Readers and writers, angels and demons, ladies and gentlemen: we’ve long kept you waiting to see what Prose has in store for you. Today, we hope to satisfy your curiosity with the introduction of Prose Gold and a host of new updates. We created Prose with lofty ambitions: to invigorate the digital landscape with a love of literature, and to revitalize an aging publishing industry. Prose Gold is our next step on that path.

What is Gold?

Prose Gold is a subscription service, which affords readers a near unlimited selection of content at a flat monthly price. We track the number of readers and time spent reading each piece, and distribute earnings to authors. Anyone can publish on Gold to earn a piece of the pie. Gold is available to the first thousand or so Prose loyalists at a never-again price of $5.99/mo.

Publishing to Gold.

We allow everyone to publish on Gold, though Gold subscribers will enjoy a few extra perks. When publishing a new piece, simply check the “Gold (Open)” or “Gold (Restricted)” option before hitting publish. Gold (Open) will leave your post open to the public. Anyone can read it, and any Gold subscriber who reads it will contribute to your monthly earnings. Gold (Restricted) will lock your post, making it available only to Gold subscribers. Anyone can publish to Prose Gold once every 30 days, though Gold subscribers are allowed as many Gold publications as they wish. Further, subscribers publishing to Gold (Open) or Standard are able to set a purchase price on their work.

Payments

We’re moving away from PayPal in favor of credit cards, processed via Stripe. We anticipate that this will lead to a much smoother experience when buying content or sending donations on Prose. Prose “Coins” have been converted into account credit, which you can use just as you would have in the past.

Partners

The “Partners” program is being discontinued for the time being. The features of the Partners program are being moved to Gold. Namely, the option to set a flat price on your post or book and the option to suggest pieces for the spotlight.

Under the Hood

We’ve rebuilt the website from the ground up, to offer a much snappier experience on Prose, and to make way for some of the cool things we have in store.

Portals

We’ll soon be offering Gold subscribers the option to create and curate their own portals. We want to offer expanded flexibility and customization of portals, allowing folks to read, write, and share in their own personalized corner of Prose.

The Bookstore

The Prose Bookstore has a long way to go. We’re working on a number of updates and improvements. Stay tuned.

Prose for iOS

We’ve been so busy on the new website, that we’ve let the iOS app lag behind a bit. We’re working on offline reading functionality, progress tracking, and a number of improvements to the user interface. There’s a big update soon to come.

This is a small taste of all we have in store for you with Prose. Until next time, happy scribbling.

You can check out Gold or subscribe here: https://theprose.com/p/gold

My last tear

Wiped away memory

Of undiluted treachery

As I sit and watch the premier 

Of the forbidden scene

Unfolding before my brown eyes

That would soon later be my demise

As I just turned nineteen

She entered my life

With her baby blue’s

Causing my heart to bruise

I still feel it in the afterlife

The next scene so taboo

I knew it was wrong to crave her

To allow my soul to stir

By then I was twenty-two

Love blossomed in a barren place

It weathered many disasters

She evolved into being my master

This is when I fell from grace

We whisper to each other in the dark

The dark is where we lay

Where we do forbidden things that betray

Things that leave exclamation marks!

The last and final scene before

She takes my soul and runs

As my heart beats like a broken drum

I was just twenty-four

The final scene closes

But the story is incomplete

My knees hit the earth in defeat

For eternity, I lie on a bed of thorned roses.

I just wanted to 

    live again

Allow my cold, dead 

    heart to mend

You refused to 

    just ascend

Instead you seal our 

    fate to end

Once you gave me 

    breath of life

Now you only 

    twist the knife

Jealous anger 

    you are rife

Misery becomes 

    your wife

Stepping through hell's 

    open door

Nothing will even 

    the score

I'm trying to 

    open the gate

Deathly afraid that 

    it's too late

Done everything I 

    know to do

But it's not good 

    enough for you

It all seems like 

    wasted time

Wasted love put 

    on the line

Nothing that I 

    do or say

With you seems 

    to hold sway

Now our life's 

    begun anew

Why do i feel it's 

    without 

           you?

