Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, 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 week. 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 Week's Writing Prompt
Write anything that features one or more of the following:
- an abandoned mansion
- three knives
- a character that can't stop talking
- a red dress
Pugs, Not DrugsI knew I should never have agreed to go to the old Hickory mansion. I mean, good grief, listen to how it sounds. Like something out of a children’s TV programme, or a bad horror flick. But at the time, it wasn’t about whether I was in some terrible cliché or even just trespassing. It was about finding the woman in the red dress.
A little explanation. There were three of us sharing a roll-up round the back of Tesco the first time we saw her. Me, and Barry, and Lola. She was Barry’s girlfriend at the time, the source of the tobacco and the papers and the pixie-tampons – those little cotton filters you use when you roll your own. Barry was wearing a grey hoodie over his work clothes so that he didn’t get another write-up for smoking on company property. Even though his eyes darted around under his heavy lids, watching for the manager, it was Lola who spotted the woman in the red dress first.
“’ere,” she said, pointing. “What
MaggotsX @ 11.15.15
we can see her in her bedroomwe can see her in her bedroom
blades under her bed,
a piece of paper on her desk
hevily shaking hands.
waiting for a call,
a shabby red dress on the floor
she's risking it all.
her phone doesn't ring,
she hasn't got a first aid-kit
her carpet is pink.
plushies on her shelf,
whispering "you're fat fat fat"
she's losing her head.
she's always been mad,
no more blades under her bed
her carpet is red.
we can't see her in her bedroom
Scary Story"Scary stories are for babies" I say
as we pass the old mansion on Main Street
I chatter out loud to keep the fear at bay
"That house isn't haunted, It's just empty"
"It's haunted alright" he says to me
"By the the ghost of old lady Hathaway
She just kept talk, talk, talking
Till her husband stopped her one fine day"
"How did he stop her?" I ask as I pray
That the answer is gentle and sweet
Like bringing her a breakfast tray
And giving a massage for her aching feet
"She was just like you." He adds creepily
"In a red dress she would twirl and sway.
It took only three knives you see.
To end her life in the cruelest way"
"Mom...." I whisper, hoping its just play
"Mom?" I ask as he leans toward me
"Mom mom mom mom" the words stick together like clay
"Mom!" I yell as I see him attacking
"Don't make me turn this car around!" She always says the right thing
"Tattletale." He grumbles away
But I bet he puts his butt back in his seat
Thank God and mommy I'm saved
Talking to ForgetIn a small and silent house,
Flora sat feeling forgotten and alone.
She did not want to go out with friends,
she simply wanted to mourn at home.
A talkative young woman,
or so some would say.
Her presence mended all hearts,
she would beautify every dismal day.
But all of this was just a mask,
just an old facade that would one day fall,
when her limits are exceeded,
when she would isolate herself from them all.
She kept talking,
for she was full of regret.
She kept talking,
for she could never forget.
The Woman in the Red DressWalking down the street was the woman in the red dress.
Everyone seemed to stop for the woman in the red dress.
Tear stains were ignored on the woman in the red dress.
Men began to talk to the woman in the red dress.
“How are you?” “What’s up?” ”Beautiful red dress.”
They didn’t see the feelings of the woman in the red dress.
What a day had befallen the woman in the red dress.
But all they had seen was the woman in the red dress.
“Why won’t you talk?” “Listen to me!” “Slutty red dress.”
The words turned harsher to the women in the red dress.
If they knew, no one would talk to the woman in the red dress.
No one will ever again see the woman in the red dress.
attractiona red dress
a fair warning
Talk.I can't stop talking.
It's a gift...or a curse. I'm not really sure which.
I mean, I have a lot to say. I have a lot of opinions. I like to share. I know things. Facts & Fictions.
I like things.
I love things.
There is a big difference between the two, you know. I like things I don't need. I love things I cannot live without. See?
Well, it makes sense to me. Not everybody places such importance on words. But, I do. I want to be purposeful in all I do. I want to "change the world"...well, most days...
Some days I don't even want to change my sheets.
I guess it just depends on how I'm feeling... lazy. ENERGETIC! Loved. s a d . Exhausted.
It all just...depends.
I know I've said a lot, but have not really said anything at all. It's the truth, though. At least, according to me. It's my truth.
People won't understand, though. That's why...
...I can't say a word.
Thank you all for the amazing participation this week! Your entries were a joy to read!
This week's writing prompt, from November 20th to November 30th, is:
Respond to the following theme: