Picture Prompt

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Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations and spotlight them in the next picture prompt post.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Writer Spotlight: The talented Katie Masters tried her hand my last picture prompt. Find her enthralling story in the comments of the last post.

Picture Prompt:

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The view from the cottage offers the first sighting of any ships and boats heading toward the coast. Everyday, for hours on end, I stand at the bottom of the garden, watching the horizon span out from the jut of rock that shields the cove. Alfred no longer scolds me for my time wasted in such a task, and where he’d once reprimand me for standing in the rain, hail, and gales atop the cliff, he now merely brings a a blanket without a word.

I await the Black Whisper. It has been fourteen months since she left under attack, leaving me here with Alfred. Fourteen months of me acting the lady with no family save an elderly manservant. I long to shun the corsets and petticoats for my britches and coat. I wish to not have to keep my gun and sword hidden in case of visitors.

Alfred fears she will never return, but that doesn’t stop him from watching and waiting in the night. I know she will return, for the captain would not abandon us…me.

“Supper is ready, Lass.” Alfred’s frail hand on my shoulder startles me. “As I am a soul, you’re wet through.”

“I shall be along, Alfred.”

“Tis misting today. You shan’t see a bloody thing unless it is upon our door. How shall I explain to the Cap’n, when he does return, that you caught your death upon the cliffs? He’d tie me to the rope and use me as the fecking anchor!”

Turning foot, I head into the cottage. “Your skinny arse as anchor, pah!” Wisecracks are what get us through the long days. Alfred’s rebuffs are so sharp and witty, yet he says nothing. “Alfred?” Still nothing.

The old man splutters, but no words surface. Instead, he points to the mist. Sails break through as if cutting at the air. The Black Whisper sails into the cove with a familiar, burly figure at the bow.

“The Cap’n has returned for the lass who waited,” Alfred guffaws.


 

 

Picture Prompt

book-review12

Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations and spotlight them in the next picture prompt post.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Picture Prompt:

K.J. CHAPMAN.png

“Is that it? Is that all we fucking get?” Caine shouts into the air. Tears leave streaks through his muddy cheeks as he pummels the wall. “We have been trapped inside that maze for seventeen months, and that pathetic exit is all we get?”

“What were you expecting?” I ask. The sense of claustrophobia that I have lived with for nearly a year and a half melts away from me and I starfish in the grass.

“A fucking fan fair! I don’t know…I just thought it was all for something bigger, something greater. Freddie died in there, and for what? Nothing!”

He’s bloodying his knuckles up, much like he did when Freddie died. If he’s not careful he’ll get another infection. Throwing my arms around him, I drag him away from the wall. “Stop, Caine! We’re out. It’s okay, we’ve made it.” He sags against me and weeps.

“No, you haven’t,” says a voice behind us. Both of us spin around, drawing our knives. A tall, skinny man wearing only a loin cloth and holey running shoes approaches. He is  accompanied by at least ten others, all in a similar state of dress; dirty, bedraggled, and famished. I thought we were filthy, but these guys look positively feral. “That was just part one.” He hands me a pair of muddy binoculars. “Just look.”

Caine snatches them from my hands and scours the horizon. He staggers backward, grasping at me to ground him. “There are more walls. No! No! Seventeen months! We’ve been in there seventeen months!”

The man hangs the binoculars around his neck. “We’ve been here ten years. No one has made it through part two.”


Content belongs to K.J.Chapman

 

 

 

Picture Prompt

book-review12

Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Picture Prompt:

k-j-chapman6

“Do you hear that?” Reggie pushes his ear to the side of the large drum. “Music…”

Pushing my own ear against the damp metal, the quiet but definite sounds of music emit from within. There is also a voice; a soft hum of a voice singing along. “Someone lives here,” I whisper. With that, the music vanishes and is replaced with an eerie silence.

“How? It’s an old vat or…wasn’t this a sewage works? I bet it was some kind of filtering system. God,the stuff that was probably stored in there.” Reggie makes a vomit noise in his throat.

A twig snaps from the treeline, then another. The Trackers are close. Reggie’s face betrays his fear. “If they find us they’ll drain us,” he says, the words sailing out on a shaky breath.

A panel bursts opens between us. A greying man with a wispy, white beard, crouches through the hole. “Get in here!” he shouts. “Hurry, before they see you.”

