description of night in creative writing

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How To Describe Night In Writing (For Beginners- 2024)

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How To Describe Night In Writing

How To Describe Night In Writing: In the realm of storytelling, the night is a canvas painted with shades of mystery, romance, and introspection.

Capturing the essence of the nocturnal world through the art of description is a literary endeavor that transcends mere depiction; it is an invitation for readers to immerse themselves in the atmospheric allure of darkness.

Describing night in writing goes beyond the absence of daylight; it delves into the profound symbolism, sensory intricacies, and emotional nuances that unfold when the sun sets.

In this exploration, we embark on a journey to unravel the techniques that transform night into a compelling character, shaping narratives with the subtle strokes of descriptive language, symbolism, and the evolving atmosphere.

Join the nocturnal odyssey as we delve into the artistry of portraying the night in all its enigmatic splendor.

Describing night in writing involves capturing the sensory elements and creating a vivid atmosphere. Here’s a step-by-step process on How To Describe Night In Writing:

Observe the Setting

Start by observing the night setting you want to describe. Note the surroundings, the moon’s phase, stars, and any unique features.

Identify Key Senses

Consider the senses you want to emphasize – sight, sound, smell, touch. Night descriptions often involve darkness, subtle lighting, cool temperatures, and distinct sounds.

Focus on Visuals

Begin with visual details. Describe the moon, its glow, or lack thereof. Note any shadows, silhouettes, or shimmering lights. Paint a picture of the sky , stars, and the overall atmosphere.

Play with Colors

Utilize color imagery to evoke emotions. Describe the night sky as inky black, navy blue, or velvety indigo. Highlight any splashes of color from celestial bodies or artificial lights.

Capture Sounds

Move on to auditory details. Highlight the quietness, distant sounds like rustling leaves or nocturnal creatures, or urban noises. Use onomatopoeic words to enhance the auditory experience.

Incorporate Smells

Explore olfactory elements, if applicable. Mention scents carried by the night breeze, such as earthiness, floral fragrances, or even distant cooking smells.

Describe Temperature

Discuss the temperature of the night. Is it crisp and cool, or muggy and warm? Convey the sensation of the air on the skin to immerse the reader in the setting.

Use Metaphors and Similes

Enrich your description with metaphors and similes. Compare the night to something familiar or use figurative language to evoke a specific mood or feeling.

Consider the Setting’s Influence

Reflect on how the night setting influences the mood or actions of characters, if applicable. A moonlit night might create a romantic atmosphere, while a dark and stormy night might evoke tension.

Craft a Seamless Narrative

Weave these elements into your narrative seamlessly. Avoid overwhelming the reader with too many details at once, and ensure your descriptions serve the overall tone and theme of your writing .

Remember, the key is to engage the reader’s senses and emotions, allowing them to experience the night through your words.

Setting the Scene

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the world underwent a transformative dance, shrouding itself in the mystique of the night.

The landscape, once awash in the golden hues of daylight, succumbed to the velvet embrace of darkness. The moon, a silent maestro, cast its silvery glow upon the earth, conjuring a dreamscape where reality and imagination intertwined.

Shadows, like enigmatic dancers, pirouetted across the canvas of the night, tracing the contours of hidden secrets.

The air, now a symphony of nocturnal whispers, held the promise of undiscovered tales waiting to unfold. In this nocturnal theater, time itself seemed to stretch and contract, creating a liminal space where the extraordinary became plausible, and the ordinary, extraordinary.

Establishing the time and place

As the clock’s hands embraced the midnight hour, the world hushed into a stillness reserved exclusively for the nocturnal.

The setting, a quaint hamlet nestled between ancient hills and sleepy meadows, wore the moonlight like a silken cloak.

The air, crisp and cool, bore the distinctive fragrance of dew-kissed grass. The village, steeped in a timeless charm, echoed with the distant murmurings of a nearby stream.

The rhythmic cadence of crickets underscored the unfolding night, orchestrating the passage of time with their unseen serenade.

This was not just a specific moment; it was a temporal crossroads where the magic of night met the tangible reality of a place suspended in its own enchantment.

Sensory Imagery

As the inky night unfurled its obsidian wings, the world transformed into a sensory symphony, weaving a tapestry of sensations that transcended the mundane.

Moonbeams, like liquid silver, painted a celestial mural overhead, casting a spell that danced upon the eyes. The night air, cool and velvety, carried with it the whispers of secrets, an olfactory sonnet that blended the earthy perfume of soil with the ethereal fragrance of blooming night flowers.

Each step on the nocturnal path was a tactile exploration, the ground yielding with a gentle sigh as if sharing the stories it cradled.

The orchestration of nocturnal creatures, from the haunting calls of distant owls to the rustle of unseen critters, resonated through the bones, a harmonic convergence of nature’s nocturnal opera.

In this symphony of the senses, the night unfolded not just as an absence of light but as a rich, multi-dimensional experience where every perception became a brushstroke in the masterpiece of the moonlit hours.

Visual Descriptions

Under the night’s cosmic theatre, visual poetry unfolded with the grace of a celestial ballet. The moon, a luminescent guardian, painted the world in silver strokes, casting enchanting shadows that waltzed with the slightest breeze.

Stars, like diamonds strewn across a velvet canvas, sparkled with ethereal brilliance, their patterns telling ancient tales written in constellations.

Wisps of clouds, veiled in obsidian mystery, traversed the heavens like spectral dancers in an ever-changing choreography.

The landscape below, bathed in the soft glow of lunar radiance, revealed hidden details – the glistening dew on blades of grass, the reflective eyes of nocturnal creatures, and the stoic silhouettes of towering trees.

In the quietude of the night, the visual tapestry unfolded, inviting the observer to lose themselves in the mesmerizing spectacle of shadows and silvery luminescence, where reality and dreams coalesced in a nocturnal embrace.

Emotional Atmosphere

In the tender cradle of night, emotions swirled like phantom dancers, casting their spell on the tapestry of darkness.

The moon, a silent confidante, witnessed the kaleidoscope of feelings that emerged beneath its gentle gaze. The night, a canvas for the soul’s expression, wore the cloak of mystery with grace.

It was not merely the absence of daylight; it was a sanctuary for introspection, a refuge for the introspective minds to delve into the depths of their own emotions.

Loneliness, tinged with the sweet melancholy of solitude, coexisted with the thrill of nocturnal secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Serenity intertwined with a quiet chaos, and the night became an emotional alchemy, where each heartbeat echoed against the velvet sky, composing a nocturne of emotions that spoke to the very core of the human experience.

Creating a mood through word choice and tone

In the realm of night, the power of language becomes a magicians’ wand, conjuring moods that dance on the precipice of enchantment.

Words, carefully selected, cast a spell that transcends mere description, immersing the reader in the emotive chiaroscuro of the nocturnal canvas.

The tone, a maestro orchestrating the symphony of emotions, guides the reader through the moonlit corridors of anticipation, weaving a tapestry where each adjective is a brushstroke, and every sentence a musical note.

The night, draped in an opulent lexicon, can be a sultry seductress or a solemn sage, depending on the alchemy of word choice and tone.

It is the subtle interplay of consonants and vowels that transforms the mundane into the extraordinary, painting the atmosphere with hues of mystery, serenity, or palpable tension.

As the words unfurl like tendrils of mist in the midnight air, they invite the reader to not just witness the night but to feel its pulse, creating an immersive experience where language becomes a vessel for the soul of the nocturnal.

Symbolism and Metaphor

In the nocturnal tapestry, the interplay of symbols and metaphors is a celestial ballet, where the ordinary becomes a constellation of hidden meanings.

The moon, a metaphorical lantern in the cosmic dark, doesn’t merely illuminate; it becomes a silent confidante, casting shadows that dance like metaphorical whispers of ancient tales.

Stars, those celestial hieroglyphs, inscribe a narrative on the vast scroll of the night sky, each one a metaphorical punctuation mark in the poetry of existence.

The night itself, a canvas for dreams, is a metaphorical cocoon where reality transforms into the ephemeral butterfly of imagination.

In this nocturnal sanctuary, every rustle of leaves and every gust of wind is laden with symbolic resonance, turning the act of perception into an intricate dance with the metaphysical.

The symbols and metaphors, like cosmic breadcrumbs, invite the reader to embark on a journey through the labyrinth of meaning, where the night becomes a canvas for the reader’s own introspective exploration.

Using night as a symbolic element

The night, a ubiquitous yet enigmatic character in the narrative of existence, dons the cloak of symbolism, transcending its physical realm to become a metaphorical maestro orchestrating the symphony of deeper meanings.

It is the cosmic chalice of mysteries, where darkness isn’t merely the absence of light but a metaphor for the uncharted territories of the human psyche.

The nocturnal hours become a symbolic canvas, painting the complexities of life, where shadows aren’t just absence but embodiments of hidden truths.

The moon, a luminary sentinel in the night, becomes a symbol of cyclical renewal and eternal rhythms. The stars, like distant dreams, twinkle as symbolic aspirations in the vast tapestry of the universe.

Night, as a symbolic element, beckons the reader to delve beyond the surface, inviting contemplation on the dualities of life, the veiled beauty in obscurity, and the profound symbolism that weaves through the celestial fabric of existence.

Character Interaction with the Night

Beneath the cosmic theater of the night, characters don’t merely exist; they are alchemists, concocting elixirs of emotion in the moonlit crucible.

Each step is a dance with shadows, and every heartbeat resonates with the nocturnal symphony. The night is not a backdrop but a silent confidante, witnessing the whispered secrets and unspoken fears that characters dare not reveal in the harsh light of day.

Whether it’s the protagonist seeking solace in the velvet embrace of darkness or the antagonist cloaked in the ambiguity of shadows, the night becomes an intimate accomplice to their innermost struggles.

The stars are not just celestial bystanders; they are the audience to the characters’ silent soliloquies, while the moon, a cosmic mirror, reflects the myriad emotions etched across their faces.

In the nocturnal ballet, characters don’t navigate the night; they immerse themselves in its depths, each interaction a delicate choreography that leaves an indelible mark on the canvas of their existence.

Integrating characters into the nighttime setting

As the sun’s radiance retreated, characters became interwoven threads in the intricate fabric of the nocturnal tapestry.

Their silhouettes, framed against the indigo backdrop, carried the weight of both secrets and vulnerabilities. Nighttime was not just a setting; it was a companion to their solitude, a confidant to their whispered hopes and fears.

Each footfall on the dew-kissed ground echoed the cadence of their journey, and every stolen glance beneath the moonlight held the promise of clandestine revelations.

The characters weren’t mere spectators to the night; they were active participants, navigating the shadows with a nuanced dance of emotions.

Whether driven by the pursuit of elusive dreams or haunted by the specters of the past, the night embraced them in its inky bosom, revealing facets of their personalities that daylight dared not expose.

In this symbiotic relationship between characters and the nighttime setting, the narrative unfolded as a nocturnal odyssey, where the darkness became both a sanctuary and a crucible, shaping the characters in its mysterious forge.

Narrative Techniques

In the nocturnal realm where stories unfold like constellations in the cosmic tapestry, narrative techniques are the alchemical spells that transform mere words into ethereal experiences.

The prose, a celestial navigator, charts a course through the vast sea of night, employing metaphors as North Stars and similes as guiding constellations.

Pacing, like a heartbeat echoing through the narrative, quickens in suspenseful crescendos and mellows in contemplative interludes, orchestrating a symphony of emotions.

Sentence structures are not mere grammatical constructs; they are architectural marvels, crafting moonlit archways through which readers traverse the labyrinth of the plot.

Flashbacks become time-traveling portals, allowing characters to dance between the past and present in a waltz of memory.

In this literary cosmos, the interplay of narrative techniques is not just a means of storytelling; it is the very essence of the night, where the language becomes a celestial chariot propelling readers into the uncharted realms of imagination.

Employing descriptive language and literary devices

In the realm of night, descriptive language and literary devices unfurl like the tendrils of ivy, embracing the reader in a tapestry of vivid imagery and emotive resonance.

Words aren’t mere vessels of meaning; they are alchemical agents that transmute the mundane into the magical. Metaphors, like fireflies, dance in the velvety prose, casting a soft glow on the intricacies of the night.

Similes are celestial bridges connecting the familiar to the fantastical, while personification breathes life into the silent whispers of the nocturnal breeze.

Descriptive language, akin to a painter’s brush, strokes the canvas of the narrative with hues of emotion, detailing the contours of moonlit landscapes and the ephemeral beauty of night creatures.

Each adjective is a palette choice, each adverb a nuanced brushstroke, and every literary device a finely tuned instrument in the symphony of storytelling.

In this celestial dance of language, the night becomes not just a setting but an immersive experience, where the reader doesn’t observe but tangibly feels the magic woven into the very fabric of the prose.

Evolving Atmosphere

As the night unfolded its wings, the atmosphere morphed into a living entity, a chameleon that embraced metamorphosis with each passing moment. Moonlight, initially a shy whisper, transformed into a luminous ballad, its glow waxing and waning in a celestial rhythm.

Stars, like shy spectators, blinked in and out, altering the cosmic audience’s intensity. The air, once a still canvas, began to shiver with the nocturnal secrets it harbored, as if the very breath of the night held tales waiting to exhale.

Clouds, nomadic wanderers in the sky’s expanse, choreographed a dance that veiled and unveiled the moon’s luminous countenance.

The evolving atmosphere wasn’t just a backdrop; it was a character in its own right, an unseen force sculpting the narrative with the subtle touch of a cosmic artisan.

In the ever-shifting nocturnal tableau, the atmosphere became a silent storyteller, etching its own verses into the fabric of the night.

Describing the progression of the night

As the night unfolded its mysterious manuscript, it embarked on a poetic journey of progression, a narrative written in the ink of shadows and stardust.

The twilight’s last sigh marked the inception, a transitional phase where the sky, a canvas in transition, surrendered its vibrant hues to the encroaching darkness.

The initial hush of nocturnal awakening resonated through the air, a prelude to the symphony of crickets and night creatures tuning their instruments.

With the ascent of the moon, the narrative gained momentum, casting a silver glow on the evolving landscape.

Stars, like punctuation marks, appeared one by one, illuminating the cosmic syntax of the night. The zenith of the night unveiled a panorama of celestial wonders, each passing hour etching its own stanza in the celestial sonnet.

The descent toward dawn became a gradual unveiling, a reverse metamorphosis where shadows relinquished their hold, and the world emerged from the cocoon of darkness into the tentative embrace of a new day.

In this chronological dance, the progression of the night became a temporal tapestry, weaving the reader through the ebb and flow of nocturnal wonders.

Frequently Asked Questions about How To Describe Night In Writing

What elements should i focus on when describing night in writing.

When describing night, pay attention to visual details such as the moon, stars, and shadows. Explore auditory elements like sounds in the night, consider the temperature, and incorporate sensory experiences like smells and touch.

How can I effectively convey the visual aspects of the night in my writing?

Use vivid imagery to depict the night sky, emphasizing the moon’s glow, star patterns, and the overall atmosphere. Experiment with colors like inky black, navy blue, or velvety indigo to evoke the mood of the night.

What role do sounds play in creating a night scene?

Sounds are crucial in conveying the ambiance of the night. Describe quietness, distant rustles, nocturnal creature noises, or urban sounds. Consider using onomatopoeic words to enhance the auditory experience.

Should I include smells when describing a night setting?

Including smells can add depth to your description. Consider scents carried by the night breeze, such as earthiness, floral fragrances, or distant cooking smells, to enhance the reader’s sensory experience.

How do I capture the temperature of the night in my writing?

Describe the temperature by conveying whether the night is crisp and cool, muggy and warm, or somewhere in between. Discuss the sensation of the air on the skin to immerse the reader in the setting.

Can I use metaphors and similes to enhance my description of the night?

Absolutely! Metaphors and similes can enrich your writing. Compare the night to something familiar or use figurative language to evoke specific moods or feelings associated with the night.

How do I avoid overwhelming the reader with night descriptions?

Craft a seamless narrative by introducing details gradually. Ensure your descriptions serve the overall tone and theme of your writing, and avoid overcrowding your prose with too many details at once.

How can I make the night setting influence the overall mood of my writing?

Reflect on how the night setting influences the characters or the atmosphere. For instance, a moonlit night might create a romantic ambiance, while a dark and stormy night could evoke tension or suspense in your narrative.

In conclusion of How To Describe Night In Writing , describing night in writing is an art that engages the reader’s senses and emotions to create a vivid and immersive experience.

By focusing on visual elements such as the moon and stars, incorporating auditory details like distant sounds, exploring smells carried by the night breeze, and conveying the temperature, writers can paint a rich and atmospheric picture of the night.

Utilizing metaphors, similes, and careful narrative crafting allows for a seamless integration of these elements, enhancing the overall mood of the writing.

Remember, the beauty of describing night lies in the delicate balance of details that transport the reader into the enchanting realm of darkness, making it a compelling and memorable aspect of any narrative.

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19,898 quotes, descriptions and writing prompts, 4,964 themes

Night - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

• A cold night
• bonfire night
• cloudy night
• fireworks night
• Starry Night

As shield of Earth the night is given upon celestial clock.

Night deepens each forest brown to the hues that are my soul-song.

The night expands as black angel wings, protecting earth as she dreams.

On this night the natural black hugs the stars as a mother to her newborn.

Into the night, the ashen night, of a billion stars both exploded and living, into the serendipity of duality that is our shared existence, is both futility and eternal hope, the road that belongs to immortals.

Upon this Lunar New Year, amid the wintry air, beneath the noble starry-black, we observe the beauty of the moon. She graces Earth's sky to glow equally for all, a picture in light as if created by love.

When the night comes, look heavenward and be willing to see that the stars still shine; for the dawn will come.

"We are the fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night."

In the serenade of the black, the stars are a choir; they are lights that sing in infinite patterns. Sometimes eyes need music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.

The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul.

The night was a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them to shine all the brighter. It was a warm black that hugged you no matter what, and within it's safety I could feel my own soul all the more clearly, that innocent inborn spark.

The black night holds me close until the dawn, always my cloak until I am ready for the dawn. It is that friendly blackness that allows my eyes to rest and let my dreams take centre stage.

The pure black of the night is my comfort, the blanket of generous velvet that keeps me safe. It is the pure black that makes the moon so beautiful, that makes a stage for her to stand upon. It is the pure black of the night that gives the stars their beauty, and in it my heart is safe, my soul serene.

In the night I am as the flora of nature, alive and unseeing, existing only as myself. With eyes closed I am at home and the blackness around is my cocoon, a place in which my dreams may flow freely. So, as the moon and stars shine above the passing clouds of ink, as the air releases the heat of the day, my brain conjures a new movie for my inner eye.

The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. As the sun sets, its rising is already promised to the land, to the green shoots who wait in faith. And so, even though our eyes may only see one step at a time, we stride on, eyes wide. For when this passes we will be as children, giggling at the imagined monsters that once kept us in such fear.

The night rides in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under a the glow of a full moon. As the colours of the day rest, perhaps dream of the morrow, the hillside becomes its monochrome beauty, shapes that make an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united. In this night we all become one, from rock to plant to animal, one promise of life awaiting the return of the sun.

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Describing Night Time Creative Writing: Tips and Examples

By Happy Sharer

Introduction

Writing about night time can be a challenge. It’s easy to rely on clichés or overused phrases, but if you want to create something truly special, you need to find a way to evoke emotion and capture the beauty of the night in words. In this article, we’ll explore ways to describe night time creative writing, from using descriptive language to create an image of the night, to painting a picture of a moonlit night through sensory language, to exploring the mystery of the night through dialogue.

Describe the Setting of a Summer Night in Detail

The first step in describing a night scene is to use descriptive language to create an image of the night. Think about the features of a summer night – the temperature, the smells, the sounds – and try to capture them in your writing. You could describe the warmth of the air, the smell of freshly cut grass, or the sound of crickets chirping in the distance. The more detailed and specific you are, the better.

Use Metaphors to Evoke Emotion when Describing the Night Sky

Metaphors are a great way to evoke emotion when describing the night sky. For example, you could say that the stars are “diamonds in the sky” or that the moon is a “lonely sentinel”. These metaphors help to create a mood and make the night sky come alive in the reader’s mind.

Create a Character and Write a Story Set Around Their Experience of the Night

Another way to bring the night alive is to create a character and write a story set around their experience of the night. When creating your character, think about their background, their personality, and their goals. Then, as you write the story, focus on how the character interacts with the night – what do they see, hear, feel? How does the night affect them emotionally? This will help to bring the night alive in your writing.

Paint a Picture of a Moonlit Night Through Sensory Language

Sensory language is another powerful tool for capturing the beauty of the night. Use words that evoke sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch to help readers imagine what it’s like to be in the middle of a moonlit night. You could describe the silver light of the moon, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the sweet scent of jasmine, or the coolness of the night air. All of these details will help to paint a vivid picture of the night.

Explore the Mystery of the Night Through Dialogue

Dialogue is a great way to explore the mystery of the night. You can use conversations between characters to hint at secrets and explore themes such as fear, loneliness, and the unknown. Try to keep the dialogue natural and realistic, so that the reader feels like they’re eavesdropping on a real conversation. This will help to create an atmosphere of suspense and intrigue.

Discuss the Symbolism of Night in Literature

The symbolism of night has been used in literature for centuries. From Shakespeare’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy in Hamlet, to Emily Bronte’s description of the moors in Wuthering Heights, authors have used the darkness of the night to explore themes such as death, loss, and rebirth. By drawing on these literary works, you can add depth and meaning to your own writing.

Write a Poem about the Beauty of the Night

Finally, why not try your hand at writing a poem about the beauty of the night? Writing a poem is a great way to capture the beauty and mystery of the night in a few short lines. Start by thinking of a few words or images that evoke the night, then use those words to create a poetic piece that expresses your feelings about the night. You could also look at examples of existing poems to get some inspiration, such as Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” or William Wordsworth’s “The World Is Too Much With Us”.

Writing about night time can be tricky, but with the right approach, it can also be incredibly rewarding. In this article, we’ve explored ways to describe night time creative writing, from using descriptive language to create an image of the night, to painting a picture of a moonlit night through sensory language, to exploring the mystery of the night through dialogue. We’ve also discussed the symbolism of night in literature and offered tips on how to write a poem about the beauty of the night. With these tips and examples, you should now have the confidence to tackle any creative writing project involving night time.

(Note: Is this article not meeting your expectations? Do you have knowledge or insights to share? Unlock new opportunities and expand your reach by joining our authors team. Click Registration to join us and share your expertise with our readers.)

Hi, I'm Happy Sharer and I love sharing interesting and useful knowledge with others. I have a passion for learning and enjoy explaining complex concepts in a simple way.

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20+ of the Best Words to Describe Night in a Story

By: Author Hiuyan Lam

Posted on Last updated: October 20, 2023

Categories Vocabulary Boosters

Evoking the atmosphere of the setting in your story, especially at night, requires the use of descriptive words so you can bring your readers to another world.

Use the following words to describe night to help you write an exciting story.

Words to describe night in a metropolitan city

  There is always a beehive of activity in cities at daytime and nighttime. Use the following words to describe the night in a city that never sleeps.  

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Words to describe night in the countryside, farm, or mountain

  The countryside, farm, and mountains have different nights. Use these words to describe the smell and serenity of the nights.  

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Words to describe night for when you are lonely

  The following examples of words help you explain how you felt when someone or something was absent, making you have a lonely night.  

For midnight

  A few hours after sunset, midnight strikes. You may describe the night at this time using the following words.  

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Words to describe night in a city during a lockdown

  Life during lockdowns is less active, especially at night. You may use the following words to describe how they were for you.  

  Writing a captivating story requires you to go out of your way and enhance it using the best descriptive words. They come in varieties based on the type of storyline.   Use the above examples of words to describe the night to make your readers love and engage in your story.  

Night Adjectives: Examples for Describing the Mystical and Serene

When it comes to the night, it’s a world of its own. The darkness, the tranquility, the mystery – it’s a canvas waiting to be painted with words. In this article, I’ll be exploring a variety of adjectives that perfectly capture the essence of the night. From the twinkling stars to the hushed whispers of nocturnal creatures, these adjectives will help you vividly describe the beauty and allure of the nighttime.

The night is often associated with a sense of enchantment and magic. It’s a time when the world seems to slow down, allowing us to immerse ourselves in its ethereal charm. Imagine a moonlit night, where the soft glow of the moon casts a dreamy ambiance. It’s serene, peaceful, and almost otherworldly. With adjectives like “moonlit,” “dreamy,” and “ethereal,” you can transport your readers to this enchanting realm.

But the night is not just about tranquility; it can also be mysterious and thrilling. Think of a dark and stormy night, with thunder rumbling in the distance and lightning illuminating the sky. It’s exhilarating, eerie, and full of suspense. Adjectives like “stormy,” “thunderous,” and “ominous” can help create a sense of tension and intrigue in your writing.

Table of Contents

How to Describe night? – Different Scenarios

When it comes to describing night, there are various scenarios that can help us paint a vivid picture. Depending on the context, the adjective we choose can evoke different emotions and create a particular atmosphere. Let’s explore a few scenarios and discover the perfect adjectives to describe them.

1. A Calm and Serene Night

When the night is full of mystery and enchantment, we want adjectives that evoke a sense of magic and otherworldliness. Words like moonlit , dreamy , and ethereal work wonders in transporting us to a realm of fantasy. For example:

In contrast, there are nights filled with thrill and a touch of danger. Here, we can use adjectives like stormy , thunderous , or ominous to create a sense of tension and intrigue. For example:

4. A Festive and Sparkling Night

Remember, the choice of adjective depends on the specific scenario and the atmosphere you want to create. Experiment with different words to truly capture the essence of the night and bring your descriptions to life.

Describing Words for night in English

Let’s explore some descriptive words for night in English:

So, whether you’re crafting a story, writing poetry, or simply trying to paint a vivid picture for your readers, these adjectives for night can help you bring the magic of the night to life.

Adjectives for night

Positive adjectives for night with example sentences.

Next, we will explore adjectives that capture the thrills and excitement of the night, as well as those that describe its festive and sparkling nature. Stay tuned for more descriptive words to enhance the magic of your storytelling or descriptive writing.

Synonyms and Antonyms with Example Sentences

Synonyms for night.

When it comes to describing the night, there are various adjectives that can be used. These synonyms allow us to paint a vivid picture and capture different aspects of the night. Here are some examples:

Antonyms for night

In contrast to the synonyms, antonyms for night capture the opposite characteristics and create a different atmosphere. Let’s explore some antonyms for night:

By using these synonyms and antonyms for night, you can add depth and variety to your descriptions, making your writing more engaging and captivating.

Describing the night can be a powerful tool in writing, allowing you to paint a vivid picture and evoke specific emotions in your readers. Throughout this article, we have explored a variety of adjectives that capture different aspects of the night. From calm and serene to mystical and enigmatic, these adjectives help bring the night to life on the page.

