Due to COVID-19 everyone is stuck in doors, so I’m following a daily writing prompt generator on Facebook. Here is what  I have written so far.

#lockdownwriting #notlockingdownmywriting




“Hi,” said Eros, timidly.
“Hi,” replied Harper, shyly.
There was a long, awkward silence.
“um… Have we met before?????” asked Eros.
“I…..dun no. I’m not sure.” muttered Harper.
Eros looked at Harper and felt a distant memory tug at the back of his mind. Harper looked at Eros and was sure she felt nostalgic. They both cautiously checked each other. Eros was sure he had seen that triangular scar somewhere before. Harper knew that she had seen one green eye and one blue eye before. As this bizarre exhibition of themselves continued, Eros suddenly felt a wave of memories splash him in the face as he remembered a scene from a long, long time ago:

There was a tiny lonely little boy, who spent his days sitting in his backyard and staring at a tree . Except – one day, the tree stared back. The lonely little boy nearly jumped out of the seat of his pants. He tip toed toward the tree. Cowering, behind was a lonely little girl. The lonely little boy made friends with the lonely little girl until they weren’t lonely anymore. They stayed friends and played everyday until the little boy never ever had to stare at any trees any more. But, one day. The boy couldn’t find the girl anywhere. He searched everywhere, everyday but he never ever found her. The little boy was the lonely little boy again. Every single day, the boy stared at the tree. Hoping, it might stare back.

Eros woke up from his trance and looked at Harper, his jaw gaping so wide it nearly hit the floor. Suddenly a look of comprehension came into Harper’s eyes and her eyes widened in shock.

“Hi!” said Eros, boldly.
“Hi!” replied Harper, confidently.
There was a long, satisfying silence.
“We’ve met before!” said Eros.
“I know! I’m sure!” rejoiced Harper.

With that, the wacky duo strolled off hand in hand.


Outside the school gates,
“hi.” said Eros’s mum, timidly.
“hi” said Harper’s mum, shyly.
There was a long, awkward silence.
“um… Have we met before?????” asked Eros’s dad.
“I…..dun no. I’m not sure.” muttered Harper’s dad.



We are walking along the Scottish Yesnaby cliffs on a bright, sunny morning. Rather begrudgingly. None of us are showing much interest in the cliffs. We are all dreaming about our Xboxes and Nintendo Switches. Our guide isn’t really helping to lift the dreary, dead mood in the foreign Scottish air. We are all ignoring the constant stream of heavily accented facts erupting from his mouth. He is appearing as a petite man with a face that is squashed, like he ran face forward into a brick wall. My companion is whispering that his nose is as red as a tomato and as pointy as a carrot. I’m giggling and saying that his eyes are brown, like the colour of chocolate ice cream. His jumper is displaying the logo: THE WONDERS OF SCOTLAND. Personally, I’m not seeing what’s so wondrous about a cliff. I am imagining the wonder in a full sized Nintendo Switch, which has smooth sides and attachable and removable controls. I am dreaming of the sensitively wired buttons and the top of the range, touch sensitive, water proof and practically unbreakable screen. I am not forgetting that the memory chip inside can store up to 50 gigabytes of data. Now that is wondrous, I’m marvelling.

The guide is saying, ” Ay, aren’t these rock formations simply stunning?”

“No”, I’m thinking.

Suddenly, the squashy faced, guide is looking around and is saying, “They are, quine, they are.”

He’s flashing his teeth in a cold smile now. A shiver is running down my spine. I am shaking the strange feeling off and continuing to walk. Is this man reading minds? Why is he saying, ‘two left”?

We’re moving East, I’m feeling the Northern chill getting to me. Soon, we’re stopping for lunch. I’ve been hoping the odd guide will leave us alone, but he carries on chatting away.

“Did you enjoy your haggis? I did!”, he is babbling.

“Haggis is bad!!”, I’m thinking.

The guide is staring at me again, unblinkingly and muttering, “It’s good to the Scottish mind, quine, it’s good. One left.”

Then he’s continuing to talk leaving me chilled to the bone. He must be reading minds.

Now, lunch is over so we’re walking along the last few kilometers of the cliff. The chill is getting to me, so I’m huddling up and my teeth are chattering.

The guide is sighing and saying, “Ay, it’s nearly time for the walk to be over.”

I’m not being able to help myself. “Yes, Hallelujah”!! I am thinking.

The guide is turning around, his face a deep shade of ugly purple. “None left, quine, none left”, he is saying.

A terrible wind is blowing around.

“I gave you three chances,” the guide is saying. ” So now you must face the consequences.”

With that the skies are opening up with relentless rain…

I am sitting bolt upright in my bed, mum is shaking me and saying, “Come on, it is time to go to Scotland.”

I am gulping and saying, “I think I’ll stay home.”



Come on Mumma! Let’s go faster!” says Mira, tugging at Mumma’s sleeve.

” We are going as fast as we can!” says Mumma, weary of repeating the same sentence for the millionth time. “The quieter you are the faster we get there!”

Mira immediately stops talking, her fingers clamped around the door handle.

I am quietly listening, “There it is!”

Mumma and Mira crane their heads forward to catch a glimpse of the new leisure centre. We all rush out of the car and grab our goggles and towels etc.

“You stay here, I’m going to pay for parking.” says Mumma, grabbing her wallet.

“I want to come too!” cries Mira.

“Fine, but hurry up!”

I wait on my own. The leisure centre is quite far away, you can just about see the domed rooftop. As I’m waiting a young girl of about ten watches me curiously before asking, “What have you got all that for?”

“We’re going to the new swimming pool,” I reply, matter-of-factly.”


This question catches me by surprise. “For fun.”

“What is the fun or wonder in a tank of water?” she thinks.

I am starting to get a bit annoyed, before I think of a genius answer.

“You use the swimming pool to get exercise.”

“But you said you were going for fun! “she replies, with a suave roll of her eyes.

“We are.”

“But why is it fun to go up and down a pool?” she continues.

I think for a moment.

“What I’m asking is why do you enjoy swimming.”

“I enjoy the feeling of peace, being utterly submerged in water, hearing nothing, concentrating on the steady beat of your heart.”

“Surely you feel suffocated, not being able to breathe,” she questions.

“I do not really mind it.” I shrug.

“Weird.” She says. Nevertheless, she urges me on.”Carry on,”

“I enjoy the rhythm of swimming, letting it wash over you with every ebb and flow of the water, with every ebb and flow of your mind. Swimming lets you think.”

“What do you mean by ebb and flow of your mind?”

“Your mind is an insane web of thoughts, beliefs and doubts, this will sound strange, but nowadays humans don’t spend time with themselves, sometimes listening to yourself and not worrying about your phone can be relaxing, just letting your mind unwind itself.”

“But aren’t you constantly worrying about drowning?” she reasons.

“Not when you are a practiced swimmer, then you are able to simply let the strokes wash over you and you can simply think.”

She nods in comprehension. “That’s deep,”

I turn red.

Suddenly, Mumma and Mira arrive. The girl smiles at me before scurrying away.

“Let’s go!” cries Mira!

So we do.

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