I shut the door of the old Victorian behind me, and the stuffy atmosphere closed in: overheated, dry, and redolent of mothballs. Remnants of cool mist clung to my skin, already transmuting to sweat. A whiff of old paper cut through the miasma. I focused on that familiar, beloved scent, and steadied myself. –Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys

Fiction Writing Prompt: Use the first line of the week as the starting point or inspiration for a scene, story, poem, or haiku.

Journaling Prompt: How would you feel moving into an old home that hasn’t been lived in for a while? Why?

Art Prompt: Victorian mansion

Non-Fiction / Speechwriting Prompt: Tell your audience a ghost story.

Photo Credit: Jon Dickson on Flickr

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