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Written Warning… (writing prompts)

Writing Prompts

Just so you know, we'll be here.

Every single week.

With a prompt.

If you need it.

We'll be publishing writing prompts each week to inspire a bit of writing. We hope that voices raise themselves in the comments and all of us get to be delighted by tiny tales, delicious wee stories inspired from that week's prompts. And so…

Written Warning… (writing prompts)

From last week's Is anyone there?

"The x-ray, it’s of me…I think I’m changing inside.
I think I’m about to…bloom? I’m not afraid."


"I feel like I have been wandering empty corridors for weeks now.
Everything looks the same. The walls are white, the floors are
grey, there is no colour anywhere. "

Sure We Want to Prompt Your Writing But…

…we also want to create a bit of a community. A group of people who gather most weeks, see one another's names, read one another's short stories, learn each other's voices.

I know I need community now, all sorts, and if you do as well, well here we are.

Jump in my friends, the writing water is fine and the prompts are hot off the press!

More Writing Prompts
Is anyone there?
When They Found It
Other Stuff
Ignore at Your (Possible) Peril — Women Crime Writers and Readers
Highway Bodies by Alison Evans: Book Review
(Comments moderated to foil the spam bots)

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  • Anarion on

    We should not have ignored the written warning on the fence, but Jade was going first and she is always the one to push and we are always the ones to follow.

    We ignored the written warning and then I lost the others and now I’m all alone and the light is to bright and the forest is too quiet for a place filled with countless animals and insects.

    I can feel the creature’s presence following me, crowding close, like someone breathing on my neck.
    I stumble and I fall into the fern and it should not be as peaceful as it is, being surrounded by the soft green tentacle-like leaves.

    The creature draws close, its silhouette blocking out the sun and though I’m expecting the worst, when the first claw touches my skin, to my surprise it doesn’t feel sharp, but kitten-soft.

  • Mike White on

    She looked so soft, her belly so bright, like a sun setting fat and orange on the horizon. A lazy shadow among the ferns, she watched my hand slide slow toward her belly, let one finger, two, then three tickle gently before she curled up and bit.

    Nursing my savaged hand, I slumped beside her on the grass. My kitten should come with a written warning.

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