Remember, the choice of adjectives you use can greatly impact the atmosphere and tone of your writing. So, whether you are crafting a spooky scene or a peaceful night under the stars, choose your adjectives carefully to create the desired effect.

By expanding your vocabulary and exploring the many adjectives available to describe the night, you can take your writing to new heights. So, go ahead and experiment with different words to capture the essence of the night and captivate your readers.

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10 Words to Describe the Moon and Stars

By Rebecca Parpworth-Reynolds

If you’re planning on having an outdoor night setting in your novel and need some help in revealing it, below are 10 words to describe the moon and the stars.

Bright and shining.

“The night sky was aglow with a canopy of glittering stars.”

“The moon was aglow with a pure, white light which gave the travelers reassurance on their journey.”

How it Adds Description

In the right kind of clear sky, the moon and stars can really shine bright! Sometimes it’s possible to even pick up on different colors. If the moon and stars are really visible in your night sky in your story, consider describing them as being “aglow”!

Relating to the stars or space.

“Ever since she was a little girl she had been fascinated by the astral phenomena she could spot through her toy telescope. It was little wonder that one day she wished to be among the stars, too.”

“It was clear that this ancient civilization put their faith in the moon and the stars to guide them. Everywhere the explorers looked, they could see intricate astral designs carved into the stone.”

“Astral” is a great way to describe the stars and other things in outer space. The word has a sense of power and mystery to it, perfect for those truly amazing nighttime scenes or for those characters that find wonder in the stars.

3. Celestial

From the sky or outside of the Earth.

“Travelers have always relied upon celestial bodies such as the moon and stars to guide their way.”

“The night sky was lit with a celestial glow, as the moon spread its ghostly light through the thin cloud cover above.”

When it comes to describing things in the night sky, “celestial” is a top choice! It implies a sense of being outside of human reach, which can make the moon and stars mysterious, and to some characters, all the more alluring!

4. Ethereal

Light and delicate, in a way that appears otherworldly.

“The moon cast an ethereal glow across the sky, making the night seem even more sinister.”

“Many people are drawn to the ethereal nature of the stars, using them to divine various aspects of their lives.”

Thanks to the bright white of the moon and stars, they often seem quite ghostly, as if they are not real. “Ethereal” also highlights how delicate the things in the night sky can look, the stars like tiny jewels and the moon like a pale piece of silk.

5. Luminous

• Emitting or reflecting bright light , especially in the darkness.
• Very beautiful.

“The luminous glow of the moon cut through the darkness. Although it did not provide them with much light, it was a welcome alternative to the pitch black of the cave.”

“The stars shone like luminous jewels. Among them, she could make out the arcing row of Orion’s Belt, as well as the proud glow of Sirius, the dog star.”

The moon and stars can often be bright lights in the dark night sky, helping to light up the gloom. A great way to describe them is “luminous”, which not only captures their beauty but also illustrates the way in which the moon reflects the light of the sun!

Peaceful and calm.

“The serene glow of the moon always made her feel at ease. Whenever she could not sleep, she could always be found staring up at it from her window.”

“After the tumultuous storms they had experienced during the daytime, the serene moon and stars served as welcome guests for the sailors.”

Often, people find the moon and the stars, especially the moon, to be particularly calming. If the moon has this effect on the characters in your story, try describing it as “serene”!

7. Shimmering

Reflecting a gentle light that appears to move and shift slightly.

“In the clear night sky above them, the stars were shimmering like the jewels in her new engagement ring.”

“The shimmering reflection of the moon on the lake’s surface was gently disturbed by the wake of the small rowboat.”

In the gloom of the night sky, it is easy to see the light move and shift around the moon and the stars, either from cloud cover, or changing light levels below. This gives them the appearance that they are “shimmering”, making it easy for characters to be mystified by them, and to equate them to precious gems and jewels.

Appearing to be silver in color and appearance.

“She stared at the moon’s silvery visage shining in through the window as she prepared herself for what lay ahead.”

“The stars silvery glow reminded him of the large coin purse he was sure to receive once he finished the job, as he imagined what he would spend each astral coin on.”

“Silvery” not only helps you to explain the color of the moon and stars and how they may shine like precious metal, but it also has extra connotations too, of finery, and of course, money and wealth. Perhaps the moon and stars might complement a character’s piece of jewelry, or, remind them that sometimes what is truly priceless is something that we see every night.

9. Spectral

Ghostly , appearing like a spirit.

“The moon cast its spectral glow across the abandoned graveyard as if trying to gently awaken the dead from their slumber.”

“The stars flickered like the flames of spectral candles “

Often, moonlight is linked to ghosts and the supernatural, especially in Gothic or Horror literature. If you need to create a spooky atmosphere in your story, try describing that eerie white glow as “spectral”!

10. Tranquil

Calm, quiet, and peaceful .

“The tranquil light of the moon washed over the meadow.”

“There is nothing more tranquil than laying out under the stars on a clear night like this.”

The moon and stars are often referred to as being peaceful or bringing people calm. A great way to show this in your writing is to describe them as “tranquil.” If you need any other incentive to choose this word, the moon even has a Sea of Tranquility!

1001 Writing Prompts About Night

March 16, 2021

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As an inspiration, the night offers infinite possibilities for writers of all genres. With the right storyline, it could inspire you to create a children’s story that encourages kids to sleep early or a horror novel with the scariest scenes taking place at the “haunting hour.” You could also use this time of the day as the setting of the final battle between good and evil in your fantasy series or the big romantic moment between the main couple in your romance novel. 

To help you brainstorm ideas for your next novel or short story, here are writing prompts about the night: 

• Fear tells us many stories in the dead of night.
• Birds fly above a cemetery on a dark night of heavy rain.
• Grandma loved that night.
• The lunar eclipse slowly covers the full moon, creeping across its surface.
• Write a story that begins at night and ends at dawn.
• Illustration of a moonlit cat illustrated by jeanjean
• A man awakens in the middle of the night, hearing voices and cries in the woods.
• What happens in a man’s childhood shapes the person he becomes in adulthood.
• A mid-air collision occurs in the dead of night.
• Write a story about The Little Red Lighthouse that takes place at night.
• The girls lingered in whispers outside the shop beneath the dark night sky.
• Farming’s just too tough when it gets dark and dark again.
• People who walk into a dark room are not able to fully learn its layout. What you can’t see can hurt you.
• Yaeko stands in horror as the shield around the camp fails.
• Night fell in the coffee shop, as the two lovers concluded the love story.
• Write a story about someone on a beautiful night on Mars.
• Write a journal entry from tonight.
• How do you happen to sneak out to night?
• What does the night sky look like to you?
• His head rests motionless on her chest, his body at ease.
• The dark alleys of human history, or of a couple’s personal history, provide the perfect nighttime setting for a horror story or thriller.
• When you look at her, it’s hard to believe that he went in.
• When he was too little, he slept with the lights on. He didn’t care if it was dark and he could barely see anything.
• I wish each of you inspiration and great stories!
• The night is cold.
• A woman sinks beneath the water of a dark, old pool at midnight while writing off her sins.
• She is dreaming of a balmy, moonlit night.
• Write a story about a mother who purposely delays going home to tuck in her child because she wants to enjoy the night.
• Put your character in hard times. Write how they handle nighttime.
• You decide not to take the job she offered you – the night has swallowed everything.
• A plague of rats invaded the town during the night.
• The night is dark and full of terrors.
• A critic of the night goes after the monsters that dwell in the dark.
• Write a story in which one or more friends sneak into a house they know to be empty.
• If you’re more of a visual person, you could also easily perform the exercise above via a palette knife on canvas!
• He could not sleep with the ghosts at night.
• A street fighter wipes the blood from his knuckles with an old torn striped shirt as night falls.
• Un cafre taLi miu kaBihuqnis.sarto sadroorBx4H ogcU je huJ mhto dgitaspathgUF .
• The dream about the falling crickets.
• The first star if the night fell.
• The night is a time of unlimited possibilities.
• The sun went down and shuttered through the townhouse windows.
• Describe a Saturday night out with your friends.
• Nightfall falls upon the kingdom, but these are the last days of a doomed empire.
• It’s pitch dark in the forest. What’s there are the trees. What’s not there are stars.
• All of her dreams came true before her very eyes.
• Night was cool and calm. A storm approaches.
• Write a story about ghosts in the graveyard after dark.
• She screams as the beast comes closer.
• Write a story about a day that turns out to be a night you wish never ends.
• It was the worst night of their lives.
• Write a story taking place on Halloween at night.
• An adventurous gang explores a mansion at night, but things quickly turn for the worse.
• A bright light burns in the night. The deathly silence follows.
• Write a list of ten things you would do if the night never ended.
• Red car at night
• She is done running. It’s time to face the music.
• It’s night time, and everyone is comforting after the day long battle.
• Write about fishing in a lake under a dark sky until you see a shooting star.
• Night. Things were easier, back then.
• It’s a dark and stormy night, and you are sitting in the kitchen alone. On the table is a …
• Back from a long day at work, Jon cracks open a beer and decides to take a moonlit run around the neighborhood.
• 7. There is Always Full Moon over Underworld
• When the dragon asked the princess which day she wanted to be saved, she asked for a night
• Write a story about a dark doll that has a dark secret.
• He copes with nightmares of horrific events that consumed his soul.
• It’s the sort of night when two people are meant to fall in love.
• It’s Christmas and wolves howl in the night.
• A girl wakes up in the middle of the night to discover that her mother has disappeared.
• Lightning travels across the sky, pausing for just a second.
• The night breeze makes him shiver.
• Have a character stay up really late at night and do something that makes them not tired the next day.
• He gazed at the stars blankly.
• It was the worst night of his life.
• Night can bring beauty, excitement, and, at times, fear.
• The cold night air isn’t good for my chest.
• Never stop believing in the incomprehensible.
• What if a girl spent the night with her crush?
• It sure was a long night.
• They fought off the night.
• On the night of her birthday, her parents trap her in a tree. Read more here .
• In the dark of night, two people sit beneath the moon.
• Write about a monster that lives in the night.
• A man with a face like a fox lies in a jungle hammock and tells a story.
• Mine is the night.
• A brother shrieks, “There’s something in my closet!” What did he see?
• First months collide with car headlights on this humid night.
• All stories told through smoke.
• The party outside was loud and annoying, but he didn’t want to complain. It was lonely inside the apartment.
• He waited for that night.
• What has to happen to her now?
• The following is a list of writing prompts, one word prompt “dark” to use with your writing or mine.
• It was pitch black out. No stars. Nothing. This was his chance.
• Walk in the woods at night with your hand in his hand.
• She wasn’t prepared to go camping at night.
• Describe a night at the fair by the sea.
• He doesn’t know when he started enjoying the night, but it slowly became the best part of his day.
• Write about a chilly fall night.
• A blimp crashes in a small town at night. Write some flash fiction about those that live in that town and what happens to them.
• The dog looked for its owner, frightened by the coming night.
• Write a poetry or short story about being afraid of the creatures that emerge at night.
• The stars hang together in the night sky.
• Write about running in the rain at night.
• What would it be like to wake up in the middle of the night and find someone holding you down and hurting you?
• Write a story about a young girl who thinks outside the box and plays with the “darkness”.
• Write the last letter to a dead friend.
• The night made him do it.
• My birthday started out okay, but then the night turned out to be a nightmare.
• My world is so much smaller at night.
• What if Night King and Robert Baratheon switched roles in their final battle?
• A man’s dreams turn dark while he struggles to survive in the forest at night.
• The night is beautiful in the fall.
• On the deck of an endless night, a landlord lights a cigarette in the dark.
• Someone’s thoughts turn murderous as night descends.
• An elderly man looks back at his life as the night creeps upon him, and despite everything, she looks on with pride, surrounded by his accumulation of lore. He lit his final cigarette, staring happily out the window at the moonlight drifting slowly across the fields.
• Write a suspenseful scene at night.
• Darkness pressed against the windows, so they turned on the lights.
• Looking up at the night sky, the boy asks, “Will we ever go home?”
• A darkness is falling over her city.
• You are walking behind a person when you hear them whisper your name . . .
• It’s ungodly cold in the dead of night.
• Explain why your character likes drinking wine at night.
• The night brings her war.
• She shivered under the cover, still hearing the howls of the wolves in the dark woods.
• A woman waits to hear who was murdered tonight.
• He finally had the courage to tell her how he felt in the darkness of the night.
• Write up to three paragraphs about what you see. Then add a fourth paragraph with what you feel.
• There’s a faint glow in the sky. Night is quickly approaching.
• Write a poem about the stillness after night falls.
• They didn’t make a big scene. They just stood quietly, staring out the windows.
• Does the night provide protection?
• Write a story about staying up all night watching the stars.
• A story where hope is discovered in a world of darkness.
• Every night, she dreams of that first night.
• It’s a different world at night.
• Write about a boy who sneaks back into his house after jumping in his backyard pool at night.
• A young girl lies awake in bed, waiting for the boogeyman to come, but he never arrives.
• The story’s character wakes up in the middle of the night to find his surroundings covered in graffiti.
• A child who sees a ghost in the night is sent away to reform school.
• A detective stands outside at night, wondering what evil lurks.
• Write a story where Cthulhu rises the night before an eclipse.
• Write a story about two people who reunite at midnight.
• The night is a dark and lonely place.
• Even before he loses consciousness, he sees the night as the demons return to feed.
• Write a story about a queen who lives in a castle by a lake. The lake freezes at night and…
• She awoke in the night, and couldn’t fall back asleep. The darkness bothered her, as if something was in the air.
• Write about a night watch on a submarine.
• A group of friends choose to stay out all night on a school night. Write what trouble they get into.
• The night suddenly got dark, and they came.
• The dancer shimmies her way across the floor as everyone watches her. She pauses at one point to glance upwards at the moon.
• Write a fantasy story that takes place in a mystical world and under the night sky.
• The group of friends makes their way through the dark toward the beach.
• Tonight, she’ll get away with murder.
• Write about a midnight visit. What did they bring?
• Write a story about someone or something fighting the night.
• Lost in the woods at night, he finds a strange magic in his dark surroundings.
• There is an army of skeletons marching through a field. Where are the skeletons going? What happens when they get there?
• It was dreadfully hot that night.
• Write a description of a full moon.
• The days dwindle down one by one. The nights don’t.
• He stepped outside during the night to smoke, and a weird low voice whispered to him from a nearby tree.
• Nothing but shadows and darkness lie ahead of him.
• My brother used to read tarot cards when we were kids. Did that make it magic?
• While walking the dog, a woman meets the devil on her neighbor’s porch. But her neighbor isn’t home.
• Did you enjoy this list of writing prompts? Be sure to check out the best 100 quotes to inspire writers for your everyday inspiration.
• Write a short story where your main character wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep.
• Write a story about falling asleep under the stars at night.
• There’s a huge moon shining outside.
• Write a story about a person going into the woods at night.
• A girl grew up by a lighthouse.
• Write a story about a family that moves to a small house in the woods.
• There is a knock on the door… at night.
• Write a story about the last night you’ll ever see your girlfriend.
• She knew it was the end when she arrived at the swamp in the middle of the night.
• They arrived home to find the house dark and empty.
• Describe a blustery winter night.
• The battle was over but as he lay amongst the dead, he heard footsteps in the distance.
• What happens after night falls?
• As the night drew on, she realized he had turned into a wolf.
• There is something inside that draws me close The night.
• The night is still young.
• Write a story about a character who experiences the joy of transformation in the night.
• Smashing pumpkins can be powerful if we choose to use it properly.
• A girl loses her mother in a car accident, and she has to discover what else her parents were hiding from her. The world is not as it seems.
• A college student is invited to her best friend’s weekend birthday party.
• People who enjoyed tonight will probably enjoy tomorrow, too.
• The lonely gunman returns to his hideout at night.
• The stars begin to twinkle at night.
• The night is the perfect time for seduction. Write a sexy story that takes place in a bedroom at night.
• A girl is plagued by nightmares every night. What secrets are these terrifying dreams hiding?
• I was stalked by a scary personality by a star-less night.
• Watch out for goblins in the night.
• Write a character who is afraid of the dark.
• Look out your window. What do you see? What time is it? If only your parents would let you go out after sunset. The evening sky glows purple and orange. Crimson shreds of mist disappear into the black curtains blowing in the night air. The bright moon sits on top of the dark house across the street.
• He walks out the door. It had been a rough night, but there is always tomorrow.
• Write about the size of infinity.
• Her heart skipped a beat and shivered at the thought of the darkness.
• You can view all of the writing prompts at the  52 Writing Prompts  website. Feel free to request other topics in the comments!
• Forgiving takes a long time.
• Because it’s a bad night time to be in the woods.
• What would you do if you haunt a house at night?
• A man is sitting in his chair when he hears a noise in the kitchen. What is it?
• Zelda goes for a walk at night.
• He had been waiting for his night to begin.
• Use the cliche Romeo and Juliet, or Romeo and Juliet were killed at night.
• Write a story that takes place on a night that seems colder than the others.
• He doesn’t know where he is or how he got here. It didn’t take him that long to find the old man and the hat.
• Write a short story about the adventures of a bat.
• Write a story that takes place in a bar at night.
• After so many years of studying, he finally gets this one last chance to get the right answer on his maths test.
• An accident takes place after dusk on a country road.
• Write a story about staying up all night to look at the stars.
• A man is having a bad dream in the dark of the night.
• There was nothing more beautiful.
• Several people are chasing a monster in the middle of the night.
• A boy visits the dark room his father had once escaped from.
• A bully taunts a child at night.
• Not feeling any pain is a good way to make sure the night goes well.
• Write about a character who watches a night time demonstration in a public place.
• A red moon rises above the darkened clouds.
• The little girl looked up at the dark night sky, searching for a falling star. Write a scene about what happens when he takes a shortcut through the dark park at night.
• A man considers robbing a gas station at night on Halloween.
• Write about the orange smoking under the cover of a smooth blue night.
• The streets were dark and empty.
• Write a story about a country that is entirely in the dark, where no one can see.
• The stars were out in full force that night.
• A child longs for the return of the bright moonlight after a long-ago tragedy.
• When she got home, it was already dark outside.
• The ferry sank in the middle of the night. People were stranded on the docks.
• It’s hot, and the dry woods crackle and fade away. It’s not the kind of night you want to be outdoors in.
• Shows someone struggling to grasp the concept of eternity. Perhaps the character is some sort of immortal being or a creature of the night.
• A dog stood guard as the wagon train made their way through the dark night. The moonlit sky guides their route.
• She did not know the night would bring such terror.
• Write a scary story that involves wood-chopping.
• Describe what a dark cemetery looks like at night.
• Write about a murder on a schoolyard at night.
• The next few nights progress in the same fashion, an increasing number of animals joining them.
• You inherit a run-down house from your grandfather with a mysterious locked room.
• He hated being alone at night.
• All these questions should start authors on the right path to some really great stories. Hopefully this list of night topics are just what you need to get inspired and write an amazing story.
• A little girl is being chased around a playground by some kids at night.
• She’s in a laundromat, washing a shirt on a Sunday night, eager to get home.
• A shipwrecked man and his faithful dog wait for the rescue boat at night.
• A naked woman stands in the night and prays.
• Write a story that takes place in a bar during the dead of night.
• Write an epic poem about the night.
• Write a story about the first days and weeks after a zombie apocalypse.
• The night was more terrifying than any nightmare.
• A girl is ready to run away from her problems, but not until she sees the sun one last time.
• Write a scary story about hiding from the monsters under the bed at night.
• Write a story that has to do with no sound, it is more like being blind then deaf at the time it happens without warning.
• You are sitting in your bed, but the night is stuck inside you. You can’t get it out, any more than could you the sadness at losing the love of your life.
• The wildflowers are in bloom at night.
• The street lights hang like illismiting insects over the empty street.
• The starless night filled his dark heart with an emptiness that could never be filled.
• He heard a knock on the door, but when he opened it there was only a looming night.
• Thomas lies on his bedroom floor, gazing at the moon, and wishes.
• The night feels a little bit scary.
• Two friends lay on the pier, watching the southern night sky.
• A terrible day. A silent night.
• Someone stole his last bottle of whiskey and now he’s really mad…
• A grandfather hears the ticking of his clock, realizing it must be time to start the story.
• Write about a night when your town burnt down.
• He holds a flashlight under his chin and makes shadows on the wall.
• In her pool, there sits a holocaust victim getting her hair done.
• He used to like sunsets. He used to like night.
• A dark alleyway, somewhere in the Hollywood hills.
• Find a place, local or foreign, that you would like to explore at night. Describe it and give us the snapshots and little stories that you find in the process.
• It was the worst night of her life.
• Night. What’s your interpretation of it?
• A girl looks out the bus window as it rides past the spooky old graveyard at night.
• A merchant leaves town at dusk, and sees a village burning.
• A young boy is struggling with writing his bedtime story, so the moon writes it for him.
• Night the time to ponder your life, what could possibly cause you to have a new outlook on it?
• A young child is afraid to go to bed at night.
• How is the night life in the big city? Has it ever had a significant impact on your life?
• A lone firefly diffuses its light in the midnight dark.
• The rabbit didn’t like nighttime.
• Dreamers all have one thing in common. We want to remember waking from them.
• It’s midnight. A woman stands inside a window. She knows something is going to happen.
• A writer finishes a poem about the night which is being read at the beach by others and she approves of it. The poem was nice but it wasn’t hers. Someone tries to steal it.
• On the night of the riots, when the fire brigades were cutting off the thieves leg, the fireworks were coming from the now burning shops. The boy stood and watched the disaster from a corner.
• You need to keep it night all night.
• Write about a ghost who is afraid of the dark.
• We need to be careful tonight.
• The experiment lasted all night, with scientists scrambling to find answers in the middle of the night.
• Night is falling. Can you find it in you to trust him?
• The night was dark.
• Write about a girl who catches fireflies.
• The pounding of the sea is like the pounding of blood in her ears.
• Try not to use more than two commas in a row.
• They never knew it would get this cold at night.
• It was a stormy night.
• The frog croaks during the night.
• Write a story using as many similes as you want.
• She found it hard to sleep at night with the music thumping.
• He finds out his true heritage.
• It was an unexpected end to an unforgettable night.
• Write a short story in which someone wakes up in the middle of the night in a strange, unfamiliar house.
• A girl climbs out of the river at night, not noticing how hairy she has grown.
• Write a story about how someone died.
• Write two obituaries, one for yourself if you die tonight, one for someone else.
• Write a story about standing at the mouth of a cave.
• Your character is on a night patrol in the woods, when a strange glow catches his/her eye in the distance.
• The backyard was enclosed, windows nearly covered by tree branches.
• The football team led their way through the streets in their costumes, being as loud as they could.
• Black again. A night without anything particular happening had entirely drained her.
• He sat on the bench waiting for night to fall.
• Write about the night your dad took you out in the city.
• Right now it’s night.
• Write a short story about the last night of your life.
• A night with no snow, in a province far away.
• The night turns out to be far more than it appeared.
• Write a story that takes place in the midnight desert.
• The backdrop of midnight changes throughout the process of growing up.
• The stars glowed in the night sky.
• She tucked the children in tightly under the starlit, moonlit sky.
• Vampires can only come out after night.
• The night was hot and the fire was cold, yet the flame burned hot.
• Trace a map from a crime scene, being careful not to draw over the evidence.
• He wasn’t expecting it to get dark so quickly.
• Write a story that takes place at the seashore on a foggy night.
• What will happen tonight? Write a story about a bad decision that changes who the main character is.
• Her skin glows a soft blue under the moonlight.
• “Monsters don’t scare me.” – A fairytale about a destructive angel.
• I have to get away from here. Night has fallen. There is no way…
• Jonesy found a nightlight under his bed. At night, there is always someone there to take care of me
• Write about a couple who loves each other.
• A girl gets kidnapped by a strange satanic cult on her fourteenth birthday.
• There is something magical in the appearance of the first star at night.
• Write a time travel story where you describe the setting by writing about the night of a different time in history. How does the night, as you describe it, affect the actions of the characters or the plot?
• There, shivering from head to toe, sits a little girl in the middle of the cold, Ebon night.
• Bill was always on top of his work at night, sneaking glances at the stars.
• The room was filled with frightful almost-faces, nothing but pale eyes and cracked smiles.
• It seemed like he was gone forever, but it was just a single night.
• He saw her stomped into the ground. There is blood everywhere and it was all her fault.
• Seen from down the street, the house looked like a church surrounded by graves.
• A thief is climbing down from the balcony when the moonlight catches his reflection on the ground floor window. He then realizes the light has locked him in the sights of someone’s rifle. As he turns in fear the sound of a gun blast reaches his ears.
• The sleeping sun had turned into a raging storm.
• Public transportation moved slowly in the night fog.
• What if vampires don’t wear capes or sleep in coffins…they slept or worked at night?
• He was afraid of the dark, but since joining the group, the darkness had meant light.
• At a restaurant, a man overhears something terrifying.
• Write a story about a child in bed at night-time.
• A mother sits on the couch, wondering whose party her little girl is at tonight.
• Write about God’s eye lingering on Earth, taking note of man’s wickedness.
• Write about what happens when something happens when the lights go out.
• A monster in a suit, a clock in a jar, a rocking horse that comes alive at night.
• All the stray light along the edge of the forest makes it impossible to see far into the trees.
• The night of New Year’s always ends with a slight case of depression.
• Her blue house by the lake is always haunted at night. Write a story that takes place in the shadows of the last night of summer.
• Jordan haunts the realm of Dreams.
• Did you know that Stephen King and Dean Koontz began writing The Dark Half at night?
• A boy sits under the stars, contemplating life and death, when two strange animals approach him.
• He takes a walk under the stars.
• Nothing is better than when you reach for the stars, and you nearly get them but you fall back to the same place, and the only thing missing is a blanket.
• The night at the bank was dark and cold.
• Write a poem about writing a poem.
• The night is the coldest.
• What if your normal childhood routine was filled with adventure stories, and then the parents started to get into an argument?
• He was the one who caused the night, and now he was running from it.
• What she saw changed everything.
• Jason came through the door and immediately collapsed from exhaustion. It had been a long day and he was happy to be home again. Summer was almost gone.
• He gets the feeling his girlfriend is not really asleep.
• Write a night scene chock full of description.
• The refrigerator goes off in the dead of the night. The sound wakes her. She goes over and puts her hand up against the icy door. The black stone separates her downturned palm. Its smoothness is comforting to her. The ocean roars behind the house like a lion that’s been fed recently. Her hand desperately gropes for the off switch, slaps it repeatedly as if to convince it to dim the thundering. With the notebook in her hand followed closely by the whooshing sound of her notebook, she quickly, but on quiet bare feet, makes her way through the back of the house. The ocean has pulled her to sleep at night and pulled her to sleep at night home. In her element, her little late night rituals dissolved. As the ocean spread out behind the rolling hills at the edge of the neighborhood. She dreamed like the ocean dreams, pleasant and uninhibited but soundly, craftily in control. Here at night. The sea sparkles under the moonlight.
• A person goes outside at night and feels enlivened by the moonlight.
• They’ve watched her have night terrors ever since she figured out how she could fill their lives with terror.
• The moon doesn’t amount to much anymore.
• Write a story in which the main character gets into bed and falls asleep at night. However, terrible things start happening shortly after falling asleep and the character must get up and try to get help.
• At first she felt afraid of acting in the dark, but after a while, she felt exhilarated.
• Take a chapter for a night of a new year on earth.
• Taking on a Quixotic Size
• The night was a spooky little thing.
• A homeless man escapes the winter cold and sleeps on a bench at night.
• The little prince/princess was awakened in the middle of the night by an unknown noise.
• He carried a small knife in his pocket. Night was the time when he truly had free reign to his anger.
• A run-down fire station coughs and sputters and calls for help one last time
• A man watches his rabbit attack and devour a helpless cat in the middle of the night.
• When my dad moved out, he told his wife that he wanted another shot at love. He says there’s lots of starlight during a warm summer night. Write about yourself.
• Dreams always come true if you just make them come true. A girl wants to meet her favorite rock star. Is there anything left to do besides wait?
• Write a story about a ghost hunt on a foggy night.
• Write a story to the tune of a song, and include the lyrics at the beginning of your story. Think of the lyrics as part of the plot of your story.
• The clouds gathered in the night sky creating strange figures.
• The night was darker than she expected.
• The night is long. The night will always be long.
• On a cold, dry night the cracks of the earth open up and swallow everything.
• He always hated this night of the year.
• The sky gets darker as they climb higher.
• A girl looks at the moon and thinks about her friend.
• She dreams of being in the cockpit of an airplane’s cockpit, looking out into an inky black night.
• A different take on Beauty and the Beast.
• Write a story about a couple whose relationship is falling apart because they work all the time.
• He was heading home at night.
• A crowded bus is lit only by the streetlights at night.
• Nights can be a horrific place. Look outside your window. What do you see?
• Night falls. A deep growl comes from the basement of the hospital.
• Write a story set in a hotel decorated for Halloween.
• The same star always crosses the sky at night. Write a story about an astronaut or traveler.
• Strange objects drift from the stars, and find themselves on Earth.
• The monster under the bed loves the moonlight, and wishes that his family didn’t live in it.
• Write a story about a mermaid coming to land at night.
• Walking home while it was dark out, she decided to cut across the park.
• The couple looks up at the moon. He wonders what happens at night in her mind.
• It is only a matter of time.
• The night is the proper time for change.
• Write a story about a boy being bitten by a werewolf on a full moon at night.
• At night. Two brothers plot to steal organs from humans.
• This perfume smells even better at night.
• Her nightmare ended when the sun rose, and the night started.
• Write a story in which a boy leads his friend through the woods.
• When the sun sets, time is frozen. Life is the same.
• Your boss insists you work late one night.
• There’s a chill in the air on this moonlit night.
• A writer, wondering if it’s a good idea to live alone in the country, splashed a cup of coffee onto the manuscript that he’d been working on for weeks.
• Write about a night your younger self wandered into some strange area.
• Her thoughts of getting married were quickly interrupted by the howling in the night air.
• An artist is working on a painting of the night view of the city. Write about what happens next in the story.
• He tells himself the night darkness will hide him until he finds a place to hide.
• Characters are on a train at night.
• Were you ever scared that the phone would ring at night? Were you expecting someone, are you still expecting them to call?
• Her hands shake as she tries to escape from the dark shadows.
• What is one cool thing you want to do at night?
• An African American man and a police officer have a confrontation at night.
• You travel to a faraway island, at nighttime, to see an important landmark.
• A group of urban explorers witness the quickening of a werewolf.
• Reality sinks in for the victimized.
• The box sat in the corner of the room. His parents thought he had been asleep, actually, been asleep for hours now and they had gone to bed thinking so. But he was awake, unable to forget the last time he was inside it. Even now, he had a difficult time believing it…to grasp his head around it, the memories enclosed.
• Pen and paper has long lost its appeal. All the writing was in code and the computer was her paperback.
• It has been a week since the vampires came.
• Describe a night you loved and enjoyed.
• She was at home, writing a letter to her lover when the lights went out.
• The sky is dark and the moon blinks behind the black branches.
• You’re walking home and you see a wolfhound following you.
• Tell me a story about the first time you were ever star-struck.
• Cool, windy nights are especially good for observing stars.
• Write a horror story that begins on Friday evening, and the setting is a beach at night.
• A quiet sea, disturbed one night.
• No night of graduation would ever be quite the same.
• While foraging for food, Peter discovers a toy ring.
• There are countless stars in the deepest, darkest part of the night.
• The full moon rose, and he lay alone, twisting and turning in a twisty twisty bed.
• The night of the Autumn Moon Festival is the only time the spirit of an ancient hero can appear in the flesh.
• I had the weirdest dream last night, read more…
• What if heaven’s gate was through a mirror?
• It’s ruined now with only nightfall left in sight.
• Write a story that takes place on a quiet night.
• My life has changed so much in the past year.
• Write a story that takes place at a movie theater at night.
• Write about an unexpected adventure at night.
• A young couple wants to be alone but is constantly interrupted by unwelcome guests asking questions.
• The bogeyman comes at night, and he has claws.
• The night is not as quiet as he thought.
• No one has any idea what happens when you go from day to night.
• What’s going to happen tonight?
• Write a story from the point-of-view of a dog running at night, after their owner had just been killed by an attacker.
• There was a full moon that evening and a beautiful mist was settling in the forest, shrouding the ground.
• The girl was excited to be attending the Night of the Living Dead after-party.
• An abandoned railroad on a trail of lanterns. What if thieves came?
• Write a story about a person who invents a time machine.
• Write a story about a famous city waking up at night.
• The thief crept inside the museum and stole a piece of artwork from the galleries that lined the large, dimly-lit room. It was a special kind of night, tonight.
• Their first kiss took place during the stars at night.
• She looks at him, waiting for him to drink the wine she has just poured him. He seems distracted. It is the only time of day that he can’t hear everything—the wind, the water…
• Is the night a death-bringing foreshadow? A mirage? A nightmare?
• Write a poem from the perspective of the moon.
• Their ship was damaged, but repair crews are coming.
• Write a starry, romantic piece about that special night.
• She walks directly through the shadow from the old horse oak. Someone or something is on her tail, she discovers.
• The night was cold.
• In the dark and the endless night, courage is born.
• Write a story about your worst nightmare.
• When the kitten feels out of place, he thinks of the night by himself.
• They’d taken up residence in a building that overlooked the whole neighborhood.
• The moon turns the regular pale gray into the color of platinum.
• You are the moon. It is night time now. Tell us a story.
• A murderer is escaping on Halloween night. What would happen to the community if he got away?
• He doesn’t remember the exact number of nights he spent in this city by the river. It’s always a full moon in this city.
• Write a story about living in a house under the stars.
• Lucia heard growls in the night.
• For more writing prompts and creative writing exercises, go to  Alli Kirkham’s Boiler .
• Did you see that owl in the dark sky?
• In the early hours of morning my heart shall rule
• Write about a nightmare you once had.
• They stood in the alley of bars and strip clubs, looking down at the street of drunken men and women bustling to their holes-in-the-wall, seeking drugs or a good time.
• A demon terrorizes a town at night.
• The night was beautiful.
• Plans for the evening always fall through at the last minute. Write a story about that.
• Write a story about your neighborhood watch that you created to eliminate crime.
• Conflicts between people can happen at any time, even at night when you are alone.
• She didn’t realise how dark it got outside until the power went out.
• A girl gets lost on the trail and goes out into the night with her dog to find help.
• The night she met him was the last good night of her life.
• No one thought when the sun began to set, it would be the last time they’d see it.
• Write an erotic story that takes place in the bedroom, with the lights off.
• The dead of night.
• Alex says it again. The night is coming.
• Scott Joplin ate his last meal at night.
• Nothing makes me happier than looking up at the night sky.
• At night, the world around her was bathed in the silver light of the full moon.
• Write about the guy or girl that sent the message.
• Look, there is the moon.
• Write a story about a boy who hides from the storm.
• In a city of night people, where lights are always shining, one small child goes for a walk at midnight.
• I went to a party at night.
• Father Night is pleased with his work, but what might spill…
• He couldn’t stop thinking of the night he fell asleep in his chair, while waiting for the repairman, with his gun on his lap.
• The night music is annoying, everyone says.
• The plot was set at night.
• Write about a time when you stayed up late at night, no one else awake.
• It’s night. You hear chirping crickets. There’s a full moon
• A ship docks on a foggy night.
• The bats’ shadows dance amongst the gravestones.
• Your characters are cold, lonely, and hungry.
• People have many different activities during the night.
• Write a first-person, present-tense poem about something that happened in the past tense.
• Write a story about a terrible storm that erupts on a hot, summer night.
• A story about a castaway on a desert island, surviving alone at night.
• Find a way to make night special and romantic.
• I’ve never been so bored in my whole life. It’s night time.
• Describe the first night you met your spouse in love story form or in short story form. Explain how that night was the first of so many memorable nights.
• How do you make romantic night-time memories?
• Write about the desert night sky.
• They watched the night slowly fade.
• Write about a terrifying experience that happened in the woods.
• Do you accept night challenges? See them as opportunities to learn, get stronger or hone other skills? Let me know in the comments!
• He sits in the dark and thinks about her.
• Her life was shattered that night.
• The night is cold. The days are longer.
• There’s a full moon, and the characters are pretending to be werewolves.
• The magazine was returning to press with its Christmas issue, but the editor’s car wouldn’t start – it was a dark and moonless night.
• A girl wakes up and sees a clown in the corner of her bedroom.
• A monster is hiding in the darkness.
• A serial killer cuts a swath of terror through a small city.
• The night was a sign that there was hope, hope that everything would turn around.
• He looked into the black hole, into Huxley.
• Write a story about people who are doing something famous at night.
• Night. It is the enemy. as well as an escape. Night was when her husband abused her.
• The town rustled under midnight’s cloak.
• Write a story about a variety of costumes characters wear to trick-or-treat.
• Draft a poem about the night.
• They thought it would be the last night they’d be alive.
• Write about a beach on the night before a big storm.
• Write a short story about the night before a sacrifice.
• Every morning was the same for the creatures of the night.
• She was glad she was alive and that night was beautiful just the same.
• Myrick – a night where one star dominates the sky.
• Seagulls cry, leaves rustle in the trees, the sounds of waves crashing and the night wind whispering tell the girl there is something around the corner.
• A young woman falls from the sky into a sleeping man’s arms.
• It didn’t take long for the night to take notice.
• Father and son take a stallion out to the hills to camp in the night.
• The night was dark, good. No one would see the young girl sneak out of her house.
• The night was a wonderful peace after a long day.
• Night looks so peaceful from your bedroom window at your mom’s house.
• A man is kept up all night by the noise of the stars.
• Tony’s night out doesn’t end like he thought it would.
• Write a scene that takes place in a movie theater during the night time of a spooky horror movie.
• A long car ride shakes an old woman’s nerves about the night. Write a story about her experience.
• The sky Darkens. A patch of stars the only indication He has not yet slipped off the pillow on which his head lies
• A family has been put under a spell and they begin turning into animals.
• People gathered in the night for the waterfalls festival.
• It was darkest before the stars came out.
• When the night takes over the town…
• It was just another night, nothing out of the ordinary.
• There was a full moon the night of St. Barnabas Day.
• The reader wants to know why the author’s family might not let their children go outside at night.
• There is a disturbance in the night. Write a scene that begins with someone being brought into court on the charge of murdering a bat. Write a poem about the night your mother died.
• What if it was really the end of the world?
• The moon, bright and full, fades behind heavy clouds.
• I bought these shoes in a fit of spontaneity after dark.
• The best night of her life looks nothing like she expected it too.
• Had it been any other night for everyone inside the restaurant it would have been even more crowded than usual. That night you saw a shooting star.
• A shadow lurks in the distant darkness.
• A man slowly drags his tired body against the dark waves.
• A family goes out for dinner at a restaurant. The waiters share a horror story.
• Two men in love stand in front of a waterfall under the moonlight.
• She came upon the moonlit beach at night.
• She was so alone.
• The crowd dispersed after the ceremony ended, turning the lights off. Everything went back to darkness.
• Write a story about the things that go on at night.
• The night her parents were killed, she snuck out into the garden where it happened.
• Write a story about a vampire who comes out only at night.
• Whisper in the dark. Write a story that is only spoken.
• You’re writing your last letter to your dead brother.
• He wouldn’t have been able to put all his money in that game if it weren’t for the dark.
• It was getting late—ten people had to die before midnight and now only two were left.
• It’s very dark in the room. There’s only a little light coming from under the door. You think you hear someone creeping inside.
• In the glimmering dark forest she found an unexpected friend.
• I can’t sleep.
• They sat around the campfire and tried to fill the evening with sounds.
• He wasn’t alone in the night.
• Write a story that takes place on a street at night.
• He looks at her again out the corner of his eye. He cannot believe that she’s real. Write a story about being in love at night.
• Write from the perspective of a murder suspect that failed to evade capture.
• A night shadow that feels out of place.
• Write a book with math equations in its words or sentence connections.
• The twins waited for the night to fall so they could change into bears.
• At night, she hears strange noises.
• A boy, in a white nightgown, stands between clotheslines at night, wanting to escape.
• Tanya sat staring into the fiery flames of his survival campfire.
• Write a short story about a person who was shot at night, but wasn’t killed.
• A character dies under a full moon.
• A girl embarks on a perilous journey through the night jungle.
• Write a short scene that takes place in the chair of a dark hotel room waiting for the storm to finish.
• Write about a house sitting on top of an abandoned haunted house.
• Guy Noir, P.I. stalks the night.
• The stars are my only friends.
• Travel to the moon in your head as you sleep.
• She could see his silhouette illuminated in the moonlight.
• He can never get used to the darkness, the black hole that is the night.
• Every night he dreams of the dancing that occurred at a masquerade ball four centuries ago.
• Alice thought she was dreaming as she awakened on the changing colors of the moon.
• A child goes from piggyback rides and bedtime stories to car rides and kindergarten.
• Write a journal entry recounting all the things you like about going to bed at night.
• Your hero dreams of what it would be like walking down a long hallway in a dark house.
• Write a story about the aftermath of a disturbing experience in the middle of the night.
• He didn’t have high expectations for the evening, but he realized that he enjoyed it as the night wore on.
• I saw you standing there under the moonlight.
• Write a story about a robot who takes over the world at night.
• The night has always meant safety and comfort to her.
• She wasn’t expecting to get home so late at night.
• Write a short story about how you came back after an old childhood night apparition.
• A night a long time ago when everything stayed the same.
• At dawn, the sky goes from black to violet to blue and more.
• How did Romeo know Juliet was the girl for him?
• What do you see when you’re looking up at the sky at night?
• How are you going to conserve water on a long term voyage?
• Write a story about the tarp under which you have hidden from someone that’s chasing you.
• An artist writes at night in order to get inspiration.
• There might be someone lurking in the shadows.
• His hand tells Nora the story as she wanders the hallway in the night.
• Write a poem about night.
• It is so quiet and still during the night, yet it’s never quite enough.
• The night was still quiet when he walked past.
• A waitress isn’t able to get to sleep because the sun never actually goes down.
• A night in Los Angeles is never quiet.
• Write a bad date you survived the horror of.
• The young girl’s curfew keeps getting pushed back later and later each night.
• A former detective reminisces about how he met his partner years and years ago.
• His exposure to the night air would ultimately lead to his demise.
• She woke up in a strange bed, not knowing how she got there or where she was.
• The bell for dinner has just rung.
• She looked up at the starry night to find the North Star, but there was nothing. She wondered if it was still there.
• The war has been over for a long time, but a man sits under the stars waiting.
• The nights in northern California were cold.
• Write a story from the perspective of a fisherman during night depths.
• A cloaked man holds a weapon over a bed.
• I want to see you before night falls again.
• Her mouth opens into a hole lined with teeth. Her eyes darken like a starless night.
• I am loved.
• That night was the most magical night he had ever had.
• Birds nest in the thick tree at night.
• Write about summer nights.
• Write a story that takes place on Halloween.
• It was a cloudy night in May. Too cloudy for him to face the light.
• Write a description of a night when you were full of energy.
• Life around the campfire at night is filled with stories.
• A man loses his son in the darkness of night.
• You’ve got an appointment in twenty minutes.
• A witch performs a spell on a couple as they walk under a village’s lone streetlight.
• Write about your experience riding in a limo at night.
• Write about the worst night of your life.
• Two strangers experience their most lucid dream together at their loneliest moments.
• Write about a dancing party that takes place in the country at night.
• He had night terrors as a child.
• The melody floated in the night air.
• The night fogs the air.
• One of the worst nights of her life.
• The night was sweet and full of tiny bites.
• Write a story where the sun doesn’t rise for days at a time.
• Write a story about a girl, a guy and her mother. They get into a car, drive away, leaving their house abandoned.
• A long-dead creature is brought back to life in a magical ritual. But there is a catch…
• What should you never do on your birthday besides turn another year older?
• Write about a night that changes everything.
• Night will fall over the world of magic in an instant. Write about it.
• The characters never get dark. What would the story become if the characters just gave in to their darkness? It was a dark and stormy night. Aren’t you thankful it’s dark so you can’t see the storm? Can you light a candle in an effort to see your darkness? Why can’t one be aware of the light and the darkness at the same time?
• Right before sunset, he admits he loves her best during the night.
• She stands by the water, as the moonlight hits the river.
• Write a scary story that takes place at night.
• The scent of roses makes him think of her.
• He didn writefull a single word all night.
• Write a fun, spooky story about the night before Halloween.
• Lucid dream, standing in the middle of an empty street at night.
• Write about a wonderful dream that never ends.
• Describe, in a poem, a day so dark only the moon can be seen.
• Write about your first date under the night sky.
• It was dark. It was quiet. Something was definitely wrong.
• It’s not everyone’s favorite way to spend the evening, but it’s more relaxing than watching television.
• With every gallon of blood inside them on the floor around them, it was the slowest night of her life.
• Write a Shakespearean or Shakespearian sonnet that takes place during a full moon.
• A deer covers its body and ears with a thick, bushy, grey coat each night to protect itself against the cold weather.
• A driver sees a dog running across the road at night. Read the story to find out what happens next.
• Authors, how is the night you’ve written about similar or different to your night? How has the night you’ve written about changed?
• They watched the stars in the cold, dark sky together.
• A young woman stole a red dress from the women at the swing club.
• A day without night is like seeing only shades of gray.
• Far from home and alone, she still hears the voice of her brother telling her to have a happy Halloween.
• Write a crazy dream you had last night. Do not add anything, other than dialogue or narration, that isn’t a part of your dream. For example, in order to write more dialogue, you can’t say, “She took out a wrench…” Your dream took place in the place you were sleeping, and your dream character did not need tools. Just put the dream down as you remember it, and critique later.
• A boy dreams of fighting evil in the night.
• Find someone to write with
• Write a story for each phase of the moon.
• A story about seeing your lover for the first time.
• Her best friend always stays up until midnight on New Year’s Eve waiting for the ball to drop.
• Watching the sunset with your favorite person.
• Write a story about the beginning of an intergalactic war.
• Write a story about a ghost story at night around a campfire.
• Write about distant blues.
• A young woman walks home from cheerleading practice. It is night.
• Describe the forest during the night.
• Murder was the only way to keep her secret safe.
• They said we would never make it out alive, but we proved them wrong.
• There is currently a contest going on over at r/RedditPrompts for the best stories about Peaches. The person who wins receives 50 Reddit Gold. In the story, you have to mention the peaches. Here is the link below if anyone is interested.
• The only light in the dark forest came from the few torches carried by the soldiers.
• It’s a typical evening in a typical neighborhood.
• To get over his fear, he forces himself to spend the night in the haunted mansion.
• He can’t bring himself to leave unless he’s sure it is safe to do so.
• Get inspired for a night-time chase and night chills with below video clips from famous movies.
• He was not a big fan of night time.
• I read a lot of romances about soldiers during war time. I’ve noticed that whenever they are fighting at night, the night sky is always filled with shooting stars and fireworks. Maybe write about a day or a battle or even a fight you’ve been in – just why are there fireworks?
• Nothing could compare to that one memory of a night long ago.
• A famous ventriloquist and her pet dummy spend Christmas night in an old sleazy motel until the husband kicks the dummy out of the room.
• Write a poem about something you can’t forget about a night you’ve walked with a loved one.
• It’s another ordinary night. Write about that!
• A girl who’s afraid of the darkness has to make it through the night.
• A boy tells a scary story while taking a walk on a moonlit beach.
• Write a scary story about a monster attack in the middle of the night.
• Under the light of the moon, the owl hunts at night in the meadows.
• Night has just fallen. Write a letter from someone who has survived until then.
• He doesn’t know when it will get dark.
• This walk home in the dark, the only light is from the crescent moon.
• Write about the feeling of finally getting your wish.
• A little boy has a special secret for the stars.
• Write about a pony whose job is running through the night forest at night.
• He hated the nights… when things were at their busiest.
• What does night mean to you?
• The stars watch
• She felt irritated as the sun began to set earlier and earlier.
• An old man remembers the days when he used to go out at night.
• Write about a young woman who is attacked by a vampire.
• A woman is afraid of the dark.
• The only light on was the greenish light from the computer monitor.
• She felt a calmness she had never experienced while waking up in the middle of the night.
• Write a poem using the word ” Night”.
• Someone took his wallet when he was asleep.
• A day, just a regular day, gets interrupted by an attempted murder. The victim survives.
• It was the hardest night of his life.
• Write about being lost in the darkness of the woods at night.
• Write about the sound in the night.
• A lonely girl stares out her bedroom window at the night sky.
• There’s a family dining at a local restaurant, enjoying the night together. Then, everything goes black…
• He relishes every beat of his heart as he finds himself lost in the night. It was the last night of his life.
• Write a story that takes place while camping in the mountains at night.
• A young man isn’t sure what punishment awaits him on the moonlit beach.
• Watching a solar eclipse changes my life.
• Write a short story taking place 19 minutes before nightfall.
• Nightmares come out in the night.
• The itstorm is coming. How will you survive it?
• A young couple steal away in the darkness.
• Write a love story about a girl and boy who are the best of friends but nothing more, then come under the light of the moon together.
• The night is when you feel most alive.
• The plane is in the air. Everything is dark.
• Write a story that takes place in space on a planet other than Earth.
• The night is dark and full of terrors. Sometimes dreams are best left forgotten.
• She wakes up in the middle of the night and hunts for a silent place to become invisible.
• His office is cold at night. He thinks it’s his imagination.
• A figure runs through the streets. It is dark.
• It was fun while it lasted.
• Write about a school field trip to a planetarium.
• He wanted to talk to her about the dark side of his past. But when a dark figure emerged in the night, he regretted it.
• Write about the numerous creatures that live in the dark forests at night.
• Advice or tips from your favorite writer about night.
• He finds himself hearing strange noises late at night.
• They had a conversation at night in the dark.
• Write about a war fought during the night.
• She was sitting on the sidelines of the bleachers watching her daughter’s volleyball game. It was a close one.
• Differentiate between nightmare and dreams in a paragraph about the night.
• She lay outside in the evening, on a deck, in nowhere in particular with no one to watch over her. The worst thing she could do was think, what would happen if someone wanted the animal she was?
• The moon was shining brightly by her window.
• Nightmare Night is the worst.
• Write about an implicit theory going on a journey to find his destiny.
• A girl cuddles up with her blanket and door knob at night.
• A small campfire burns in the middle of the woods at night.
• Write a story about the night between Christmas and New Year’s Eve.
• A lion protects its pride on a pitch black night.
• The Sad Tale of a Country Boy who had a set of Tales told in various Moods.
• A boy with problems falls into a river after a night of drinking.
• On a cold, dark night, a girl wanders the city streets remembering her long-deceased mother.
• A girl hears something outside her home at night. It isn’t good.
• The air was still and quiet, calm and warm. The night was over.
• All eyes appear to be set on you. Everyone seems to be staring at you. You turn around to look, but nobody’s even looking at you.
• Write a story about a normally shy character who is forced to talk a lot.
• Just after Marsha was born, the sky turned dark.
• Your character is a famous astronomer who loves starry nights.
• Write about the scorching sand in your bare feet in the night.
• The shrill caw of a bird pierces the quiet night.
• A little girl stays out late underneath the stars.
• Write a love story between a dog and his owner.
• A shot rings out through the still night.
• On the night of the first eight rains, she was born.
• The ground underfoot felt spongy as she began to climb the island.
• Explain how the setting factors into your story.
• There is a night when everything goes wrong…
• She loved the color of the night sky.
• The night started to turn into morning.
• After returning from a long night out, a man organizes a kidnapping.
• All the free time in the world was made boring by the dark.
• A man contemplates the night, but he supposes it is too late to be of any use.
• The crickets’ chirping are the only sounds we were able to hear.
• He wound up getting a job at a nightclub because all he knew how to do was party.
• The city glowed with muted colors in the night.
• Tempt the reader. A lonely boy can’t sleep, so he tries to keep his tiredness at bay by counting all the reasons he shouldn’t sleep.
• A group of ghost hunters are exploring a haunted house. It’s getting dark outside. The ghosts are coming.
• Your best friend is invited to a dance.
• It was so dark she couldn’t even see herself.
• Write about a party at night.
• A night where the leaves over head, give off an eerie glow.
• Write a story about two lovers at night who stumble across an old ice cream truck.
• Jenny’s dreams always come true on nights like this.
• The night is dark. The moon is full. Now write a short story about a werewolf.
• A dark night on a dark country road. She stops to listen. That’s when she hears it. Sticks breaking. Her spine stiffens. Something is out there.
• People enjoy summers here.
• Night seems to go on forever when you’re in bed with a high fever.
• The night sky is littered with stars.
• He arrives at night when it is completely dark.
• The night was beautiful around her, but her mind was far away.
• Do you know it is ‘impolite’ to stare at the dead at night?
• Imagine a time when the world was made of complete darkness.Write about it.
• A man spends a relaxing day at the beach, reading a book under the shade of an umbrella.
• Write a story in which you describe how you dreamt the night sky.
• A herd of animals migrates across the plains at night.
• Tonight is the full moon, so come sit up with me and tell me what you really think of Dracula.
• Write about a group of friends who experience something mysterious in the night.
• Tommy sneaks out his window at night
• The moonlight teaches me how to accept and love myself.
• It was nice that it was night time, because there would be a full moon to give him light.
• Why does my sister love the night so much?
• Write about a person who stays out far past their curfew.
• Night falls quickly.
• He wanders through the streets of the city at night, alone and afraid.
• She hated the dark.
• What will the night bring?
• A character feels uneasy about staying on an island in the middle of the night.
• Looking out the bedroom window, she feels alone. She becomes aware of how alone humans are in this world.
• The day is ending.
• A creature walks through a dark forest in the night looking for its lost friend.
• The cat runs across the lawn throughout the night because of a big owl. “It has to be that owl.”
• There was no darkness in that moment when we came together in that place of night.
• Write about the day before a war.
• Write a story set in Death City.
• It is a dark and stormy night. You are stranded on a lonely highway with your dog nowhere to turn.
• The snowfall was thick that evening as it illuminated through the street lamp.
• Sometimes we feel lonely at night.
• A dog howls at the full moon.
• Write a story about a night chase.
• She enjoyed the snow and the silence of the frozen night.
• The ghosts of not-so-ancient words whisper in the ear of the writer late at night.
• She is counting down the nights until he is home.
• They waited until the sun and the stars and  the  moon were down. They’d have to wait them out—it would be months of the solitude of night, if not years.
• The girl stared out the window as rain poured down…
• A driver realizes that he’s about to hit someone, but he decides to run over
• He was pursuing the night and the night was running away from him.
• A knight rides home after a battle.
• Write a story about fairies and adventures.
• The star is beaten up for coming out at night.
• The rain patters on the window, its music a beautiful lullaby.
• Write about a romantic walk you’ve experienced at night.
• A teenage couple is at the end of a summer night when something weird happens…
• The start of her night was like an average evening.
• He got locked inside his closet all night.
• She arrived at her new home in a day, she loved the night.
• She gets swept up in the music.
• Write about a forgotten night adventure.
• Darkness was his freedom.
• Let’s find inspiration and calmness in the night.
• Help your child to identify the best night of his life so far.
• Write a short story about the last night you had a party.
• A girl is afraid to fall asleep.
• It’s a bright, sunny day in the afternoon, but the moon is still up in the night sky.
• Warm blood like chocolate slurps out of the punctured jugular streams across the moon. It’s the night’s fault and the night’s fault alone.
• A girl needs to take action and start the revolution to escape the nightmares.
• When you are afraid to go to bed.
• The power went out during the middle of prayer.
• A woman encounters a ghost and gets the scare of her life.
• The mother put the child to bed at night and then sat down to finish her book.
• The day was clear. It had been a week since the soldiers came. Tonight, the plague would sweep the city.
• Write about your thoughts on night.
• Night approaches them. The countdown begins.
• Darkness has blanketed the land, but it does not stop the Resistance.
• It’s been a long time since anyone appreciates her late-night poetry.
• Someone has to take a run by night.
• Keep your mind inside of your head in a world of shadows.
• The sun is gone, the world seems darker.
• Expand on the first stargazing scene in Deathly Hallows.
• The night seems like her since she is no longer any joy.
• For the prompt “Night,” write from the point of view of an evil being who grieves because humans have lost their ability to see in the dark.
• A young woman feels like she is being watched when she comes home at night.
• Write a story about a hollow tree that’s actually a spaceship.
• Being lost and alone at night leads this person to evil.
• Write about a rooftop conversation at night.
• He returned again and again to the crypt, hoping to see the ghouls emerge from its depths.
• He is tangled in a mess of emotions. Can he unravel them tonight?
• The stories are told of a night where men were easily enslaved. Women were like conquerors.
• What is the worst weather that could happen at midnight?
• Blood pours forth from my lost love’s wound. Draining all light into night.
• The night sky is lit with a full moon.
• The night isn’t my favorite
• A woman is sitting alone in the darkness. What is she thinking about?
• Janice used all of her money to take her son to a daycare center.
• A night time story that involves vampires.
• A young girl is followed home at night.
• The night was where your childhood dreams came true.
• A colony of elves is having a sleepover.
• She could barely see her hand in front of her face.
• Night arrives at the end of a long journey of self discovery and growth for the narrator.
• What if all the lights went out one day?
• One last trip won’t hurt anyone, he thought as he headed for the meadow. It was a beautiful night.
• A little hobo rests by the light of the fire and notices raindrops on his arm.
• The apple fell.
• He awakens covered in teeth marks.
• A woman lies awake alone looking out the window, thinking of her lost love.
• The night feels really lonely tonight.
• Sam and his dad like to watch the sunsets together.
• It was a very dark and stormy night. The one thing they lacked was that one night.
• Ben had the worst night of his.
• Write a narrative about a night time walk in the park.
• Write a story where your main character dies at the beginning of the story.
• A man is not prepared for the night when he comes home.
• When it begins to get dark, write about the fear of the unknown.
• Something is going to happen at night time.
• He can’t stop staring at the stars.
• A writer must confront his arch-nemesis- the blank page- in order to move forward with his novel.
• As children we experience night in a different kind of way. Children can form special bonds with each other at night.
• The moon is full and bright in the night sky. . .
• Night came slowly as she sat quietly, and waited for her prey.
• After school, the kids race down to the beach.
• Describe the darkest place where you have ever seen.
• One evening, the sky is red. No one knows why!?
• The night is ominous.
• Write a story about a day accompanied by a sunset.
• Is it better to live in the light of day or shroud ourselves in the warmth and dark of night?
• A girl from the country asks her mother to tell her the story of the man on the moon.
• List your three favorite games or card/board games. Write a story about the characters in one of the games going on an adventure at night.
• Write about your own fictional band on tour, on its last gig.
• She wakes up to a familiar sound. She sees flames. Every night, something gets darker.
• An owl quietly watches a boy hide cookies for Santa under the refrigerator.
• A boy with too much imagination…starts seeing things from a flashlight that shines on the wall.
• On a moonlit night, a mother of two is struck by anxiety about the number of years she has left on earth.
• Night thoughts are different from day thoughts.
• In the middle of the forest at night, dark and heavy clouds block out the light of the moon.
• Write about a memory you have of spending the night somewhere.
• At night, only the lonely are seen.
• It’s always darkest just before dawn.
• Write a story in which a character struggles to get a hold of herself.
• On a lonely night, the world felt right.
• As Mars’ orbit becomes elongated around Venus, future colonists will adapt to the harsh nights of Mars.
• Deep, dark colours of the night.
• All of the citizens of the village wake up in time for morning, but the nightwalker wakes late because the day did not end.
• All the nightclub patrons heard the car alarm.
• Write a story about a time you were stuck in a dark place and afraid.
• It’s night time in Antarctica, and the scientists and explorers are trapped in a tiny shed miles away from their destination.
• Write a scene about night in an amusement park.
• There’s a full moon tonight and the fresh smell of ozone hangs in the air.
• A girl’s grandfather tells her she must make the stars famous. What we write about night is what we reveal of ourselves.
• When the night comes differently than normal.
• Taking a night walk can be very relaxing.
• Write a short story from the perspective of a woman navigating treacherous terrain, afraid that she will become separated from her group as the night comes.
• The night is full of surprises. Write a story where the protagonist gets ambushed in the night.
• At night, when they’re both feeling lonely, they visit a very special place.
• Write about a dog that waits alone in the dark.
• It was getting dark, and it wasn’t supposed to, he thought. It was supposed to be a full moon night.
• Ka-Blooey! by Dev Petty While flying through the redwoods, a Toucan crashes to the ground.
• A boy on a summer night thinks about the stars.
• They came for him in the night, but he won’t let them.
• Sprinkle some magic dust and write a memory that takes place at night.
• Ninjas like to fight at night, just because it keeps their enemy guessing. They enjoy the night splendor of the moonlight on an open field of battle.
• The night didn’t go the way he thought it would.
• He watches from a distance and sees what kind of mother she has become.
• A spaceship crumbles in front of his eyes.
• The hour hand has reached the twelve, it must be my time to die.
• On the eve of his wedding, he found out that he was adopted.
• The sunset turns into darkness when night falls over the city.
• What do you do when the night becomes darker than your fears?
• Sit on the roof of your house at night and look out to the horizon. Write a poem about the things you see.
• Imagine you are a robot observing human lives through a neural interface. Describe an intimate night in someone’s life.
• The stars filled the night sky. “Lumen mundi” he said as he wondered what they could possibly be made of.
• Just me and the moon and the dark.
• The two of them had done a lot in the last three years. Good memories… She couldn’t wait for the fifth!
• He never left that one room, but he had everything he could ever need.

