Hello!

Featuring those who submitted to the previous writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, listed in reverse order of submission, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!

To submit to the writing prompt, please remember to put "for the Live-Love-Write writing prompt" in your artist's comments and submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week. Entries without this info will be denied. To submit to a past prompt, send us a note with a link to the entry and the prompt information.

All literature and comics in response to the prompt are welcome and encouraged.

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Last Week's... Month's...  _sorry Writing Prompt

Write anything that features one or more of the following:
- a jammed copy machine
- a strange phone call
- swarming black birds
- misspelling the name of someone important

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Admin's Choice:

Cookie CutterPeople these days are all the same.
I feel like I’m living in a 1950’s movie again
With all the cookie cutter houses and
Pregnant, barefoot wives in the kitchen.
We are all expected to fill a spot
And just stay there forever, never move or shift,
And live in our house that’s just like our neighbors’
And leave the wool over our eyes and never lift it.
I often think that the copy machine that was
Churning out humanity, each person the same,
Jammed when it got to me,
And I was a little different when I came.
I don’t want to live behind a white picket fence,
And I don’t want to live my life blind.
I don’t want to be baby maker, or a cook,
And I refuse to fill my spot and never use my mind.
No, I will live in a Gothic mansion
With my transgender wife
Who works on cars while I go to work at what makes me happy,
And I will make my own place in life.
Those copies that didn’t jam the machine
Can bitch and moan and whine,
And peck at me like a swar Calling MumThe shrill ringtone cut through the silence. I glared at it briefly, before going back to my book. Of course ignoring a phone call doesn't mean that whoever was calling would give up. The repetitive three-note tune continued to grate on my nerves, until I got up and crossed the room to stop it.
As usual, it stopped ringing as soon as I got up to decline the call. Go figure. But this time, there was a message. I decided to listen before I deleted it.
A girl started speaking. I definitely didn't know who she was, or how she knew my number. I was started to get a bit weirded out.
"Hey, mum," she said. "I know that you can't reply, but I hope you're still listening."
She took a deep breath and continued.
"I'm going to start homeschooling soon. Jess and Niki and Liz are, too. Too bad you can't teach me." She laughed softly.
"We miss you, you know. Dad especially. I can tell, by the way he looks when he's alone. He looks so worried, and tired."
A pause.
"I miss you, too, okay? I know I wasn'

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Poetry

One Two ThreeOne
        Two
                Three
        I count black dots racing across the sky
        More and more and more
                And it doesn’t stop
                White clouds                                                 
               Black birds                             5 Stages of GriefSwarming black birds circle where he was laid to rest.
She was his only visitor, walking in with a smile.
But time seemed to drag on, taking her smiles with it.
She wore his love, studded with stones.
It was heavy and tucked away with still moments
and old photographs.
It was of little concern that his name was misspelled
on his tombstone as he was known little and loved
even less.
But he had been her moon and stars, the only
light when all others went out.
When she sleeps, she can see his soft outline,
as if someone had blurred the edges
with a paintbrush.
It was in monotony that she found slight peace.
The sounds of ticking clocks and jammed copy machines
become a source of comfort.
She found beauty in the normalcy.  
She was filled to the brim,
teetering over the edge, and days like this didn't help.
Days where she’d receive strange phone calls as
she sat in their dusty apartment.
She’d roll onto the
right side of the bed, his side,
to revel in this manmade h

Mature Content

A Day That Takes the CakeWhen I said my name was like a song,
I didn't mean Clementine. 
Which doesn't really matter,
as the copier is stuck on the third line.
Although their dark feathers match
the limo 
The birds' ivory leavings
do not
The call placed from the seminary 
something about a frog in his throat
As our Caribbean cruise is docked
with barnacles underside the boat 
Although this pressure overflows 
like mentos and cola go boom.
I will hang in there because 
I still very much love the groom 

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Prose

:thumb474783038: :thumb474783038: The Job Offer"Hello?" I asked the phone. I was sitting at home, reading, when the phone rang. I expected it to be one of my students, as they always call me on my day off, but I was wrong.
"Are you Sean Delton?" A deep, slow voice asked from the other end of the line.
"Yes, I am. Who am I speaking to?" I asked.
"That's not important. What matters is that in a few minutes someone will knock on your door. If you are still in the house when that happens, you will most certainly die. If you wish to live, you must leave the house immediately. Use the back door. Head for the center of town. There is an office building on the corner of main St. that belongs to a lawyer firm. That is where you must go if you want to live."
"If this is some stupid joke—"
"This is no prank," The voice cut me off. "But I know how it sounds, and I will prove to you that I speak the truth. If you look carefully through the peek-hole on your door you will see a woman walking on the street. A car horn will go off and the wo :thumb473253805: :thumb473127174:

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Thank you all for continuing to write for our prompt! These were some of the most inventive, well-written pieces submitted to us yet, and it was a joy to read them. Also, I sincerely apologize for the inactivity of the past... year... But the prompt is now back and running every ten days. Also, expect the prompt folder to be renamed, so as to prevent any more confused submissions. Any suggestions for a title are welcome, and thank you all for your patience!

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This week's writing prompt, from October 8th to October 18th, is:

Respond to the following theme:

The most difficult thing you've ever done (you personally or the character)