could be cured

With a sip

From a fountain’s clear pour

But the fog

Faded fast

It was all a mirage

That left me

More thirsty

Than ever before...

Goodbye

Death is a necessary evil

I can admit that much is true

The world gives and takes at random

There is not much you can do


Though maybe the most unfair of all

That makes the strongest cry

How many lives are snatched away

Without a chance to say goodbye?


She passed away in the dead of night

Her room deserted, completely bare

He overdosed in the hotel tub

And no one else was there


Two cars col...

Ashes To Ashes

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

Dirt to dirt and rust to rust

No matter the value of human life

In the end we all harden, cold as ice

The wealthy in his mausoleum

The beggar decaying in the slums

Each have their final resting place

To sleep in honor or disgrace

But inside caskets carved from trees

And bodies thrown into the seas

Each man becomes terrestrial trash

We are all nothing more than ...

Inattentive

How was the world created? As I asked myself this question, I looked around at the things surrounding me. There was only one person, a young lady wearing a pink cardigan.


Why was the world created? Why..? The lady in the pink cardigan still there, slowly sipping her coffee. My eyes burning from not blinking, tears running down my face.


I wiped them away, and stared off into space again. This ha...

Golden Hues

In the heart of a quaint little town, nestled among towering trees and cobblestone streets, there stood an old clock tower. Its sturdy structure, adorned with intricate carvings, had witnessed the ebb and flow of time for centuries. As the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue upon the town, the clock tower came alive with a symphony of ticking and chiming.


The hands of the clock, like anci...