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160+ Ways to Describe Weather

I keep a collection of descriptions that have pulled me into the books I read. I’m fascinated how authors can–in just a few words–put me in the middle of their story and make me want to stay there. This one’s 160+   Ways to Describe Weather.

A note: These are for inspiration only . They can’t be copied because they’ve been pulled directly from an author’s copyrighted manuscript (intellectual property is immediately copyrighted when published).

• Evening shadows deepened into blue and purple.
• The shadows retreated.
• Sun was sinking toward the horizon, the pitiless white ball now an angry orange.
• Fading afternoon in early June
• Evening sky had turned to molten brass.
• Sun still cast a faint yellow light through Slowly gathering evening.
• Daylight had begun to drain away.
• one-quarter of a moonlit night
• silver-white moon hung
• A half-moon rests in the fronds over our heads.
• watching the horizon drain of color
• The shadows slipped up the rocks as though the world were drowning in darkness.
• deepening shadows made it a city of ghosts
• barely visible in the fading light
• the high heavens
• Darkness settled around him.
• The shadows slipped up the rocks.
• Evening was crisp already, the last of sunset just a fading pale stripe in the western sky.
• darkening river
• the moon golden at dawn, turn purple just before sunset in the rainy season, sometimes has white and black stripes created by volcanic ash, calm and clear sometimes attended by only a single cloud
• humpback shapes of conical hills
• The last rays of sun skimmed the surface.
• late afternoon sun
• velvety darkness
• night shattered like a mirror
• the Southern Cross lying on its side, the green meadow bathed in the humid light of the sinking sun
• The corners have just about disappeared into the shadows.
• black branches that traced the blue-black heavens overhead
• far away down the night sky
• full moon a pale blue-white disk
• night sky dull black
• Stars were remote pinpricks.
• a half-moon rests in the fronds over our heads
• inky blackness
• Thick clouds blotted out the stars.
• A thin layer of clouds masked the full moon, filling the room with blue light.
• Sun cast a luminescent glow.
• The day was out of sync with his mood.
• beautiful, 82 degrees, mild breeze, cloudless sunshine, a day for looking at a ball game
• The air was cool but the sun was out.
• The wind blew itself out overnight.
• a web of clouds, back-lit by the failing sun, mist billowed through the trees and over the fields and hung low in the air, masking the camp in a ghostly gray
• towering thunder clouds
• Clouds threatening, but no rain predicted the 45-mile per hour gusts of drizzly wind.
• brown cloud that passes for air
• a wedge of sunlight bursting past the narrow window
• The wind was icy and withering.
• Heads bowed against the gusting wind.
• Grit grated in his teeth. Dust was everywhere, blowing on the wind, leaving its scent in his nostrils.
• as dust motes drifted
• thirty miles over the horizon
• razor edge of the horizon
• cinder dust and gloom
• The haze floated over the crowd like smoke from a doused fire.
• Sun hanging in a pink haze of clouds and smog.
• Fog yellowed by agricultural burning.
• Fog began to billow across the road in a great grey mass like the effluent of a thousand smokestacks. The building was only a shadowy form, almost entirely lost to view.
• Headlamps of cars did little to pierce the gloom.
• The mist floated like smoke out of the cypress in the swamp.
• dark clouds drifting over the hills
• night was pitch
• slice of sky
• thick clouds blotted out the stars
• a thin layer of clouds masked the full moon, filling the room with blue light
• cool restful shady world with light filtering lazily through the treetops that meet high overhead and shut out the direct sunlight
• saw the anvil of cloud coming in. “A thunderstorm.”
• Cumulus clouds falling down to the…
• A light breeze whispered through the trees.
• cloud shadows
• first cumulus clouds darkening into thunderheads
• hold humidity like a sponge holds water
• thick heat of the growing morning
• fierce humidity
• windless heat
• It was surprisingly hot. He could feel the sweat roll down his sides and the dampness of the box up against his chest.
• Even with the breeze, the air remained thick and hot, and it stills tank of petroleum.
• sky as gray-white and sunless
• against the fading layers of orange, yellow
• shoulders hunched against the early morning damp and cool
• fused warm light of dawn now creeping down the summit
• bathed in sunlight
• gold shadow not three inches from his leg
• his breath steaming in the air
• Snow pelted his face and he pulled up the collar of his overcoat to further shield him from the bitter weather.
• rubbed his arms
• A harsh winter wind blew out of a midnight sky. It roared out of the frigid north and thrashed the brooking forest. The force of it bent trees, whipping their bare branches like angry lashes. Shrieking across the river.
• Cold was like that, seeping through her seven layers of clothing, attacking seams and zipper tracks and spots of thin insulation. The exposed skin on her face felt as if it had been touched with lit cigarettes.
• frigid Friday morning
• swirling snow
• winter’s naked branches created a black tracework
• The sun was climbing out of the deep well of winter, but it was still brutally cold.
• winter colors daubed the land in colors of brown and gray
• sunny, crisp and cool
• The crisp air and clear sky energized his thoughts.

Rainy weather

• grey wet morning
• rain-swept and unpleasantly chilly
• A flurry of rain stung my face.
• Cold rain was beating down on my windshield.
• The sky was leaden.
• Downpour started in the early evening and continued on through the night, a heavy pelting of water that thundered against rooftops and drowned out the sound of all else. By morning, city streets were shallow rivers rushing toward the ocean.
• Rain ran down the window, the streets gleamed.
• damp paving stones
• By the time it reaches the ground, it has spent its energy.
• windshield wipers barely keeping up with the cold, hard rain
• The rain came steady and cold against the windshield and rattled on the roof of the car.
• turned her head away and looked out my window, where it had gotten dark and shiny with the lights glistening off the rain.
• The maple trees were black and slick in the rain, their bare branches shiny. The flower bed was a soggy matting of dead stems.
• The sky was low and gray.
• Air was swollen.
• the rain was steady and warm and vertical
• drizzly rain
• The sleety rain drizzled down, not very hard and not very fast, but steady.
• Rain came down so hard it almost hurt, stinging the skin and blowing into the eyes and nose and mouth, but in the forest its fall is broken by the trees.
• saw a distant flash of lightning, counted the seconds, and then said, “six miles, more or less.”

People in hot weather:

• Heat wave hit, temperatures went soaring.
• The heat hit them like a hand in the face.
• strode into the dusk, into the stifling heat
• The heat smacked the grin off his face.
• Burst back into the blistering hot sun. Sweat immediately beaded across her brow. She could feel her T-shirt glue itself stickily to her skin.
• I could feel the sweat form along my backbone and trickle down.
• She slogged forward, feeling blotches of dark gray sweat bloom across the front of her T-shirt, while more trailed down the small of her back.
• slogging across pavement as hot as ash in August.
• white dress shirt, sharply pressed this morning, was now plastered against his chest
• already short of breath, his lungs laboring as they headed down the path
• still wrung out from working in the heat
• Take your shirt off. Pop your underwear in the freezer. Dump a tray of ice cubes on your bed. Throw back some chilled vodka shots before you go to sleep.
• The semi-drought slowly draining the life out of the grass and trees.
• Only 7 in the morning, and already stocky hot. *** had a sheen across his forehead.
• Sweat tricked from his forehead which he wiped with the back of his knotted, callused hand.
• hundred degree heat, burning sun and parching salt
• ninety-five outside, probably a hundred in the car. Not great weather for polyester suits
• a fresh drop of sweat teared up on her brow and made a slow, wet path down the plane of her cheek
• walking through a hair dryer
• The heat slammed her like a blow.
• *** cranked the air-conditioning. She stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes, climbed into the shower and scrubbed.
• answered the phone while used the other hand to wipe the sweat from the back of her neck. God this heat was unbearable. The humidity level had picked up on Sunday and hadn’t done a thing to improve since.
• *** thin green sundress was already plastered to her body while she could feel fresh dewdrops of moisture trickle stickily down between her breast.
• Cradled the phone closer to her damp ear
• Her face shiny with sweat.
• Summer sun remained a brilliant, blinding white. No shade existed for miles and the heat rising up from the baked earth was brutal.
• The summer heat came off the tarmac in waves.

Hot Weather

• While the mercury climbed to a hundred degrees. Efforts started strong, then petered out. People got hot, got tired, got busy with other things—inside things.
• Seemed to be bracing himself for leaving the cool comfort of air-conditioning behind and bursting once more into the heat
• The heat settled in on them, rolling in like a heavy blanket and pressing them deep into their chairs while their clothing glued to their skin.
• Even my teeth are sweating
• The sun beat down relentlessly; even with the AC cranked up, she could feel the heat.
• She could already feel sweat trickle down her back.
• The sun burned white-hot overhead.
• glass exploding from the heat of the sun
• vanish in the dry season’s brown leaves

Click for the complete list of 69 writer’s themed descriptions .

Copyright ©2022 worddreams.wordpress.com – All rights reserved.

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Jacqui Murray  is the author of the popular  Man vs. Nature  saga, the  Rowe-Delamagente thrillers , and the acclaimed  Building a Midshipman , the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy .  She is also the author/editor of over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an  Amazon Vine Voice , and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction,  Savage Land Winter 2024

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122 thoughts on “ 160+ Ways to Describe Weather ”

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Weaving words so perfectly – Thanks for sharing. And overnight, a transformation. Summer at last.,, .

Like Liked by 1 person

These really inspire me. I often read through my collections when I’m stuck.

helped my writing

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Reblogged this on Coffee82 and commented: Awesome.

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Nice collection! A lot of poetic and inventive phrasing there.

✨🙏🕉🌱🌿🌳🌻💚🕊☯🐉✨

Weather is so many different things to different people. Not surprising I found 160 descriptions of it.

Ha! yes – that got me thinking about the old “Number of words for snow” question, and I found this . As a Scot myself though I have to say I am very, very skeptical of the final claim in that article!

I’ve heard of that, too. Luckily, my folks don’t have that problem but it is truly an issue if you’re writing about present-day groups in snowy lands.

Appreciate your list of ways to describe the weather. Timeless too. Here I am 2 years since your post and inspired by your creativity. Take care, Steve

It is timeless, isn’t it! When I put this list together, it helped me to better appreciate weather.

Impressive list. (Mine, now!) I’m compiling one for similes. Raymond Chandler makes me smile with his off the wall analogies. I recently added a Writing Terms Checklist on my free checklists page. It was too long for a post. Thanks for all you do!

I like checklists. I’ll check yours out!

Hi Jacqui, Thanks for reading my modest post. What an accomplished woman you are! What would we do without words, eh! Cheers. Joy x

Thanks, Joy. I enjoyed your thoughts. It’s amazing what inspired such accomplished writers as the Brontes.

Excellent list, Jacqui. I even get lots of ideas for titles, something I’m always struggling with entering competitions.

I grab these from books I read. You can probably tell I favor thrillers, action. I like ‘weather’ and ‘setting’ to be a character as much as the others.

That’s an amazing compilation. Thanks for sharing!!

Thanks! These sorts of lists inspire me.

An awesome post, Jacqui. Thank you. Weather intrigues. It is joy-filled and sometimes furious. God is bowling upstairs during a thunderstorm. Be well and enjoy the week. ox

Thanks–weather is fascinating. I like when I can feel it through an author’s words.

Indeed and thank you, Jacqui. Word play is an enjoyable activity. We have about seven months of winter, two days of spring and then summer at our end of the pond in Upstate New York. I love my four seasons. Be well.

7 months of winter. I didn’t know NY was that cold! Good to know so I never move there!

Jacqui, I laughed at your comment. We live near Lake Ontario and Oneida Lake and get frequent lake effect snow storms in winter. When I first moved to this area, I learned about lake effect snowstorms. We have excellent snow removal though so come on over sometime. Colorful in Autumn too.

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These are great, Jacqui! And yes, inspirational. It’s good to see how other authors describe things; it gives ideas on alternates.

It is. There are some very clever minds out there.

What an epic list 😀 Reminds me of a ‘music’ video we were recommended to watch for university called ’50 words for snow.’ It’s fun to think of different ways to describe things!

That must be put out by Eskimos. They know more about snow than anyone I’ve seen.

That’s a long list, Jacqui. So many ways to tell the day. Thanks for sharing this!

It’s one of my longest! Who knew?

That’s a lot of ideas for talking about the weather 🙂

Dinner party chat.

Quite eloquent 🙂

These lists are so inspirational! Thank you for posting this.

It is pretty interesting to view weather through so many literary eyes, innit?

Yes, indeed. I learn so much. 🙂

great list Jacqui. i use the weather regularly in my stories to create a specific mood. thanks for the info.

A bit of unexpected inspiration. Who knew weather was so interesting?

exactly, Jacqui. i also post weather images regularly on instagram. especially the colours of sunrises and sunsets in clouds during different seasons and different weather conditions.

Interesting post, Jacqui. Thanks.

I highlight memorable phrases in the Kindle books I read. Although I no longer transcribe them into a file on my computer (too time-consuming), the mere act of highlighting imprints the phrases in my mind. If an author particularly impresses me, I can scroll through the highlights and reread the highlights for inspiration.

That’s how I do it, too. I like it so well, I’ve migrated from being a print book reader to a Kindle reader.

It’s nice to see the wide variety of language. Not that it is needy. I can describe the weather currently in my area in one word — sucky! 😀

Ah South Korea. It rained most of the time on my one visit there. And no one but me seemed to care!

We’re having a monsoon right now. Don’t remember having a good one of these for a while.

I remember my son telling me July was the typhoon season, which is why we visited in May. Stay safe!

Nothing that crazy. We had a tropical depression pass through, but that’s it. It’s just wet.

I love the idea of keeping a notebook with descriptions that catch your attention. I’m going to start doing this.

Mine is so long,d I added a table of contents with links to the sections! I’m a bit nuts about it.

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I love the way you compile and share these lists with us, Jacqui. They are amazing and so helpful. Can I confess something? I share some of them with my creative writing students, and then give them prompts where they have to include 3 or more things from your lists. Will be interesting to see how I do that with weather. 🙂

This one got a little long. Who knew there were so many clever ways to describe weather?

I am flattered you share them! I would say weather could surprise them.

This one IS long – but weather gives us a lot to talk about and a lot to experience. I love the list. I will say, the prompt my students seem to love the best is. (are you sitting down?) “It was a dark and stormy night…” 🙂

Reblogged this on Marina Costa and commented: Interesting and useful to know.

Thanks for sharing, Marina!

The English should love this…

I would say India not so much. Do you-all get anything other than hot and humid or too-darn-windy?

What a helpful post, Jacqui! It reminds me of how we can put effort into our descriptions.

BTW, you won a book on my blog. Please confirm there.

Ooh, sorry I missed that. I just went over and replied and then emailed my info to you. How exciting!

Reblogged this on quirkywritingcorner and commented: I love her lists of descriptions. I hope you find them as helpful as I do.

Thanks for sharing this! It puts to bed any thought that weather is boring, doesn’t it?

That’s quite a collection, Jacqui. Isn’t it amazing that each of us can conjure something unique?

It is! Next time you don’t know what to say to someone, you can eruditely talk about the weather!

That’s so funny. Weather ‘small’ talk. Who would’ve thought. 😂

Great post. That’s a wonderful collection

Thank you so much, Luisa. It’s hard to make weather interesting but some very clever authors have done just that.

Jacqui, I love this post. The more I have been reading, the more I recognize how important it is for authors to paint a picture in your mind. To be able to put you right in the middle of the books setting. Sometimes when my mind has trailed off the story, it is descriptions like these that put my mind right back in.

That’s true, innit. A little inspiration to start your day.

I love your descriptions of weather and the times of day. Such descriptions can help add a sense of time in a story (just as the phases of the moon or the stars can create time (crescent moon in evening is aa new waxing moon, crescent moon in morning before sunrise is a waxing moon just before the “dark of the moon” which are the three days the moon is in the shadow of the earth. As for stars: Orion in winter, Scorpus in summer, etc). The dog star in Canis Major, Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, rising in late summer (as it rises just before daylight) is linked to “dog days” of summer…

I also like the old graveside prayer that describes the end of life: “until the shadows lengthen and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, then in thy mercy grant us a safe lodging and a holy rest and peace at last.”

What a wonderful poem. I’ve copied it. It captures so much of the fear and hope.

Thanks for these awesome examples, Jacqui! Saving and sharing…

It’s always fun to talk about the weather, innit?

New Jersey weather: moist ‘n’ icky.

Good description, especially the ‘icky’.

I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.

Oh my, Jacqui. I love your lists and that’s a good long one. Great thought starters. Thanks for sharing your collection!

Since we-all know we must cover weather, I thought these were clever asnd interesting ways to do that!

Ha ha ha. I love weather. 😀

Right now there is only one way to describe the weather here in my city: hot

Here, too, though I have an excellent fan in my home office.

Some great phrases here, Jacqui. I am reading The Long Walk by Bachman/King at the moment and that has some very descriptive phrases in it.

Oooh, I’ll have to look at him. I love nature writers.

It’s not a nature book, it is a dark psychological horror.

Woah! OK, that’s different!

Darn! All the things I was about to write! 😀

Hehee. These are beyond most of what I write but I’ve seen what you turn out. Excellent.

Wonderful post!

Thanks, Ed. Food for thought…

A lot, just wonderful and so helpful.

My goodness …. can I just say ‘HOT’ … luckily today it’s cooler with a sea breeze … I need to read them all – clever and thank you! Cheers Hilary

Hot works. Absolutely.

Hahaha can I just say HOT, or the weather outside is weather yeah?

What a wonderful list, Jacqui! These are descriptions that always make me pause and reread them to fully enjoy them. They do draw the reader deep the story. I enjoyed reading these, thanks:)

Thanks! They do that for me, too, and that’s why I couldn’t just read and move on. I had to note them!

Some of these are quite lovely. Thanks for sharing.

If you recognized them from your outdoors scenes, feel free to add a note!

I actually didn’t recognize any of them. 🤔

OMG, Jacqui. What an amazing list Thanks for sharing.

It’s really nice for those whose plots take place outdoors a lot!

BTW, finished your book. Couldn’t stop reading. Wonderful.

Thank you, Jacqui. You put a smile on my face:)

Wow, great post. Bookmarking.

Amazing how much there is to say about the weather, innit?

I love weather, the seasons, earth and sky. There were some lovely gems in this collection. Thanks for sharing.

Thanks, Mae. I didn’t used to think much about the weather until I had to write about it, and make it interesting! These really struck me.

A terrific resource Jacqui. Thank you.

Thanks so much, Brigid. I couldn’t believe how many weather descriptors I had!

Nice information thanks

Thanks! Everyone writes about weather, right?

