Prompt: The Museum

Once again, I could not stop myself from going to the museum. It's become my passion, my obsession. I faked sickness, killed aunts and uncles, just to go there once more.

I stepped over the No Entry sign. A broom and a bucket stood in a corner; the air smelled of dust. The Sea World was down a corridor illuminated by a single dull-yellow light bulb.

Wax fish swam in a glass ocean, a fishermen, holding a rod, stood on a rock above them. Suddenly, a strange smell. Someone was breaking the air-conditioner pipe. “My treasure,” a voice mumbled from the broken pipe. A white creature, half a man half a slug, appeared, it's eyes glittering as he saw the pond. Quickly he crawled to the rock where the fisherman stood. “My treasure!” he called again, as he dove down into the sparkling glass. Green splash stained the surface of the glass, cast shadows on the fish below

Silence

Deep blue eyes lingering on me.

Lips soft, shimmering with wetness.

Hair rolling down the shoulder. Long and brown.

The corners of her mouth crawling upwards,

with a hidden smile.

Fingers lightly resting on mine.

A frozen moment of forever.

A Writing Prompt (10 min)

The end of the party was nowhere to be seen. Morning has broken, and that was when things started to happened.

“Would you mind your own business,” I heard a voice.

“My business is all yours,” another answered.

I turned around. A tall giraffe was arguing with a monkey, high on the tree above her.

“If your business is mine, how come you're sitting in my tree,” asked the giraffe.

“I was here first,” sulked the monkey.

“No you were not,” insisted the giraffe, as she started climbing up the lower branches.

“It's my tree, it's mine,” called the monkey in agitation. Then, he picked up an apple and tossed it at the giraffe. The apple bounced off the the giraffe, and hit an old lady, who was fervently clipping badges to her yellow apron.

“She is turning all green,” screamed the monkey, fleeting up the canopy.

“Let me help you Dear,” offered the giraffe, and with all his might tried to pull off the apple.

He failed, and this is the reason that until this very day, old ladies with green hair, carry giraffes whenever they stand under an apple tree.

The end.

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself

When the world treats you badly

When you're blown out of course

Who will you blame or accuse

Is it your skill or the bourse?

If things are not as you want them

and you feel like kick or a punch

Who will you set as your target

Yourself, or the next door bunch?

Whenever things don't work

they way you want the to.

And lets be honest,

they hardly every do.

What is your target of anger,

what do you want to destroy?

Is it the world around you

or the reason you see it so?

Writing prompt (10m)