Creative writing. First prompt is a starting sentence.
To start your journey to yourself and your emotions this week I suggest give a try in creative writing.
Sit in a cozy space, create an atmosphere, which works for you.
I love to write in the evening when it’s darker and light an aroma candle. Or in the cafe.
So choose your spot. Give yourself time to breathe, arrive in the space, arrive in the body. I suggest not to think, but feel.
This time we will write with a first sentence that given: “he had one last chance to make things right, but time was running out.”
And let your mind go, just write what’s coming to you, through you. It might not be a coherent story.
But don’t read it straight away when you’re done. Set it side give it a time and then read as if you have no idea what’s there. You will see what your mind is trying to tell you, which story is still bothering you, needs a release.
Appreciate it, give thanks to your subconscious for showing you yourself.
Sit in a cozy space, create an atmosphere, which works for you.
I love to write in the evening when it’s darker and light an aroma candle. Or in the cafe.
So choose your spot. Give yourself time to breathe, arrive in the space, arrive in the body. I suggest not to think, but feel.
This time we will write with a first sentence that given: “he had one last chance to make things right, but time was running out.”
And let your mind go, just write what’s coming to you, through you. It might not be a coherent story.
But don’t read it straight away when you’re done. Set it side give it a time and then read as if you have no idea what’s there. You will see what your mind is trying to tell you, which story is still bothering you, needs a release.
Appreciate it, give thanks to your subconscious for showing you yourself.
‘Feelings are the language of the soul.’
Start your writing with a sentence: He had one last chance to make things right, but time was running out.
He had one last chance to make things right, but time was running out.
The longer he waited – more sure she was about her decision.
When he saw last time he let her go. Stupidly. He simply froze, not believing she could go away like this.
She waited around the corner for 5 minutes. Stupid. Not believing he was not following. So right there and then, she swallowed her pain, disbelief, struggle, and disappointment and decided to move on.
He found out that she waited eventually. She told him. She never moved on. She couldn’t. She pretended, shuffling the feelings somewhere in the corner of her soul. And let them bloom there, out of reach for others.
How stupid was he to let her go like this. He knows she’s special. Very rare. But he just froze. Stupid.
So now he really needs to make it right. He’s releasing his book, which he turned into confession to her. And he knows she’ll read it. He hopes she would write him like she usually does. And he imagined a hundred times how she texts him, and they just fall back into places together. Saying endless “sorry” for letting go and wasting so much time. And how beautiful she is. And how they missed each other.
And he opens a chat with her. He sees she’s texting. But then she stopped. And…. Nothing. That’s it. Now this is really it. He had lost her.
On the other side of the world, she read every page. Learned all the passages. Wrote hundreds of poems to answer the book. But she didn’t send them to him. She put them in the corner of her soul. Where it is a wild garden of roses now. She puts it there safely out of reach for others. Even from him.
The longer he waited – more sure she was about her decision.
When he saw last time he let her go. Stupidly. He simply froze, not believing she could go away like this.
She waited around the corner for 5 minutes. Stupid. Not believing he was not following. So right there and then, she swallowed her pain, disbelief, struggle, and disappointment and decided to move on.
He found out that she waited eventually. She told him. She never moved on. She couldn’t. She pretended, shuffling the feelings somewhere in the corner of her soul. And let them bloom there, out of reach for others.
How stupid was he to let her go like this. He knows she’s special. Very rare. But he just froze. Stupid.
So now he really needs to make it right. He’s releasing his book, which he turned into confession to her. And he knows she’ll read it. He hopes she would write him like she usually does. And he imagined a hundred times how she texts him, and they just fall back into places together. Saying endless “sorry” for letting go and wasting so much time. And how beautiful she is. And how they missed each other.
And he opens a chat with her. He sees she’s texting. But then she stopped. And…. Nothing. That’s it. Now this is really it. He had lost her.
On the other side of the world, she read every page. Learned all the passages. Wrote hundreds of poems to answer the book. But she didn’t send them to him. She put them in the corner of her soul. Where it is a wild garden of roses now. She puts it there safely out of reach for others. Even from him.
…but the time was running out
