This morning I started out trying to be inspired by The Prompt for this week which is 'thankful'. A great prompt but it wasn't helping my blockage. A few words came but I stumbled.

Morgan's Milieu | Thankful: A darkened view of a grassy field

I wanted to write fiction. I have written no fiction for a while, I need to get back to it. Then I remembered being inspired for a blog post I hadn't written yet. All I needed to do was take a look out of my window. 

I got up, pen and paper in hand, and stared out of the window in my office. I wrote a few words, and it happened. That magic writers love; inspiration. The words flowed. And here they are...

The house is quiet; they've gone out. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing I'm alone for a few hours. I drag myself from the bed and wander to the small window. The chain, that's secured around my waist, drags across the floor.

From my window I peer at the world. Fog lingers on the hills in the distance blurring the browning trees. The sun is trying hard to burst through the clouds but failing. Fields span the horizon, green sheets lined by brown trees. Behind one of the smaller hills I spy the tops of rushing cars and lorries. They speed along that busy road, not knowing that I'm here. Maybe Dad is driving one of those cars.

Tears fill my eyes. My heart aches, my chest tightens.

A sob escapes and echoes around my dark prison. I turn and scan my surroundings for the hundredth time. Wooden beams support the roof above my head, restricting space. My bed, the thin mattress on the floor with a sheet on top, sits between two beams in the far corner. One end of the chain is wrapped around the beam next to my bed, secured by a large padlock. The other end circles my waist, again secured by a padlock. My hands are free, for now.

The tears spill onto my cheeks. Accepting my fate I walk to my bed and sit, crossed legs. I cover my face with my hands and scream into them.

A loud bang beneath me shakes the house. I raise my head from my hands, eyes landing on the attic door across the other side of the room. Out of reach.

My heart races and my muscles tense. They're back already?

Muffled voices come from below. I shuffle back on my bed, huddling into the wall. I wrap my arms around my knees and watch the door.

The stairs creak. The banister cracks. Adrenaline rushes through my body and I wipe the tears from my face. I won't let them see me crying. Footsteps come closer. The attic door clicks and light floods into my room as the door opens. Metal scrapes against metal as the ladder slides down to them.

Boots on metal.

I don't think I can take it again. Please let them leave. Please.

A head rises through the hole, black hair and a pale face. It peers into the dark corners of the room and I freeze. I hold my breath. The person steps up the ladder again. I jump and the chain drags on the floor.

"Lou? Louise is that you?"

Am I hearing things? That sounded like...

"Dad?" I whisper.


He rushes up the ladder and storms across the attic. I get up, my legs shaking. Tears flow from my eyes. He wraps his big arms around me, enclosing me in a warm embrace. Dad unlocks the padlock at my waist, drops the chain, and it thuds on the floor. My legs give way beneath me and dad picks me up and carries me towards the attic door.

It may not be great but getting inspiration makes me feel better. I've written a piece of fiction and I'm hoping it's just the start. And you know what? It fits into this week's The Prompt too (kind of). Yay!

Prose for Thought


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