The Monthly Prompts concept is just as the folder is titled. Each month, new prompts will be offered and members are encouraged to write something based off of the given prompts. Such submissions should be placed here.
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Marsh mellow halo's
Toffee coated apples
Sugar tipped arrows
Eve cradles, wishing wells
Adam bells and whistles
Eden in frills and squealish
thrills
The angels harp
Cupids lance
Fairy's entrance
Sonnets, away in a manger
Cursed are They Who Receive by Michel-le-fou, literature
Literature
Cursed are They Who Receive
Cursed are They Who Receive
"Blessed are they who give.
Blessed are they who receive."
After returning from the hospital from the chocolates I ate, I went to rest in my bedroom. There I found a small round hemp box with no return address and only my address on the lid. I felt as uneasy with that as I felt with those chocolates. Still, curiosity got the better of me and I sat beside it and searched for tape or cord to undo.
I found it a moment later and opened the box. Within seconds after that, the gift content lunged out at me: a fully grown female Indian cobra. It almost bit me. I knew about them, but I wondered why I overlooked that th
You sigh bitterly as you brace yourself for another long night; the reality of the impending workload sinking into your stress-addled mind. You find yourself wondering if you should face it at all. Your mind swims with thoughts of escape. But first, you take a moment to ponder the events that led you to this point. You were once happy and relatively stress free. You once had the perfect life, living in a nice neighborhood with your loving family. Both you and your spouse held jobs, and your child reaped the benefits of living in a dual-income household: nice toys, nice school, nice food, and nice everything.
What was not so nice was
Dangerous Delights
My stomach began to churn and rumble round the hour of ten that night. As I looked for a snack, I noticed first the flower that began to age sitting alone on the shelf. It was sent by someone claiming to admire me. I was not sure who that could be. Then I noticed the box of assorted chocolates lying a few meters away from that. I always liked chocolates. However, when I held them to my mouth, not yet inserting them, something warned me. They must have been there as long as the flower. But that proved to be only the beginning. No sooner had I lifted the first piece to my mouth, when I heard the wail of an ambulance nearby.
A Missive to the Future: Our Life is our Doom by JuliusMabe, literature
Literature
A Missive to the Future: Our Life is our Doom
To whom it may concern:
The following is an account of the extinction of humankind. There is really no good place to begin, but I suppose I should start by introducing myself. My name is not important; suffice it to say that I was a journalist before the collapse of civilization. Because of this, I was selected from our ranks to prepare a last testament of humankind as a message to any intelligent species—terrestrial or otherwise—who might happen upon the remnants of our world however many years in the future. As I write this, my species is on the brink of extinction. Less than one hundred of us remain; far too few to co
In a place long forgotten; a kingdom too old to be remembered, there was once a curious ritual. Every year, just before the first blossoms of spring, a particular individual was sought out. This individual might be rich or poor, wise or foolish, man or woman, young or old; it really didn't matter. What did matter was the person's passion, or more specifically, the lack thereof.
Desolation of passion or any intrinsic yearning to progress beyond what one was born into was the sole criterion for selection. Most people selected were of the sort who would have wasted their lives, content only to bre
I remember the first time I saw you
Everyone thought you were ordinary
There was nothing ordinary about your eyes
They were lit up from your soul
I wanted to get closer, to know you more
I remember the first time I saw you
The scent of your perfume was intoxicating
I could tell you were shy
But you still knew your power over me
I was blinded by infatuation I did not know
That this first love would sting
Now I lay in the dark of night
And I still remember the first time I saw you
It's become a painful memory
And I lay here looking back and wondering
I am going cold and I don't even care
I can still smell the scent of your perfume
The scent