We have little choice. Reggie climbs in first, taking my hand and pulling me through. The man brushes at the dirt with an old rag, destroying our tracks, and then he pulls the panel back into place and secures it. Placing a finger to his lips, we sit in silence, listening to the Trackers scouting right outside.

After a few long minutes, we hear them move further into the woodland. “How did you know we were safe?” Reggie asks the man. “We could have been Trackers?”

“You were worried about being drained,” he says, tapping his ear. “If you still have your own, human blood in you, then your fine by me. Besides, it was worth the risk. I haven’t spoken to another living soul in two years. You don’t get many visitors when you live in a shit tank.”


Content belongs to K.J. Chapman

 

Picture Prompt

book review(12).png

Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Picture Prompt:

k-j-chapman4

Two hundred and eight days of solitude. Two hundred and eight days of my own company; nothing but an internal monologue to get me through each day. I can’t be the only one left. Seven billion people on the planet have all just poofed into non-existence. I’ve decided that today shall be my last. As the cliffs loom in the distance, and it dawns on me that I have walked the length of the country, I prepare myself to take my final dive.

Removing my shoes, I take a last stroll along the waters edge. The sand is soft and warm under foot; a sharp contrast to the hard, cold reality I face. It takes all my strength to turn away from the rolling waves, but the time has come to put myself out of this misery. Making my way back to the coastal path, something catches my eye a little further down the beach. The closer I get, the more my heart races. A stone sculpture stands proudly from the sand. The sea-weathered stones are postioned with a beautiful artistry. Dropping to my knees, I wipe away the sand drift from the boulder at the base of the sculpture and press my forehead into the sand as tears shudder from my body. The rock is inscribed with a message- the best message I have ever read.

“I search for survivors every Thursday. Do not leave this point. Look out for my yacht. Hang in there, you lucky sons of bitches.”


Content belongs to K.J.Chapman

Picture Prompt

monthly-reads-roundup

Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Picture Prompt:

k-j-chapman2

As the gates open, the colour green fills every inch of my vision. I hadn’t realised how much I have missed colour. Dirty browns and dusty yellows have been our lives for so long now, even the rusty red of blood seems to blend into the landscape because it has become such an ordinary sight to us. To see a fully developed eco system such as this in comparison to the hell outside, is probably the closest many of us will ever get to a heaven.

The head honcho, Fraser, gives us a minute to take it in. “Welcome to your new home. This is where you get to start again- humanity gets to start again. You will have two days to settle in, and then you will be assigned your new jobs. Everyone plays a part in this new world. I am sure you will find everyone very welcoming.”

There is a scream from behind, and instinctively, the whole group draw their weapons. Fraser waves his hands to calm us, and approaches little CeeCee at the back of the huddle.

“What is it?” she cries, as an animal curiously walks around her. I haven’t seen such an animal in about fifteen years. The sight of such vivid pinks and the majesty of its posture holds me transfixed. “Get it away. Mama, what is it?”

“Away, Gerald,” Fraser says, shooing the animal. He bends closer to CeeCee and her mother. “I bet you’ve never seen an animal, eh?” CeeCee shakes her head, tears spilling from her eyes. “Gerald is a flamingo, Sweetheart. He won’t hurt you.” Then, he turns to address us all. “We have over three hundred species of animal within our perimeters. This is about more than saving ourselves. It is about saving our world.”


Content belongs to K.J. Chapman

Picture Prompt

monthly-reads-roundup

Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Picture Prompt:

k-j-chapman1

They say the wall has stood for two hundred years. We are prohibited from going within one hundred yards of it. The outposts are manned, but to converse with the guards is punishable by lashing. It is just the way of the wall. Chief tells us that it was built for our protection from the monsters outside. We recite those exact lines during our communal prayers.

Mumma warned me to stay away as a child. I would always push the limits; stepping one foot over the perimeter or throwing pebbles at the wall. It was during one of these escapades that I saw a guard without his helmet on. He looked ordinary like Papa, but he was eating something strange; a food with a long, yellow skin. I couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t drinking blood? All we can drink is blood, else we get sick.

It was then that I heard his voice carried on the breeze. “Why do we do this God damned job?” he asked someone just out of my sight.

