#writingpromts

[mercatpariah]

[arsenicandvanilla]

Person A: I WANT A DIVORCE!

Person B: WE'RE NOT EVEN MARRIED!

Person A: Oh. Well we have to do that first then. *pulls out ring

Person B: this is not allowed to be how you propose to me.

Person A: so is that a yes or...

[blogdecjunior]

At the sun lit verandah

This is about a fragment of my mother’s memory I’m hoping to immortalize here.  It takes place at her mother’s, at the time when she used to visit them during her school vacations. The words Muthassan (meaning ‘Grandfather’) and Muthassi (meaning 'Grandmother’) refers to my great grandparents here.

I’ve used some other words to sustain the eloquence of my first language and the rich play of dialects.

Every Sunday morning, the lanky paper boy would leave the weekly magazine along with the newspaper at the beginning of their driveway, way before the hamlet wakes up. Muthassan would get up, walk the whole pathway, slowly, under the arching cashew trees, as they filter the morning sunshine into fine quanta of goodness, to see if the boy had left the paper for him. He’d get back way faster, as he could no longer wait to read the sequel of some classy Bengali novel on the magazine, which he said he adored.

After having breakfast, usually Idli with Muthassi’s Chutney, well seasoned with the red chilly, he’d read the paper and listen to the day’s briefing on the small transistor he owned, sitting candidly on his magnificent deck chair in the verandah.

The verandah was simply aesthetic. It was built a bit high above the ground with two round poles on either side of the steps. Views from the deck of the verandah offered a picturesque sight of the garden and the backyard filled with the evergreen canopy of tall trees blocking most of the sunlight.  The deck chair, made of mahogany, was positioned at the right side of the verandah, facing outside, allowing him to instantly spot anybody coming to visit him.

By midday, the skies above their heads would’ve turned spotless blue and Muthassi would’ve finished most of the works in the kitchen and have sat down on the deck of the verandah, carefully stroking her luxuriant hair.

Then Muthassan would start reading the magazine, The Mathrubhumi Weekly. Loudly, but gently in his orotund voice, he’d read each line to his beloved, as his voice reverberate through the infinite time of the Ollukkara.

The kids would gather too, as it was only a weekly experience.

Sometimes, Muthassi would get complete lost in fixing her hair or in the voice of the wind, still he would read on.

It was his way of being grateful and an expression his unconditional love, it seems.

O, Lord of Guruvayoor, the supreme and the powerful, letteth thy grace be with them, forever.

[aylumvasylum-blog]

We all heard the saying, not all heroes wear capes. Well...not all villains wear masks.

aylumvasylum

[thefirstwallflower-blog]

Writing prompt

“Just let me die,” she whispered. Loosening the grip of his hand. “Never,” he  shook his head in despair. “Don’t you get it?” Her voice softened as tears began appearing in the corner of her left eye. “I was never really here.” By that her hand let go of his. She fell. And then as her last words left her mouth and entered the cold room of  emptiness there was nothing, but the echo of her familiar voice: “Live”.

[writersbloodink]

Promt #002

A Musicians Bow

I pulled back the string, my arm beginning to quiver under the instrument. I had been playing with for hours now.

People watched around in fear, unable to move.

I wondered why they where all to scared to stop me? I pulled the string further and let go. The sound was a little whistle, soft and delicate.

The arrow hit the man straight between the eyes. Bullseye.

[pandoras-ideas]

Soulmate AU ideas

So I can't find the original post, but these are fromt the AU where if your soulmate draws/writes something on their skin it appears on yours too

Person B draws a LOT on their arm so person A always walks arround with (ridiculous) drawings, but A has an upcoming funeral, so they write a letter to B on their arm in which they politely ask B to keep their arms clean because od the funeral. So B doesnt doodles anything until the evening after when there appears a sweet note and a beautiful drawing on A's arm as support

Or person A always wears long sleeved things and their friends get worried about that but when confronted A shows their arms and they are covered in drawings. So their friends assume they are from A's soulmate but then one of them notices A drawing on their arms during one of their classes

Or two mates exchange letter through their arms and one of them always writes them down and when they have their first anniversiary they give all those letters to their so as a gift (bonus points if there is a scence in which they tell this story to their grandkid and their friend so the two of them try it and the both kids have both of the letters

Or person A is dying of a terminal illness/fatal injuries and writes an apology/goodby letter to B

[messymessygirl-blog]

Writing Prompt #2

A five paragraph short story. Each paragraph starts with: “If only I had believed...”