Limbs pruned from the large, green pine severed from the roots cut so deeply As if a door has shut out all light and an immanent cold settles All spatial reasoning gone rationed by the falling snow Any breath is a deviation from the warmth and beauty of spring’s sweet air and peaceful breeze
Well, make the time right now. I am sick of looking in your room and seeing the mess.
Mom if you stopped snooping you wouldn’t have any reason to look in here and if you really want to know, there isn’t anything interesting in that mess. My closet on the other hand…
Oh, dear God, I don’t want to see the closet!
Well, as you taught me when I was little…Keep my hands to myself and mind my own business. I think that was a good lesson and obviously I listen to the things you tell me.
Melody, don’t be a wise ass! Just clean the mess and make sure you don’t have anything illegal in that room. I don’t want to have to adopt a sniffing dog…He’d probably die from the smell. And speaking of smell, is that smell coming from one of the drawers?
Mom, stop! I will get to it in five minutes, I’m just right in the middle of something.
Well, something is definitely in the middle of one of those drawers! It smells like something died in there.
For this challenge, Christine asks us to write a story in just 6 minutes inspired by the photo below. If you’d like to join, follow the link at the bottom of this post.
Amanda was an only child and had moved out of her family home 9 years and 4 months ago leaving many of her personal items behind. At first, her excuse not to take them was because of her tiny efficiency off-campus apartment. Then, she graduated and moved across the country. And two years ago, she got married and had a child. Every time her mother expressed a desire to ‘clean up’ Amanda’s old room, she absolutely refused for anyone else to ‘rummage’ through “her memories”. Finally, her mom and dad decided to sell their family home and buy a motorhome for doing some long ‘wished for’ traveling. Her mom boxed up every little item including stuffed animals…
My daughter, although not loving pink, loves a box, drawer, or anything she can put her creativity in. One year, for her birthday, we got her multiple boxes of different shapes and sizes. She regretted asking, as we probably didn’t get her anything else. She is so creative, drawing, painting, or making things.
Her mother’s day gifts are always unusual – a few years ago I got a pillow with me and my mum on the front. She is always the ideas person for any birthday. She would love this dresser, but would probably paint it a different colour. It would be a great thing to keep things tidy.
She loves Ikea, and if we had the money, would spend a lot of money there.
This dresser has seen its better days and it is time to dispose of it. Many of the knobs are missing on the drawers and how is somebody supposed to open them when it is in that condition? This is a monstrosity and the ugly brownish pink, and that sickly green do not go together well. Your kids are going to grow up to be slobs if you keep making them use this unsightly furniture. There is no need to ever clean up this room because as long as that dresser remains in it, it is a pigsty. I don’t even think that Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown would want to live in this room. Put it out of its misery and kick this eyesore to the curb.
This is a picture of a dresser loaded with kid’s type accessories on top.
*****For any participants that do NOT like restrictions, please feel free to participate in any way you would like. It is great to read the contributions!****
Set up a timer or sit near a clock so you can keep track of the six minutes you will be writing.
You can either use one of the prompts (photo or written) or you can free-write.
Get ready and write for 6 minutes, that is it! Can you write a complete story? Can you think of a new Sonnet? Can you write 400 words? 400? 500? There are no restrictions on what kind of writing you do, but you should try to be actively writing for six minutes.
After you are done writing, include your word count and then post back to this page #Simply6Minutes or include your link in the comments section. Pingbacks are enabled.
*Feel free to leave your work completely unedited. I believe it is good to see, especially for new writers, that even very seasoned writers don’t write a perfect first draft.*
Have fun, challenge yourself if you’d like, read and respond to others’ posts.
Woodborn by Heather Nix is finally on tour and we’re thrilled to share it today! Read on for details and be sure to enter the giveaway at the end – A book box containing the book and other bookish goodies!
Woodborn (Song of Gods #1)
Expected Publication Date: January 21, 2023
Genre: Sapphic Fantasy/ High Fantasy
“I do not know how I lived in darkness for so many years with this bright world just waiting for me to grasp it.”
Maelwen is a young witch trapped in a harsh and unforgiving life. Friendless and alone, she endures terrible abuse in order to survive in the desolate land of Iowain.
