Writing Prompt

It’s been a long time

Two years maybe three

From when we were not just kids

But pirates at sea

And we would paint pictures

Paint using chalk

Take turns on my swing

And flood my sandbox

Then we’d climb trees

And make forts in the leaves

Us against the world, it was just you and me

And I can’t recall your face now

But I’ll never forget the sound of your voice

Why did you lea...

Even if it may be hard to admit,houses,or buildings in general,keep the most memories of humans and civizations. These are the examples that we were always the same,and yet,we are so different.

These places are ruines of where people lived,and the another example that everyone can forget about you if you don’t do something memorable enough.

Houses are full of memories,but so many times,the...

‘I am fed up with hiding from the world,’ Alastair said kicking the corner of the table and snapping away his bottle of beer.

His demented sister Rita stared at him and grimaced, while Rick punched the same table. He was having enough of his beta’s tantrums. But the truth was, ever since Alastair had managed to scratch his right eye away, that he had felt he could outrank the alpha. He shouldn’t ...

The first came home weeping, one child missing.

The second had a fresh start, no longer moving grocery carts.

The third, the man carried his bride over the threshold and stayed together until they were old.

The fourth raised a little boy, their faces filled with joy.

The fifth man sold his art and upon his death divided the land in parts.

The sixth lady won the lottery and later pursued potte...

It was a forest for millennia

And then Tribes came and stayed for centuries,

Natives that cracked the stones

At the creeks bank

To make war paints and dye from their powders.

Colonists came and the Tribes became cities.

For a century homes were made from timber

And fields spanned for miles.

Land given and edges marked with sandstones,

Passed through generations.

Roads were paved and the town gre...

There is a house I know of in South Kensington. It has chartilly lace white walls on the outside and black Georgian balconies. There are two cream white pillars in front of a shiny black door with a doorknob encrusted with gold. Beside the door are two asymmetrical potted plants neatly trimmed to round balls that remind me of giant pom-poms.

This is a house I know of well. A house I love and adm...

He built the house the year I was born, the house and I grew up together. 1977 in North Carolina was a year of earned blessings for Lionel . He was the living,breathing All American Rugged Individual. His success was also built upon a war....

the furniture held laughter and memories. the walls had brown spots where pictures used to hang. the doorknobs were worn down and changing colors. the kitchen was old but smelled like home. the bedrooms had beds made long ago. blankets that held tears and laughter, now laying there. waiting. rocking chairs stuck in place, waiting to be rocked. you could tell where the plates were put on the table,...

When the house had to come down there was one last inspection, there was no real reason for it, it had just become a ritual for him, one last look like a feeling of honoring the four walls that had held generations safe. His heart always tugged at him as he walked through, the only reason for tearing down the houses was so the steel and glass of an office building could go up exponentially raisin...

My family immigrated to this country and before me and my brothers were born. It was my mum and dad and my three older sisters. They lived elsewhere until my mum gave birth to the brothers and me. Then we were really big and so had to move to a bigger house. The house at the end of the street.

This house is one of two houses at the ends of the street that tower over the other houses. Inversely, ...