Writing Projects

Prompt: Coins in a Fountain

I remember when I was a kid, traveling with my grandmother to a summer cabin, when I threw a coin into the fountain. When we walked up, I saw the glimmer of the sun shining off the coins. Wow, what a sight. How did they all get there? What were they for? Then I saw it. A girl standing on the very edge, throwing a coin of her own into the water. I turned and looked up at my grandmother. Her loving eyes already knew what I was going to ask. She opened her hand and there it was – a coin of my very own. 

I carefully took it out of the palm of her hand with my slender flingers, grazing her soft skin. I was smiling ear to ear. And just like that I spun around, and threw it into the wetness below. Plunk. As it hit the water I saw waves cycling outwards towards the cement walls. Realizing I was distracted, I turned my attention back to the coin, now gone. Which one was it? That one there, or over there. I panicked as I scanned the piles of shiny metal. 

Grandma knew again, palm open with another coin.

Prompt: The Window

Jane sat on the edge of her seat, with her ankles crossed and feet tucked back, as she always did. She was a proper girl, raised to be polite and follow the rules of society. No one knew she was in the library reading a smutty magazine, but she kept it close to her chest in case she needed to hide it away.

The room was lit by a large bay window facing the rolling hills of the estate. Occasionally a large cloud would roll by covering the grass with a grey abstract design. Jane would glance up from her reading to see what was going on. Convinced the clouds were trying to get her attention she put her magazine down. 

“Every time I look through the window, I smell the roses. Pink, red, yellow, and the white ones too.” She thought to herself. She couldn’t see the garden from where she sat but seeing the lush green grass, brought her to it. She often went out there to get away.

The garden was free of her family, a place she was free to be herself. With high bushes acting as walls, it hid her from their glances. 

Prompts: Lights and Lines

I am made of light. A divine soul with a purpose. The lights shining down on my body may be straight but the lines I follow are not. 

What the hell am I doing here? What is my purpose? 

Please god, show me a line, Just one thin little old line to guide me. 

I don’t care if its straight, jagged, parallel or dotted. 

Just help me find my way.

Prompt: Umbrella

Today I’m lost in my thoughts, stuck inside the house with the rain pouring down outside. I’m alone and I’ve come face to face with myself. No where to run or hide. Just me and the silence. I have to face what’s been going on and I don’t want to. The storm brewing outside is an occasional reprieve as I dive into my psychy. I hear the wind in the trees and the streams of water landing on our tin roof. 

In an attempt to distract myself once again from the pain making its way out of me, I wander the house room to room, waiting for something to catch my eye. There sitting it is usual place, is my umbrella. Perfect, I think as I walk over and open it up. I know that I shouldn’t because it’s bad luck, but I need this right now. It’s all black and quite small so its easy to get through the hallway with it. 

As I pass my speaker, I ask Google to play my favorite song. The sound hits my ears and I start gliding around the living room. Umbrella in hand, like the partner I’ve always dreamt of, easy to hold and doesn’t talk back. 

“What are you doing with that umbrella?” I screech to a halt and see that my friend is standing in the hallway watching me. I blush and pull the fabric down to the locked position.

Prompt: Mirrors

I once heard a man tell me that working on your own psychology for too long was self-defeating. I had been in therapy for 10 years and thought I had made some good progress, but his comment made me pause. 

I’m an over thinker and over feeler and knew from experience that spending too much time lying on a couch with someone taking notes, drove me insane. I had learned to spread my appointments out so that I could breathe in between. As an introvert I needed to chew on their words before coming to my own conclusions.

Maybe it was time to take a break. Was ten years long enough? How much more shit from my past did I need to explore? Been there done that and it was painful enough the first time let alone talking about it every week again and again and again. 

I’m angry now. Is this actually helping me to be a better person or be happy. After all that was why I was getting therapy in the first place; to find my happiness. 

What will I do with all that time and money? Well that’s an interesting thought. I could spend time doing the things I love.

Coming soon...

Another prompt.