Good Morning, Prosers,

It’s Monday Motivation time, and what better way than to tell you that we are all about to try breaking a world record with our words alone?

This is a community effort, and we need your words. We are expecting this to be popular - why wouldn’t it be? We need 15,000 entries with at least 100 words per entry to break this record. So, it’s imperative that you get your entries in as quickly as possible.

Let’s take a look at the prompt:

It’s record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100-word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come. In fact, it’ll probably be read by people experiencing an actual zombie apocalypse.

So, those of you who love The Walking Dead have zero excuse not to enter, and those of you who don’t? Well, you’re writers aren’t you? You still have zero excuse not to enter.

The challenge is live right now. Get yourself scribbling those diary entries. Here’s to making history together as a community.

Until the next apocalypse, Prosers,

Prose.

Some of you Prosers have expressed an interest in reading my psychological thriller and mystery,Jade Murder Without Remorse, written under my penname, Sari Lantana. It is now available on the Prose Bookstore in case you are interested. This is a synopsis of the book:

Escape into the realm of the beautiful, psychopathic Jade who commands both love and hate as she charges forward in many twists and turns, engineering novel ways to kill her four husbands. Become immersed in the world of renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Cohen, who is conducting a research study on psychopaths, hoping to understand them and prevent them from treading on dangerous paths. The story of Jade is told as seen through the eyes of Dr. Cohen. But Dr. Cohen has a hidden, devious aspect as he finds himself becoming involved in a symbiotic relationship with Jade. Against his better judgment, he finds himself wishing that he had the courage to take a risk and explore the dark side as his patient does. Will he have the courage to step over the line? The suspense mounts to a conclusion that will be both shocking and unexpected. Ride this thrilling adventure into the uncharted future because the ending will prove challenging and out of the realm of imagination of even the most astute.

Excerpt from Jade Murder Without Remorse:

“I have no feeling when I kill! I feel no remorse! I am not like other people. Killing is only a means to an end for me. I have certain goals and killing brings me closer to my destiny. Can you explain to me why I do the things that I do? I’m afraid I will continue killing but I want to know why,” Jade related to me with a stone cold face. Jade had only contempt for the emotions of others. Her sole gratification was based upon her need to delude, control and exploit. However, she was so narcissistic that she wanted to feed upon my deeper emotions since she knew that I cared about her well-being. She really did not care if she had the understanding or company of others but I knew that she could not survive a solitary existence. Thus; she used me as a sounding board. I understood that her emotional persona could not subsist without collateral damage. I realized that I could not let myself become one of her casualties because she was quite capable of victimizing, persecuting and tormenting me as well as her other targets. I am Dr. Stanley Cohen and I am a psychiatrist working on a research project to further my own understanding of this psychopathic young lady and others like her. Because of medical ethics, I can never share this information with legal authorities so have no input in establishing whether she will, in fact, kill again. I want to understand why she feels driven to act out her desires in such a murderous way. She has admitted that she is unable to change and is completely lacking in empathy. The young lady in question is self-referred to me and is a fascinating case study. The crimes that she has committed are brutal, heinous and without any reason or merit. Her exquisite exterior belies that which is beneath the surface. Although I fight my own feelings when dealing with Jade, I must admit that, sometimes, I feel a vicarious thrill when she tries to justify her actions. I do my best to fight my reactions but despite these efforts, occasionally find myself unsuccessful. I wonder if this is why some psychiatrists go into this field in the first place. I want to help my clients but have to admit that after years of dealing with psychiatric patients, I have developed almost an understanding of their behaviors. And, if truth were to be told, I almost feel a deep affection for this particular patient, Jade, although I would never admit to this response when I counsel her. I strive to remain objective at all times but have to admit that I am imperfect at times. I can’t realize it as I write this, but my feelings for this client will ultimately lead to a disastrous ending which I will be unable to prevent no matter what actions I take. The story that I am about to tell will snowball completely out of control and will culminate in a catastrophic conclusion for which I will be unable to suppress the consequences. I have changed the names, places and most of the locations of these murders committed by Jade in order to preserve the sanctity of my profession. I wish I could be of help to this disturbed young woman but I honestly don’t think I can. Here is her story as related to me and as I understand it.

