Creative Ask: Take any mundane, daily scene from your household. Write a poem about it.
Creative Ask: A piece of music was played in class and we were asked to write a free-form about it.
Struggling with loss is new to me. And it is surprising that nearly all of that struggle has come to me in the last year-and-a-half or so. It started in the May of 2019, with the loss of my grandmother. Exactly 6 months later, I lost my grandfather too, in the same room, on the same bed. For someone who thought she would never have to face loss, it was staring me in the eye, squaring its jaw up to meet mine. In March this year, I lost my last three months of college. The last thing I lost was fairly recent - a week ago, my senses of taste and smell. So lately, I've been losing my mind. I don't know if my senses plan to come back, or like the rest of the things I've lost, desert me forever.
Creative Ask: Writing prompt for a short story was given - "I always felt different, like I didn’t belong. “You are an old soul,” people said.
One day, my mother sat me down and told me she gave birth to me in space."
Creative Ask: Write a manifesto for BMW Series 8
Creative Ask: Show me a story, don't tell it.
Lurking around like ghosts came easy to my lonely soul. Another day, same old infatuation. Butterflies in my stomach, high pulse rate, smile on my face. Stalking like I always did. My crush was always in the library. I was slinking up the dimly-lit corridors of campus building no. 4, holding onto the staircase rails, eyes affixed on the chestnut mop of hair attached to the 6ft tall frame climbing down in front of me.
Like his shadow, I followed him there. Making sure he doesn't notice. I kept a distance. I stood near the desk, the glass separating me from my fate. In my love-struck head, I was living with him already. But my dreams were broken by a sudden sharp pain. Getting my bag out of the shelf, kicked me back to reality.
Like his shadow, I followed him there. Making sure he doesn't notice. I kept a distance. I stood near the desk, the glass separating me from my fate. In my love-struck head, I was living with him already. But my dreams were broken by a sudden sharp pain. Getting my bag out of the shelf, kicked me back to reality.
