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Hello!

Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write , here are the participants for this week, listed in reverse order of submission, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!

To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.

All literature and comics in response to the prompt are welcome and encouraged.

Last Week's Writing Prompt

Your entry must end on the word:

"Good night"

Admin's Choice:

groundsThe gin came through the ginger ale like too-cold water on my bare feet: two hundred and six tuning fork prongs ringing at once. I pushed the water bottle into the sand. Each particle of light beat into my brain and my brain beat back. Together all of it sounded like the lake, louder than the tones I can’t hear that are trapped in my head, and I listened, pouring white pieces of mussel shell from palm to palm.I don’t explain my silence. I agree with every yawn and try not to look into the sun. It examines the pieces in me, picks flowers and wanders on.I don’t explain my silence, I bury my feet in broken shells and sea glass, claiming my se... Road TripTwo immortals scratching itchy feet on the sidewalk.Coyote in the lead, too drunk to remember where they are. Mangy-minded Coyote, always dying but never staying down. A dozen cans of Bud assault a bladder the size of an apple. He stops to lift his leg against a street light for the third time in an hour. His costume jewelry tinkles, grimy tags swinging from a pink collar. Odie- no address given.The piece of Wendigo called Prankster waits, leash in hand, patient as a trained puppy. That splinter-souled elemental is a festival of color. Banana-yellow rain jacket, red t-shirt, green shorts blooming with purple flowers. Their supplies are slu...

Poetry

:thumb613109457:

Prose

Hear the World Talk to MeAs I gaze up at the stars I can hear the world talk to me. It tells me of things far larger and smaller and older than I could ever imagine. Planets that dwarf our little Earth, stars that dwarf our Sun, and particles of matter that are so small, nothing can stop them from passing through.Then the world tells me about others who live here, too. It shows me planes flying overhead with family to see and jobs to do. The little blinking lights look like stars that twinkle red and then green before starting their dance over again. I hear nocturnal animals begin to stir as their day is just beginning. The moon shines its light to give life where...

Mature Content

This week's writing prompt, from July 10th to July 20th is:

Respond to the following theme:

Stranger

Bullet; Red — Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Hello!

Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write , here are the participants for this week, listed in reverse order of submission, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!

To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.

All literature and comics in response to the prompt are welcome and encouraged.

Last Week's Writing Prompt

Your entry must end on the word:

"Good night"

Admin's Choice:

groundsThe gin came through the ginger ale like too-cold water on my bare feet: two hundred and six tuning fork prongs ringing at once. I pushed the water bottle into the sand. Each particle of light beat into my brain and my brain beat back. Together all of it sounded like the lake, louder than the tones I can’t hear that are trapped in my head, and I listened, pouring white pieces of mussel shell from palm to palm.I don’t explain my silence. I agree with every yawn and try not to look into the sun. It examines the pieces in me, picks flowers and wanders on.I don’t explain my silence, I bury my feet in broken shells and sea glass, claiming my se... Road TripTwo immortals scratching itchy feet on the sidewalk.Coyote in the lead, too drunk to remember where they are. Mangy-minded Coyote, always dying but never staying down. A dozen cans of Bud assault a bladder the size of an apple. He stops to lift his leg against a street light for the third time in an hour. His costume jewelry tinkles, grimy tags swinging from a pink collar. Odie- no address given.The piece of Wendigo called Prankster waits, leash in hand, patient as a trained puppy. That splinter-souled elemental is a festival of color. Banana-yellow rain jacket, red t-shirt, green shorts blooming with purple flowers. Their supplies are slu...

Poetry

:thumb613109457:

Prose

Hear the World Talk to MeAs I gaze up at the stars I can hear the world talk to me. It tells me of things far larger and smaller and older than I could ever imagine. Planets that dwarf our little Earth, stars that dwarf our Sun, and particles of matter that are so small, nothing can stop them from passing through.Then the world tells me about others who live here, too. It shows me planes flying overhead with family to see and jobs to do. The little blinking lights look like stars that twinkle red and then green before starting their dance over again. I hear nocturnal animals begin to stir as their day is just beginning. The moon shines its light to give life where...

Mature Content

This week's writing prompt, from July 10th to July 20th is:

Respond to the following theme:

Stranger