#SwiftFicFriday – Week 33 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 33 Prompt

Welcome to the new and improved word sprint writing prompt series – #SwiftFicFriday!

After some feedback and more consideration, I’m updating the rules to give more people a chance to participate! Instead of 30 minutes or just an hour, I’m opening the prompt up to FOUR hours: 8:30PM-12:30AM on the east coast.

Other things to keep in mind:

– Include social media links/handles/anything you want to promote (Twitter, FB, etc) & word count in the comment with your submission.
– Submission must be between 150-300 words.
– All stories are property of the authors.
Winner will be determined via reader votes over the weekend.

Ready, set, write!

Prompt: Maybe it’s low-hanging fruit, seeing as we’re all mostly stuck indoors nowadays, but maybe this prompt will make for easy inspiration.

So, write about cabin fever!

Happy writing!

6 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 33 Prompt

  1. “I just—I want to go outside.” Cook paced the living room of the cabin Wren had relocated them to.

    “You know we can’t.” Wren peeked over the top of his monitor. It didn’t matter how rustic the conditions, he had a satellite link. And from what he could see, shit was going south in the cities. Fast. “These numbers—it’s going to get worse. So much worse. The data is all there in front of them, but people aren’t listening.”

    “Because it fucking sucks being stuck like this.”

    “Big picture, Cook.” Wren threw a pen at his partner. “Stuck and alive for a little while is better than free for a hot minute and then dead.”

    “But, Wren—”

    “Plagues don’t care about personal freedoms, babe. They don’t care about you.” Wren pushed back from his desk and scooted around to grab Cook by the wrist. “But I do.”

    “Fuck.” Cook sighed and drew the hacker into his arms. “I hate that you make sense. I hate knowing you’re right. I just want some fresh air.”

    “And tacos.”

    “Definitely tacos.”

    “A little cabin fever is a small price to pay, baby,” Wren said softly. “This goes one of two ways. Either the dumb wins and the human population largely wipes itself out, or a tiny bit of self-preservation and sense wins—and we all go back to business mostly as usual when this passes.”

    “Either way, you and I are alive.”


    “And either way, you’ve got the vaccine formula.”


    “So the question is—Do we want to save the world…or run it?”

    265 words

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “Do you ever get tired of it here?” Morticia looked over at the fellow spirit beside her. “Waiting, that is. Waiting for the time to move on.”

    The spirit smiled and the wrinkles in her face folded over themselves. “Not really. It’s alright here.”

    “How long have you been here?”

    “I can’t say.”

    “You can’t?”

    “No, dear. I can’t.”

    Morticia shifted her skirts about her ankles, turning to face the elderly woman. “Why not?”

    The spirit didn’t answer her right away, however. Old eyes that could still see clear were fixated on the fields that spread out before them. Rolling hills of grass and wild flowers, dotted with patches of trees blooming with pomegranate fruit. The sun basked the Elysian Fields in utter beauty. Morticia looked out with her, watching the endless sea of waiting spirits mingling.

    “You young ones are always so worried about time.”


    The woman turned her head to Morticia. Wisdom had long since etched itself into every crinkle of skin. From the lines in her forehead to the crow’s feet beside her eyes. A soft breeze rustled the loose white strands falling out of the braid over her shoulder. “Always worried about time, you are. When you get to be my age you realize time is nothing more than another constraint. Just like money or social status or a woman’s place. One day you learn simply to stop and smell the daises.” She plucked one delicately from the grass and sniffed it. “When time is good and ready time will move along again.”

    Her lips tugged down in a frown. “I’m afraid I won’t get to be your age for such wisdom.”

    “Ahh. You wait and see, dear, you will. A crone knows.” She let the wind carry off the daisy. “A crone knows.”


    299 #CampNaNo #Embermyst words

    Liked by 1 person

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