Kissing – Daily Writing Prompts
Whatever your flight of fancy, today is all about canoodling. Time for our characters to pucker up and smooch their way into happiness.
What is NaNoWriMo?
NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month is the time when ambitious writers from across the globe take on the ambitious challenge to write 50,000 words of a first draft in thirty days.
Poem 018 – You’re Not a Freak
They punch they slap, they hit they kick, But all the while you sniffle you think,
The Devil is in the Detail – Short Story
Mrs. Makaka boasted of being the cleanest head cook House Lanka had ever seen. Deep down in the dressed stone walls and spotless floors of the kitchen, she brooded over the greasy pots. Pascal, the second footman, was off nursing a terrible case of athlete’s foot and Miss Ng’ang’a was a no show as always. …
Poem 017 – Take the Day
Take the day and drop it in, sprinkle hope to make it sweet, A dash of sadness for lulls that be, don’t worry, it’s still incomplete.
Stocktaking – Goodbye May
Hey love. So another month has come and gone and I am again at the point of evaluation. A lot has happened this month, not so much in action as in reexamination. So grab yourself a cup of coffee and allow me to spill the tea. In the aftermath of COVID, a lot has changed …
Baraka – Sudden Fiction
Without them seeing, he quickly wrote a note, scribbling as much as he could remember from the blabbering behemoth in the black suit. It was a long shot, but he had to at least try and leave breadcrumbs just in case things went south, which they’d done within the past hour. The giant of a …
Poem 016 – Linger
/ˈlɪŋɡə/ verb – stay in a place longer than necessary because of a reluctance to leave.
Stocktaking – Goodbye April
Word Count = 900 words Estimated Reading Time = 4 minutes Genre = Editorial Hey love and a happy new month to you. Here we stand at the end as well as the beginning of things and I dare say, there is much to be expected and no small measure of things to be grateful …
Through The Window – Sudden Fiction
Inside were musty old rooms stripped of all but dusty old books, peeling paint, and treasures under stretching old iron roof sheets baking in the African sun. But it was home and it had been for ages. It kept me away from them, away from those that hung by the rafters, building their hollow nests …