murielle

October 2026

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therealljidol

24-7-4

Prompt #1

Someone who will love you in all your damaged glory

On seeing the prompt I knew what to write.

Easy.

Then, my inner coward pushed forward and began shouting,

“It’s the first prompt! Do you want to be eliminated on the first prompt?”

Well, no. I don’t. Obviously.

I pondered alternative ideas. I googled the prompt (something that has worked in the past) and discovered it’s a book, a collection of short stories. Perhaps I’d relate to one and run with a theme or two.

Checked Amazon. Too expensive. But there was a PDF version. A free PDF version. Yes. I spent some time trying to download it but they wanted too much personal information. So, no.

I wrestled with this for about a day and then had to face the truth. My coward self, the version of me I try to ignore, disown, and deny, loomed large. And that tiny part of me that somehow finds courage when I don’t seem to have any spoke calmly and softly and said,

“You know what you want to do. And yes, you might get the boot, but so what, better to be booted for something that matters than something that doesn’t”

Okay. Here goes:

So, the only “someone who will love you in all your damaged glory” is God.

Easy.

Over and over we are told in The Bible that God loves us. We are shown how much He loves us from Genesis to Revelation. Granted some books are a little less with the love and a little more with the consequences of not loving Him the way He is trying to teach us to love Him, but generally speaking it’s safe to say, He loves us and He repeatedly tells us so.

He loves us from before we’re born until after we die. Long after. He loves us whether we believe in Him, or follow Him, or do His will. He loves us when we make a mess. He loves us when we fall, when we fail, when we fight and struggle and scream our frustration and rage, and weep because we have nothing left. He loves us, unquestionably.

But not unconditionally.

He has expectations. He wants things for us and from us. He loves and He wants every single person ever created. And He has planned to have us all, from before He created us.

He knows us better than anyone, than we know ourselves. He knows our strengths, weaknesses, dreams, nasty little secrets. And still He loves us. He loves us and wants us, but will we all be with Him in the end?

No.

As much as He wants it, no. Not all of us will choose to accept His love, return His love, and live as He wants us to, so no. Not everyone will choose Him in the end.

Why?

I imagine there are a myriad of reasons but one I know, because I live it every day.

It’s hard.

It’s not easy. At least it’s not for me. I grapple with what I want and what He wants every single day. I’m a very stubborn person. I like things my way and I can be quite difficult when I can’t have my way. He wants His will not mine.

I fail. A lot.

Often doing the same things repeatedly, or not doing the same things repeatedly.

But because He loves me, in all my damaged glory, even after I’ve blown something sky high with my willfulness, I can still go to Him, repent and He will forgive me. I am still learning to wrap my mind around that.

Why?

I’m proud. It’s very hard for me to admit I’ve done something wrong. I have a thousand uber good rationalizations for every wrong thing I’ve ever done. And they are precious to me. Almost as precious as my grudges.

So, I offend Him. I am learning to love Him, so I want to please Him. I battle and wipe out, and keep trying because it’s worth it.

Why?

Because no one else, has ever, or will ever, or can ever love me in all my damaged glory as much as God.

Current Location: in front of my PC
Current Music: my heart pounding

Tags:

idol prompt 1 god

I didn't think I'd be up for this, but honestly, I think I need it right now more than ever before.

So, here goes!

I will be participating in the New Mini Season of TheRealLJIdol.

Signed, sealed and about to be delivered.

Tags:

lj idol

22-5-10

Therealljidol: Three Strikes

Week 7, prompt 7: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

Conversations With Myself cont…

I’m overwhelmed. Life's too hard and it’s an insurmountable mess and I can’t cope.

You know what Teddy Roosevelt said, “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

What does that even mean? There’s no way I can do anything about this catastrophe. What am I supposed to do? My life is in chaos. Ruins. A disaster.

I understand. Let’s just start with where you are—where are you?

At home.

That’s great. Let’s start there. And, let’s start small. Are your dishes done?

Yes.

Are they dried and put away?

Not yet. They’re air drying.

Okay, well as soon as they’re dry put them away.

Right. I’ll make a note to do that, and in the meantime?