Great list, Jacqui. Thanks so much for sharing.

Thanks, Jill. Who says weather isn’t interesting? Hmm??

I think I’d like to be a meteorologist in my next life. 🙂

Reblogged this on chrismakan .

Thanks for sharing!

Wow this is very educative

I love how some writers weave their words so perfectly.

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BRYN DONOVAN

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Master List for Describing Weather

A lot of writers struggle with describing settings. I’ve written before about how to describe settings and why it matters , but a few people have told me they’d like me to do some of my master lists for writers to help them out!

I have a weird love for creating lists like this, so I’m happy to do it. “How to describe weather” seemed like a good place to start. This way, you won’t get stuck trying to figure out how to describe nice weather, or thinking up ways to describe rain. Hopefully, this will make your writing go faster.

I always include simple as well as more creative ways to describe or write about weather. Sometimes, the simple word is the one you want! I included dryness and humidity in a few of the categories because it felt weird for them to get their own.

As always, this is not a comprehensive list, and I might add to it. My list will probably make you think of other possibilities, too. Bookmark or pin it for future writing reference!

HOT WEATHER 

blazing sunshine

glaring sun

baking in the sun

sun-drenched

scorching heat

extravagant heat

relentless sun

like a suana

dense tropical heat

radiating heat

blistering heat

oppressive heat

insufferable heat

suffocating heat

heat pressing down

searing sun

shimmering heat

like an oven

like a furnace

WARM / PLEASANT WEATHER

(“Pleasant” is a matter of opinion, of course.)

a beautiful day

a clear day

a temperate day

a golden day

a glorious day

heavenly weather

bright and sunny

a gorgeous spring day

a dazzling summer day

a brilliant autumn day

a vivid blue sky

a cloudless sky

fluffy white clouds

gentle sunshine

lazy sunshine

kind sunshine

filtered sunlight

dappled sunlight

welcome warmth

one of those rare, perfect days

the kind of day that made people forget to worry

the kind of day that lifted people’s moods

COOL WEATHER

refreshing air

stimulating cool air

invigorating cool air

bracing cool air

a nip in the air

a brisk day

a chilly day

weak sunshine

GRAY / OVERCAST WEATHER

(Most people don’t like gray days, so most of these descriptions are negative. I love them, so I had to add a few positive descriptions.)

colorless sky

a soft gray sky

a dove-gray sky

a gray day made for books and tea

steel-gray sky

granite sky

cement-gray sky

threatening clouds

foreboding clouds

COLD WEATHER

glacial air

bitter cold

brutal cold

bone-chilling cold

penetrating cold

devastating cold

numbing cold

punishing cold

dangerous cold

unforgiving cold

too cold to talk

so cold it burned one’s lungs

so cold it took one’s breath away

like a blast from a hair dryer

a gust of wind

insistent winds

heavy winds

strong winds

cutting wind

whipping winds

biting wind

wintry squall

violent gale

howling wind

shifting winds

restless wind

fresh breeze

soft breeze

balmy breeze

perfumed breeze

slight breeze

hint of a breeze

stirring breeze

wind rustling through the trees

fine drizzle

gray drizzle

pebbles of falling rain

spitting rain

stinging rain

steady rain

rain falling in torrents

cascades of rain

rain beating down

shower of rain

sheets of rain

hard-driving rain

pelting rain

lashing rain

slashing rain

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

rumbling in the distance

a roll of distant thunder

crash of thunder

crackle of thunder

crack of thunder

clap of thunder

bang of thunder

booming thunder

rattled with thunder

earth-shaking thunder

tempestuous

a furious storm

flash of lightning

streaks of lightning

SNOW AND ICE

flurries of snow

dancing flakes

snowflakes floating down

snowflakes wafting down

swirling snow

falling thick and fast

big flakes falling like petals

blinding snowstorm

raging blizzard

sparkling expanses

blankets of white

caked with snow

boulders of snow

branches coated in ice

glittering ice

crystallized by frost

silvered with frost

clouds of mist

swirling mist

billowing fog

cloaked in mist

cocooned in fog

shrouded in fog

enveloped by fog

smothered by fog

made mysterious by fog

the fog rolled in

the fog was burning off

the fog was lifting

the fog was clearing

the fog was dissipating

I have many lists like this in my book  Master Lists for Writers: Thesauruses, Plots, Character Traits, Names, and More . Check it out!

Do you describe weather conditions in your writing? Do you have a favorite example of a weather description? Let me know in the comments! Thanks for reading, and happy writing!

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21 thoughts on “ master list for describing weather ”.

In my current WIP, weather is a crucial element. Not only is the woman in the romance a professional photographer — of weather — but it is a weather phenomenon, namely a tornado, that brings them together. So the description of the sky and the weather is quite detailed in places (specially as the supercell storm roars down on them).

On another angle, the phrase “gloriously sunny” is one that despite having that horrible “ly” adverb (shudder) is so evocative of the type of weather and the POV character’s attitude (and possibly even the type of weather that has gone before), that it’s powerful. It says a huge amount with only two words.

Hi Chris! Oh, wow…that’s a lot more detailed than most of us ever get in writing about the weather. It sounds like a great premise!

I will need this list as I begin edits next month on my WIP. I currently live in Hawaii, but am writing a story at Christmas time in Vermont. 🙂 Thank you!

Aw, nice! That’s some very different weather from what you’re used to. 🙂

It really is! And traveling to the climate I need isn’t ideal right now. So, off to the freezer I go! 🙂

Wow! This is fantastic. Thanks. You ARE a master at this.

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This is comprehensive! It’s bookmarked for future use. Thanks!

Thanks, Steve, I’m glad you liked it!

Amazing list that goes beyond the words that I struggle with – especially describing the rain-painted setting of Snowdonia.

Love your lists. You don’t have one for beaches by any chance? Would this, including the weather be another book by any chance??

Hi, Nicole! It’s funny you should ask. 🙂 I am going to release a second, more expanded version of MASTER LISTS FOR WRITERS . It’s going to have several setting descriptions in there (including a whole list for beaches!), and the weather list will be in there, too! I’m hoping to get it done before November of this year, but we’ll see. Thanks for asking!

That’s awesome and look forward to it’s release.

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I am in Chinan. I happened to enter this web-link and want to learn more about writing, I wonder if there are any descriptive passages. I can only find some words and expressions…

That was really useful. Thank you!

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This list is fabulous. Thank you for sharing it. I will be consulting it when incorporating weather elements into writing my next picture book.

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WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®

Helping writers become bestselling authors

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Woods at Night

March 5, 2011 by BECCA PUGLISI

There is a forest entry already, but I think that at night the woods can be an entirely different setting, full of mystery and sometimes fear. I figured it deserved its own entry! Notice how other senses are utilized more so than sight–an unusual occurrence.

Dark tree trunks, shadows, overhanging limbs across the path seen at the last second, clumps of bushes, barely visible black trails snaking through the undergrowth, moon shining through a lattice of leaves, patchy sky & stars seen in glimpses through tree breaks, tall shadowed pines stretching up like arrows into the sky, streaks of cloud against the…

Wind slipping through leaves, cracking undergrowth with each step, creaking tree trunks, the flutter of wings unseen, snapping twigs, grass and weed sliding against pant legs, breathing sounds, coyote calls, fox yipping, wolves howling (if within location), snarls, padding feet along a trail, a grunt of pain at catching a root or tripping on dead fall, a rip of…

Rich earth, rotting leaves, pine needles, fresh air, a slight scent of flowers, earthy fungus, tree sap, wild animal musk (if close), possibly the spray of a skunk (if around), green growing things (spring & summer), moss

Sweat on lips, dryness in throat, sometimes a cold metallic tang if lots of stone is present

Cobwebs in face, cold, dewy leaves sliding across skin, slipping on wet leaves and mushrooms, tripping on bumpy roots, stones, dead fall, thorns scratching skin, scrapes and cuts on hands from falling in the dark, pine needles embedded in skin during fall, twisting and jerking at every unfamiliar sound, holding hands out to ward off unseen obstacles like tree…

Helpful hints:

–Think about the conflict that might be present in your setting.

Your character’s emotions will be on high alert at night because their visibility is low, making it a great time to insert conflict. This Conflict Scenario Database is loaded with ideas to help you.

–The words you choose can convey atmosphere and mood.

Example 1:  Devin dove behind a wide cedar trunk just off the trail. Heart slamming against his ribs, he gulped at the air, trying to slow his breathing enough to hear. Back in the shadows, branches thrashed and snapped as Valio growled sharp orders to his men. Sunset had finally drained out of the sky overhead, sheathing the woods in shadow. Devin pressed his face against the bark, the ridges biting into his skin, and tried to become one with the tree…

–Similes and metaphors create strong imagery when used sparingly.

Example 1: (Simile)  Eileen worked her way along the narrow trail, leaves sliding across her bare forearms like wet tongues…

Becca Puglisi is an international speaker, writing coach, and bestselling author of The Emotion Thesaurus and its sequels. Her books are available in five languages, are sourced by US universities, and are used by novelists, screenwriters, editors, and psychologists around the world. She is passionate about learning and sharing her knowledge with others through her Writers Helping Writers blog and via One Stop For Writers —a powerhouse online library created to help writers elevate their storytelling.

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Reader Interactions

May 1, 2020 at 8:45 am

This is my new account! Thanks for all your kind replies! 🙂

March 11, 2020 at 3:32 pm

if anyone could help me with how to describe palaces and castles, please comment me back.

March 11, 2020 at 4:24 pm

HI Kit, You can find information on Castles and other fantasy settings at our site, One Stop for Writers: https://onestopforwriters.com/scene_settings

Happy writing! ~angela

December 27, 2019 at 8:16 am

this has just made me re think and re write my whole stroy thank you this really helps

May 1, 2020 at 8:43 am

happy to help!

P.S. I’m Angela, this is just a new account! 🙂

July 13, 2017 at 2:55 pm

I would take that fear away from you Laura. Having spend my childhood surrounded by woods on the hills and shore of Cayuga Lake I have spent time in the woods alone at night. It is the imagination and the untrained ear that brings fear into the equation. Shadows unseen during the day become magical at night. All the nocturnal animals want nothing to do with you.

May 1, 2020 at 8:44 am

Thank you so much for your kind reply. Happy to help you always!

December 9, 2011 at 3:17 pm

I do not think I would be walking around the woods at night.

December 6, 2011 at 2:06 pm

Just came across this one and I have to say, it really helped me with a scene I was struggling with. Thank you so much!

March 9, 2011 at 9:15 am

I think the dark tree trunks description sums it up for me. Creepy and suspenseful. This will help me loads in my continued search for publication and getting my story just right.

March 7, 2011 at 1:20 pm

I totally agree, Ralfast. I was just talking about this the other day with my kids, that if they really wanted to see what it would be like at night they would have to go far, far out into the country, beyond all light pollution and population.

March 7, 2011 at 1:15 pm

What makes forest so frightening for the modern viewer/reader is the near total darkness. We are so used to having sources of light 24/7 that our mind panics when we lack it.

March 6, 2011 at 2:41 pm

I love the woods and only a few times have I experienced them at night. It can be a beautiful-creepy feeling.

March 6, 2011 at 1:41 pm

Great–I’m so glad this one helps. So many great stories have night scenes that take place in a forest or wooded area. I think this is a setting that naturally creates tension.

Hope everyone is having a good weekend!

March 6, 2011 at 2:23 am

Ooooh, just thinking about the woods at night gives me the willies. You nailed it!

March 5, 2011 at 8:23 pm

Very timely. Might be needing this for my wip!Thanks!

March 5, 2011 at 7:31 pm

Loved this post! I just recently started reading this blog, and it has helped me to totally rethink how I’m going to write! Thanks!

March 5, 2011 at 11:25 am

Just wrote a scene involving the woods at night. You are right, they definitely deserve their own entry!

March 5, 2011 at 11:08 am

This totally makes me want to go write a fairy tale. =)

March 5, 2011 at 10:46 am

The woods are lovely dark and deep but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep….

March 5, 2011 at 8:58 am

Walking through the woods at night is definitely different than during the day! I don’t think you could pay me to walk through the woods at night!

[…] Does your setting take place at night? Check out this similar Entry: WOODS AT NIGHT […]

[…] beautiful Brothers Grimm-inspired gallery of forest photographs. And if you get stuck, check out Writing Helping Writers’ “Forest Thesaurus” for even more […]

[…] hushed voices and whispers, muffled footsteps, your own heartbeat. Also, see the setting entry Woods at Night. EMOTIONAL TRIGGERS: Mood: Falling stars happen so quickly; to catch sight of one makes the […]

Sleepless [writing prompt]

by Joe Bunting | 270 comments

For this writing practice, use the following  creative writing prompt :

Your characters haven't gotten any sleep. Write about it.

Write about being sleepless for fifteen minutes . When your time is up, post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, be sure to comment on a few practices by other writers.

Photo by Alyssa Miller

Here's my practice:

Even after growing out of adolescence and into mortgage-paying adulthood, he hated to go to sleep. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy sleeping. On Sundays, he liked to lie in until mid-morning when his housemate would begin to do the dishes intentionally too loud and the guilt at his irresponsibility would bring him to a groggy wakefulness. No, he enjoyed sleep, but he resisted transition into sleep until as late as possible, procrastinating the inevitable until exhaustion or panic at the prospect of waking up exhausted in just a few hours forced him to bed, where he would often toss and turn for thirty minutes or more.

It was after just such a night that he met Gwen.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

270 Comments

The clock ticked. Tick. Tock. I turned over and groaned, pulling the sheet up to my shoulders. Tick. Tock. Tick. Why did I have insomnia tonight of all night? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I groaned and sat up. My room was dark. My eyes adjusted fairly quickly though. I turned on my lamp and looked to the clock on the wall. Usually it helped me to fall asleep, but not tonight. I really needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was an important day. I’d be seeing my boyfriend. We’d been apart for two months and his homecoming would be spectacular. I sighed. I really needed to get back to sleep. I looked at the time. 12:59 AM. Ugh, will I ever get to sleep? I need to get up at 7:45. I decided to try some techniques I had learned to sleep. Since I had already tried to lull myself to sleep by imagining “Zz’s” in my head, I crossed that out. I also crossed out trying to relax my body, since that hadn’t worked. My next trick was yoga. I sat up my mat and started with a sun salutation. As I continued through the sequences, my muscles began to stretch and lengthen. When I finished, I was sore and sweaty. It was 2 AM. I lay back down to sleep. After tossing and turning for twenty more minutes, I got back up. Maybe I needed some water or something to eat. I served myself some grapes and milk. After eating and drinking, I tried again to sleep. No such luck. I tried tea. Nothing. Finally I went to see what I could do on my laptop. Sugar and salt was the answer. I went to the kitchen and mixed some up and took just a fourth of a teaspoonful. As I climber back in bed, tiredness swept over me. I was exhausted. I looked at the clock. 3:00 AM. I yawned and turned off my light. I thought about my boyfriend and he was my last thought as I drifted into dreamland.

I hate this kind of sleeplessness! It makes me tired just reading all she went through trying to calm her body. I liked the ‘tick tock’ rythm at the beginning.

“I need to get up at 7:45” … Sometimes the more you think about what time you need to get up, the harder it is to go to sleep. But the longer you can’t get to sleep, the more you think about what time you need to get up …

Thank you for your reply! I always need kind words to help me feel like I’m actually succeeding as a writer.

I loved the insertions of the “Tick. Tock.” but you abandoned it! After “but not tonight” Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

It makes time an oppressive and obnoxious force in the piece.

They have the reference to counting sheep. Often, I’ll just think of sheep jumping over the fence at about 3 second intervals. I count them. Rarely do I ever make it to 100.

Thank you for your reply!

I thought about keeping on with the “Tick. Tock.” But in the end, I didn’t. I’m not quite sure why.

Maybe because she gave up on sleeping.

Your story is relatable. I like how you referenced the methods of trying to sleep.

She swallowed her pills, turned on the heating blanket and crawled in beside her kitty. A perfect formula for perfect sleep.

As if on cue her eyes blinked open and slowly became accustomed to the darkness. The Sandman had bypassed her house again tonight. Just as the Tooth Fairy had when she was a child. Just as Santa had when she was a child. . Just as Jesus had when her mother died. Jesus must have been otherwise engaged. He couldn’t have missed her prayers, there were so many of them. “Has his eye on the sparrow.” There must have been a lot of needy sparrows. That’s when she began to doubt the whole God and Jesus thing.

Santa had stopped coming when the church had disfellowshipped her dad for drunkenness. Jesus stopped listening soon afterward.

Her monkey mind was all over the place by now as she forced her eyes to close and fought to go to sleep. Nothing, none of the drowsiness she felt when she tried so hard to stay awake during a test or a sermon.

There had been a time when she fought sleep. When she put on all the clothes she could and pulled the covers up to her neck. When she listened for footsteps in the hall and the sound of the door knob turning.

A very troubled character. I hope things turn around for her.

this is really emotional piece, very sad, but authentic. I loved “monkey mind”, exactly how it feels when our thoughts race so randomly. The voice sounds like a lost girl and you were consistent with that – I hope you continue this piece with this voice.

“You look like ten miles of rough road”, said Jack’s boss as he peeled himself out of his truck and made his way into the barn. “You pull an all nighter?” “Same dream, boss. That’s a week straight. I bet ain’t slept three full hours in the past seven days, and I know I haven’t slept for at least 48 hours.” “Now, why’d you go and tell me that? I can’t let you punch a clock knowing you ain’t got your wits about you.” “What’s there to worry about?”, asked Jack, incredulously. “We’re pushing cows into the canyon so we can brand em. It don’t take a genius to do that. I can do that in my sleep, for Pete’s sake. The work will do me good.” Reluctantly, the boss watched him saddle his mare and ride out through the back side of the barn and across the meadow and disappear down over and onto the trail to Bullet Hole Canyon. Jack thought about that dream. Who is the beautiful woman calling his name? He shuddered as he rehearsed the scene. She smiles at him and draws him in to her kiss. He wants to kiss her. Her lips are full and inviting. Her eyes are dreamy. He sees her slowly close her eyes, anticipating his lips upon hers. He closes his eyes so they can be one as they kiss. Where there should be warmth, the coldness of a steel blade is thrust between his shoulder blades. He opens his wide and in terror realizes his phantom love has morphed into a hideous creature with stringy white hair and half a face.

Fifteen minutes is up. I have to go back to work.

Love how the dream babe turns into a hideous creature!

Get rid of the dog, idiot…Sell Max to Disney, maybe they’ll use it for one of their Disney princess movies, like Little Mermaid.

(The idiot is aimed at the NARRATOR, not the author!)

I was going to say, “puberty” until you mentioned the knife, which I was secretly hoping for.

Thanks, this was an excellent little piece.

I’m lost at this comment.

The white hair and half face to me suggests a dog. Max, the dog from Little Mermaid, looks exactly like what I was thinking.

As for the puberty part… I felt that was self-explanatory humor. I’m glad you went with the knife stabbing thing, I’ll put it that way.

I was born asleep. This upset the doctor that delivered me so much that he smacked the living daylights into me. Perhaps I was merely unconscious because of the drugs he gave my mother an hour before delivery of a new sort of human. Ever since I’ve been wishing to slide back into that languorous state of nothingness; the black, empty backstage before the show. Before the time of feelings, disappointments and judgements, when nothing had names. I yearn for that dark silence inside the bud of life, everything unknown. In a single moment of REM sleep lies an alternate reality, a world of respite, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket: bobbing in the Caribbean Sea like a jelly fish or walking in amber light with my mother as the leaves rustle and glide to the ground. Anything is possible in a dream. But for me sleep is not an option and my “dreams” are waking fantasies. I’ve never slept again since that first minute on Earth.

You really made those emotions and tangible with your adjectives and metahpors. It gave me goosebumbps 🙂 It’s a haunting idea that somebody who find such escape in sleep, has lost their safety.

Goosebumps! Thank you, Karoline.

Absolutely beautiful! I really like the “empty backstage before the show” and “walking in amber light with my mother as the leaves rustle and glide to the ground” very descriptive!

remarkable…vivid…telling… beautiful…”familiar”–ie I somehow understood those feelings you wove. Your words touched my core.

Way to turn the prompt on its head! If this character has indeed never slept again since being born asleep, he/she’s got major problems! Will you develop it?

I’m not sure I’ll develop it, but it was fun to write. I’m reading a science fiction book called Beggars in Spain, about humans genetically modified so they do not need sleep. There seems to me something inherently sad in that, as I adore sleep and I get tired of my waking life sometimes. So the prompt of sleeplessness was perfect to play with.

I really liked this piece. Your descriptions are vivid and artistic.

I’ve heard alcoholics, as well as others, can reach a point of sleep deprivation where they have REM while they are awake.

I too love my sleep.

It is amazing how easily the big things roll out as if they have no inertia except when you try to stop thinking about them then they roll over everything else in their path,

great first sentence – hooked me right away!

I really loved this bit of prose!

(pure opinion:) I didn’t like the final sentence though, it seems to infuse quite a ‘grand’ narrative that feels slightly at odds with the ambiguity of what’s come before.

I feel like thats describing lucid dreaming. I like your detail

It’s beautiful

This is amazing!

Very vivid imagery.

Absolutely fantastic, may I show this to some students as an example of good creative writing?

I get all comfy and turn off the lights only to realize I can’t get to sleep. I’m exhausted and as the hours tick away my mind wanders into the deep recesses of my mind.

I start thinking about stories I am writing and the project that’s due and wonder if freelance writing is something I should stick with or find a steady job doing anything just to get a regular paycheck, with all of these things rolling around in my brain, I finally drift off to sleep. Once I am awake I realize that I had some crazy thoughts and go about my day very tired hoping that I get some sleep tonight.

**Screams**

This character already frightens me. Their mind can wander into itself.

It like folds into itself like space! It’s like physically walking around in your own head, walking in your brain, while you are asleep.

This passage is very expressive. But, I feel it lacks the details to make it a memorable piece. Mull it over in your mind, until you can pick out those critical details. It makes a huge difference.

Thanks for sharing!

“The black, empty backstage before the show.”

I love it. Great expressions.

Thanks. Somehow I double posted my practice today. So this version was deleted. There’s a clone copy below. I liked the rancher/ sci fi possibilities in your piece. If your character meets the dream girl, I think he should proceed with caution!

Thump, one beat. Thump…Thump, two beats. Thump…thump…thump, three beats. Thump…thump…thump, thump, four beats. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, five beats. Trapped in an endless whirl of darkness, I can’t help but be nervous. Why am I trapped in this darkness without light? I can’t wait until my fantasy becomes my reality. My hearts beats faster, stronger, and louder. I will persevere. I will win at life. This is another battle between light and darkness. I will use this opportunity to conjure up new ideas in the midst of this darkness. How do I make myself faint? Will that allow me to escape the darkness I so despise? I want to come up with ingenious ideas to erase this darkness. My eyes are starting to burn with scarlet hues. Subconsciously, I grasp my blanket and covered my face. The burning scarlet hues again pitched into darkness. Sigh. I pull down my blanket, and my eyes starts to squint itself into a moon-shape crevice. Yes, it is morning again. I failed to defeat the darkness by dreaming again.

I like the repetition of certain words. Very interesting!

I liked it, though I found it a little confusing. I’ve found it is almost impossible to sleep during daylight if you can see the sunshine. I had a lot of issues sleeping when I worked nights.

I didn’t care for the thumps at the beginning. Maybe if they were alternated with the story. I assume they were supposed to be the heartbeats.

Thanks James for the feedback. yep they were heartbeats

Since arriving at Alavare Castle, most nights are are just a lost battle between sleep and awake for me. Nightmares which feel real are less easily endured than dark hours spent thinking and pacing. I thought staying here would be the easy part. As I anticipated, everybody is fooled, the women are intruiged; it’s no differerent than home, really. Although my motives have not hampered my conscience, it’s the deception I’m forcefully weilding that has become my vice. The girl, espeically, provokes my mission and I continually lie to myself. If her eyes weren’t so honest and full of desperate hope, pulling her close and pushing her away wouldn’t be so hard. Though the job pays well, I’m not certain that the vile side effects of my work could ever be justified. Until I have an answer for this onus, sleepless, I expect to remain.

A little confusing. As a reader, I felt kind of like you weren’t letting me really know too much of what was going on. Otherwise, I thought some of what seems to be reflections of the narrator were realistic and interesting. Dark deeds are not an easy think to sleep on, I imagine. You go a little crazy.

Out damned spot! Out, I say! – Lady Macbeth

Confusion was what I wanted. 🙂 I wanted to allude to the characters’s emotions, more than I wanted you to know exactly what he was experiencing. I was going for the “how” rather than the “what”. You could think of it as an opening chapter in a book; I wanted to tantalize the reader without giving much away. Thanks for the feedback!

She lay on the soft mattress, watching the ceiling. It was well past three in the morning, probably getting towards four o’clock by now. She didn’t have any clocks in her room that could be used in the dark; she couldn’t sleep unless it was dark. Truly dark. Not just the sort of city-dark that was grey and punctuated by the angry yellow of streetlights. Or the clear-night dark where the moon felt as though it was as bright as the sun. She needed it to be the kind of dark that your eyes never got used to, the kind of dark where you closed your eyes and nothing changed.

She’d not slept properly for as long as she could remember, her parents had done all they could to light-proof her room as a child, and it had worked up to a point, but even since she’d moved out, or rather been thrown out, she’d not been able to achieve that same level of near-perfect dark to allow her to get a proper night’s sleep.

It’s strange what lack of sleep does to you. Not just the pulled-an-all-nighter kind of lack of sleep, or the went-to-bed-late-because-I-was-watching-videos-on-the-internet lack of sleep. If you don’t sleep properly for weeks and months on end, you go insane. You begin to see things, your brain doesn’t function properly, you can hardly handle routine activities, you lose your job, you scrape and scrounge to make enough money to pay rent, your friends stop talking to you and your parents get pissed off because you promise to call or visit and you never do because you forget that you were ever going to. Whole days just disappear and your entire existence begins to boil down to the precious hours of the night where you’re lying on your bed trying desperately to just shut your eyes and sleep and you can’t. You see doctors and they prescribe pills, but the pills don’t work, they just make you drowsy, which you are already, so you function even less well.

When you do sleep you dream. The less you sleep, the more you dream, that’s how it works, apparently. Your dreams are so vivid they could be real; in fact you’re more of a functioning human being when you’re dreaming than when you’re awake because your brain doesn’t have to bother with telling the rest of your body what to do, it just does it.

In her dreams she had a wonderful life. She had a boyfriend, a good job and a nice apartment. She was happy when she was asleep. Happier than she had even been when she was awake. The problem was that she only slept a few hours a night, and the more she began to crave those precious moments when exhaustion overcame the rest of her, the less sleep she got.

Maybe there was a way to sleep forever… to sleep perchance to dream.

