July 21-27 PROSE Prompt Folder
Oh, look it's a flower.It's not the street I usually go down, but for some reason that day I turn down a different road.Oh, look it's a flower. by SetfiretotheOcean
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It seems strange doesn't it? the fact that doing the same thing every day, breeds someone to do things they shouldn't. It makes a person question life on the other side, tarnishing their good rep over something small and incoherent to their values and moral standards. This is a quandary, one that sits ever well inside my heart as I step softly from the pavement to the dirt.
These steps take me passed a few trees, this poses as odd to me. In a forest with only a few trees, it seems more like an orchard. A small one at that, but who cares really about such details.
Delicately, I pluck a small apple off of the tree. It is not round like the others. It is unique, and special. I refuse to eat it, so I simply place it in my backpack and continue. The apple bounces back and forth in my back and I realize it will bruise and be unimportant to me at that point. I reach into my bag and pull it out. I
A Walk around the Writer's BlockIt's not the street I usually go down, but for some reason, that day I turned down a different road.A Walk around the Writer's Block by Celesol
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The twisted black shadows of trees played like lattice work on the cobblestone floor. I didn’t bother looking back to see the other path; I was all too familiar with it already.
Besides, it lead to a house full of blank white pages and crumpled quill pens.
I didn’t want to deal with that right now. The whiteness reminded me of a gleaming teeth, faintly yellowed, juxtaposed next to black ink.
The ink were hollow, staring eye sockets, I imagined.
I shuddered at the thought.
The shadows playing on the ground suddenly struck me similar to a rib cage, but what did the coiling black bones protect?
A twinkling laugh, like the sparkling of stars made my vision rise from the ground. A lovely woman, dressed in a cream colored frock waved her greeting to me.
I felt myself turn rosy and gave her my greetings. She went on her way, doing her best not to laugh.
I couldn’t blame her.