‘tastes like honey’, she breathed through that laugh.

the laugh she only uses when she feels safe.

and the little hearts painted onto her cheeks mixed colors.

purple and pink and gold never looked better.

the rain plinked and plonked in a rhythm they knew by memory.

that smell, he sucked in all the air he could, like cookies out of the oven.

he sniffed loud, making her laugh.

the shoulders of his shirt, wet with a beautiful polkadot pattern.

how did the wind manage to guide its way between the heavy drops?

it brushed her adventure-wet hair to one side.

the sloshing puddles squeaked between the ground and her sneakers.

they were the ones with little smiley stickers all around the rubber.

a tree bent painfully in the heavy weight of the invisible wind.

‘ha, it’s dancing’, he pointed at its swaying branches.

his dripping hands grasped at hers, ‘us too’.

and the tree and the girl and morgan danced.

the tiniest of drops clung to her eyelashes

and to the little point at the edge of her scrunchy nose.

the wind groaned its melancholy sorrow,

and she laughed in a matching harmony. moon to the sun.

the rain, it fell like pent-up heartache.

he plucked a crunchy dorito-colored leaf from the tree.

‘my lady’, he bowed. she twirled the dead leaf.

plucked from its lifeforce, beautiful still.

and the sploshy day, it sounded right. it tasted right. it smelled right.

it felt right to hold his hand.

her little cheek hearts had melted then and left color rolling down.

he kissed the shadows they left, and loved the way she looked in rain.

the rain was only magic with her. only magic with him.

the wind was only music if her laugh accompanied.

if his disasterous dance moves matched it.

he’s like one of those car wash dancing balloon men. it’s wonderful.

but the rain goes on, even though they aren’t there.

even though it was made for them.

and it’s only beautiful when it completes their symphony.

but it still falls, empty, just the same.

for all he knows, it’s just persistent, waiting for them.

like a loyal little dog when his person leaves.

for all she knows, it’ll have to keep waiting forever

since no one is coming home, puppy.

but the rain, it falls. and the wind, it mourns

no matter what happened to the dances, it goes on and on.

because it doesn’t know he’s gone. it just remembers. she just remembers

morgan loves the rain.

1. I need to tell you something look at 5

2. The answer is look at 11

3. Don't get mad look at 15

4. Calm down don't be mad and look at 13

5. First look at 2

6. Don't be angry look at 12

7. All I wanted to say was hi

8. What I wanted to tell you was look at number 14

9. Just be patient look at number 4

10. This is the last time look at 7

11. I hope you're not mad when I say look at 6

12. Sorry look at 8

13. Just have a look at 10

14. I don't really know how to say this but look at 3

15. You really need to look at nine

She makes a wish on the seeds when she blows them, and she calls it “the afterlife of a dandelion." She does not know it, but my daughter has created a vision for me, the afterlife I want to be. I have told those who love me to stop my watch when it’s on my wrist in the coffin because it’s a monstrous image: the ticking motion of time mocking my inert form. It’s what I dread of death, my futile stillness in a universe that bends and shapes and whirrs around my body. Better to be burned and scattered to the winds or waves, that in being somewhere I might be anywhere, and those who remember me still might stand wherever they stand and make a wish as I blow by.

Good Afternoon, Prosers,

We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!

It’s week fifty-nine of the Prose Challenge of the Week.

For the last week or so, you guys have been writing about injustice, and you all gave exactly what we wanted. Before we check out who the deserving winner, and the recipient of $150 is, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Challenge of the Week #59: Modernise Shakespeare’s ‘Shall I Compare Thee’ sonnet. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Now, back to the winner of week fifty-eight.

We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the “injustice” challenge is @MikeRich15 with their piece, Olive them, olive me.

Congratulations! You have just won $150. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.

In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Good Afternoon, Prosers,

We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!

It’s week fifty-eight of the Prose Challenge of the Week.

For the last week, you guys have been rewriting the creation story, and you all gave exactly what we wanted. Before we check out who is the deserving winner and the recipient of $100, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Yes! This one is for a longer duration and for more $, so get yourself writing, now!

Now, back to the winner of week fifty-seven.

We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the “creation story” challenge is @madbeyond with their piece, Out of the Blue

Congratulations! You have just won $100. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.

In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Greetings, Prosers,

It’s back. It’s Challenge of the Month.

Each month, we set you all a prompt within a Portal of our choosing. We then give you the entire duration of the challenge to create your literary splendor. After the challenge expires, the team will then take a look at specific data - number of reads, likes, reposts, and comments - along with reading the entries to ensure superior content. From there, we will choose fifteen pieces to be included in our new Prose Original Book. These books will be made up of your content, and will be sold on Prose for 500 coins. To find out whether your entry made it, you will have to grab yourself a copy.

So, what do you get in return?

If you are one of the lucky fifteen, you will receive 5% royalties for the lifetime of the book. This means non-Partners can also earn themselves some Prose coin, as anyone can enter. We think this is a new, quick, easy, and exciting way to become a published, professional author, and what better way to do that than with Prose‽

Let’s take a look at the second Challenge of the Month:

Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”

Write smart.

What better motivation than a brand-new challenge and a way to earn money and bragging rights when you become a professional author?

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

        Properly, Shakti novelly and navelly shocked his majesty, Shi, furiously forcing an utter apostrophe on Lakshmi out of sheer spontaneity. Chi mastery. Quite the achievement. After all, the season of pure being gets plain and boring; needs some seasoning. The reasoning theistic: Don't go ballistic on me yet as Indra's Net's net output's equivalent to the past, present, and future tense. You are tense because this succinctly said sequence seemingly means that previous divine glory wasn't so vehement and relevant as initially read in that story. But fear oblivion to psychic dyslexia as it may swiftly lead to hungry-ghost -level anorexia. Take a breath of fresh jiva and please remember yours truly,

        Shiva.