I really like this, you’ve really made me feel as if I’m IN that state of insomnia. I also love the phrase “punctuated by the angry yellow of streetlights”. It gives a nice punchiness. Good job!

I can actually relate to this. I dream more and don’t get enough deep sleep; lately I feel like it is beginning to affect my everyday life. Very interesting and relatable. Keep it up!

Loved the descriptive rhythm about the dark in the first paragraph.

I loved all of this, highly immersive. I loved the details. I’m interesting in what is going to happen to this character, and if there are meaning to her dreams.

She should get a coffin. 🙂

You’ve captured the feeling of chronic insomnia, the desperation and isolation it causes.

I agree with the others’ comments, and I like your phrase about “the kind of dark where you close your eyes and nothing changes”. Very descriptive of chronic insomnia just verging on scary and anxious for one’s state of mind. Perhaps rooted in childhood trauma of some kind? The makings of a good story!

Such a wonderful description of the effect that a lack of sleep has on you, and how it can interfere with every day normal functioning. Thank you for sharing.

“in fact you’re more of a functioning human being when you’re dreaming than when you’re awake because your brain doesn’t have to bother with telling the rest of your body what to do, it just does it.” perfectly put 🙂

Sophie stared at the ceiling. The wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden slats they had nailed across the windows and howled through holes in the roof. It moaned through the pilings under the floor, competing with the moans that it carried from further off. Sophie shuddered despite the warmth of the night. A single candle burned beside the dirty mattress on the floor that was scattered with dry leaves and broken belongings. The flickering light gave her little comfort, but it was still preferable to the suffocating blackness without it.

Sophie could hear Dylan’s soft, even breathing beside her. She wished she could sleep like him. Before all this happened, she was always amazed at how easily he fell asleep. When they caught a flight somewhere together, Dylan would usually be asleep before the plane would take off, and would wake up just as the plane was landing. Now, despite the howling wind, uncomfortable mattress and the terrible danger lurking outside, he was out like a light.

There was a sudden rustling in the corner of the room and Sophie sat up like a shot. She peered into the gloom, the candle not giving enough light from its place on the floor for her to clearly see to the other side of the room. She picked up the candle and thrust it forward, just in time to see a rat scurry down a small hole in the floorboards. She let out the breath she realised she’d been holding and sagged back against the mattress.

She was starting to think she would never sleep again.

Vivid and relatable. My wife always falls asleep before me. I find, I sleep quickly only when I slightly deprived myself of sleep. I’ve got myself use to only 6 hours of sleep a night. Now, I sleep without so much resistance.

My wife also does this funny thing before she sleeps, where her muscles twitch. It happens just as she nods off. My kids do it too sometimes.

Nice details. I can see the character’s fear. I love the way you write. So captivating.

Thanks James! That’s what’s known as a “Hypnic Jerk”, more commonly known as a “sleep start”. I do it to on occasion 🙂 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypnic_jerk

We must swap email addresses for critiquing!

Yes, but that response sounds much more… violent. This is just a twitch of their muscles, before they are actually asleep. It may be the same thing. After all, you are the psychologist, I am the programmer .

Yes we must.

[email protected]

I’ve also got a blog up at vozey.wordpress.com.

You have set the scene well and given us a good idea of the characters state of mind. I like the feeling the single candle gives to the scene.

great action words for the wind here that set the scene so vividly: the wind whistled, it moaned. Also, the flicker of light from the lone candle added to the creepiness of trying to sleep where they were. Loved how you positioned Dylan asleep without fear while Sophie’s heart raced…well done!

Thanks for your feedback!

To call it merely unnatural was to be optimistic. There had been other sleepless nights, where Cass would toss and turn and feel helplessly restless, but none quite like tonight. His eyes would close and he would lie still, and then the sound of his breathing would get to him or the blankets would be too warm or his pajamas would induce the slightest itch and his eyes would open again, and he’d turn over and try sleeping on the other side. But even when such distractions were for the most part ignored (with difficulty), the fact still stood that Cass simply was not tired. His eyes closed, but there wasn’t the same soothing feeling that came on other nights—it was as if he was out and about again, when closing your eyes was simply that and not an invitation for rest. The brain was far too worked up in those times. But there was no such excitement now. Nothing was happening tomorrow; there was simply a tomorrow, just like there was a yesterday, or a today.

His body screamed for sleep. In fits of frustration through the night he, too, would yell and slam the walls until his hands throbbed. It wasn’t until four in the morning that he decided to give up—and in the moment he stood up in his bedroom, a dizziness swept over him and Cass crumpled to the floor, reaching his hand out for the phone on the nightstand only to find that it was quivering uncontrollably.

A little strange. I wonder what is going on with him. Sounds like a stroke or something.

Right back to the beginning, the night goes through. The silence and the occasional sound of car passes by my window, they keep me company. Nowadays we can be so much protected in a wall of entertainment that we can even claim sovereignty, in the kingdom of our own homes, as long as we have food on our fridge, some music to change the energy of the night and a couple of films we have longed to watch, “the kind of night you promisse yourself you are finally going to watch Amadeus. As long as life moves like that, we can even forget the life outside and wait, letting the rain fall. There is the other part in that little world, when sleep never comes, when everything is left behind, and we are either bewildered by the fact that life is going to wake up in full bloom tomorrow and it is already four am. Or we might be stuck on thoughts of a life ahead of us, or making considerations weather other people that are living might have any connection with our own solipsism, eventually it feels that the whole castle of sand is falling down and you are stuck between worlds.

Despite it all, I sleep, trying to forget all about myself. In dreams, I wake up again not knowing how I got there. The same old dream of the machinery of life.

Wow. Interesting to read. Love the image of “eventually it feels that the whole castle of sand is falling down and you are stuck between worlds.” –that impacted my senses.

Nice that you liked Susan, it inspires me to work more on the paragraph I have written.

Was a little confusing at times. I wasn’t sure how the caste and sovereignty fit in with not being able to sleep, unless it was something that the character was dreaming about. Or a symbol of waking life?

it makes the falling down sand castle seem to say, “my life is falling apart, sometimes dreams make it feel only half real.”

I felt there were some rather interesting elements in this. I was a little confused by some of the grammatical errors.

Thanks for sharing, I really enjoyed the read.

Hey, I was talking about the taking part of not being able to sleep, and how can it can both ways, a downward spiral, but sometimes it can quite nice to enjoy the solitude of the night, although I don’t think I have explored that much on the text. I will correct the errors, and work a little more to have it more clear. Thanks for the insight James!

I really liked this piece and your use of language here to describe things that are familiar and connected them like “the kingdom of our own homes” and “the whole castle of sand is falling down” . One suggestion is to write the whole piece in first person. By using “we” it took me outside the person who heard a car pass her window…I think it would be stronger and would take us into the narrators head in a more intimate way.

She lied in that bed, that disgusting bed. It had no sheets.And a stain from adventures a few hours before. Somehow Nick was able to sleep. He could just drift away on the naked pillows and sullied mattress pad. She, on the other hand, worried. During the day everything was fun and play, but when the darkness painted the blue sky black. When the darkness crashed over her like a wave washing away the radiance of the day. She was alone. She feared the dreams she would have warning her of the threat he was to her happiness. She knew once they awoke she would be under his spell again. His golden locks and bright blue eyes would blind her. The glowing blue in his eyes and in the sky hypnotized her. She knew she would forget the darkness that warned her, the darkness that was able to shed light onto the truth. In this moment she knew that either way she was trapped.

Check out my Web Series as well: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teYwdqvRzHU

Interesting contrast between the “knowing” we have in the silence of the dark, and being tricked when we can see. Your details at the begin definitely set the scene.

“Your details at the begin definitely set the scene.”

Hahaha…

OK…details, details, James. Will “file away” your “catch” as an example to use at some point. Good one.

Thank you Susan!

Rass had slept. For twelve hours even. But he found his body resistant to all his motions. The tissues of all his muscles cried out in pain at every motion, at any motion, even without motion. He stumbled about the room, gathering his things. In his sheer tiredness, he had not even removed his boots. He had slept upon Ranou’s back much of the journey.

His clammy body was pale white and ghostly. The bags under his eyes were dark blue and black. He sat before the dresser mirror. The allure to place his head upon his soft arms far outweighed the knowledge of the result. Just for a… moment…

He jumped, suddenly, kicking the desk and shaking the mirror. A few loose items on the desk toppled off onto the floor. He brushed his hair and sighed. He felt like such a disappoint to his companions. But, then again, they would have died without his healing powers. When a cleric pressed his powers too far, wore himself past his limit, this was the result. This was the third day. Hopefully prayer in a proper church could alleviate the heavy burden on him. He scooted the chair across the floor with a groaning creak. He sighed. Hopefully…

I like the pace of this. The short sentences help to move the narrative along very quickly, and put the reader in the midst of the action. Nice one!

I like the sentence, “The tissues of all his muscles cried out in pain at every motion, at any motion, even without motion.”

“The allure to place his head upon his soft arms far outweighed the knowledge of the result” – Oh yes. I can feel that kind of tired.

“He felt like such a disappoint to his companions.” I’m assuming that’s supposed to be ‘disappointment.’ (But I didn’t even notice it until I typed the sentence out. lol!) I’m wondering why he felt like a disappointment to them? Because he had slept for twelve hours?

Also, “he scooted the chair across the floor with a groaning creak” sounds like he’s doing the groaning creak. Maybe he is, but it sounds like more of a chair sound 🙂

He feels like a disappointment, thanks for pointing that out, because he has been completely sleepy the last few days. Instead of being useful or sociable, he was too darn tired to interact with them. No one else was this tired and they don’t truly understand yet the consequences and draining that overuse of clerical abilities brings.

I thought the groaning creak was odd, but I think I like it. He himself doesn’t groan, but maybe that is the way he hears it. A groan, like “I don’t want to leave the dresser, I want to sleep on it.”

I see…it’s a familiar case of taking for granted something we need (and maybe even can’t live without!). I think it would show his emotions in a stronger way if, instead of saying, “he felt like a disappointment,” word it, “They were disappointed with him.”

He and the chair are groaning and creaking in unison 🙂

Excellent suggestion on the “They were disappointed with him.” Much more of a mind set of the character, but it would probably have to be monologue, because I’m not sure the narrator can lie.

A great description of the heaviness associated with exhaustion. That Rass feels a loyalty and responsibility towards his friends is apparent. Being a cleric, the third day, a proper church, the burden, all evocative of religion of course, but transplanted into — what? another time or age? a different culture?

This illustrates what you said in other comments — that the same themes (human frailty, emotions, expectations, sense of mission) can be explored in diverse worlds!

Not only that, but from what I’ve heard, those are the best…

Oh, and it add consequences to magic.

This is the way it has usually been in my life. I lie down to and get comfortable ready to sleep, and my brain refuses to turn off. Instead, my thoughts go wandering into the shadowy corners where I have tucked worries of all sizes. I pull on the smallest. Am I handling the situation at work the right way? And, the bigger ones follow them out. Am I going to get paid enough to cover the bills? Have I wasted my life? They are all attached to each other and usually go in order from small to universe filling. It has been this way since I was young enough to have sentient thoughts. I have come up with a sort of solution; I never go to bed until I can’t stay awake. I am a little less tired, because I don’t stress myself into insomnia. Maybe I will figure out a more perfect solution like controlling my rampaging anxieties, but for now it is late nights and no caffeine after noon.

I like the idea of tugging on the smallest anxiety, and all of the other ones from small to huge come tumbling out. I identify with the “sort of solution” — it’s one I’ve used myself, with just about the results you describe, “a little less tired”. Clear language. A good effort IMO!

I can identify with what you’ve written about when your brain refuses to turn off. When I can’t sleep, it’s exactly like a switch in my brain that takes me into sleep mode has stopped functioning, and anxieties fill the vacuum where dreams should be. I think you’ve summed up the dreaded curse of insomnia perfectly!

Well I am just trying to write what I know and I have had a lot of experience in this area.

An excellent description of insomnia. I’ve found that the small to big transition happens all the time in life and in writing. Dialog, for example, is best when the characters small talk leads to riveting revelations.

His wife of twenty-one years had had her say, her words few and grating and cold and hoarse there at the end. Her silence now spoke other volumes. She lay facing away from him, her sides moving in imitation of a state of sleep.

His hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling he had painted only last spring. A world ago.

So his daughter would give him a grandchild — but he’d never see it if the plan now forming, the only sensible option it seemed to them, saw completion. Seeing as there were at least two possibilities as to the father’s identity — what in God’s great world had the girl been THINKING? You try to bring ’em up right, you try to do what th’ Lord wants and raise godly children, and you give ’em everything and that little red convertible for graduation . . . I shoulda been harder on these kids. Shoulda kicked ’em right good ‘n’ solid ever’ time they looked around funny.

What am I SAYING? This is my daughter, and I love her so much. Oh Lord, how long? Like Job scraping himself with a potsherd. My heart is broken, as these tears running down towards my ears attest….

Only thing to do is, repent and mend my ways as a parent. There are going to be some reforms around here. Her brother Jesse eleven now and I already catch him . . . . Eleven years old! The rebellion already in that boy’s eyes.

You know, I haven’t had the old birds-and-bees talk with him yet. I’ll do that this weekend.

That boy’s gonna HEAR me….

(looking over what I’ve written, I find this falls into one of my major fallacies, where all the action takes place in a character’s thoughts. A mental vignette is so often what I end up with. Oh well, at least I wrote something. Gotta learn some new motif’s……)

I think I catch what you are saying. I think what is missing in this passage is not dialog or action, but details. You haven’t told us enough of what was going on, and, when you did, it was kind of in a weird way.

Without those critical details of exactly what the daughter has done, why the narrator won’t be able to see his grandchild, we can’t identify with the narrator’s emotions well enough to understand why his anger is boiling over to the point of extremity. Why he thinks it is HIS fault.

I mean, come on! You work hard every day to earn penny-by-penny the money to send them off to school, and then they wipe their ass with the paper! What the hell did I do wrong!?

James, thank you for your valuable and very personable comments, the reader’s-eye view. This is yet another fragment of my perennial w.i.p, a memoir, only a small portion of which yet exists as ms, most of that piecemeal results of my work with the Write Practice. The information you miss as a reader, such as that the daughter’s “offense” was to get herself pregnant (on-the-job hazard if you’re breathing and teenaged), that the “solution” agreed upon was sending her off to a School for Wayward Girls (this was in mid-1960s), birthing in that captivity, and giving the child up immediately for adoption, and that the father often felt himself a failure in living up to his religious beliefs — all of these would have to be crafted into the narrative, and my perspective now of looking back years or decades after is in itself so mental…I have trouble showing the action rather than cogitating the after-effects (for all of us). And struggle with questioning, is this really a story the world needs to hear? (heart says yes, but sometimes doubt it), and am I worthy of telling it (lots of doubt on that one). I am perhaps afraid, perhaps lazy, probably a mixture of both. I could also be accused of writing with an agenda, since eleven-year-old “Jesse” is me!

And yes, “You work hard every day …what the*hell* did I do wrong!?” is something most every parent feels sometime or other.

Thanks for reading!

No problem.

Take multiple passes. Action, dialog, details, emotions, thoughts. Make up things to make it wholesome. When I try to tell a story that is true, I can’t remember every single detail. But those details are still needed. It doesn’t have to be historically accurate. In fact, the only portion that has to be accurate is the parts you want to be accurate. You can tell the same themes set in a post-apocalyptic world infested with zebra-zombies.

“And struggle with questioning, is this really a story the world needs to hear?”

Probably. If not, write it anyway.

“Am I worthy of telling it?”

Yes. humility is good, self-strangulation, not so good. Who will tell it if you don’t?

You are sitting there. You are attempting to. That is better than most people do.

Remind yourself that you have the guts to pursue your dreams — sadly, most people don’t — and that simply the fact that you’re tough enough to fight for what you want makes you and your life and your goals worth celebrating.

Multiple passes relating to those different aspects, good advice. Oh, I think I just now snapped to your meaning of “wholesome”, as whole, complete, add made-up details to make it work as a complete story. Now I think I get it. And I have more discretion over accuracy where and when, than I’d realized. This is excellent instruction on how to fill out my story!

Thank you for everything you’ve shared, for the absolutely great thoughts on “worthy of telling it”, and for the boost to the courage to “write it anyway”.

No problem. I’m glad I could help.

Daniel was going through a period of self-quantification. He decided this indulgence sprung from his training as a scientist and not the mire of recent anxieties. For him, to sleep is to perform. Too little or too much and he could not become optimal. Daniel had to be optimal and he now employed a device to keep an eye on his sleep.

He was not yet fully qualified (nor, indeed, quantified) as a scientist, although he thought of himself as the kind who would, one day, sign his published research ‘Dan’. He developed faith in numbers; he believed in the power of reassurance that only devices can provide.

The device would monitor Daniel’s movements and turnings throughout the night. The device would assign a number marking the quality of his sleep. The device would praise him and, by lying very still, Daniel might increase his score. The next time Daniel slept, he would dream of prizes.

Fascinating! After reading just the first couple of lines, I felt like I was inside of Daniel’s scientist brain 🙂 I really enjoyed this.

This was interesting. The character’s ambitions are immediately visible.

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.

Very objective and factual writing. Sounds very scientific.

Thanks! Just what I was going for.

Twin bed or double.

He had followed Adrienne’s suggestion to get a double mattress, but he still wasn’t sure which size bed he hated more. The empty space beside him was a knife through his heart, serving to remind him what he had lost. But it was still bearable. Sleeping in a twin bed would be a twist of the knife – making everything real and, worst of all, final.

Even though it had been nearly two years, he was still terrified about what the acceptance of Evelyn’s death would do to him.

He turned to his side to eliminate half of the black weight that pressed in on him from all corners of the room. Now the empty pillow beside him taunted him. With a slash of his arm, he sent it flying across the room. Then he turned the other way. That was better. The other half of the bed was behind him. If he willed it, he could hear her soft breathing behind him, and forget.

A dark form appeared in the doorway. “I can’t sleep, Daddy.” Adrienne’s whisper shattered the gloom of loneliness. He sat up and stretched across the bed to grab the pillow from its slouched position against the skirting board.

That made two of them.

I found this very emotional, and believable, how you revealed your character’s sense of grief through his changed sleeping arrangements. When you described your character imagining his lost partner breathing next to him, it was like I could hear her breathing too. Good job!

I agree with the others. This is emotionally grabbing.

I too found this emotional. I loved that Adrienne came to join him. It’s the perfect touch.

I wonder if the daughter really can’t sleep, or if she simply is saying that for his sake…

Hm, now I’m wondering the same thing …

Still in haiku mode, sorry 😉 : Mary couldn’t sleep ‘Til she started counting sheep, How the things would bleat!

haha! Made me smile 🙂

That’s great!

He didn’t want to fall asleep.

He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to rest. He didn’t want to forget. The moment he does, he knew he would never come back. He knew he would never return to the life he was living in; the life he was familiar with. He knew, the second he woke up, he would forget. The next hour would consist of him attempting to remember a dream he had inhabited for so long. He would forget again. He would forget everything. He would forget his baby daughters’ first words, he would forget the type of flowers he had given to his wife on their first date, he would forget the first few words of advice his father had given him when he was nine–he would forget everything and everyone. Everything and everyone that he loved. He didn’t want to fall asleep. As his wife would shake him constantly, telling him to sleep, he would stay awake the whole night knowing that he shouldn’t. And really, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He would rather remain sleepless, a brain-dead insomniac, than forget the things he will never have. The things that only exist in long, neverending dreams.

Interesting thing you got going with the repetition. Alzheimer?

Actually, something more tragic: supposedly the man suffers from a retrograde and anterograde amnesia, which supposedly makes him forget everything from his past, and forget every new memory he makes after. Has nothing to do with sleep though, because he’ll forget everything anyway. Soon he should be able to actually forget why he can’t sleep.

Zack couldn’t sleep. He didn’t really care.

As a demon, sleep was not a needed resource. He wasn’t like the human female down the hall, whose snoring he could hear from the room they had shoved him into. It was as far from the human as a bedroom could get. Not that he could blame them, though-after all, he did try to kill the human when they first met. The human didn’t trust him. Neither did its two guardian angels. The only person in the miserable giant mansion that did trust him was her.

“Her” referred to Annie, the ghost of a teenage girl who had been allowed into the estate shortly before him. She was always smiling, always up for a good practical joke.

Zack thought that this was what humans called being best friends with someone, the constant joking and laughing and talking and eating, the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw her, the tendency to smile and set the fridge on fire, the way his red eyes lit up and pale skin felt flushed at the sight of the frail transparent girl. She made living in a mansion with a human and two celestial beings….tolerable. She didn’t scream at him when he wandered around wearing only a button-down shirt and boxers like the human did, she grinned and ate ice cream with him and offered to help him look for his missing jeans.

He turned over in the nest of blankets and pillows he had made on the mattress, wondering what Annie was doing. Did she need to sleep? She had been human before she died….. Did she like strawberry lollipops? Would she be interested with seeing what happened when you soaked jeans in gasoline and put them on a fire demon?

Lots of different elements that are not commonly seen together. demons and ghosts demons and boxer shorts demons and lollipops demons and blue jeans

I liked his focus on the ghost character. Interesting.

Welcome to the Write Practice!

It makes me curious what type of dimension/world this must be that humans, ghosts, demons and guardian angels live together. The fact that he was “allowed” into the estate. I can definitely feel his affection for Annie and loved that he spent his sleepless nights thinking of ways to woo her. Great, creative, unexpected post.

I love what you wrote. If this were the beginning of a story, I’d like to read it.

Wow, I really like this! If you wrote a book, I would definitely read it.

I like that the demon can see the humans guardian angels its a interesting take on demons for me I think that’s because of the personality I’m seeing through his thoughts.

This is weird and very fun. I hope there’s more!

The only light in the bedroom came from a bedside digital alarm clock, glowing in red, and the channel indicator on the cable box across the room. Larry had been awake for three hours already, after dozing for about half an hour when he first went to bed. For a while, his thoughts kept him company. Thinking about his new story, about the characters and their back stories. But now he was bored. Bored and angry. The alarm would go off in four hours. Not enough sleep for what he had to do in the morning. He reached for his iPhone from the night stand and clicked on the photography icon. Opening his Camera+ app, he tested to see what he could capture in the darkness. The light from the phone screen silhouetted the hairs on his fingers. Looks cool, he thought. He turned the phone to the clock face. 2:30 a.m. He angled the phone and took a few shots of the time. Looked at it in the photo gallery function. Then tried a few more shots, angling and moving in and out. I can use this in my next blog, he thought. That’s when the earthquake struck.

As he was taking pictures around his dark room, I started to feel a little nervous that he may take a photo of something disturbing. Though earthquakes are disturbing for sure. I like the build up toward the earthquake. I definitely knew something was coming and I’m no cheater; I don’t look ahead.

Thanks. I wasn’t sure if the earthquake was too much of a punch. But I’ve had nights like this, unable to sleep and fussing with my phone. And yes, the earthquake was true too, but long before iPhones were a reality.

I like the vivid setting you created, and agree with Brina that the build-up to the earthquake was great.

Conscious that I am no longer asleep, I sneak a confirming peek at the glowing eye-level LED blinking 3:42 a.m. Cheated out of two hours of respite, I lift my head, I grasp the pillow underneath it and perform a two-handed fluff. Then I grab the synthetic down comforter and toss it up in the air. Arms on top of the covers. Tucking them under now. Okay, back to sleep. Not quick enough. Thoughts of the work day seep in. That 10 a.m. meeting I’m dreading…what to do about Blanche…confrontation hasn’t worked…maybe…and so it goes until the day begins again with Adele blasting me awake with “Skyfall.”

The best part is, “Okay, back to sleep. Not quick enough.” Love that!

Thanks for the encouragement, Victoria. This is my first post so it was a little scary.

You’re very welcome. I haven’t been on here long either. Glad you got up the courage to write a first post 🙂

You’ll find this an amazing place. I just joined in very recently and have benefited so much from reading others’ posts. It’s definitely “safe” to share your writing here. I’m new at this, so my writing is not as developed as some other folks’, and yet people take it seriously and give constructive, heartfelt feedback. Liked your piece.

Susan, thanks for responding positively. I will keep trying and I look forward to reading your pieces.

She had arrived at the hospital a bit before noon yesterday; just about 22 hours ago. It had been a process of hurry up and wait followed by more waiting. She tried to get some sleep around midnight, but the beeps and the knowledge that the tides could shift and baby could be born at any moment wouldn’t allow her eyes to close for more than a few moments at a time. On one occasion when she felt as though she were drifting off into a warm, black abyss for a moment, there was a flurry of nurses and concerned voices. Any hope to get real sleep was lost.

But now, as she made her way down the hallway one last time after holding her sweet nephew for the first time and embracing her sister, she felt she were leaving a temporary home. She checked her badge in with the security guard one last time and was saddened when she advised that she would not be back. The sun was low on the horizon and with having not slept the night before, her body wasn’t entirely certain it wasn’t sunset. Her direction also lacking, so the sun resting just above the Eastern horizon meant nothing to her.

As she exited the glass, circular entry, the wooshing automatic doors behind her sounded so final. Unlike the night before when she came to her vehicle to get one last item before the main entrance was locked down, the parking lot was full. Vehicles belonging to people, she assumed, who were there for much less exciting things than a new family member.

“Good morning!” a brunette in her fifties chirped. She automatically responded in kind, but not before her brain balked a bit, questioning “Is it morning?” She glanced around, the light was a bit too bright, the edges were a bit too hard and her life and children and husband yet 2 hours away, seemed a dream.

She needed coffee.

This writing could use a firm edit. It was hard to get into. Though it was not hard to follow, it failed to pique my interest. I’ll attempt a critique, since no one else has…

Introduction is overly-concerned with frivolous or redundant details.

She arrived at the hospital twenty-four hours ago. The process of a hurried wait and waiting, was more exhausting than hurrying or waiting separately. She felt like the Energizer Bunny after the batteries had been removed. Around midnight, she tried to sleep, but beeps, talking, or was it silence, and the occasional cry of a child made her restless. The baby could come at any time, and she didn’t want to be asleep when that moment came. Finally, exhaustion won out, and her eyes closed, Soon after she had drifted into a warm and black abyss, a flurry of nurses and concerned voices dashed it away and any hope of sleeping again.

This would now introduce a struggle for the character. She wants something, she has obstacles. Beforehand, it feels more like arbitrary events happening to a character. A flat character who doesn’t do much, the world just happens to her.

I hope this helps. Thanks for sharing.

Thank you so much for giving me a truly authentic critique. I was trying to capture a moment when I had been awake all night and I walked outside for the first time. I felt alert, but my body and senses were confused. As a result I felt displaced, no longer a part of what was happening in the hospital room, yet not back home. I admit that I didn’t put the focus where I was wanting it to be. Thanks again!

