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

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


welcome followers!  and many thanks to my first posters, meghaloo and stacy, (and everyone else) for submitting such great responses to yesterday's writing prompt.  if you haven't had an opportunity to read the responses yet, go to the comments section of yesterday's post.
today's prompt is a photo of a building that caught my eye somewhere near the border of texas and new mexico last week.  my imagination says...

Listen, I know it’s a dump on the outside. Though I like whatcha did, messin' with the color like that.  Looks downright artistic.  Ha!  But let me tell you about it.  It’s like Genie's bottle, all crusty and dented on the outside, and a palace on the inside.  Or Snoopy’s doghouse – who ever thought it could be so nice?  Inside, my place is a dream.  Not because I've got a flat screen TV or a leather sectional or some fancy designer paint.  Can’t afford it.  Maybe never will on what I make at the diner across the street.  But it's mine and only mine.  And I'm gonna make sure it's always peaceful and quiet and spotless clean. Did I plan to live in daddy's stinky old gas station?  No.  But I didn't count on having a lazy drunk husband, either, did I?  With this baby in my belly, it's time to settle down.  Mama and Daddy are right next door to help.  And I'm fixing it up real nice. New rug, drapy white curtains, and my old cradle - all scrubbed up - with a sweet little pink blanket tucked inside.  I'm ready.  No really, I'm ready.
what does your imagination say in response to this photo writing prompt? submit your story in the comments section below (200(ish) words or less) -- i'm excited to read your take on it!  also, feel free to submit a response to yesterday's prompt if you didn't have a chance.


  1. Nate picked up his pace. Even before he reached it, he knew Charlie’s door was locked, as always, yet the floor length window beside it was open to the breeze. “It’s me,” he called, as he neared and then stood listening for the rasp of Charlie’s dry-bottomed feet shuffling across the plywood floor followed by quiet as he reached up to turn the lock. A crow squawked as it hopped over an arc of pizza crust discarded on the sidewalk. Nate snorted trying to clear his nostrils of the dog-shit smell of dying ragweed and urine. No click. Flat handing the door, and leaning into it, he said, “There’s so much more I need to know.” The doorknob held tight in his grip. He stepped in front of the window and squinting tried to see through the fabric tacked across top and bottom sills. He could tear it from the nails, shred the veil in his hands, but he’d promised, five times at least. Turning away he kicked at the crow and sent the pizza crust skidding across the alley. The metallic odor of tomato sauce sickened him as he climbed the dumpster and dropped down over the fence.

  2. gotta break 'fore the sun shine through
    cracked cinder
    cracked shading
    plenty-uh light in here
    got mo' light then know what to do wit
    so watchoo pokin' 'bout 'round her
    watchoo think you know somethin'
    think you bein' somebody
    don't know nothin' but know-how
    you cracked just as bad

  3. A broken down house
    Shackled and bent
    In an old neighborhood
    Tired and spent
    But more you look in
    Less you look out
    What seemed like a sin
    Was really a route
    Charm was spread out
    In that neighborhood
    Though of no account
    Where the house stood
    And when you step in
    With the door Creaking
    A fam’ly of ten
    Mice were squeaking
    What was slain
    Now is born
    Ease the pain
    Do not mourn
    But more you look in
    Less you look out
    What seemed like a sin
    Was really a route

    ✠ fin ✠

  4. "It sure doesn't LOOK empty" ... Susie stepped closer to peer through the slightly askewed fabric. She knew she had to find him. "Would he really come back here? Where else could he go? He has no money, no other clothes" She thought. Considering the alternatives, Susie raised one hand about to knock, reconsidered, then moved the door knob as if she was listening for the clicks of a locked safe. Once inside, her gaze focused on the bare, almost forlorn army cot, His army cot. "He definitely WAS here! The unmistakeable smell of his hair balm permeated Susie's nostrils. She walked over to the cot, sat down to feel the lingering scent on the stretched canvas. Her only hope was he wouldn't go looking for his buddies for solace.

  5. (sorry this is a few days late!)

    To you, my home may not look like much. But to me, it is my castle. It is my enchanted forest, my escape from the world. Behind the rough façade and tattered curtains and nondescript door, is a wonderful home. It has everything I need—a giant comfy reading chair, an ottoman, and enough shelves to hold all my books. It’s not much, but I get by.
    To you, my home is not a house, but more of a putrid shanty, a blight on the neighborhood, and an eye sore. You’d rather it wasn’t there, and at the same time, you wish I wasn’t here. When I leave the refuge of my home, reality sets in. In the real world, I’m not a princess with a castle, just a girl on the wrong side of the tracks. But as long as I’m home, you’re the outsider, not me.