I’ve started using my Better Homes and Gardens magazines for writing prompts again. Last night I just had a sudden burst of writing and enjoyed myself as I flicked through and jotted down anything that popped into my mind. It has been a while since I managed to sit down and do writing prompt but it’s been on my to do list for just as long. Some of these prompts I instantly connected to pre-existing characters or stories I’ve created and will be using them as stimulation for working on those projects.

Some of my writing doesn’t tell much if it wasn’t for the image I used, but I will be expanding on them so that they become useful pieces. I need to properly exercise my writing skills and dig myself out of this slump!

June 2020, pg. 3

She was huddled up in the corner, wrapped in a scarf of purple hues, looking like a mountain range in the sunset. Her green eyes were far away as she watched the snow falling on the sill outside. The scarf was so large that it wrapped around her like a blanket and though she looked lonely and distant, it told a story of much love, each line and section speaking to another family member who helped knit it for her. Many thought her a sombre character to be around, uncomfortable and unapproachable but he saw what no one else could, just beyond the edge of the scarf where a content smile hid.

June 2020, pg. 61

She dressed in emerald and lavender, looking like a field of fresh flowers. But it was the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled with enough warmth to blow the winter away. It was as soothing as the cosy colours of her clothing.

June 2020, pg. 37

She had deep mahogany skin, like a figure moulded from chocolate. Her eyes were light red, like glazed cherries on a grand cake, dripping in sweetness. Her smile was as sweet as her appearance, warm and delightful, melting anyone who saw it. She wove her fingers through her black hair as she hummed, pale violet flowers scattered throughout the threads of night like small dahlias.

June 2020, pg. 4

The ‘island’ was created on a tree stump, the gravestone of a millennia old oak tree. The top of the stump was abundant in smaller, diverse plant life making hillsides from moss and forests of ferns and succulents. With no large bushes or trees sprouting, the fey made burrows in the moss from bark and sticks found around the bottom of the stump, careful not to venture too far away and use what they had nearby. It shimmered in the sun and glittered in the rain, flourishing as a little island amongst the other trees in the forest. Every now and then small creatures investigated it, often given small gifts in the form of berries and nuts in exchange for not eating any of the greenery that made up the island.