| Just all my stuff; most sketches can be found in my scrapbook, but um... let's just say I write much better then I draw Critique/comments are always appreciated, thank you |

Oro ValleyThis is when the sun comes up, she thinks. The clouds have lightened, a little; the heavy black that’d covered the sky moments before has succumbed to a lulling gray.Oro Valley by ~willwriteforhearts
Her hands are white like soap, like her mother’s, save for under the fingernails. She taps them on the top of the steering wheel in an effort to stay awake. There’s nothing to run into, though, so she lets her eyelids slip every now and then. The road is monotonously long, straight, empty, and American, all things E.B. has never been familiar with.
Soon, she thinks, and her eyes flick over to the gas meter. The marker’s been tickling that empty line for

SheI fell in love with her through a half opened door. I was eleven, and it was early December in my piano teacher’s apartment room. He didn’t have any working heaters at the time so there was a constant chill permeating the air and at the moment, I’d stopped playing to rub my arms. I could feel the goosebumps through my sweater. And then I saw her.She by ~willwriteforhearts
My teacher had mentioned a daughter but I’d never seen her for myself. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She was standing in the hallway of the building and had opened the door to say something to her father; I can’t remember what.
I coul

The Diamond Headed KingI started awake when the attendant took my hand. His were dry and clean while mine were full of sweat, but cold sweat as I’d been waiting for a few days now. The king is always busy.The Diamond Headed King by ~willwriteforhearts
“My turn?” I say; my voice is rough from a cold and I swallow a cough uncomfortably.
“Of course.” Says the attendant. His voice is very mild but his eyebrows are pinched together shrewdly. “Go pick your head in the drawing room.”
“Alright.” I follow a girl with golden hair that has been taken apart from the crowd as well. There’s a clamor of voices when they start to notice that she and I have been ch
| Just all my stuff; most sketches can be found in my scrapbook, but um... let's just say I write much better then I draw Critique/comments are always appreciated, thank you |
Writing PromptHello!Writing Prompt by #Live-Love-WriteFeaturing 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.
Please keep in mind that if you do not see your submission here, you have not read the submission rules and/or you have not included some variation of the aforementioned note in your artist's comments. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.
Last Week's Writing Prompt
Write anything that features one or more of the following:
- winter
- time travel
- flowe

The Drop Slot Mr. Johnson had many cars, but he loved one car in particular.The Drop Slot by *xlntwtch
He drove his wonderful, carefully waxed antique Volvo daily, and today was no exception. He loved to drive.
If one were to describe Mr. Johnson, it could take three initials: CEO.
If one were to describe his personality, it could take a story--a short one.
Two letters to mail this morning, Johnson thought. I can do this by myself.
It would take three days for the letters to arrive via the postal system, but they were the type that began: "Dear (Mr./Ms.)"
"I know you've done your best for the company, but I must inform you that your job is no
| pretty things O_O |
