Another PPP Prompt: [ Write something with the phrase and the rain fell gently. ]

And the rain fell gently, washing away my astonishment. I had dumped other guys before, I had been dumped before, but Josh... How could this be actualy happening? I thought we had agreed to have a life full of each other, and now, what I've got, is this stupid rain, somehow, however, soothing. To think of him, of the time spent together, of the promises made, of the love shared... At least you weren't married, mom said. How could she be so insensible? I loved him! But Becky was right, somebody who said what he had said, and did what he had done isn't worthy of my love, neither he is of any other's love. But how could I convince myself of that? It is not easy to forget someone you are so deeply in love with all of a sudden, specially when they come with this out of the blue, when you least expect it. And now, all I've got, all I've got left, are these stupid tears, somehow soothing, mingling with the gentle tears of the sky.

Hey, new PPP promtp, as follows.

[ Write a story with this phrase:
Standing at the edge of the canal I was where I belonged... ]

...I could see that old building of mine, just like it had always been, a little dark but still wonderful. The square windows were just the same, they had always made me thought that there was somebody inside, expecting my arrival. This time, I knew aunt Sarah was in there, awaiting for the marvelous stories I had to tell her about the faraway land of Germany, of the secret island of Ireland. This time, I knew, aunt Sarah was going to tell me about all the good things that had happened during my trip, and all the not-so-good things that had happened, the ones I hadn't heard of in her letters.
But, one thing was sure, I was back home, the only place in the world I could call so, and was about to re-start my life there, as soon as I crossed that dear old threshold.

[Answer on a PPP prompt about a door, and who's behind.]

'Ring' rang the bell. Somebody knocked on the door.
From my place on the sofa all I could see was a black shape through the glass, a dark figure.
I wondered who would be this early in the morning. Maybe dad, who had come to visit me. Or maybe John, who had forgotten his keys. I don't know.
Maybe it was someone who was going to bring more unhappiness to my life, who has going to make me more worried, more tired...
Maybe it was someone, on the other hand, who was going to bring me happiness, the one to make me smile at last, somebody to take all the stress away, to make my worries disappear...
I won't know, I told myself, until I open that door.
I toddled towards it, irresolutely, still wondering who that person would be. I reached out, for the door's handle, shaking a little. Maybe this person is going to make my life worse... Yes, definetely, I was then thinking about the bad 'mabies'.
I opened the door, looking at the floor, not daring to look up yet, worried about the stranger I was about to met, wondering if the stranger may bring more unhappiness, more worries...
And when, finally, I looked up and saw the stranger's face...

I discovered it brought peace.

Mr. Slug

[Answer to a PPP prompt. Write from Mr. Slug's POV.]

Many don't understand me. They call me slow. Lazy. They've even called me boring. They don't understand why I take so long to do everything, they're just too worried about their stupid, fast lives that all they manage to see is the frentic blur around them, for they run for everything, not taking a pause to breathe. If they did, oh my, they would really enjoy the good things of life! But no, they only care about arriving on time and doing things quickly, always quickly, always worried about speed...
If only they slowed down... They would see what I see, they would feel what I feel...
They would see the charm of a not-in-a-hurry life, they would forget about the clock, always following them. They would finally get time to do whatever they want to do.
They would appreciate the sun, the moon, the soft summer breeze, the colours of nature, the good and worthy things in life...

They would appreciate life itself.

Bird-love.

[Here's another answer to a prompt by PPP. It was a picture of two terns, and the suggested prompt said to explain what that couple, that had been together for many, many, many years was talking about.]

After centuries of love, even bird centuries of love, one never gets tired of saying:

'I love you.'
'I love you too.'

'But how did she know it was you?' Lavender asked.

[Answer to a Pictures, Poetry and Prose prompt; pick a book and open it at page 100, choose a random sentence and write using it.]

'Matilda' by Roald Dahl, page 100.