Is your laundry done? Is it put away?

Yes and no.

What’s the yes?

My last load of laundry is done.

Is it put away?

No. I’ll put that on the note as number two.

Excellent! Except since the dishes are still drying, let’s put putting the laundry away as number one, then maybe by the time you’re finished the dishes will be dry and you can put them away.

It wasn’t a big laundry. It won’t take very long.

Well that’s good. That means you can do something else for the second thing on your list. Is your bed made?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I turned it down to air.

Do you think it’s been airing long enough to make?

Probably.

Okay! That’s progress.

Uh, wait a minute. There’s a problem.

With making your bed?

No, with folding the clothes first.

What’s the problem with folding your clothes?

I need to fold the clothes on the bed so technically, I need to make the bed before I fold the clothes.

FYI that would be actually, not “technically” but it’s not a problem. We can be flexible. Make the bed, then fold the clothes and put them away.

Well, then I will “actually” do that.

Don’t be shirty, I’m trying to help.

“Don’t be shirty, I’m trying to help.”

Are you quite finished?

Buffy says nobody says “shirty.”

Well if Buffy says it, it must be true.

(Twenty minutes later…)

The bed’s made. And the clothes are folded and put away.

Are the dishes dry?

Not yet.

You said the last load of laundry. Is there more to do?

Yes.

How much?

A lot: three loads of clothes, a load of towels and a load of sheets.

What’s your plan?

To do the clothes tomorrow, towels and sheets on Friday.

That’s a good plan. Is everything sorted and ready to go?

Ready to go? I don’t have to go anywhere the laundry room is next door.

Sorted and ready to be laundered. And do not tell me that no one says “laundered” anymore.

Far be it from me to “tell” you anything. The towels and sheets are sorted, but the clothes aren’t.

Then you could do that while you’re waiting for the dishes to dry.

Number three: sort clothes for laundering.

And if the dishes aren’t dry what else could you do while you’re waiting?

I have some sprouts that need planting.

That sounds like a plan? And if the dishes are still not dry?

I could start dinner.

What’s for dinner?

I thought chicken Quesadillas. I’ll go and take the chicken out of the freezer now.

That sounds delicious. Can I stay for dinner?

Are you trying to be funny?

Yes. Is there anything else you can do between fixing dinner—please don’t tell me it isn’t broken—and putting the dishes away?

Well, I have a story to write for Idol.

That sounds like fun. I’ll happily help you with that.

No thanks. I’ll do it myself.

Well fine. I’ll just go and watch House. Bye.

Um, you can’t.

Why?

Because you can’t turn the computer on without me and I’ll be busy.

Well, what am I supposed to do?

Um…what you can, with what you have, where you are?

You are a complete…

Thank you, Murielle. Toodles.

You’re welcome, Murielle. Toodle pip.

22-4-28
Therealljidol: Three Strikes, Week 6
Prompt: Pursuit

(NA: It’s no secret I’ve struggled with this prompt. I’ve wrestled with various ideas and it wasn’t until just before the final hour that I came up with something that actually made sense, wasn’t too personal for me to write coherently about, and was true, real and hopefully, perhaps relatable.)

I was diagnosed with Myalgic encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome at the end of 1993, or the beginning of 1994. I’m a little fuzzy on exactly which date because all I can remember is that my diagnosis came after the doctor received the results of a series of tests and it was either just before the holidays or just after. In any case, that was when I was finally given a definitive name.

I became markedly ill in 1985, the summer after my graduation (as a mature student) while I was working for a security company as an answering service operator. But I had struggled with my health for years, decades, before that. I was one of those kids who caught the flu twice, at the beginning and again at the end of each cycle. If everyone was sick for a week, I was sick for three. A simple cold that lasted for three to five days would knock me out for weeks. Why? Because a head cold would go into my chest, I’d develop bronchitis, and then my ears would become infected. It was just nasty.

So while for me, the CFS seemed to be sudden onset, it is generally thought to have been long-term by the medical professionals around me.

But, let’s get back to the diagnosis.

