The Weekly Knob Prompt: Paperweight
Flash fiction
The old man thumped his fists on the simple pine table. Scarred from years of service in the quaint farmhouse kitchen, it barely quaked.
He looked stricken.
“Somebody get me a fresh yam, damn it!”
He’d been doing the books for the family farm in this very spot for so long the cane chair no longer creaked with the habit of his weight and his boots had worn two even swales in the floor where he sat a the head of the table.
It seemed his customary paperweight, mottled and leaking brown juice onto his papers, had seen fonder days.
…
Your weekly #writing challenge
From Medium’s original publication dedicated to prompting writers to write!
The Weekly Knob POWER $ Prompt Is Here [260]
“lipstick”
This week’s editor’s picks are:
Other amazing submissions this week:
We are poetry in motion
A serendipitous discovery
Bends the cosmos
Once spun
Atop the head of a pin
A curtain of galaxies
hemmed to the black
Curves into a smile
You’re here, you’re back!
Welcome to the point
A way station, a rest stop
along space and time
Before moving on
Beyond where star gases
Once so compressed
Explode to ignite
What stands between
the possibility of us
Throw away your ancient
ways and maps
Buy your trinkets
Send your postcards
Gravity’s out
We won’t be back.
~Inspired by the recent astronomical discovery by Researcher Alexia Lopez, of what science has dubbed ‘The Giant…
More Cowbell
Music Selection: Blue Oyster Cult: Don’t Fear The Reaper
It was on fire the first time I saw one.
On the front porch of my elderly neighbor’s home sat an ordinary cardboard box about the size of a large watermelon.
No trademark smile smirked triumphant from the sides, nor did a shipping label appear to be affixed. What caught my eye was the medium blue flame lapping at the corners.
I did a double take. I knew my neighbor’s husband had some sort of cancer, but I was not privy to his condition, nor his estimated time of departure from this world.
The box was not a good sign.
“honey”
This week’s editor’s picks are:
Other sweet submissions to this prompt:
Rock fan t-shirts, posers, and Johnny-come-latelys
The t-shirt, almost as quintessentially American as Rock & Roll, is nothing short of a fashion staple in western culture and my closet.
Granted, the popularity of this simple garment turned walking billboard may be the bane of an aspiring clothing designer’s desire to triumph over this pillock’s lackadaisical sense of fashion, but marry a tee with music and a pair of blue jeans and it’s exceptionally hard to beat.
My favorite tees are reliably music and art related with cheeky sarcasm and bizarre art making the runner-up spot. From over-priced Hard Rock Café shirts venerating Jimi Hendrix and Johnny…
Will write for food
The Weekly Knob sets the table…
Dear Knobbiers!
Greetings, on this U.S. Memorial Day weekend! In usual fashion, your editors and favorite writers at The Weekly Knob, Medium’s original publisher of crafty writing prompts and their stories, has set the table for a tasty myriad of imaginative fare to nourish your creative palettes.
In keeping with the aromatic whiff of creativity TWK writers capitalize upon for inspiration, we’ve found ourselves happily headed for the stove and table again. Although, we learned last week an edible item musn’t always be eaten — you’ll discover this week that our writers are quite prone to playing with their food! Lucky us!
…
“rice”
Editor’s picks for this edition:
Other great stories submitted by our talented writers:
Poetry
connecting with a ‘deep image’ poet
I’ve discovered a modern poet
Standing in plain sight
A teller of tall truths
She addresses the empty room
where darkness overbearing
____ dims my memory of light.
Slipping under the door of my closeted heart
____ A letter
Written and sealed in her own hand
With ink drawn from a shared well
of blood and memory
____ She knows
Words rescued from mottled scars and dreams
before tumbling over sharp edges
____ lost forever
She arranges upon the clean white space
____ between us
Uncontrived, apologizing for nothing
____ She offers kinship.
Oh, what power she must feel
Rooting…
Sandy Knight
AmEriCan DoRk. HuMaN ApPreNTicE. PoEt. SOngWriTer. PiCker. wRiTer. EDitor. CoMmA faiRy. veTeRaN. https://sandy-knight.com