No problem, I hope it helps. I think it is a great emotional time, and I think simply the fact that that wasn’t your focus made it a little awkward in a way. I’ve always found trips like that to be highly-energized and overly exhausting. But then again, I’ve been there three times with my own children, and the first time, me and my wife walked away empty-handed.

The second time, an emergency C-section.

The third time a planned C-section.

Take out the anxiety, and it doesn’t seem right to me. Personal experience.

This was my first time with this experience not being the woman in labor. It was very different. I’m sorry to hear about your first child. More than sorry. I can imagine that your connection to this experience is rife with anxiety and must have been difficult to relate to my description. Since it was not filled with anxiety as much as it was long and tiring. Thanks again! I don’t submit often, but I would love to hear your thoughts on anything I submit in the future.

Well, you are responsive, and that is more than I can say for a few of the posts I respond to. As long as the community remains responsive and genuine, we all stand to grow as writers.

But, I also understand time constraints…

My writing experience has been in the academic realm. When I finished my master’s in Linguistics last year, I set the goal of developing the more creative writer in me. (Loved the day I realized I owned the words, “I am a writer.”)

This “sleepless” piece I wrote may be pedestrian, but “thewritepractice” has inspired me to continue working to create a writing practice. I haven’t established a routine or habit yet, but decided to take this occasion to carry out the 15-minute prompt response. No time for editing or digging deeper for images. That’s all okay. We can still walk together even if you’ve run marathons before me.

Thanks for giving a space for my words, and for surrounding one another’s work with luscious feedback.

SLEEPLESS….

Heather stood up in the staff meeting to introduce herself to the new faculty. She was met by lilting applause from those in the know. Susan was one of the new ones, thus she just assumed people were exaggerating their greetings, as most people had remained seated during their own introductions. Her thoughts were dispersed by an “in the know” relating that Heather had given birth during the summer. “To boy-girl twins,” Heather made sure to add. “How old are they?” chorused the giddy crowd. “Two months.” “So how was your sleep last night?” a woman chimed in, certain she knew it was nonexistent or chopped into pieces. “Oh, it was good, actually…” …NO! DON’T SAY IT, Susan shouted in her head, hair bristling on her neck. Really…no need to tell us how the babies are sleeping! “They’re sleeping ten hours a night.” Aaaaaahhhhh! How these mothers bragged about their perfect babies, slumbering snugly in their cribs, dreaming about their fascinating toes.

Susan hated this topic. No sleep for her. 11 pm was sleep time for her baby. “Give the baby a warm bath to help him sleep,” was the sage, indisputable advice of the parenting books. That didn’t work. At least Susan felt less crazy when her husband deciphered their conundrum and realized it had the opposite effect of waking their son up. “Feed him rice cereal before he sleeps so he won’t wake up to eat,” was the sage, indisputable advice of the grandmothers. Nope, he still wanted to nurse…once…twice…while others slept.

It wouldn’t be until her son was three years old that he slept through the night, with only a dozen occasions prior to that.

“Don’t talk to me about babies sleeping through the night,” Susan shouted inside with each encounter with a bright-eyed, bragging mother.

swa 9/25/2013

OK, James Hall. After your comment about my briliant “details at the beginning setting the scene”, I’ll save you some time: “thewritepractice” inspiring a writing practice…really!?!? HA HA = )

Couldn’t help it. I found myself tongue tied as what to say on the last one. Something about the genetic material sprayed all over the sheets just… made it hard to comment. Your “details at the beginning set the scene” said everything that I was thinking, with an added layer of subtext. It doesn’t comment on the like or dislike of that particular scene. I was of mixed opinion.

I misunderstood your intent (as a comment on the story). I thought it was just saying that I stated the “obvious” (the beginning of a story setting the scene). Thus my follow-up comment above about stating the “obvious” about the write practice.

I felt there may have been a misunderstanding. We don’t have tone of voice or anything to go off of on here. These things happen.

Interesting topic and easy to relate to for anyone that has kids.

The warm bath and rice cereal work alright. My first kid had colic.

I liked the monologue, besides the all CAPS THING. Splitting the dialog, as opposed to stringing it all together would add to readability and cognition.

From what I’ve read, you are the only one who chose kids as the source of the character’s lack of sleep. Interestingly enough, they are one of the greatest sleep deprivation drivers there are.

Thanks for the feedback, James. My next challenge for myself is to actually do some rewrites.

I do that all the time, I just have to commit myself to moving on. So far, I think I’ve succeeded in this. I’ve reached 50,000 words on my novel.

Never stop yourself from writing something stupid.

Never stop yourself from correcting something stupid.

I think as long as writer’s follow those two things, they are writing at their best and stand to make the most advancement.

I’ll remember your “never stop yourself” advice!

The darkness was his friend; the light made his insomnia claw at the back of his retinas. The shadows hid his sunken face. He knew that everybody stared, they didn’t understand, his sleepless days and nights had slowly merged in to a dream, or a nightmare; he was a husk meandering through the monotony of life without a thought or emotion. Every night he lay in his bed, his dark eyes staring through the gloom at the ceiling, praying he could fall asleep. He examined the cracks, hairline fractures through the ornate plaster, and sometimes, just sometimes, he begged for them to widen. Like the jaws of hell he longed for them to open and just swallow him, to tear him from the soft fabric of his bed and end this cycle of tedium and desperation. He cried out for that ceiling to collapse and bury him for all eternity; anything to end the constant suffering. But every night they lay dormant, and he lay motionless, just staring, staring, staring at the cracks.

Interesting descriptions and emotions. You’ve described the suffering character vividly.

It reminds me of a passage in the bible, in Revelations, when people KNOW that god exists, and yet they worship the satan and pray to the rocks to fall on their heads.

It makes me wonder. If He gives so many opportunities to those who don’t deserve another chance, how many does He give to those who do?

but then those who dont need redemption do not need chances; You only get as many chances as you need. The believer who worships does not need chances. The non believer who does not worship does not need chances as they are not looking for redemption or forgiveness. But the believer who despite his knowledge worships Satan is redeemable, and thus needs every chance to be saved.

I am atheist, but studied the Bible in my first year at Uni, and this was my understanding of the basis of forgiveness.

My focus in what I am saying is on good people who don’t believe. There are those with goodwill towards others, and there are those without goodwill towards others.

I’ve always believe at an internal level, because there is little the outside world can do to prove either the existence or non-existence of God.

The anguish is loud and clear. I felt it.

feel not only the tiredness but a depression that is eating at him.

Click,click; click,click. The cards dance before my eyes. Red Queen appears, onto Black King. click,click Black Jack onto Red Queen. It’s 2:00am and I should be in bed but I can’t sleep tonight. No particular reason, just words and images racing around my mind. So here I sit, staring into the computer, finger on the mouse button, willing the next card to be the Red Ten. I like Solitaire, it consoles my mind and keeps me semi-sane most of the time. Otherwise I have to confront all the world throws at me. So I sit here as clicl.click seduces me into a state of peace, at least as long as the cards keep falling. After an hour or so I will go back to bed, hopefully relaxed enough to sleep at last. But until then, click,click.

Could use a little more action, but I can identify. Solitaire is great… when you are bored

captures a feeling repetition and maybe a dullness from the word click click being repeated.

Usually exhausted after a day of comforting the families of the dead, Carla fell asleep in five minutes. Tonight, though, for reasons she couldn’t put into words, her shoulders were tight. Had she absorbed too much trauma at the funeral of the murdered graduate student? She couldn’t say.

Then she heard a thud downstairs. That’s funny, she thought, I wonder what it is? She started to head down to investigate, but stopped. What if someone was in the house? There had been several break-ins recently in her neighborhood. The police thought it was kids, but she knew from that foreign student’s experience that kids can do bad things when they find a woman alone in a house.

Nah. It was probably just the house settling. But a prickling worked itself up from her belly through her stomach to her chest. She heard another thud and froze.

She looked around for her phone to call 911 then swore when she realized she’d left it downstairs. Another thud. She looked around her room for a weapon and fixed her gaze instead on her heavy dresser. She dragged it in front of her door as footsteps walked across her creaky living room floor.

Suspenseful, bravo!

I really liked this. Lots of fine details that make the stories work, from the funeral to the break-ins.

Loved the feeling of suspense you managed to capture in such a short span of words!

Yikes!! I shouldn’t have read that late at night. : )

Oh dear. Tell me it’s just a friend coming to wish her Happy Birthday or something! Nice job!

like this horror feeling. it’s fun.

Love the suspense!

This is really great

I really liked it, left me curious.

Your story is mysterious. I like how you describe the fear of your character.

Better than what I could write. Very descriptive. Nice

Woah, this is great! Left me wanting more!

The sour taste of coffee I had drunk six hours ago still lingered somewhere in the back of my mouth. I breathed out gently, forcing my muscles to relax for the umpteenth, but sleep refused to accept my invitation. Pushing away the blanket, I sat up groggily and peered into the desk clock. “3 AM” it read in ominous letters and I clicked the alarm off.

Missing office for one day…not such a big deal.

The big deal was that I couldn’t sleep right now. I walked over to the window and looked at the silent picture outside. Hundreds of cars parked in rows, trees dripping with dew (or was it raining?), and an occasional dog barking.

Frustrated, I jumped into bed and pulled the blanket over my head, shouting at myself, hoping that I would finally fall asleep. After half an hour of no sleep, I kicked the blanket away, opened the door and turned on the shower (yes, in my clothes). Once fresh, I sat at the dining table and ate a few chips while reading a book.

The morning slowly presented itself to me through the tiny window in the kitchen and, as the clock finally struck 7:30 AM, I pushed away my chair, opened the bedroom door and fell into bed, asleep before I had time to think of what I had done…!

“Sleep refused to accept my invitation”? I think it more likely that “sleep never sent me an invitation”.

“Jumped into bed” seems a little off.

shouting at myself… go with a monologue or dialog, might be more interesting. “Damn it Kerpal! Go to sleep!”

Shower in his clothes? I missed the part where the narrator smoked something…

An interesting piece Saunved. Nice details, I can tell the character is tired and frustrated.

I edited the piece. Thanks for the great suggestions, especially the part where he had to smoke 😉

Oh, I like the smoke on the balcony. If he is a regular smoker though, the cigarette will taste like crap if he has had very many.

But, I like it this way, an enjoyable smoke and the sunrise.

But I don’t like your punchline. I never got it anyway. Try this…

He enjoys the smoke, sees the sun coming up, and thinks, “why the hell am I so uptight about sleeping now anyway? Whats the rush?”

Then, maybe he goes in an falls straight to sleep.

But I especially like the contrasting calmness, in contrast to his frustration and anger, that bring him to finally rest.

Excellent work Saunved. It is nice to see your dedication.

I edited it a little bit more (the last paragraph). Keep on telling me if it’s still wrong (or sounds off). I enjoy constructive criticism 🙂

You took out the sun rising part. Put it back. It was a magical moment of relaxation.

Still think “What’s the rush?” would fit best in the last paragraph, though you might try other things.

Oh dear! I took out that part by mistake. I added it back again. Check it once more please 🙂 Hope its sounding slightly better than before!

Much better.

Go through this scene, step-by-step, and picture it in your mind. Close your eyes, be where the narrator is. See if you can add any more details.

I’m guessing the narrator misses work?

He is a little bit lazy about work 😉 I pictured the scene in my mind. Yeah, there can be lots more changes but I’ll leave it at this for now. Sorry for being so late. I was sick for a few days!

Glad to see that you are back. Hope you are feeling much better.

If I disappear for a few days, either I’m doing some serious writing, battling a never-ending honey-do list, or its the weekend.

She laid her head on the cool sheets, breathing in deeply before collapsing into a sigh. Her phone began to chime in her purse, muffled by the fabric.

“That’s my alarm. So now it’s exactly twenty-four hours. Since I last slept, I mean, you know what I mean . . .”

With an effort, she pushed away from the bed again, blinking and contorting her face in a way that suggested to her body that she ought to stay awake. That she ought to keep her eyes open. That she ought to watch.

“Brought you coffee.”

He stood in the doorway, momentarily amused before his tentative smile shattered in the stale hospital air.

“I don’t think I can bear another cup.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Give it here.”

She winced at the heat, but she’d all ready burnt her mouth beyond tasting anything except that faint sour flavor. Her stomach cringed.

“Any sign?”

She sat back, coffee hanging in her fingers, laced between her knees. She stared at the ceiling, breathing in the smell of latex, rubbing alcohol, hundreds of sick people and one sick person in particular.

“Hasn’t stirred.”

One sick child.

“She will.”

After a moment, he took the coffee from her limp fingers, afraid she’d drop it as she slept, dozing lightly as outside the sun rose again, and her phone continued to chime.

What seemed at first a very casual piece, ended up having an emotional impact on me and made me put myself in the situation.

I agree with Susan, but less supportively. I felt thrown by the sudden invoking of setting. I do like this story though and I identify with the narrator.

Exhausted and trembling, surrounded by faceless onlookers, it was all I could do to turn to face my malefactor.

“Why?” I cried.

I sank to the ground. The Nightmare King approached silently, and reached a hand gently out to me.

“Ja’Shazadi …”

I sucked in a breath to hear him speak my name.

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

“What do you want from me?” I said. “I was four years old. Why did you come to me? Why won’t you leave me alone? I’m just a girl, what could I have done to make you hate me so much?”

“I love you,” said the Nightmare King.

My breath was stolen. I couldn’t utter a sound.

“I’ve witnessed the births of many creatures, but none more beautiful than you, Ja’Shazadi. You enchanted me the moment you first showed yourself to me. I’ve wanted nothing more than to see you, and to protect you from the malevolent spirits that watch us even now.”

“No … No!” I shouted. “You love me? You’ve made my whole life a curse! It’s because you’ve been ruling my dreams that my life is such a wreck! How could you do that and say you love me?”

“I couldn’t meet you in the waking world, but I could see you in the world of your dreams. There I appeared, and we together would have been happy had you not rejected me. Each night, I presented myself anew, and each night, you rejected me more violently than the last. The more violently you rejected me, the more violently I had to react in turn. I never meant to hurt you.”

I put my head to the ground. I was utterly numb.

“I have spoken the truth. Now I ask, do you return my love?”

I looked up. There, looking at his shadowy face, my bewilderment turn to anger, and then to pure hatred.

Wow…very cool and powerful concept. I’m curious. Is this connected to something you’ve worked on or had an idea about before, or did you create it initially from this prompt? Sounds like it could be developed into a short story.

Interesting. Don’t care too much for the character’s name Ja’Shazadi. Its a mouthful with an apostrophe.

I really like the ideas presented, but I kind of was confused by the course of events. It sound like he “hit on her” when she rejected him. This ultimately resulted in him kidnapping her.

Dang Pedophile Nightmare Kings!

Other than that, its great. Would love to hear more.

Interesting. I would like to know more.

It’s nights like this where my body is is a system of contradictions. Limbs tired and heavy, trunk prone on the soft sheets, but my brain, my complex , overworked bundle of nerves is running a mile a minute. Fueled by thoughts of deadlines, overpriced coffee, deadlines, breakfast, traffic , of “you should sleep now, you should sleep now”, lost things, and “you should sleep now”, no wonder it is deaf to the heart’s steady pitter patter . My eyes alternating between closing and opening is ever the devil’s advocate .

Interesting description.

It’s a fresh crisp night with a new love in the air…

Its flowing into my veins, soul, mind and hearts as it fills my soul awaking it alive and twirls with a a funky beat making me fight the prisoner sleep! It lures me and taunts my soul into wanting to rest in peace finally and take it away in another world. But no! I don’t care and cannot fall into the deep end in allowing my soul to sub come the prisoner, I shal run break free and allow this delicious sound keep my soul alive all night and swirl inside me like a carnival live, with its lights, constant movement of a never ending scenario of so many delicious jams causing all of these beautiful feelings and emotions inside. I just cannot gotta keep moving and just feeling these delicious never ending sounds that keeps melting into my ears and flowing in my soul and screaming with an sound that makes me come so alive that I can not stop tasting. Its showing all over my skin causing me to glow and feel like never before. A solution to my problems, a cure to my condition in keeping me going and never being a prisoner of sleep!!

My first impression is that the narrator must be a lovesick alien with multiple hearts. I hope you like satire!

Excellent use of stream of consciousness and run-ons.

Wow! Sorry, but I didn’t make sense of most of this. The thoughts bounce too much.

I couldn’t find any purpose in “an sound” or several of the other seemingly errors. If these have a purpose, they were not presented in a way that I understood. If these were not intentional, please revise.

I feel like there is an interesting thing being said here, of breaking away from being a prisoner of sleep. But there are many oddities about it. Would love to know more about this passage.

Oh, and welcome to the write practice! This is the go-to place to improve your writing skills. Thanks for sharing!

Oh love of mine. Restorer of hope. Healer of many. Come to me now. Ease my mind from the fear and anxious pain, a pain that I will not meet for quite some time but a pain none the less. Steal me away, carry me softly yet unmoving and still. I need you now. I’ve endured too much without you, you’ve been with others. I see them slowly drift off with you into nothingness, blackest of black, placid relief. It’s not my body that needs to heal but my mind, even if I am not mended,at the very least I will get a break from this hell. Take me away, wherever you please, now and forever if you please.

Okay Romeo. We said sleepless not dreamy. Wake up.

This is actually very elegantly-written. Welcome to the write practice. I’ve noticed that old prompts tend to get forgotten FOREVER. It seems to take a lot of work to get one of them jump started again. But, they can still serve as good practice.

What types of stories do you aspire to write?

That was really beautiful. I felt myself flow through the words not a single little snag. Thank you for sharing 🙂

Thank you. That’s exactly what I was going for. I really appreciate having someone that enjoys writing read this piece. I had a lot of fun writing because it flowed so easily.

Awake again. How many nights has that been already, Martje thought back, it been a been at least week of sleeplessness, for all of them. She laid there in the dark seething and listening the restlessness of the others. Things were not going to turn out well, it was too much pressure for them all and the cracks were starting to appear. She knew they were all awake too but they’d made a pact to lay and stay quietly, eyes closed throughout the dark hours, but the air was tense and she was sure they were all feeling it.

Damon was going to be the first problem. Martje had watched him over the last few days and his clam was sliding. She’d caught more than a few vacant looks on his face. He was drifting from his part of the task and at this point even momentary slips might be all that was needed for the Cravens to break all of them. Martje rolled over. She would never get used to stones on the hard ground. She acknowledged her frustration toward the stones and at not being able to address Damon’s little concentration lapses. Bringing it up now, in the sleep deprived state they were all in, was likely to start a fight that would draw lines of blood some would never repair. Martje groaned, she would risk opening her eye’s more for the relaxation from trying to keep them closed. When she did Damon was inches from her face.

I sometimes lately wonder if something it is wrong with me, it worries me specially because I have two young daughters that I would hate to leave alone and worry if they would turn out alright, my worries are that I might have the big C which it is a kiss of death now days, and this would create a new whole world of wonders and pain, I have always been a person that sleeps as little as possible that’s what my wife tells me, she loves to sleep I on the other hand do not, I guess this could be atributed to a job that I held for about 3 years working the graveyard, but now I just do not know…

She didn’t like to sleep because then the dreams would come. She slept only when she collapsed in exhaustion. She’d do anything to blot them out.

But she couldn’t. Sleep would come again, taking her out of this world into another one, an inner one. The monsters came, distorted faces laughed as they chased. And she had to run. She ran and ran, her breath tight from running so hard and yet they were always right at her heels, catching up.

She woke up sweating and alone in the dark. She’d walk to the kitchen eat something and turn on the tv. Let the light float on her retina. Drowning out any darkness and she watched it, the glow dancing on her eyes until she passed out.

Day would come and she’d drag herself up to the alarm. Miserable and tired, her body ached and mind screamed I need more sleep, she got up and got her clothes, brushed her hair a quick stroke or two, then ran for the door as the bus drove up, opening its doors like welcoming jaws and then swooshed her off to another day of school.

Wow. It felt so real. The way you describe her nightmares, “the monsters came, distorted faces laughed as they chased”, “she woke up sweating and alone in the dark”, really adds dimension to the scene. I’d love to write a scene with that much urgency. Great job! : )

If you get a chance, would you mind critiquing my post? Thanks and keep up the good work!

thank you. 🙂

Julia opened her eyes and sighed. It was no use. Sleep would not come. She crawled out of bed and eased open her door. The hall was quiet and dark. She felt her way along the wall to the back door and after disarming the alarm, stepped out onto the back porch. Cool night air brushed over her. She rubbed her arms and climbed into the hammock, listening to the soft rustling of the high tree branches. Sean’s face flashed in her mind. She shut her eyes, trying to dismiss the images and the feelings that surfaced. His hard hands. His low voice as he ordered her not to scream. She opened her eyes and swallowed, huddling into a ball in the hammock’s embrace.

I liked the line, “Cool night air brushed over her.” And her feeling her way through the dark house. It changed tones when she got outside and as she started to relax the image of a pretty scary sounding man came to her. It sounds pretty good so far. It’s a little short is all I’d say.

I really appreciate your feedback. I’m glad the man sounded scary! : )

Was it short in the way you wanted to know what happened next, or was it short like I rushed the scene?

no it doesn’t feel rushed to me.

Instead of the line It was no use. sleep would not come. If there is a way to describe her tiredness that would be good instead of saying it. I have a lot of trouble with that though too. When you say the hall was quiet and dark, you could try to find a more interesting word choice. Or take out that sentence start with the next sentence and say for instance: everything was still. Looking out she couldn’t see anything, she felt her way along the wall. that isn’t the best way to say something, but it is a way to make the story more active.

It was a long night full of tossing and turning, curling up into a tight ball, attempting to stay warm. As she pulled her blankets up to her chin and lay on the cold, hard ground inside her tent, Paige was reminded of how much she detested camping. The same inability to get comfortable and drift off to sleep that was plaguing her now always happened on camping trips. Counting sheep, or even the beautiful, sparkling stars above her did not help. No amount of blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags made it more comfortable. Add to that the CONSTANTLY chirping crickets and she was ready to head back to civilization, though it was only the first night of the week-long trip. Paige rolled over, careful not to wake her sleeping sister, and glanced at the time on her phone. It read 1 a.m. She sighed in exasperation. It was going to be a long week.

-I know I’m a little late in posting something for this prompt, but it looked like a cool idea and I wanted to try it. 🙂 feedback would be awesome even if it’s to say this is completely terrible…

Thoughts constantly roll through my mind, apathetic to my need for cerebral silence. I think of the train in Blues Brothers, that roars by every 20 minutes or however often, shaking the entire room. My brain is never quiet when I so desperately need it to be, but screams only for sleep the moment my alarm sounds. I would kill for internal tranquility, but it never comes. I rummage through a checklist of the day’s social feaux pas’ and the litany of urgent matters I must see to tomorrow. I struggle to read the scrawl of my own perception; everything appears so much more terrible than it must actually be. Why is my mind’s handwriting so shitty at 2am?

Somewhere on the coast a few miles away, I hear that fog horn sound. I hear it every night, and realize I’d been waiting for it. Suddenly I know with complete certainty that if I were on that boat, bobbing on the Pacific, I’d drift right to sleep. I think of the narcotic marine layer, the chilly breeze, the sound of the occasional seagull proclaiming its loneliness. Yes, that’s where sleep is. That’s where relief is. Just the thought of it brings me tantalizingly close to my first sleep in days, but sleep never fully accepts me. Peace lies only on that boat.

My apartment building is deserted at 2 in the morning. I guess that’s a testament to the quality of its tenants. I hear my car chirp its location and walk towards it. If my insomnia is so bad that I’m actually doing this, then it must be worth a shot. I turn my car on and flip on my brights. A scream erupts from the pit of my stomach. A sopping wet man in a yellow nylon jacket and hat stands in front of my car. His leathery face wears a solemn expression of understanding and pity. He looks so gruesomely familiar, yet completely alien to me. I try to throw my car in reverse but the my key has disappeared from the ignition. He casts one last look of helpless apology and walks toward my building. He sheds the jacket, revealing a pair of pajamas underneath. He produces a key and I hear my car chirp from inside.

Aristo hadn’t slept now for 45 hours and 59 minutes. He wasn’t keeping track of the seconds, because they were so fleeting. Despite being calm in the knowledge that minutes, hours and days were intrinsically as fleeting (being made up of these ‘seconds’,) he felt justified in recording every minute he had gone without sleep, every ‘sixty seconds’. He lay on his back, fingertips glowing and thigh jerking, and counted a few seconds. A few seconds later he counted a few more seconds, and then smiled to himself at how weird and uncountable ‘seconds’ were if you thought about them for too long, like when you repeat the word ‘ghost’ over and over again.

A beep sounded from his mobile phone and he leant over to tally, on a scrap piece of paper, another hour that he had spent awake. He was hoping that the repetitive counting of, or simple consideration of, ‘seconds’ would drift him into a peaceful sleep, but to no real avail. He had tried everything over the course of the day – he had imagined sheep with politicians’ heads on and counted them, registering them over a weirdly constructed purple-ish field. He had mentally gone through every letter of the alphabet and silently named correspondingly initialled characters from Star Wars. He had listened to ‘Bound 2’ fifteen times. He had imagined Floyd Mayweather in his gym and counted 500 of his punches.

He sipped a glass of water, mumbling ‘Jerome’s in the house’ under his breath. He imagined what it would be like to know everyone in Bristol. To actually walk around the city and have to have an interaction, however small or big, with every other human you encountered. To have to make eye-contact with people on the bus, to shake hands every two minutes, to not make eye-contact with a couple walking down Park Street. He imagined meeting a beautiful girl of Pakistani origin in a club, and visualised her impressed face as he said hello to every single other person in the club. He imagined her asking him how he knew so many people, and why everybody seemed to know him. At this point, he imagined leaning towards her slightly and explaining that he was a published author, creator of a book that was the first book to truly ‘go viral’. He imagined telling her ironically, in the knowledge that she was attracted to him, that it was ‘like Harry Potter for the Instagram generation.’

He fell asleep.

The wind is blowing hard outside. There is a storm brewing. I fear nights like these. Alone in my bed, I try in vain to sleep. But my heart beats loudly. My fingers are numb. The cold outside is creeping into my veins. I check the thermostat on my radiator again. Nothing has changed. Why would it? But I am feeling colder.