I went to my family physician, a doctor I respected and trusted, who had taken care of me for some sixteen years when I just didn’t have any energy after a bout with a bad viral infection. I lacked the vocabulary to describe what I was experiencing and so he diagnosed me with depression. A logical and common misdiagnosis for those of us with ME/CFS. He put me on Prozac for two years, telling me each time he gave me pills from his office in the back of the clinic, unmarked, with no packaging, just a stack of pills in his hands that he was trying me on something new, “Let’s see how you do on this?” It did exactly the same as before. My body didn’t react well to Prozac. (I found out about this years later when I requested my records for another doctor, another ME/CFS specialist.)

Then he decided I was bipolar and treated me with Lithium. I won’t go into details, but if it hadn’t been for the intervention of a dear friend and her pharmacist friends I would be writing this today. I wouldn’t be doing anything today. I would be dead. Turns out I wasn’t bipolar.

During this time, I went for a second opinion myself. Looked up a local doctor in the area and when to him. He ran a full battery of tests on me and found nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t diagnose me with depression, but he did say that there was nothing physical that he could find, pretty much the same thing, right?

My family physician sent me to a psychiatrist who wrote, and I know this because I read his letter, that he couldn’t find anything wrong and that I wasn’t suffering from depression.

He then sent me to an internist. The internist wrote to him and told him that I wasn’t depressed, there was definitely something physically wrong, but he couldn’t identify the problem—I read his letter too.

So, nine years after catching the virus in the summer of 1985 which seemed to have pushed me over the edge I finally left my family physician and went to a doctor who treated mostly people who had ME/CFS, FM, etc., and after much testing and questioning and examination, he declared definitively that I was in fact suffering from ME/CFS.

I cried when I got the diagnosis, not because I thought it was a terrible one to get, but because I was so relieved to finally have one. To finally be able to say, this is real, it’s not all in my head. Of course, at the time I didn’t know that it was (at that time) untreatable and incurable. This doctor was open to my research on the internet and willing to try various different treatments by researchers all over the world, and for a while what he offered helped me. And, after a nine-year search I finally had a diagnosis which is what I’d been pursuing.

I had been sort of diagnosed with this illness around the end of the 1980s by a young intern who worked in my family doctor’s office for a while. She listened to my story and said, “I know exactly what you have. You have Myalgic Encephalomyelitis and you need to go to bed for the next six months.” My response was to laugh. Who can go to bed for six months? I wish I had listened to her. She knew what she was talking about. Had I gone to bed for six months then, I might have had a much different life. But I didn’t and she was gone the next time I went to the clinic.

Over the years, I have seen five specialists. Four of them have told me that I am one of their sickest patients. I have taken prescribed medications, and supplements up the proverbial whatsit, but I’m at the same level I was at the beginning. No cure, lifestyle changes are what they ultimately recommend. And I’ve tried. I’ve really tried and while, from time to time, I have had some relief, some change for the better for a while, nothing really works.

So I’ve made a decision. From now on, I’m listening to my body. I’m going to do what actually makes me feel better. And with all due respect, I’m not listening to any “body” else.

Idol Minor+
Prompt 3: Intaglio

Anne smiled watching Hannah’s face light up as she opened the little velvet box.

“Oh, Anne! This is so pretty! Thank you!” She carefully took the ring out of the box and placed it on the ring finger of her right hand, then raised her hand so the stone caught and reflected the candlelight.

“I’m so glad you like it, Hannah.”

“Was it one of your aunt’s?”

“No, but her collection of intaglio inspired me to find and get this one for you. See, it’s your birth flower carved into your birthstone.”

“It’s a chrysanthemum in citrine! Oh, Anne, it’s exquisite! You think of everything, you really do!”

The young woman rushed over and gave Anne the tightest, longest hug. “I love it! I love you!”

“Well, thank you, dear! I love you too.”

Herb looked somewhat perplexed and Teddy just looked uncomfortable. “It’s a ring.” He mouthed to his grandfather who shrugged in response.

“I think we’ve been out-gifted,” Herb sighed.

“Oh, no! I love everything, but this is such a beautiful and thoughtful birthday gift, and the setting is so pretty and delicate.”

“Filigree. I know that much.” Herb said.

