Weekend Writing Prompt #73 – Vortex

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt



The challenge is simple: each week you will be given an exact number of words you can use to write a poem or piece of prose.  You can use any format or style you like; go wherever your inspiration takes you.  The only rules are these:


  • your poem / prose must contain this week’s word.  The word does not have to count towards the exact word count total – it can be in the title, or the first letters of the lines of a poem can spell it out – you can be as creative as you want as long as it’s there somewhere.
  • the length of your poem / prose must match the number of words stated in this week’s challenge.  No more.  No less.

Can’t wait to read what you have come up with!

Weekend Writing Prompt Year 1 Anthology – Check out the anthology so far here

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Looking for somewhere to submit your work – Whispers and Echoes, an online journal of short writing (poems in 10 lines or less, fiction in no more than 100 words) Issue 4 deadline: 22 September 2018 – that’s today folks!

Find the full submission guidelines here



At the Crossroads of Life


I’m standing at the crossroads of my life

Wondering which path before me

Is the right one


They all look the same

There is no visible sign

Separating one from the other


And yet, I must make a choice

I cannot stay here

Dithering forever


Indecision rules my heart

Confusion clouds my mind

Anxiety rises; I don’t know what to do


Tears well up in my eyes

I’m lost and lacking direction

My life, a roadmap of mistakes


Past failures begin to take hold

When a sudden strong breeze shifts my perception:

What’s been has gone; start afresh


And that, I decide

Is what I’ll do

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #12 Indecision

Not to Everyone’s Taste

The estate agent paled. Bright pinks paired with blood red; an unusually bright, garish colour scheme that flowed hideously from room to room. How was she supposed to sell that? And to whom? A vampire?

I suspect my thinking is greatly flawed in this little piece of flash fiction…I can’t even imagine a vampire approving of this colour scheme 😉

This was written for Weekend Writing Prompt #23 Taste


This is a more seasonally appropriate prompt, with the equinox falling on 23rd September 2018.

Written in response to Weekend Writing Prompt # 21 Day and Night.

WWP#21 | Word Prompt: DAY AND NIGHT

Equinox, Evennight
Almost perfect balance between
Day and Night

Evennight, Equinox
Traditional markers for
Seasonal clocks

Marking the beginning of autumn
Or the beginning of spring
Named from the Latin,

Impatient Earth

It seems a little strange, a little out of step, to be writing about spring when autumn is slowly claiming the natural world where I live, but while I try and fill the last few remaining empty chapters of the Outcast anthology, I must work with the relevant prompts…

“Impatient Earth” was written in response to Weekend Writing Prompt #45 Spring

Winter had quickly given way to spring. The snow had melted and as the earth warmed, nature awakened, almost impatient to put behind it the death and the darkness of the colder months.

Suddenly the world was alive with early season colour. Trees were in bud. Delicate pink blossom clung to boughs until an eager breeze dislodged them, sending them dancing through the air like a spring snowfall.

Daffodils, snowdrops, violets, and primroses pushed their way through the recently roused earth to bloom above ground in sunbeam yellow, rich cream, snow white and watercolour purple.

And so the wheel turns….

Afternoon Tea

2 light-hearted acrostic poems on the theme of Afternoon Tea for Weekend Writing Prompt #40

A Holiday Indulgence

All my

Favourite cakes, alongside a pot of

Tea, English Breakfast, of course,

Eccles cakes, Victoria sponge, though it would be

Remiss of me

Not to mention the sandwiches and scones, the latter

Obviously served with jam and clotted cream

On second thoughts, you have the sandwiches

Never really liked them myself, I’d rather a


Toasted teacake, spread liberally with butter, while I

Enjoy the view from the window

Across the bay

A Sweet Treat List

Angel cake

Fondant fancies

Treacle tart

Empire biscuits

Rock cakes

Nice biscuits

Orange marmalade cake

Oatie biscuits

Nutmeg on an egg custard tart


Tea bread


Apple and cinnamon muffins


I look out of the window on to a black and white world. Where did all the colour go? I used to think sepia tones were dull and morose, hearkening back to a time before, tainted with nostalgia, that required the wearing of rose-tinted glasses. Now I long for those insipid hues…

The shadows outside lengthen as the sun dips lower and lower in the sky. The black and white world is now more dark than light as day slowly fades into night. The cracks in the ground, of which there are many – when was the last time it rained? – are shown in stark relief. Nothing grows here any more.

My mother has a painting of a dandelion over the mantelpiece, its bright yellow head an affront to the greyscale space it inhabits. I wonder how, when everything else has lost its colour, that one painting of a weed is as bright and as vibrant as when it was first painted…

Mum says, if she could, she would pick the seed head from the painting – it’s there lurking to the side of the bright flower. Thinking me still a child, she says she’d ask me to make a wish and then together we’d blow really hard and disperse all the seeds. Of course, my wish would be granted, she says. It’s magic. I’m not convinced, but I know I would do it any way.

And I know what I’d wish for: a secret doorway that would appear in our living room, one that could take us back in time to when the world was still gleaming and awash with all the shades and colours of an artist’s palette.

I hate the plainness here. It stifles hope.

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #35 – End of Year Challenge