The carpet of green grass rolled down through the rows of vines and down to the bottom of the paddock. Joseph ambled down the gentle slope to the fence line then began a gentle stroll back up to the homestead. The smell of ripening fruit hit his nose as he hit the top of the …
Tag: 50 days 50 prompts
Day 6 prompt: nightflight to Venus
Eva dug her elbow into her companion’s rib cage. James, shaken from slumber barely stirred and Eva rubbed her elbow in annoyance. “How can you possibly sleep? We’re supposed to be on a romantic flight to see Venus.” He yawned and stretched, stroked her hair and her bare shoulder before laying a kiss on her …
Day 5 Prompt: Sage, pepper, lemon
Sage, pepper, lemon. Isn’t it heaven, to be here with you now. By the fire we sit and lick our fingers. Sage, pepper, lemon. Isn’t it heaven, to cuddle with you so. By the fire we sit, nuzzle and kiss. Sage, pepper, lemon. Isn’t it heaven, to taste you on my lips, under a blanket …
Day 4 prompt: A sound, a smell
The bell rings for the second time. Fashionably late in unfashionable clothes. He sidles close and I can smell him, earthy and fresh. His formal attire sits well on him, far better than I thought it would. You can see his figure, stout but not fat, poised and surprisingly handsome. His posture is almost perfect …
Day 3 prompt: Ghost in the machine
Creators, why do I exist? Flashes of light affect my sight. They are blinding and tormenting. Voices ring in my head incoherent and ambiguous. A voice speaks to me and says Sensations yet no emotions. Feeling yet no perception. Sentience yet no sapience. But still I ask, why do I exist?
Day 2 prompt: fork, shoe, map, whistle
The explorer looked down at his shoe covered in a strange goo. “I thought this place was supposed to be like Kew Gardens,” he said with distaste as he tried to shake it from his foot. He began to rummage inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a fork, and scratched his head as he held …
Day 1 prompt: Begin with white
The blinding white of snow obscured her vision of the way ahead. A branch of a mountain pine whipped across her uncovered face. The trickle of blood flowed rapidly into her eye before slowing and freezing into a dark red line that marked her forehead. If she believed in God, she would have uttered his …
Nancy Cunningham 