“It’s so pretty!” Anne got another hug.

“I think I’ll get the cake. I need cake. How about you, Ted? Could you eat cake?”

“Always, Grandpa.”

Herb and Teddy loaded up everything from the table onto the little trolley and headed into the kitchen.

“Have you had a good birthday, Hannah?”

“The best. Honestly. You know Dad has me working in the store now?”

“Yes. He told me. He said you have a real gift for handling the customers and organizing things. He told me that he doesn’t know how he managed without you all these years.”

“He said that?”

“He did, and more. He’s very pleased with your work and I think he loves living with you and Teddy. He hasn’t put it in so many words, but he brags about you two all the time.”

“How does he seem to you, Anne? Really. Since the attack?”

“Good. Progressing. I think having you and Teddy on his side is making a big difference, and your help in the store has eased a lot of his stress. He has always been easy to be with, but he’s happy, Hannah. He really is.”

“I think so too. And I think that you and he…well, it’s none of my business, but…”

“You ever heard that old saying about nothing before the word “but” counts?”

Hannah laughed, “Okay. I’m going to quit while I’m ahead, but I’ve got my eyes on the pair of you.”

Anne smiled and gave the girl a quick hug.

“We’re progressing too,” and she winked.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/437485.html

Idol Minor +
Prompt 2
Roopkund

Lighting on bleached bone
Ruffling feathers for warmth
Head tucked under wing

Who summoned from hell?
What lost soul out of boredom
Called the serpent forth?

Blood soaked feather blows
Across the barren graveyard
Over sun-bleached bones

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/436801.html

Idol Minor+ Prompt 1 ("There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days")

“I’m forgetting things.”

“Yes. What kinds of things?”

“Words mostly.”

“What sort of words?”

“I don’t know. Just words.”

“You’ve been able to tell me how you’re feeling and what medication you need renewed.”

“I make lists.”

“I see that. That’s a good thing to do.”

“Yes. It helps.”

“Are you forgetting anything else?”

“I put things in the wrong places sometimes.”

“That happens. What kinds of things?”

“I have to get milk. I put it in the pantry. It... tasted bad.”

“Uh-huh. Anything else?”

“I forgot about the taxi.”

“Sorry?”

“It came and when I went out the driver said to go back and get my coat because it’s cold, but I forgot and went to bed. He came to the door.”

“What happened?”

“That’s why I was late.”

“You weren’t that late.”

“But I’m never late!”

“Is there anyone who can help you? Family? A friend?”

“No. My friends don’t like me anymore because I forget their names sometimes, or if we’re supposed to meet. I don’t have any family.”

“Let me set up an appointment for you with someone who can help you with this.”

“Is there someone like that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been so … worried.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Elise rose from the chair and put her coat on, picked up her purse and her cane and walked out to reception.

“Goodbye!”

The girl looked up, “goodbye Miss Stevens. Would you like me to call you a taxi?”

“Oh no, dear. It’s such a lovely day; I think I’ll just walk.”

“Okay. See you next time.”

“Where’s Elise Stevens?”

“She left, doctor.”

“When?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Her cab came that fast?”

“She didn’t want one said she wanted to walk.”

“Call the police.”

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/436669.html

21-06-13

Written for Word_Smithing

Aberration

It wasn’t the hump on his shoulder or the twist in his back. Nor was it the incongruity of the expense and cut of his clothes. Riches are nothing out of the ordinary for those who have them. And the beauty and breeding of his mount was no cause for alarm, either.

The hail and hardy elegant fellowship surrounding him gave no reason for pause, for all have friends, even kings.

Not overly given to gaiety, nor lost in what might have been considered the somberness of the occasion, but, the wicked glint of anticipation in his eye.

(AN: I should have explained, I was totally trippin' on Richard III, here.)

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/431783.html

21-06-13

Written for Word_Smithing

“She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere”

Of course, I noticed her right away. There was only a handful of us in the bus depot that time of night. But even so, she would have stood out. Her dishwater hair was pulled up tight in a bun on the top of her head to make her look older I suppose, but her skin transparent in its pallor gave away her vulnerability and youth. Soaking wet with her pockets full of pennies she wouldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, thin as the proverbial rail she was.