“To keep those filthy blood drinkers in check,” another voice replied.

I now know that the wall is to keep the monsters out… of the other side.


Content belongs to K.J. Chapman

Picture Prompts

monthly-reads-roundup

Over on my Instagram account, I post fortnightly picture prompts that I have snapped because they inspire me in my writing. I invite you to have a pop at writing a sentence or paragraph to accompany it. You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

If you do not have an Instagram account, but would like to join in, you can post your sentence/ paragraph in the comments, and I will feature them in the next Picture Prompt post right here on my blog with links back to you.

Picture Prompt:

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They pollute their lungs, litter their environment, and all for what…an addiction? They don’t realise how easy they make my job. Each cigarette stub they flick to the ground is teeming with their DNA. Once it is discarded in this way, I can legally take them. What I do next is not strictly legal, but my creations need life, and what sort of father would I be if I didn’t give my children what they need?


Content belongs to K.J. Chapman

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What’s Your Name? Letter P

I haven’t forgotten about my ‘What’s Your Name?’ posts, I’ve just been incredibly distracted. Hey ho, I’m back to it now, so without further ado…

The name I randomly picked from the first P page of my naming book is:

Paige: a surname meaning ‘page’. Used as a feminine first name.

Paige

How many people can say that they weren’t even missed at their own party? So much for sweet sixteen. Reb stole the attention as usual, just as she liked it. I knew letting her organise it was a bad idea. It wasn’t even that she railroaded it that bothered me, it was when I caught her making out with Joey that I’d finally had enough. I picked up my coat, took the helium balloons that I had to pay for, and headed home. She can have Joey if she likes sloppy seconds.

Wrapping my coat tighter around myself to blot out the chill, I walk down street after street until I reach the bus stop. A little, old lady with a Scottie dog smiles at the balloons. I could offer an explanation, but I can’t be bothered. I should have left them at the party, but I was being childish. It is my birthday, my party, and I knew one out of ten faces, and was handed the coats of at least five people. Who am I kidding? It was Reb’s party that my parents just happen to pay for. I’m so done with her.

“They’re beautiful,” the lady says, nodding toward the star shaped balloons. “Where did you get them? It’s my great granddaughter’s birthday tomorrow. I might buy her one.”

I cross the space between us, offering the strings to her shivering hands. “You can have them. I hope she likes them.”

The lady takes them, her mouth agape. “Are you sure? Oh, you are an Angel. She is only five, so I know she’ll love them. Thank you, my dear.” A bus rounds the corner, and the old woman stands. With a wave of her hand, she lifts her dog, and steps aboard the bus, the balloons squeezing in behind her.

“That was kind of you,” says a voice behind me. I start, grasping my chest in shock. Jeremy Froid sits down on the bench, blowing on his hands to warm them. “You done with Reb’s party?”

Jeremy is in Reb’s science class at school. I’ve never spoken to him before. He doesn’t even know my name. He has a silent mystery to him, and rarely talks to anyone unless necessary. Reb has such a crush on him. She likes the challenge with guys like him. Basically, the less attention they pay her, the more she wants them.

“Yeah, something like that.”

He pulls his woollen hat further over his ears, a peek of blonde fringe sticking out from underneath. The way his eyes narrow as he studies my face sets me on edge. “It was your party, wasn’t it?”

I laugh nervously. “Yeah. How lame does that make me sound?”

He shrugs, his face not betraying any emotion or judgement. “I saw her kissing your ex boyfriend.”

Scoffing to myself, I scuff my heels in the gravelly surface at my feet. “Yeah. She’s welcome to him. He’s not a nice guy.”

“He said he ditched you ’cause you were putting on weight. Made the announcement to the whole locker room.”

My stomach sinks, and my cheeks flare crimson. “Then, he’s better off with Reb, right?” I say, coughing away my embarrassment.

“I don’t see what his problem is? You’ve got a great body.” His grey eyes are sincere, and he holds his palms up in disbelief.

My face is beetroot red now, and I straighten my dress a little just to have something to do with my hands. “Umm, thanks. We’ve not met, my name is–“

“Paige Redford. I know who you are. Happy Sweet Sixteenth. I’m Jeremy–“

“Froid. Yeah, I know who you are too. Reb has a huge thing for you.”

