Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this month, listed in reverse order of submission, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!
To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every month. Entries without this info will be denied. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.
All literature and comics in response to the prompt are welcome and encouraged.
Last Month's Writing Prompt
Respond to the following theme:
A Mother's Fearthe first time i felt fear
when the moment i held you
in my trembling arms
i felt the world shift in every direction
my throat closed and fear
clung to the back of my tongue
and refused to let me speak
nestled in my arms
i held you
weak and defenseless in this world
you cried out
The Boy and The Master: A Tale of PerceptionThe Boy and The Master: A Tale of Perception
“Master, I’m not exactly sure if I can– “
“Stop right there. Do not overthink it young one, just DO.” The Master says with pure confidence.
The Boy looks down at the block, weary of engaging in such a seemingly dangerous task. “Master, really I– “
“Why did you come to me? Why are you here?”
“I’m not exactly sure what you mean, Master.”
“I MEAN why did you want to be a Sensei? What is your motivation for being here?”
“Well I guess I– “
The Master hits the boy over the head lightly, just enough to stop the boy in his tracks.
“STOP. Do not say words like “I guess.” You only know when you are here. I did not take you in as my apprentice because “I guess” you were the right choice. I took you in because I had the utmost confidence in you–and still do.”
The boy stopped in his tracks, speechless
Serpent Run and hide, hold your breath,
you will not avoid her eyes.
They keep watching, twisting, hurting,
spiked like concertina wires.
Her tongue is made of razorblades,
her word's a terminal.
No matter what you do or say,
you're the criminal.
Troubled once, forgave twice,
everyone still loves her lies.
As much as we try not to bother,
she's a swarm of buzzing flies.
A Shot For FailureThe smell of ash permeates my skin,
with alcohol thick on my breath in droves.
Don't mind me, I'll just be rotting over there,
a residence on the local bar room floor.
Greasy hair and dirty clothes, let me escape,
As I cry these black tears of blood and grime.
Another shot to forget the mistake I've become,
filled with a bitter regret as heavy as lead.
If you want the master of failing at this life,
look no further, for I'm the patron saint kid,
there's no use praying, there's no use helping,
I'm just too far gone now for anything.
Take a lesson and let me be your model
don't take the same paths that I did,
then maybe someday you wont end up like me.
But c'est la vie.It was a rather odd year thus far for King Billy II. He was sober after being a drunkard since the age of 13, which he was still adjusting to. The sobriety had made him feel terrible at times, and crystal clear at other times. He wasn’t sure on which end of the spectrum he was feeling that day, as figuring it out was at the bottom of his to-do list today.
By that June, he had attempted suicide thrice that year, but the last time was a full month ago, and he was feeling much better. At least compared to earlier that year, and at least compared to how he’d feel in about a month or so, when he’d try again, fail, receive some help from a mental hospital for a few days, followed with months of follow-up visits.
But all of that was both ahead and behind him, on this hot summer day. He was too occupied with nervously thinking about asking out Jamie, a girl from his school that he fancied. He walked for about an hour during the morning, just pondering how he ought to go about
failureit wasn't supposed to be like this.
he'd never intended for this to happen, never intended to let himself fall so far...
but now, every time he looked at him, every time he thought of him...
failed. he'd failed.
a business arrangement, no strings attached.
he'd get amusement, and the tailor would get pleasure.
"as soon as i'm bored, i'll drop you."
that's what he'd said.
that's what he'd promised.
but he was a liar, anyways, wasn't he?
nothing changed. nothing changed for so long.
trust. he'd asked for trust.
he'd made no promises,
but the man had trusted him anyways.
foolish. so foolish.
you don't trust liars. you never do.
so why had he?
then there was confusion, and tattoos, and lust...
promises, and words, and jealousy, so much jealousy...
anger. anger that burned for no reason at all,
hot in his veins and rushing through his blood.
he'd made him feel.
he didn't stop him.
he told him to go once, told him to leave.
it had been a mistake, such a
This month's writing prompt, from October 4th to October 30th, is:
Write anything that features one or more of the following:
- an important notebook
- a hurricane
- Washington DC
- a palace in the sky