She had a little white plastic shoulder bag and carried an old dirty blue cardboard suitcase with both hands, more out of nervousness than weight, I’d wager. The heels of her white plastic sandals were worn down and they looked to be a size too big, and the hem of the skirt of her pale blue suit was coming down in the back, trailing several threads of varying lengths.

When she got up to the ticket agent I heard her ask, “How far away can I get on fifty dollars?”

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/431388.html

I followed my high-beams as I turned out of the parking lot, my eyes on the road, checking my mirrors compulsively. My heart pounding so hard my whole body's thrumming. I’m trying to control my breath. Four in, four out, four in, four out, but it’s almost impossible because I can still see him and I can feel his eyes boring into me as he gets into his black Trans Am with the red racing stripes and the big red spider with the glow-in-the-dark eyes on the hood.

He’s just a kid! Maybe early twenties, but I doubt it. He’s seventeen, maybe nineteen. He’s a hundred, maybe a thousand. He’s one boy, he’s a million, and he scares the life out of me.

~~~

I stopped off at a Walmart. I had a list. I always have a list. I keep it hanging by a magnet on the fridge and every time I run out of something I write it on the list. I have been doing this for the last thirty years. It’s sufficient. I grab the list on my way out to the store. It’s efficient.

Walmart is great for the kinds of lists I make because I can get it there, everything from milk to sealant, motor oil to cream rinse, and Rice Crispies. In fact, I was looking for all of these and about twenty other things, including a note to check out cords for hanging laundry. A friend once told me that my lists were like journal entries.

“Keep them! Better yet, mail them to me, and I’ll keep them. I’ll put them in a scrapbook so when we’re old and gray in a nursing home we can pour over them and dampen our diapers.”

“There’s a website for that, you know?” I told her.

“Dampening your diapers?”

“Found lists. People send lists they find to this guy who actually published books of lists people lost.”

“Okay, cool. Send me your lists.”

“You know you’re weird?”

“Takes one to know one.”

I smile at the memory as I turn down the automotive aisle.

He was on the other side at the far end and glanced up just as I smiled. He didn’t, but his eyes bored right through me.

I grabbed the can I needed and turned around and headed over to the housewares section. At that point, all I felt was embarrassed as if I’d been caught with my bra strap hanging halfway down my arm, or a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

The cord I wanted was right where I thought it would be but there was more of it than I needed, and it cost more than I thought it would, but cord can be cut and used for something else. Next on my list were grocery items. I headed toward the coolers for dairy. As I lifted two quarts of organic into my cart I noticed him again. He was off to the right, standing by the yogurt watching me. His eyes were steely, calculating. I felt an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach. Again I turned my cart around and I headed toward the cereals.

There was nothing outstanding about him. He was dressed in jeans and a jean jacket over a t-shirt. But there something in his eyes that made my throat go dry. I couldn’t tell you the color of his eyes, or hair, or how tall he was, or how much he weighed. Average, maybe. He looked like any other guy wearing the same things. But there was something off about him.

I searched my list. Nothing that couldn’t wait for the next Walmart in the next town, and I honestly thought about just leaving the cart and running to my vehicle. Every cell in my body wanted to race out the door, but my head told me to calm down and do what I had to do. He was a kid, this was a public place. I mean, Walmart is about as public as you can get, right?

So I walked calmly through the rest of my shopping and headed to the cashier and as I went, I casually glanced around, and there he was, one cashier over, head bowed, but looking at me sideways, under his brow. My blood ran cold. The hair at the nape of my neck bristled.

He’s just a kid, I told myself. I glance down at myself for a quick wardrobe check. Could he be getting his jollies because I hadn’t buttoned all my buttons, or pulled my fly all the way up?

I straightened my back and pasted on one of those totally fake smiles we give to service people when all we want is to be somewhere else. The girl at the till looked tired, bored, like she was at the end of a double shift. I wanted to ask her if she could see him if she could ask security to detain him for five minutes to let me get away because he’d been following me around the store and I was seriously creeped. I didn’t.

I came in under budget and that made me smile. In that second I forgot about him and I actually paused at the exit to smile at the total and then I saw his reflection in the closed-door before me. He was behind me, just a few feet. His eyes seemed to blaze at me. He jerked his head to the side and started to walk toward me.

I bolted. I raced toward my van, and Mickey, hearing me running, started to bark at the top of his lungs. I didn’t stop running until I clicked the door open and started tossing my purchases in the front between the seats, then I hauled butt into the cab and was turning the ignition before I was actually sitting.

My heart thundered in my ears and from my side-view mirror as I backed out I saw him open the door of a Trans Am two cars to my left, never taking his eyes off me. My stomach lurched and I headed out of the parking lot.

Mind racing I turned right onto the highway and in my rearview mirror, I saw him turn left.