We have the freewill to do what we want. 

To rob or not to rob

To love or not to love

To be loved and love in return or not love in return. 

To steal,  to kill,  to destroy like the devil or to give freely,  to assist life and to build it's your choice. 

In every choice that you would be making,  bear in mind that everything has something that will be returned to you whether your choices be good or bad,  consequences will come your way. 

Life is an echo it gives you back what you gave it. 

Be happy while you are young,  let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth,  follow the ways of your heart and whatever your eyes see, BUT know that for all these things,  God will bring you to judgment. 

Life is full of choices. 

It is a test 

Death is not its goal but death is a decision.  

Your choice

Don’t do with me

those things you did with her

I’m not here

to live someone else’s dream

nor wear her shoes…nor walk her way

I have my own sashay

Let go

of what is lingering

Embrace

what still may be –

our new day breaks…our new hope dawns

Let’s not be pawns

Of yesterday

i can hear my breath in your ears

im sorry i didn't brush my teeth

they’ll sink into your knees

blood will bloom and get rid of my uncertainties

i am the epitome of

pain in all your dreams

it's no issue to me if

i get to smoke all your screams

one day i will see you breathing

i come from this family with this string of bad

a string around my upper arm

a string around my neck

a string around my knee

i breathe in fumes i can't not do

im waiting in the bathroom for you

my makeup smeared and you just sneered and now i forget the color of your eyes

i was never a prodigy. this is all so terribly difficult to me.

sunshine and green

shining through your window

the city lights breathe

i see your words catch in his ear

in the corner i sit and breathe very quietly

in a silent-ish moment the disturbed come alive

a shuddery noise rose from her throat as he grabbed her neck and she started to choke

i stand up, feet softly, and cry at the door

nobody tell him what he’s waiting for

oh! a hospital wall!

a breathing and living oddity

taking my heart and breaking it on the floor

breaking your back and youre making a war

oh! a hospital wall!

the pain of the shocks and the smell of the rot

my teeth will fall out and my toes all chopped off

my blood in a goblet and my body on a cross

im not saying you’re mean im just saying im not good enough for being around you and i apologize

im on the edge of stupid and defiant

the defining factor

a substudy of surgeries to make you understand

the non-pain of being me

i think i shouldnt be upset because i’ve got a feel-good family

im the guitar’s cruxifix

a rage of shitty messy gigs

tonight ill piss in your window

tomorrow ill piss on your car

my eyes are glued to your

star lights in a demon spur

a green light means i’ll stay inside my skin

oh, what a temporary shame

when my body fails you will your feet walk the same?

when my heart condemns you will you turn and walk away?

when my eyes are leaking and yours are still tame

i don't know if you'd ever understand pain

and i see you are bleeding under that smile

so you told me what blood was and i understand everything now

in your fishtank skull i see beautiful melodies

some under audit and some stuck in custody

inside his head are flowering blue ribbons

and they wrap around their wrists and they dance around like puppets

by the campfire they glance around teeming blue fire

and the blood blue veins will spill over in turmoil

I roll ash between finger and thumb,

twilight drenched with crimson regret,

plunging on weight of my world,

drained remains of stained embers,

death strewn amongst the dirt and stench -

a scorched inferno ignited by careless sparks,

misfortune cards dealt by condemning winds

as face of fiery passion dons devil mask.

I turn my back to grim reaper of regret,

pledging redemption to somber black shadows.

All that remains of spontaneous combustion

is a tiny check mark on torn pieces of soot

illuminated by weak neon light, fading.