Weekend Writing Prompt #132 – Draconian

In such a rush to post, I forgot my intro!

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt



So, thank you, Sammi for hosting this weekly prompt!

Thy Will Be Done

“Bye! Have fun!”

“Thanks.  Do the dishes before you go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Off they went to their fancy party attired in long gown, gloves and tuxedo. My sisters and I had supper, watched some TV and off to bed they went. I ended up on the phone with my bestie ’til late.

At three o’clock in the morning I was shaken awake. “Get up and do your damn dishes!”

Geez! Why was Mom so draconian? I mean, they could have waited ’til the real morning, no?

Years later, here I am the mom, thinking it’s time I use the same tactic…

Train Tracks – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #20

Welcome to Crispina’s weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN

Here’s how it works:

Every Wednesday she posts a photo (this week it’s that one below.)
You respond with something CREATIVE. Click here to see just how wide open this challenge is!

This week, a bit of nostalgia 🙂

Train Tracks

Growing up across the street from the railroad tracks, so to speak, watching the long freighter trains go by, feeling the rumble through my body, listening for the tooting of the horn; all these were part of a daily sensory adventure. Even my tastebuds were affected if I was close enough to get a mouthful of dust stirred up by those furiously turning rail wheels.

There were no fences back then. And no fears. And no rules.

And then one day, the the whistles were no longer allowed to blow in the middle of the night – not that we heard them anyway. And yet we missed them. Times change.

My sons don’t have the same freedom we did. They would have to go out of their way to walk the tracks. As a mother, I can’t help but feel relief that they can’t. I’ve fallen into the trap of over-protection.