"'But how did she know it was you?' Lavender asked."
She had been listening to me very attentively, carefully, in order to understand every single word I said, assimilating very accurately the story I was telling her.
'She didn't, Ben told her' I answered.
'Why?' She asked me.
'Well, because I had stolen his bike... That was just a kids fight, it got worse later...'
She had to choose between her big amount of questions the most harmless, given that she knew this was a dangerous topic to talk to me about, for I was still so susceptible about that.
'Is that why you and my husband don't talk to each other anymore?' she asked me, trying to sound calm but with evident interest.
'Well, that's what started it, but we could call it that way, if you want to' I answered, feeling a bit guilty.
'You know, your mum is very sad because of this, not beeing able to see you at the same time, for this stupid brother-sister fight...' she started, testing my mood.
'I know, she has told me so, but, what can I do? Everytime I try to talk to Ben he just turns around and walks away, he's so stubborn!' I couldn't believe I was telling this story to my sister-in-law, it just sounded too awkward.
'That's where I can help you, you know I'm the only person he truly listens to. I could talk to him, I could tell him you're sorry for whichever bad thing you've done to him, and that you agree to talk to him calmly and without trying to fight... Only if that's what you really are gonna do, do you understand?' she was still testing my answers and possible sudden mood shifts.
'Well, I agree, just don't let him know it wasn't my idea, it's just family pride...'
'As you wish, my dear friend.' And away she went, coming back two hours later with her husband, my brother Ben.
I smiled timidly at him when I saw him, he smiled back, widely. That way I knew everything was forgiven.

The big bad wolf

I just run, run for me, run for my life, run for my hunger, run for the heck of it... Run for the thrilling joy of running, chasing for a prey... A prey which also runs, runs for its life, for itself, for its hunger... For it knows, as every other creature around here, who I am - the most feared creature: a killer.
When I give up on everything, I still have my instincts, which are my one and only guide in this wild life. So I guess my instincts make me run, make me run faster and faster... So fast, everything around me becomes a frentic blur, all I see are images moving in red - also black. So fast, I don't even feel my feet on the ground, so fast only I see my prey. And when I reach it, oh, glorious moment, I open my mouth wide, curling my lips to leave my teeth free. It's that short moment when I am able to feel my prey's fear, the fear of pain, the fear of death. It's exactly then when I bury my teeth deeply in its neck, to kill it as quickly as I can. Then all I have to do is wait a few seconds and it will all have ended. After a short but tiring sprint, all I have to do is eat. When I look up, feeling my blood leaking fangs, to contemplate the power of my legs, the strength of my jaws, I finally see what I have done. I finally see the desperate dead prey, that has definetely stop moving, under my feet, below my mouth, with a deep wound in its neck. You could call me weak, but I can't witness what I myself do, I can't bear to know how many harmless and innocent creatures I have killed.
When I finally look up, feeling my blood leaking fangs, to contemplate the power of my legs, the strength of my jaws, I finally become scared of myself.

The coin

This is another super cool blog I found the other day, in which you have to write something based on a picture (really cute pictures, btw) and on a suggested prompt they give you. The blog is called Pictures, Poetry & Prose ( http://www.picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com )

This is my writing on a coin:

The morning before the affair I woke up feeling a little dizzy; the night had already gone by the time I went out of the house into the streets, without pausing to have a quick breakfast. I didn't even take my utterly necessary moments to wash my face and my teeth, I just went out into the streets. The weather didn't help much either, for it was, in spite of the weather forecasts, drizzly and a bit gloomy. The discouraging dark clouds at the sky casted dark shadows on the things I saw.


Walking through that menacing atmosphere I saw a tiny fraction of a sunbeam, a small shiny piece of hope in a whole sad world. Under the sunbeam was a tiny coin, dated 1972. I picked it up. It was slightly heavy, they didn't make them like that anymore. I wondered why that unfair God of ours had put that coin in my way. I wondered if it was going to bring one more unhappiness to my life, if it was going to take away the last portions of life I had left. Maybe, though, that coin wasn't going to be relevant, for there are thousands of coins in the world, and not even a tenth of them are crucial for my life.

So I turned around, placing the one penny coin inside of my pocket. After all, it was just one penny, nobody needs one penny.

I kept on walking, with no aim at all, just for the heck of it, as I tripped. I started fumbling some senseless words when I realised what had happened: the beggar of the village, the most despisbale person according to most of my neighbours, was sitting down, roofless under the rain, and had unintentionally made me fall.

He looked at me, with the apology written in his sad eyes. The look of that poor old man scared me; I didn't think he could damage me, I was scared of not being able to help him. Then I remembered about the coin inside of my pocket. I took it out and placed it carefully on his hand, resting on his thigh. His eyes opened widely, cheerful all of a sudden. Instead of the apology and saddness, I could now see hope in his eyes, and a great gratitude, too. Without any word, I walked away, smiling.



The coin, after all, was aimed to make me smile.