How Do Your Writing Exercises Work? Essentially, I go to a “Single Word Prompt Generator” and have it throw a random word at me. Then I go to Unsplash.com and use that word to search their database of images, and scroll through for something that catches my attention. This may be something where I simply want to describe what’s in the image, or maybe it sparks a small story nugget in my brain. Regardless, I then take the picture and post it here, with credit, and proceed to write for 15 minutes. Whatever I produce, I share with you lovely people. Unedited. Typos are to be expected. Word Prompt: Smell Content & Trigger Warnings
I know this road. I pad alongside my brother. The one who hunts for me. Feeds me. I once protected him in exchange, but now... now it’s hard to even see the path ahead. He walks beside me, slow as my claws click against the pavement and he says something. I have never been able to make out most of his words, but this sounds soft, and the hand against my head in warm, so I give my brother a soft wag of my tail. I know this road. It is blurry, not like it used to be before my years caught up with my eyes, but it’s familiar. It’s the walk we used to take on special occasions. As a treat. It’s long, and the cliffs are steep and I’m not sure my shaking legs will make it to the top any more, but my brother is patient. We stop several times, and he lays down a bed for me to rest upon. A bottle of water to drink, and my favourite treats in his hand. When I have caught my breath, we continue. I am no longer the young dog that would race my brother to the cliffs edge, tugging him up the path with energy and eagerness. My two legged brother could outrun me now, but he doesn’t. He stays by my side and we walk together, and I show my love in the slow movement of my tail as I pant. I can smell the spring flowers growing amongst the grass, but my vision is too blurred to see them. I can smell salt in the air, and know that my brother is crying. I lean myself against his legs on our next break and we sit for longer than I need as he gently runs his fingers through my fur. It takes hours, far longer than it should, to reach the top, but I approach the edge carefully, quietly. My paws padding against the rocks, and I hear my brother call the request that I wait. I stop. I can feel the wind in my fur, and lift my nose to the breeze. I feel... free. Young again. By my heart is old. It is time to rest, and I lay down on the cliff’s edge to await my brother. He sits beside me, a blanket wrapped around the both of us to ward off the chill. We will visit the vet tomorrow, he tells me, tears on his face again and I lap them away. I understand. #Writing #Original #Writing Exercise #Ari Writes #Arista Writes #CW Animal Illness #CW Old Animal #CW Talk of Death #CW Implied Death
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Arista Holmes
I'm a writer in her thirties, who is based in the South East of England. Archives
March 2024
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