Across the continent, Cicerine, a virtuous young faun, lives in the idyllic glade of Kanitosh Woods. Alongside her mother and closest friend, she is raised with dutiful reverence for the god, Idyth—led by the mysterious Father Farragen.
After escaping her tormentor and seeking a new life of her own, Maelwen finds a fresh start in the seedy trade city of Konidas. Meanwhile, a terrible tragedy befalls the glade, and Cicerine must flee to the same seaside town, leaving behind all she has ever known.
As a dark and menacing force spreads across Idythia, can Maelwen’s gifts and Cicerine’s developing power stand against the threat which faces them all? Alongside found family, new friends, and a crew of sapphic pirates, the line between good and evil is tested as the continent prepares for an epic battle.
CW: This is a sapphic fantasy novel, featuring a great deal of blood. Full list here
My bare feet pad along the floor of my small apartment as I head toward the bedroom. The desolate and stark journey from Iowain to Konidas took three days’ time, and I arrived two months ago today. I slept on the open ground, wrapped in my cloak beneath the wide sky, full of stars. I did not encounter a single living creature as I flew. The nights were silent but for the whistle of the wind and the soft rustle of my cloak, becoming as familiar to me as a part of my body. Tiny pinprick scars now run along my arms and back from wrist to wrist, where it stitches to my skin for flight, looking like a seam pulled undone. They are the only wounds which my body has not healed. It feels odd, like finding something I did not know belonged to me. The cloak currently lies draped over a chair in my sitting room, humming softly to me as I sit on my bed. Months ago, I only dreamed of freedom. Now, I have it.
This apartment sits over a tavern in Konidas. The owners are human, plump, and kind-hearted. The night I arrived here, the tavern was the first open business I found, and I shook off the chill at a barstool with a tankard of frothy ale. The barkeep made small talk, and after the ale loosened my tongue, I let slip that I had just arrived and had made no arrangements for housing. I had planned on renting a room at the inn by the docks, despite the cost—rooms were rented by the day or the hour, not monthly. Without renting one of the rickety, dilapidated homes in town or an apartment above one of the small businesses, the cost of living in a transient city like Konidas is high. However, by the end of the night, I had made my first friend, the barkeep, Shell. She is the daughter of the tavern owners who coincidentally, and conveniently, had an empty apartment upstairs. I can’t help but feel like this is all too easy, too good. I have never had a home or a friend, and this comfort is unnerving. Some god or goddess must have been on my shoulder, guiding me toward complete strangers who somehow trusted me enough to offer up an apartment within hours of my arrival. I would say thanks if we still recalled the names of the gods. I paid them upfront for three months, a show of good faith that I can at least be counted on in that regard. I am not a friendly face, but money is just as good when it comes to trust. For the second time today, I pull out my sack of coin from beneath my mattress and count it. Jarrus’s savings and my meager hoard made a fair sum, and I have a decent amount left, but soon I will need to come up with a way to make more. I slide beneath my blankets and with a small smile allow myself to drift to sleep—almost happy for the first time in my life.
I wake with the dawn, the pale pink light of sunrise filtering through my small window. There is a marked quiet to the morning and my brow furrows as I look around. My cloak has gone quiet. The persistent hum has stopped, and my senses feel dulled. I am tired, despite my night of sleep, and my body aches. Hunger grabs onto the pit of my stomach with a twisting cramp and I stand, unsteady on my feet. I dress in a pair of charcoal gray pants and a silk blouse, and I pull my long hair back into a leather tie. The staircase down to the tavern seems to shift beneath my feet, and I grip the railing to keep from falling. Shell is busy wiping down the bar, and I can smell something cooking in the kitchen, but it makes my stomach turn. Nearly gagging, I push my way through the door and out into the morning bustle.
Heather Nix is the debut author of Woodborn, the first book in the Song of Gods series. Born and raised in sunny San Diego, CA she longs to return to the forests of the Pacific Northwest. She is the mother of two human and three cat children, and enjoys tattoos, tabletop RPGs, and creating feminist art in her limited spare time. Heather is passionate about writing queer fantasy and strives to create nuanced characters who resonate with underserved communities.
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Stine Writing 
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