Five Card Flickr

WritingPromptFiveFlickrToday’s writing prompt was five card flickr.

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The stones crunched beneath my feet, the ocean rushing up beside me. The odd shell dotted the brown assortment of stones, and the seagulls cawed loudly. I walk up through the brush back to the town, spiky bushes which somehow have more shells in them than the beach, but the spikes still stop me from reaching out and finding out what had truly happened there.

Now I am in the town. This is not my hometown, but it almost is- nearly two full decades of beachside holidays in this idyllic place. To my left is a box full of maps, for the growing tourist population. I smile to myself, and take one.

Hilarious. The map shows only a skelton of the streets, a tourist attraction.

Windfall Detainment Camp

Martin yawned as he stared out, over the sickening drop and the gentle, rocky slope that transitioned into a stony beach. He stared at the set of staircases that led down to the beach, and marvelled at the thorny plants that, unlike all other beach flora, flourished during the harsh winters that beset Stornoway and the Outer Hebrides.

Just thinking about the winter made him cold. He wished he could get out of the asylum and that his guard duty was over. Good thing the shift was only three months. Then he could return to Elise and the children, and the warm, hazy, content Somerset countryside where his home, heart and family belonged.

Unfortunately, he was stuck here, sleeping in a hammock that was barely big enough for him, eating food that honestly should have been fed to pigs, and guarding his fellow countrymen, at least, those who were brave enough to speak up against Philip Snowden and his Federationist cronies. He didn’t like the government either; a Syndicalist Trade Union Congress and its bullies had stormed into his village and rounded up about a quarter of the villagers, including his elderly mother, for apparently “counter-revolutionary” activities. Fortunately for him, since he already worked at the Windfall Detainment Camp, he was able to secure his mother’s safety.

Other villagers, however, were not so lucky.

He made sure his rifle was hoisted securely around his shoulder, tightened his trenchcoat and shrugged his shoulders to ward off the cold. He peered at the prisoners, who were doing their morning exercises. Other guards were walking around the perimeter, and he could see a young prisoner being berated by a guard for dropping some tools. As he watched, the guard smashed the butt of his rifle into the prisoner’s jaw, who collapsed to the ground.

As Martin passed by the main entrance, he collected the map that detailed the camp

Only three months, he thought.

*Based off of the Kaiserreich mod for Hearts of Iron IV

-I do not own Philip Snowden, the Federationists, or Trade Union Congresses. Martin is a product of my own work.



Diary Entry
Date: 30th May 2020

Any chance of the world restoring peace is ludicrous in a world where all nations pitted against each other in a desperate plea for survival. We’ve been growing and harvesting food wherever we can, but plants rarely grow in the open. Most of the soil is contaminated beyond any level of restoration, and the rest can’t grow under Project Famine, a series of man-made bombs which sent acids and synthetic materials that inhibit the growth of all life across the globe.

Today we discovered something about our underground farms; it seems as if our fruit is evolving. The apples have grown are noticeably larger, have much tougher skin which hopefully means they contain more fructose. For now, we will cope. Even though we are a group of only 120 or so people, we will survive.


A Comprehensive History of Harmony: Volume 4 (The Emerald Isles), Chapter 13 (Early Medieval Era)

The art of cloudmaking is ancient, unimaginably old. The knowledge of the art was first introduced to the Free Peoples of The Emerald Isles by the Monks of the 14th Chapter of the Way of Harmony. The Popularist School of Harmony was instrumental in their teachings as they preached that anyone, not just those who had reached Enlightenment through the accumulation of karma.

By the end of the last aftershocks of Great Plague, during the reign of the 44th Lord Provost, only one Abbot remained to teach this art; all other monks had fled the Isles for the New World.

The Last Abbot’s name was Han Storgen, and his last apprentice, the one responsible for the revival of the Way in the Isles was known as Thorgen. Here follow some poems composed by the Abbot in his last year of Abbothood, in the year 420.

“Higher than the peaks

Fly the clouds

One must learn

To live in harmony with all things

Learn the ways of Cloudmaking.”

“To bend and make the clouds

Is to bring serenity and tranquility to one’s heart.”


I feel

I feel the ice cold air on my fingers.

I feel the platform beneath me.

I feel the warmth of my coat on my back, my arms, my legs.

I feel the buzz of my phone in my pocket.

I feel the rush of wind as the train rushes behind me.

I feel my heart sink as the train app notifies me my train is delayed ten minutes.

I feel my mouth twitch as I laugh at my friend’s dog.

I feel the sun disappear behind the cloud, 

I feel the trees whilstle behind me, twigs snapping in the breeze.

I feel the boredom of having to wait for the train.

And now reversed
The train is waiting for bored me.

The breeze snaps the twigs, behind me I feel them.

The cloud covers the sun.

Ten minutes, my train delays, notified by the app.

Behind me, the train rushes, a rush of wind.

In my pocket, my phone buzzes

My legs, my arms, my back feel the warmth of my coat.

Beneath me I feel the platform. 

My fingers feel the ice cold air.

Alex Joshi
Thanks Mr Woodley for this weeks prompt(s)

Writing prompt: I envy… -Edward Jin 12N

Writing prompt: write 10 lines, each line starting with the words, I envy…

I envy those that have warmth
I envy those with company
I envy those who have a family
I envy those that have friends
I envy those that are happy
I envy those that are sad
I envy those with emotions
I envy those that have time to do what they want
I envy those who don’t have the same job as I
I envy those who have enough time to sigh
I envy everyone, because they don’t pick up souls for a living.

My Poem

Hi guys, this is a quick poem I wrote yesterday before we were evacuated :(. Hope you enjoy and feel free to give feedback!!


If he was wrong, then I was a fool,

To have thought he was capable, capable of breaking the rules.

To explore is to know, and to know is to love to live,

To live life at its fullest, we must first forgive.

Yet to do so in this world, in this world filled with hate,

It is like already knowing knowing your fate.

An no-one, no-one knows their fate.

Not you, not me,

So let’s live life at its fullest,

Let’s live life with glee!

The Official blog for Melbourne High Writing Interest Group (WIG)

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