Tag Archives: Prompt

RDP Prompt: Bravery tea

Ol’ Massy has quite the collection of kettles, cups, and mugs.

Olly: Could ya pour me a cuppa, mum?

Ol’ Massy, the tea marm: Sure thing.

Olly: Sorry, mum, not from that mug though it’s a pretty piece.

Massy: What are you on about, boy?

Olly: Sorry, mum. I like that mettle ‘un.

Ol’ Massy: Whyever? It’s all dinged up.

Olly: Aye, mum. That last time Darcy got me a cuppa from that there pot. I felt like I could fight a hoard of Romans.

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Picture It and Write!: The Great Library

Hi everyone, I’ve yet a again disappeared! I’m now taking an online course at Goldsmiths in Cert HE in English and man is it a challenge. I’ve decided to take Creative Writing and Introductions to English Language this year. I’m freaking out because:

1) I’m new to independent study and timing myself is a tricky and is altogether intimidating.

2) Ohmygods, the reading, the analysis, the note-taking! My head is going to explode and to top it off my textbooks haven’t arrived and it’s like 3 weeks in. Do you see my problem?

Deep breaths. I’m scared but I must try, I keep telling myself. Creative Writing encourages a regularity in writing, practice they say is essential. So I practiced on one of Ermilia Blog‘s PI&W entries (I haven’t written one in ages). Here it is.

old booksPhoto via Ermilia Blog. Click to see original post.

The sconces high on the walls sent shards of light bouncing around the large room, by the time it reached  the bottom it had evened out so that the old man, surrounded with books and parchment, could manage to read. He sat slightly bent over a scroll, eyes quickly scanning its length until they stopped abruptly on a spot almost at the end. He gasped, a little thing, and started off in a hacking cough disturbing the dust motes in a flurry.

As soon as he was settled, long nimble fingers quickly sought and sorted through flat sheets of vellum to his left. Mumbling under his breath, “Oh my … yes … yes … Interesting.” Pages shudder in the quiet, causing little echoes to ebb out the high windows and into the night.

A sudden exclamation, “Impossible!” Even faster now, with a quill in a hand stained with dry ink, the scholar scribbled away on a new sheet, tiny and precise but managed to be near intelligible, perhaps even on purpose. Given his somewhat unkempt appearance one would say he’d been here for a good many hours.

Then, “Yet again it could be! The Chinese, too, had made quite detailed observations … it could be possible …”

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Picture it and Write: Fly

Here’s my piece for this week’s Picture it and Write!

– Silent dying by Laura Makabresku. Via Ermilia Blog, click to see original post.

This isn’t right, he thought for the hundredth time. Mathew stood well within the reach of the shadows in the corner of the room. The old women, oh these women, their wills were thousandfold the force of their heavy wrinkled and gnarled hands. They had gotten it in their heads that Petr must live. Why, he’s far too young for this fate.

Fools. Who are they to decide against nature? Petr, the rambunctious lad he loved and knew, the boy who wanted to fly. Pretended to do so as he ran down the hills at breakneck speed just to feel the wind. If he’d been allowed to die in proper peace would have turned in his grave at the very though of such imposed suffering his soul must endure. It pained Mathew to see his friend binded to this lingering existence.

The soft light of dawn stroked Petr’s pale immobile face, a picture of perfect, undisturbed rest. Continue reading

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