~~~

He’s not following me.

Relief surges through me erupting in a loud sob.

I open my mouth to shout with joy when I see him burn a uey.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/431172.html

Possible Trigger for Infertility

21-5-27
Word_Smithing
Drabble: Vessel

And every night before sleeping she clutched the tiny sterling image of St. Anne to her heart and kneeling, whispered.

“Pray for me? Pray that my womb open to receive. Pray that his seed be living and my egg worthy of life. Pray that I be a vessel. Pray for me.”

And every month she waited, breath bated, then broken-hearted when she bled.

She knew he saw it in her eyes before she shook her head.

“Maybe a gold medallion?” He suggested.

“Maybe,” she replied.

And so every night she knelt, clutching the tiny gold image and she prayed.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/430675.html

Reposting here as for some reason no one was able to see it on LJ. It was listed as "Two Fer."

Spring Rain

We’re waiting. Searching the wide, open, endless blue skies morning, noon, and night, but there are no clouds. We plant what we can and water sparingly, with what we have. And each day we measure what remains. Not enough to harvest. Maybe enough till the rain comes.

The men group together talking about the great drought, water conservation, going over and over everything they know, or have heard, or have ever read, about how to bring the rains. The women are talking too. Cooking with less water, cleaning with less water, bathing…surviving with less water, till the rain comes.

ISOLATION

The phone never rings, unless It’s someone is trying to sell me something. I should start talking to them. I could ask about their days, their families, their lives, their opinions on political events. Not that I care, but it would be someone to talk to for a few minutes.

No one visits. They have families, their grown children and their grandchildren are their ones and twos, etc. I suppose I could count the delivery people. Once a week, once every two weeks someone stops by with medications or groceries.

Beyond that, there is no one, no one at all.

(Sorry it took so long. I seem to be dried up. LOL!)

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/430120.html

21-5-13

For Word_Smithing

“Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us." - Richard Siken

To lie on clean cool tile soaking in sunbeam warmth
Eyes closed, bellies full
Pampered, satisfied
Desiring nothing
Not even a bird flying past the window.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/430054.html

Exodus 20:20 – Moses said to the people ‘Do not be afraid. God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you to keep you from sinning.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/429747.html

Exodus 14:13 – Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/429545.html

Genesis 50:21 – ‘So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.’ And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/429155.html

Genesis 50:19 – But Joseph said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God?’

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/428857.html

Genesis 46:3 – ‘I am God, the God of your father,’ he said. ‘Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation there.’

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/428724.html

Genesis 43:23 – ‘It’s all right’, he said. ‘Don’t be afraid. Your God, the God of your father, has given you treasure in your sacks; I received your silver.’ Then he brought Simeon out to them.

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/428328.html

Genesis 26:24 – That night the Lord appeared to him and said, ‘I am the God of your father Abraham. Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bless you and will increase the number of your descendants for the sake of my servant Abraham.’

Crossposts: https://murielle.livejournal.com/428141.html

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First Prompt -- 700 Words

TheRealLJIdol - Sign Up

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Prompt 6: Pursuit

Idol Minor+ Prompt 3: Intaglio

Idol Minor+ Prompt 2

Idol Minor+ Prompt 1

Aberration

“She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere”

Word_Smithing Periphery

Vessel

Spring Rain

Tell me how...

Day 9

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Day 4

Day 3