[Context: Picking up Monday's story, but this time from the POV of Katie (Katerina).] Katie had chosen her mark and her shot carefully. Her intent in bringing Balthasar to the museum—in leading him to this chamber, to this specific painting—was…

Never a Bit of A Bother never a bit of a bother never a bother a bit & whoever says you are a bother must be a bit of a twit never, ever a nuisance never, ever a prat &…

Flore pulled the last tissue from the box Amy held out to her. "I can't explain it," she said, "but when I was crying I pictured my mother's face." "I thought you didn't know what she looked like?" Amy replied.…

[Context: I went off-prompt this morning to work on a Substack post.] I’m going to out myself in this post. Buckle up—this one’s raw and vulnerable. But I feel an urge to write on this topic, perhaps because I’m still…

My favorite lyric in the wondrous show that is Les Miserables, is the final line sung in the show and it bears repeating: “…..to love another person is the see the face of God”……and the bright white light of Death…

(Note: I'm using these prompts to work on my novel. This is one of the characters.) It’d been cowboyclark, the guy I met on Reddit, who’d taken me to the cattle auction. His actual name was Clark Keis, but I’d…

When she was 15 years old, she was given a blank book by her mother, filled with pristine pages to write on, and it even had a lock and little key to go with it. Decades later she remembers the…

Vince sat down at his laptop & automatically keyed in his password. He groaned at the words on his screen: This is not the correct password. Have you forgotten your password? He felt like banging his head on the table.…

Sure, there may be Fear, A favorite ogre in the genre. You know Him: he’s the one Who pushes you over the edge Down into the darkest chasm, A Hell so deep its bottom remains elusive, Nimble in its methods…

[Context: Scene from a novel. Balthasar and Katerina are ex-lovers and business rivals. This is their first meeting since their breakup, which she initiated.] He was grateful when Katerina breezed by the words of explanation on the entrance wall and…

My dreams are poems that I write in my sleep, &, if circumstances are right, I wake up, remember my dream, count backwards from one hundred to zero, then step out into the morning garden to ground myself & take…

My Papa…. He smelled of cigarettes, leather, paint lacquer, paint thinner, gold leaf and slight deodorized sweat. Everyone said I looked like him….i do have his large brown eyes. And his aquiline nose with a slight bump in the middle.…