Day 176 Writing Little Things

Harvest

The lands are soaked through. The fields are brown and yellow, and the ground grows no more. The harvest is done, and it is time to sleep.

Interviews

The endless papers
No purpose
Disposable
There once was a promise of the future
Now there is just disappointment

Culture

The little deviations without the sameness, but so much like each other. I wonder how we got here, how we are so different, yet the same. Is it this harsh environment that makes my people so solemn? Is it the cold winters that make us endure anything? Is it this land of ours that makes us celebrate our forests? Whatever it is, this place of mine lies in my heart. It is my bones. It is my mind. It is my words and thoughts, and I speak its frozen tongue.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I found it hard to find stories today. Just thoughts scattered in the morning tea. All I want is to curl up with my cat and not go to work. Last night I dreamed about the snow, that it was coming. I’m waiting.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a wonderful day!