welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Tuesday, July 27, 2010


here's my take on today's prompt, a post-it i found on the ground at a gas station:

Everything about the note irked him.  The way she'd capitalized each word in the sentence.  The way she'd added the x's and o's to make it look cute.  There was nothing cute about the post-it, or her constant, incessant nagging.  Had she snuck outside while he was in the shower this morning? Or in the middle of the night after they'd called a truce and turned out the light, turning their backs on each other in the dark?  Either way it was obsessive, stalky almost.  He topped off the tank, closed the gas cap, rolled down the window, and pulled out onto the highway.  The note clung to the steering wheel, flapping madly in the wind for a second or two before flying out the window.  "Oops," he said.  And then he took a sip of his scalding hot coffee and turned up his music with a smile.

i'd love to read your response - submit it by clicking on comments below.


  1. She knew she had to do today differently. It was time for a change. Hadn't they just been discussing it last night? And the night before that and the night before that... She had been replaying the conversations in her mind as she strode to work. Of course, Dorothy was right. And as she re-read the post-it note left for her on the mirror that morning her newfound courage was fueled. She would listen to her wonderful wife today. Today she would tell that pinheaded, pompous, no-brained boss of hers just what she thought he could do with his memos.

  2. "You're on in 5...4...3.." Her producer gave her the signal, and just as she'd done for the past 5 years, she let her radio voice float like a sultry salve on the airwaves.

    "This is Shelby Knox, and you're listening to the Opportunity Knox Request Line. Before we take any calls tonight, I'd like to indulge in a personal dedication to my husband, Oliver. Ollie, after 5 years of treatments and trying, we did it!!"

    As Ollie sat in their living room stunned and slightly confused, Bette Midler delivered the news: Baby mine, dry your eyes...

    But he couldn't hold back his tears of joy that splotched Shelby's note.

  3. So the next morning, this particular morning, she decided, before she got ready for the day, she was going to "meditate" and try this once more to see if this "voice" spoke to her again, because she was HOPING that this time, if it was REALLY God, that it would go a little more like THIS: "LISTEN TO ME....Yeah....this is G.O.D.! Do a DRIVE BY on them mofo's! Put a CAP in his new wife, and in him, and take your son back. He belongs with YOU! HE'S the one that needs therapy. NOT YOU!"
    So this morning, waiting in anticipation to hear that voice again, she turned off her alarm, sat upright on the floor, began the deep breathing you're supposed to do, and allowed all of "monkey chatter" in her mind to just float across the landscape of her mind like passing clouds in the sky, and after a few minutes, she heard it again....except this time, the first things she heard was, "Only love is real." WHAT THE...OH HELL'S to the naw....WHAT?" she thought. "ONLY LOVE IS REAL" said the voice a little louder......"All of the hate, the judgement, the fear, the disgust....none of that is real..its only real because you all MAKE it real." ..."Only love is real? she said back to the voice. "Yeah...RIGHT...tell THEM that!" And all she got back was, "Take time to listen to me....I Am the great I Am" the voice clearly and calmly said. "Take time to listen to ME. Be still and listen to the great I AM. God through you, as you,IS you, and We are ONE."

    She didn't like what she heard at ALL. Even GOD was against her....even God was trying to make her responsible for her actions. But something compelled her do write it down....a voice said, "Write it with love to your Self." So she did, with tears streaming down her face, dripping onto the sticky from her eyes....Listen to me today. xoxo She finished putting the belt of her prison guard uniform on, put the sticky note in her pocket, and placed it on the car's dash board. She did her Monday morning routine by stopping at the same gas station, paying the SAME clerk, and walked back out to her SAME ole, RAGGEDY car. She stared at her reflection in the back window as she pumped gas and those same, familiar knots in her stomach started to tense up inside of her. Just thinking about those horrible men she had to deal with at the prison, made her insides TURN in fear and disgust, but she NEVER showed it on the outside..."NEVER SHOW IT" she thought. And then, she heard the voice again...."Listen to me today. xoxo." That just ticked her off, so she tossed it out of the window and pulled off...."I'll listen all right when you stop telling me a bunch of B.S!" she thought....but deep down, she knew it was too late...it was engrained in her mind now... "Today listen to me.....the REAL me. The GOD in me...the GOD that exists in side of everTHING and everyONE. EVERYONE!! xoxoxo." Nothing would ever be the same...nothing would ever be the same.....

    Kelley G.

  4. She saw it first thing in the morning—stuck to the face of her alarm clock. Remembered writing it the night before.
    She chuckled. “If anyone knew the things I do, they’d think I was nuts.”
    She took it with her as she went into the bathroom, stuck it to the mirror. She turned on the water in the tub and stared at the note as she brushed her teeth.
    The voices in her head started in, sounding an awful lot like her mother, “You might as well change your major and do something worthwhile. Do you really think you can make it as an artist?”
    She leaned forward, spewed toothpaste into the sink. Straightened.
    “Yes, I do,” she said to her reflection. “I’m good. My professors think I have promise. And even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter because my soul—my very core—is artistic. So, I’m going to class today without you.”
    She held up her hands and looked at her fingers. “My eyes and my hands can create wonders. So, that’s what I’m going to do because that’s what I love!”
    She grinned at her reflection. She felt a new strength as she stepped into the shower. She knew the dialogue might go on most of the day, but for the moment she had won.