My Cardboard Balcony

It is my recommendation, as a prolific writer, that this website perhaps update more frequently. Five to six days without a new single word prompt leaves me feeling dejected, quite honestly; I mean, I want to practice my sixty second lightning round writing. So please, for the amusement of all struggling writers everywhere, make sure to have a new word pop up at least every other day. Don't worry, I'm being good-natured about this, and I know this constitutes as pseudo-poetic whining. Thanks, lovelies!

Angles by Arden Roddie Some stories          need to be seen from                           many                        d                    i                    f                    f                    e                    r                   e                    n                   t                                         ...

Final Date by Belinda Roddie The last place where you met up with me, the sun was setting on the rim of a neon martini glass, and we were eyeing the speakeasy across the street, where the barkeeps wore vermouth on their vests and the lamps were dimmed to mouthfuls of vermilion shame between sips of champagne. You were so beautiful in white frills and pearls, while I wore my best black suit over a cheap blue polo, and when we slipped down rickety stairs, we heard jazz, but only in our heads, not on actual strings or worn down keys. I was almost willing to take you back - almost. But that was before you opened your lips again, and before you regaled me with your personal conspiracies - conspiracies I had been privy to too many times before. Theories of death that hit too close beneath the ribcage, rattling cartilage, threatening delicate threads of a tapestry that I wasn't willing to let fray. And by the time I got back in my car, I could barely see your re...

by Belinda Roddie We don't talk about the curse. This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie. ...Yeah, I got nothing right now.