He scrunches his nose in distaste. “Well, seeing as she’s occupied with your ex. How about you and I go and get something to eat?” He stands, holding out his hand to me.

Tilting my head, I take his hand. “You were never catching a bus, were you?” I say, a smile pulling at my lips.

He shakes his head, smiling so I can see all of his teeth. “Nah, I followed you from the party. I’ve been trying to gear myself up to ask you out for weeks.”


Content is the property of KJ.Chapman

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What’s Your Name? Letter N

After last week’s post, I selected a ‘N’ name ahead of time. I had good reason for this- I needed to sign off last week’s writing exercise with a name, and that name would be used in this week’s exercise, linking the two.

The name randomly selected from the first ‘N’ page of my naming book is:

Naomi: A feminine first name meaning ‘pleasantness’. (Hebrew).

Naomi

Naomi,

I bet you thought I’d never find you, but you know me- persistent. You were right, you know- about me being consumed. I wasn’t going to stop until I found you. But you were wrong about things too. I never hated you, Naomi. I loved you so much, so much that I lost sight of myself, and passion can bring out the best and worst in us, right? I know you saw the worst- a lot, but I need you to know that it wasn’t out of hate.

You were a damn coward. A letter? A fucking letter was all I got? Did you seriously think that would satisfy me? It was almost as if you were begging me to come and find you. How could you not know that was exactly what I’d do?

And then to see you and him, and that brat of yours. He looks like you- I hate him- just a kid and I hate him. He is yours and his, and he should have been ours. I heard you call his name- ‘Oakley.’ Fuck, Naomi! Why that name?

This isn’t a letter to beg you to come back to me, or to confess my undying love for you. It’s been five years too long for that. This is a letter of warning. I’m going to break your heart just like you broke mine. I want you to know what it’s like to have something snatched away from you. Hold your family tight tonight, Naomi, because it may be the last chance you get. Once I’m done ruining your life as you ruined mine, I might just leave you letter- would that suffice?

I will take the best of you.

M x

In the same fashion as last week, I pre-selected an ‘O’ name for next week’s ‘What’s Your Name?’ post. I want to continue these letters for one more post, and as you can probably  guess- Oakley takes the spotlight.


All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

Do you like writing prompts? Check out K.J.Chapman’s Prompt Me eBook, and discover 150 writing prompts for beating the block!

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What’s Your Name? Letter M

The first ‘M’ name randomly selected from the first ‘M’ page in my naming book is:

Mackenzie: A surname meaning ‘son of Kenneth’ (Scottish Gaelic). Used as a masculine and feminine first name.

The following letter is based on an idea I had for another series, but one that I’m no longer persuing…well, not at the moment. I wanted to use this exercise to pad out an idea, and see what the result would be. I like the dynamics of this relationship and that’s why it keeps niggling at the back of my mind.

Mackenzie

Mackenzie,

First, let me say that this letter isn’t me taking the coward’s way out. I knew that if I tried to talk to you about this, things would have gotten out of control, just like they always do. I just hope that you read this, otherwise you’ll never know the truth. You deserve to know the truth.

I’ve left you. By the time you find this letter, I’ll be in another country, living another life.

I won’t say it’s not you it’s me, because I’m not willing to take 100% of the blame. You have to grow up and accept your own faults, just as I have done. You were always the burning flame, and I was the gasoline. It’s just how we worked I suppose- destructive. There’s only so many times that you can turn me to ash before the wind picks me up and carries me away. And there’s only so many times that I can ignite your flame before you burn out. I don’t want to see you burn out.

You and I are a brilliant disaster. That’s not how this should be- I know that- I’ve always known that, but I punished myself time and time again. I knew that if I didn’t distance myself from you this time, that I would be drawn back. As for you, how do you love and hate someone equally, both with fierce passion and commitment. I don’t mind if you wholly hate me now, I only worry that it will consume you. Everything consumes you.

I want you to take this decision as my gift to you. Use it wisely.

You’ll always have the best and worst of me.

Naomi x

I have already randomly selected the ‘N’ name for next week. Can you guess what it was? Yep, Naomi. I might return a letter to her from Mackenzie, so keep your eyes peeled.


All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

Do you like writing prompts? Check out K.J.Chapman’s Prompt Me eBook, and discover 150 writing prompts for beating the block!

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