I get under the blanket. Counting sheep should help. The first one hops over the fence. The second follows. White and woolly, they look warm. It’s sunny on the farm. The third sheep saunters in through the open gate. It’s a lazy bum like me. I smile with my eyes closed. The fourth sheep stands in the corner. It’s different from the others. It’s a light grey, not white. There is something in its eyes – a solemn look. It has an aura of death. Why should it? There are no predators around. It won’t jump over the fence. Standing in the corner, it stares right at me. Jump, damn sheep! Several minutes pass, or perhaps just seconds? I wait, sleepless. I wait for the sheep to jump. A thunderclap jolts me from my reverie. The sheep heard it too. I can see them huddling on the field. The grey one is still in the corner. The sky seems darker than earlier. The lone sheep moans. I didn’t even know sheep could moan. Its eyes grow red. The fur seems darker than earlier, even shinier. And there is drool dripping from its mouth. It lets out another moan, a half-growl in fact. Its eyes are bloodshot now. It no longer looks solemn. Rage fills its eyes. A lean, hungry look appears on its face. I toss in my bed, sleep no longer seems possible. The other sheep cower in the field. They know they are hunted. There is a rap on my window. I startle, open my eyes and draw the blanket even tighter. I hear a growl outside. Was it the sheep from my imagination? It sounded much more real. I must know what is outside, or I won’t be able to close my eyes. And then I will deal with the creepy sheep in my head. I step off the bed and tiptoe towards the window. Another clap of thunder startles me and I nearly stumble. I draw the dark blue satin curtains aside. It is pitch black outside. Nothing to fear after all, I reassure myself. A pair of bloodshot eyes suddenly appears in the window. I start to scream, and the sleeplessness fades.

I haven’t been sleeping lately. I know that it’s all in my head, and that I’m gonna be just fine, just close your eyes and go to sleep. Who knows. Maybe tonight I’ll get some rest, somehow. I’m just… I’m scared. So very scared. When I’m awake, I can hear it. When I’m asleep, I’m vulnerable, and that’s when they strike. They’ve tried already. They took Lacey. She had been making fun of me, and that night, at 12:01, I heard a sort of buzzing sound from her room. It was so quiet, yet so sharp, that the 2 minutes I had to endure of the low-volume buzzing was pure hell. That morning, Lacey was dead. Next came Jim. He tried to tell me that nothing was wrong, that I just had to suck it up and go to sleep. But I couldn’t. Not after what happened to Lacey. That night, as I paced, awake as ever, Jim was taken. Just like Lacey, it started at 12:01, ended at 12:03. Except this time it was louder. I could hear every second of that torturous sound, as bright as day. Like nails on a chalkboard, yet much, much worse. Now, nobody in the house gets a lick of sleep. It’s incredible that we’ve survived this long. Now it’s only my cat and I. Our once lively abode had turned into a hellhouse. I was always the brave one, yet I’m terrified. The reason I’m so hopelessly, bone-chillingly terrified? The nails-on-chalkboard sound is back. And it’s louder, almost as if it’s right behind my eyes. And I’ve been so sleepy lately. Can barely keep my eyes open. I wonder… Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt…

I love it! Tons of suspence, and I love love love the metaphors that you use! Overall I think it was great!

Living in a house full of people who consistently tell you to do chores can be exhausting. Think of what it would be like having to “wake up” at four o’clock every morning and having to face dead people. Being a teenager, that obviously wasn’t my first choice of work. I was required to do this for the rest of my miserable teenage years, because it was something that was done in my family. I come home every night at eleven at night hoping to get sleep but, coming instead come home to the same routine of being cautious about every little thing that I do, or every little thing that makes noise in our house. I continuously feel like I’m being watched and haunted, which ends up leading to me having to stay up every night being frightened of coming across another dead person except this time in my bedroom. It is really frightening having to live with that fact in your head, especially as a teenager, so I ended up being sleepless. We all know that when a teenager doesn’t get enough sleep, it isn’t pleasant. I have multiple nervous breakdowns every day, and it ends up having me question where my life is headed. Every human can only survive the real world with a certain amount of sleep, and I wasn’t meeting that requirement. I am supposed to be getting nine hours of sleep every night, instead I was barely getting any. Sometimes I just wish that my family would understand my concerns, which they don’t. Therefor I must live the rest of my teenage years digging holes for dead people that will be getting more sleep than I have ever had, and ever will.

What do you guys think?

He lay down in his bed. Heavy and hurting, his tired eyes willed Jack to close them, to go to sleep, but he refused. After waking up night after night, covered in a layer of sweat, he had given up. For weeks now, memories of that night plagued his nightmares. Unable to bear to see that cold and emotionless face one more time, every night, while others were grateful for the break from their busy lives, he didn’t close his eyes in fear of what he would experience when he did. He knew he would have to go to sleep sometime or die from exhaustion. Why then, for some reason did the latter seem more appealing to him at this moment? He needed help, and he knew that. Worried about their friend’s health, his classmates urged him to see a doctor. Little did they know, what shy, little Jack was having trouble with was something no doctor would be able to solve. Unless that is, they were able to remove the memory of her altogether. Unconsciously, Jack drifted of too sleep, never meaning to, but enough to regret it just a few hours later.

I never know what it will be until is is. Tonight, my mind had chosen to be a great city. It was like I was dreaming in a tormenting way, you could call it a nightmare perhaps. I shut my eyes and try to claim my own body to sleep, but it chooses to go against my will. My eyes are shut, but my mind is wide awake. I see my future in red and black, and then I realize that my future isn’t long lived. So you see, when my insomnia hits, its ready for war. A war that you could never be prepared for. It hits you at once, all your thoughts. It sounds like a depressing tell but I can assure that there is a great. It allows me to think and see (even if I have my eyes shut). It causes me to think so incredibly, I sometimes feel wise. But then again its only a feeling, my mind has taught me so. I yell at myself and command that I sleep, and then my mind brings out the knives. They tell me sweet terrors,” You want to stop thinking, but you contradict yourself terribly. You say to yourself, sleep! Sleep! Don’t think! You have no clue at all.” They stop cutting me open for awhile but then I become anxious. “Tell me more.. maybe sleep can wait just for a little while,” I plead so cowardly. You aim your knives again and began to make your drawings. “Wishing yourself to sleep is a thought. Your thinking and trying to think of only sleep. But then it causes you think not to think. And then you think some more. Your thoughts never stop. ” Weeping through the night, I realize my own-self harm. And as my thoughts have already had enough with the useless knifes, they decide that maybe a weapon much bigger than that can do justice. It has become morning and still I haven’t been honored with any award. I have a look at myself in the mirror, at my own- self destruction. A small sob escapes my lip as my thoughts still choose to do me harm,” The war is over for now, but please do expect another war to come.”

Another sleepless night! Sam said to herself as she sighed. She could get up and watch music videos on YouTube. However that would be much like opening a Pandora’s Box, as she would end up watching something on various conspiracy theories, or some not so farfetched idea of an impending doom on the world. This would end in more anxiety, and possibly a night terror, then an anxiety attack and more insomnia.

Shelooks at the clock on her phone. 12:05 am. She carefully places the phone back on her bedside table then does her usual motion of turning in a full circle before trying to get comfortable. Shenever questioned why she had this habit, maybe it was one of those OCD things.

As she lie awake she tried to have day dreams. It was usually helpful for getting sleepy. She tried not to think about her ex Erin, who at that particular moment had already got her narcissistic supply fulfilled from Sam. Perhaps maybe she found it from someone else, as Sam starts to over think the situation she realizes what a fool she has been for allowing this to happen. What gives this narcissistic ex the right to just use and dispose of her when she has the supply fulfilled? Just to be recycled again? NO! It will never happen again. But Sam knew this was a lie. She knew that if Erin sent her any form of communication she would be like her ex’s lost puppy dog. She started to wonder of all the why’s, and how can she ever make this person love her again. Who was she fooling? Even if she ever came back, things wouldn’t be the same, they never have been. Those honeymoon days, once they are gone, they never come back. Everyone tells her the relationship is extremely toxic but no one could make Sam believe this.

Sam thinks back on all the sleepless nights over the past 3 years of their relationship/friendship and the fighting they would have, sometimes over the most trivial things. There were times when she would take too many sleeping pills sometimes 13 at a time, and it would be as though she took nothing at all. The only relief she would get would be if Erin would talk to her and let her know that everything between them would be ok and reassure her of the love they shared. This was relief that she would never see again. It’s been a year since their final fall, and Erin spent the last year feeding Sam little bread crumbs, keeping Sam’s heart on a string. Sam knew this was the part of her brain trying to make sense of the wreckage that telling her this. The part of her brain that doesn’t seem to want to work each time she checks her phone to find that Erin has texted her.

This is how every night was spent. 991 Days, and 16 hours spent thinking of this one person. Sam wondering what would it take? She would undergo shock therapy if she knew it would numb the pain, even measures as desperate as a lobotomy. Something, anything just to make her forget. Forget a past that has done nothing but devastate and destroy the sweet person she once was. Anything to give her a peaceful night’s sleep, without thoughts and dreams of Erin.

A deadly silence floats in the air whilst he lays in bed staring blankly at the crooked painting of his grandmother. Time goes by slowly and a pang of loneliness hits his chest. 5:30.Quietly he walks over the wooden floor to the window, avoiding strategically the old wooden panels that creaked so loudly.The painting’s eyes follows every move he makes. “You’ll have to look away now” he whispers,turning his back and lighting his cigarette. Peering out the window he reminisced the times he spent in the garden listening to the bewildering stories his grandma rold while she carefully gardened the thousand flowers of her garden. Now, only a few weeds and grass patches remained. Exhaling, a cloud of smoke ascends in the air, going somewhere only she knows.

As I lay awake, I could hear the sounds echoing through the halls. The soft tick tock of the grandfather clock in my living room. The creak of the foundation settling. With each new sound, my mind would create a story of horror. And so I didn’t sleep. It continued for days. Weeks. Months. Years. I don’t remember when it started. It’s always been like this. But how does it stop? Will it ever? I crawled in bed every night and got out in the mornings to go to my job at the little town diner. What I did between those times was boring and tedious. I sat with my eyes opened. The horrors would run through my mind. Each creak was a new murderer coming to take me. But nothing ever happened.

It wasn’t until that night at the diner that I thought my horrors were just that: mine. But an old customer, Mr. Rogers, was talking to his friends about his horrors. The same ones that plagued me. He spoke of eerie creaks in his house. Of the swift tick tock-ing of his own clock. His friends laughed and blew him off, but I knew. I heard the creaks and the ticks and the tocks. Each more horrifying than the next.

I waited until my shift was over to go talk to Mr. Rogers. As I spoke of my own fears, his startling blue eyes stared back at me, understanding. When it was closing time, and he rose to leave, he spoke but two words “Good night.” And I watched as the door of the diner closed behind him.

That night, the creaks were louder and the ticks and the tocks rung more frequently. As I lay down in my bed, I heard a soft thud. This wasn’t unusual. However, as the night went on, I couldn’t help the feeling of terror in my body. I had assumed that after talking to Mr. Rogers, these feelings would depart, but it seems I was wrong.

As I looked at the clock, it’s green numbers jumped out at me. 4:07. Suddenly, the numbers started going up. 4:08, 09, 10… and on they went. A thud sounded from the hallway where my bedroom was located. Heavy creaks made their way into the threshold of my room. The last thing I remember seeing is a pair of startling blue eyes, and then—

Sleepless Sunday

It’s been 15 minutes and I still stare at the arranged glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. It’s been 30 minutes since I took double the dosage of sleep medication. It’s been an hour since I realized I wanted to drown out this voice in my head that is telling me that I’m feeling something. I twist and slightly drift but an acute mind doesn’t lessen itself to minor deficiencies. I wanted to sleep direly, and that’s a fact. I wanted it to overcome me and drag and me into the cool blackness like a cliff dive that makes your small local news, and never resurface. It whirls me around and bends me in ways that god did not intend, hitting my cool climbs against the sharp rock until letting me rest my tired eyes finally on the ocean floor. My hair drifts along with the current, finally a rhythmic melody between me and my deep-sea partner in a minor key with a constant off beat change. I twist a few more times as I let the idea of this oceanic dive deepen in my mind until I drift off into the current one last time with a slight smile and lightly resting eyes.

The sound of heavy breathing fills my room, I can’t shake this worried feeling. It’s past 2 should my eyes not be locked tight where has my sleep gone? Why have I become so fearful, this paranoia is becoming the death of me. I shift and turn, flip my pillow, yet still the hand on the clock remains the same 3:02 time continues to pass slowly as my sanity drifts in the process. “He’s long gone” that’s what they say, “he won’t find you any more” shouldn’t I sleep comfortably knowing I’ll survive another night? This aching feeling the uncomfortably in my chest my mind forms scenarios of what might happen if I shut my eyes. 3:07 I stare at the time one more time, swear that it’s killing me more slowly than he would, maybe it’s better if he find, sleep will never come tonight.

Sleeping had always been her worst nightmare; something she dreaded to do.

She hated the feeling like she was wasting her time. There were so many useful things she could be doing, but, instead, her body asked for sleep. She didn’t get why; humans should be able to function without sleeping. Maybe if they didn’t spend so much unconscious, they would have invented time travel or discovered the secret of life.

That’s why she always stays up late; reading or writing, studying or watching TV. Anything. It’s like her own personal challenge. She defies the rules that say that a teenager should go to sleep at eleven and stays up after two in the morning. Just because she can. Just because she doesn’t want to waste her time in something as useless as sleep.

There was also the fact that her mind won’t shut up. Never. Most of the things in her brain are stories, waiting to be written and memories of time past. But, in a tiny corner of her mind lies some ideas she didn’t want to think about; depressing thoughts of loneliness and death. She usually manages to hide those thoughts just fine during the day, but at night, when her house is quite and everything was dark, those sneaky bastards managed to come out. They hunt her, telling her she’s not worth anything and that nobody will ever love her. And that’s when the sobs come in. She covers her mouth with her hand to silent them; after all, she’s supposed to be asleep. After what seems like hours (maybe it’s a couple of seconds, or minutes; who knows anymore) she finally drifts into unconsciousness, her head hurting and her stomach growling. The tears tire her and when she falls asleep, it’s because she cried herself to bed.

For her, sleeping means wasted moments, horrible thoughts, and bitter tears. Could you really blame her for not loving going to bed?

I awoke in a cold sweat, though many would hardly consider 30 minutes enough time to be “sleep” its the most I’ve gotten in days. My chest felt heavy and my breaths uneasy. I blindly and frantically searched my dresser for the tiny container. Knowing that all my pain would disappear in moments after taking another pill. I had taken them from a friends house. Her mother had back pain and got refills consistently. I would take a few periodically to avoid suspicion. I let out a small giggle when I finally found it. The bottle was almost empty, but I wasn’t going to let that fact take away any of the relief I felt. Besides I had planned to meet up with my friend this week and I’m sure I could grab a couple more. I took two more then I had been doing for the past few months. I knew by the amount of sleep I had been getting that I needed to up the dosage again. Not wanting to think of any of these things I closed my eyes and allowed the drugs to take over my conscientiousness. I hadn’t realized before falling back into my daze that the bottle was not put back into its hiding spot. When I awoke in the morning the bottle was gone and all my things were packed. I assume my mother heard me moving above her and she called up to me. Reluctantly I stumbled down the stairs still hazy from the drugs. I made it only half way down them when my mother and my friends mother peered up at me. I looked down at them, instantly noticing my mothers smudged makeup and puffy eyes. She was worried about me but mostly disappointed. My friends mother looked up at me like I was a waste of space. Without a word I went back upstairs to prepare for my trip, hoping that this time I’d be sent far away from here.

Tossing, turning, eyes fully open oh how I wish they would close and my mind would stop racing. Oh, its Him again! He must want time with me to tell me something important. But what it is I’m unsure. For three nights in a row it has been like this, yet what is the intended message. Oh! exhaustion has taken over, kids all day morning and night. What is it you want for me to know?

Overcome with a peace that surpasses all understanding, oh its clear now, vividly explained. “You have devoted too much time to the wrong things in which do not draw you close to me or can even add one metric, surely you can give me your time now.”

With eyes wide open and squared up in bed, I acknowledge His presence and begin to weep. “Oh, Abba Father thank you, your words now loud and clear.”

Finally, somber replaced my racing mind, my eyes fell shut like window shades, darkness took the place of the row of street lights outside my window.

The next day I awoke full of energy and decided to start my day off right with a little walk and talk with Jesus.

His eyes where wide open, so was his mind. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Cedric Vega was having trouble sleeping. It wasn’t the fact that he was scared or had something lingering around the darkest depths of his brain that kept him awake, even though he gets to go to crime scenes and look emptily and dead corpses on a daily basis. His job never affected his sleep schedule so it definitely couldn’t be the reason why his conscious was refusing to rest.

Perhaps it was now that he realized how empty his room was, the four white walls staring blankly at him, or the black leather furniture polished to perfection courtesy of his maid, the neat covers he was now laying in and that neat desk of his by the corner. He was a well-organized, calm and collected man so the idea of not being able to fall asleep after long exhausting hours at the police department was very rare to him, he’d usually fall asleep minutes after he put his head on his pillow.

However, after many moments of pointless tossing and turning did he realize it wasn’t because of his empty looking room, it was because of his empty heart. It all rushed into his brain like a painful burst of light, how he betrayed so easily, how he left the only thing he cared deeply for, how he no longer has anything worth sentimental value. He now comprehended how inhumane he was to betray his brothers for something as ignorant as the law.

His family lay suffering while he sleeps like a coward in his safe ground,

That’s why he couldn’t sleep.

His conscious was finally punishing him, making him feel remorse.

This is my first prompt (sorry if it is not good).

“Ugh,” Aly groaned as she sat on the ground. Becca rolled her eyes. She and four girls were stuck in a cave. It had been six hours and no one has rescued them, “I can’t sleep,” Victoria paced back and fourth. “I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, and I’m tired. I cannot sleep in this stupid cave.” Six hours ago, the girls were looking for a crystal for the Queen. It was called the Flower Crystal. The crystal contained protection for the kingdom. After hours looking for it, the girls found it in the deep cave. Unfortunately, their exit was blocked by a boulder. They did not know how to get out. If only they brought their rings. Their rings have powers that could transform them into superheroines. By now, they would have been outside of the cave. “I think we’re going to lose more oxygen soon,” Ella said. “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to—” “Don’t say that!” Wendy covered her ears. “What time is it?” Aly asked. It was around night-time. The girls were frustrated. They did not want to disappoint the queen. They needed a plan.

This is the first writing I’ve done that anyone has seen. Let me know what you think. Thank you!

Night was my time. When my small feet crept and my toes searched for the quiet spots in the wood flooring. I was never used to such an unstructured time. I would sneak in the night looking for a destination. I knew ever creak in this house yet each night, the shadows felt new. They lived. But I knew they weren’t my enemy. They were creeping along to their own lost destinations. They searched for their own silent patches of wood. I could only dream of moving as silently as they do. That is if I could dream. Because to dream means to sleep. And to sleep means to miss out on my time.

I would find myself sitting at the kitchen table. Alone but for the shadows and a snack. I know I shouldn’t eat now. The moon is high and bright and the house is far too quiet. At least to me. Maybe I was wrong and it was pitch black. Maybe each bite I took echoed down the hall and into the bedrooms. I don’t know everything about my time but I know I feel safe.

I’m not sure when the fear of the dark left me. I couldn’t point to a year. I don’t why the fear of the dark left me my heart and decided to leave behind the sleeplessness.

During my time I was but a silent spirit visiting from another realm. I was alone but unafraid. I was plunged in shadow but I could see. The house’s silence reverberated in my ears life the thick buzzing of bees. I was young but this world was my ancient throne. There was no classwork. There was no bus to catch. There was just my time to spend till the call of sleep was deafening and I was summoned back down the hall. The wood stayed silent as my small feet found familiar holds. The bed was just as I remembered. I would lay and close my eyes thinking that maybe this was my dream.

Throughout my 21-year experience in the Army, countless days of waking early in the morning to do physical training, and enduring countless stressful situations; I have had many sleepless nights. There are nights where I don’t get any sleep at all and end up going to work the following day. I lay awake at night wondering what the next day holds for me. There are even times where I think about the many friends I have lost throughout my career serving the Army. My mind never takes a break. It is constantly working day and night. I have tried many remedies and tricks to fall asleep but nothing seems to work besides over the counter medication. I know taking sleep aids on a constant basis is not healthy and can damage your body. My last ditch effort to acquire some precious hours of sleep, may be retirement from the Army. However, I am unsure if this will resolve my issue.

Not sure how this is, but nevertheless here it is:

He had warned me. I was leaning against the marble kitchen bench and relishing the delicious aroma when he took the cup out of my hands and set it down. His gaze was intentful, almost father-like, as he nodded in disagreement. I was aware that it was drug, the boost of adrenaline that would reduce my hours but I was already addicted!

The doctors had warned me and my parents had been warning me since childhood and yet it never had any effect on me. I was pulled towards it and I couldn’t resist. Maybe it was due to the fact that I’d never experienced the after-effects.

But that day, Newt had woven some mysterious magic and I received the full blow of it’s poisonous wrath. —- The lights were dimmed and the entire apartment gave off an eerie buzz. Catherine was inside her shell, music whispering into her ears and humming her to dreamland. Next door Minho and Alec were “asleep” too. I could sense the gently tapping of keys echoing through the room, sure of the fact that Cather would give me a tough punishment for it, but for some reason I felt unusually productive. I was surrounded by a steady flow of ideas and could the project taking shape tonight, unstoppable even by the prospect of climbing under the soft sheets.

My phone gave an inaudible pop and I smiled as I read the text from Alec. He too, like me, wasn’t yet asleep. I wanted to cuddle in his strong arms, his muscular hands tangled into my hair. For a moment I felt like breaking the gender rule but I pulled my mind into focus. He would have to wait along with my uprising desires until I finished my work. —- It was well past midnight and well crossed over my regular bed time. it intrigued me to find that my body was fully co-operative with this and my eyes hadn’t gone bleary. I took this as a good luck signal and continued working. Alec and I were texting each other until he asked me to go to sleep because he, too, was uber tired. I had reluctantly bid his goodbye and was now back to work.

After what seemed like endless hours, I decided to conclude and retire for the night. The green watch light indicated that I had been relentlessly writing for two hours, a feat I had never achieved in my entire life. The good luck was paying off!

I checked up on social media, wishing Kal a happy birthday and texted Alec a final goodnight, shutting my phone off. With that I drank some water and then got into bed.

My brain had managed to power down, thoughts of the project I was working on clouding my other imagine, but my internal clock was still whizzing. I was still very awake!

I twisted and turned, stretched and unclenched but sleep had disappeared. I rolled up my sleeves, tied and untied my hair but I was still awake. Finally after two hours, verified by the bedside clock, I got up. My throat was dry and I could feel droplets of thick sweat forming on my forehead. I instantly checked for fever but my temperature was alarmingly normal.

I began to pace around the room, cooling off in front of a fan and taking gulps of water. I even took a trip to the ladies room when ultimately, I knew I’d had enough.

With the most softest steps, I made my way to Room 108; Alec’s room. I pushed the door and open and scrambled over toward Alec, taking care to avoid the scattered clothes and shoes. He looked so peaceful and before I could control it my hand flew out and started stroking his hair. His eyes opened at the touch of my skin and despite the odd circumstances he smiled at me.

He knew exactly why I had made this sudden trip and without waiting for my explanation said,

“Coffee. It’s all the coffee!”

I smiled back at him.

I knew for sure that the next time I wanted a sleepless night the only drug I needed would be the one Alec intoxicated me with.

Coffee had done me it’s good…

With the gentle rhythm of a heart beat palpating through my fingertips, I felt the drug draining itself casting a web of sleep, as it left, sending me far away…

The night buzzed into her room like bees to a Beyhive. Her shoulders twisted and turned in spastic motions, weighing her down with the tension of midnight-drawn silence, the stillness of moonlight, and the radiation of astronomy. She could feel the tides rise and fall in tune with her breathing – up and down, in and out – as if her head was an infinite seashell, breaking waves and fading into a frenzy of amorous plankton – fidgeting nervously about with the frustrations of a proper insomniac.

Juliette writhed on her back. There was clearly no escaping the surmounting poppies of a sleepless poppy field. Drained from the exhaust of mercilessly dragging her brain about the covers, she shifted her position once again so that this time, she lay on her opposite side with one leg under her blanket and the other sticking out – a bit of an Arnold Palmer of sleep positions. And yet, the salty air that wafted into her beachfront bungalow neither calmed nor soothed her; she could only think on the impending doom that awaited her the next day.

Shifting listlessly as the moonlight shown a spotlight into her bedroom, Juliette could not help but reflect on the past weekend’s events. The ride to Tijuana had been a painful and restless one, and the violent sting in her shoulders had only served as a cruel reminder of all of the fights and arguments that had escalated just a bit too quickly.

It’s not great, but it’s something.

Days would go by and she wouldn’t sleep at all. She would hear the heavy trucks roar along what would be an empty highway and then soon enough the first cars of people leaving for work and starting their day.

She’d sit and think about what kind of work people were leaving so early to get to, how car they would have to travel and what kind of lives they led.

Sometimes she would contemplate her own life as she watched the sun peak over the horizon and shine onto the valley below her. The trees would catch the first rays and light up one by one until it officially became another day.

Nothing had been accomplished. She had merely sat there watching clips on YouTube, some movies and television shows. Sometimes she would make it a game: “How many things can I watch tonight?” The more she thought about what she was doing the more melancholic she would become. Maybe she needed some structure. What did everyone else have that she didn’t? Why could they all go to sleep and she couldn’t?

“Tonight”, she thought, “Tonight, I’m going to do something about this. I’m going to go to bed at a normal time”

That night settled in for a proper night of rest.

“Yes. This seems normal”, she thought.

The clock ticked louder than usual. The trucks would roar past. Her breathing became the most important sound her ears had heard.

She saw the sun come over the horizon.

The clock stared at me; its pale face scowled in my direction, arms frozen in time. Moonlight crept beside my curtains and illuminated the side of the room on which the clock hung. The closet door stood open, alert, waiting. My window called to me, begged for my presence, and to the window I went. My feet felt fuzzy on the soft, yellow carpet beneath my bed. As I made my way to the window, ominous shapes of irascible creatures leered at me, and distrustful objects and electronics snickered in hushed whispers at their plots. I ventured towards the window though it seemed like I’d been roving for an infinity by the time I arrived. The clock continued to stare its evil stare as I stood in front of the window, and its ravenously sour intent spiked the hairs on my spine.

I lay in bed at night, tossing and turning trying to catch a hint of sleep. It seems nearly impossible. I roll over and look at the clock. It read 11:43 pm. I think to myself, I have to be up for the day in 7 hours and to make it through the long day I’ll need as much sleep as possible. I roll back over to face the wall, hoping the maybe the blank darkness will help me fall asleep. I stared into the darkness questioning how much longer I’d be awake. Laying like this began to hurt my shoulder so I rolled to my back and looked at the shadow of the ceiling fan spinning. This still wasn’t helping me fall asleep so I looked to see what time it was. It was already 1:11 am. I kept going through this same rotation from wall to ceiling fan to clock. I slowly drift in and out of sleep. Everything eventually goes completely black. The peaceful darkness turned into a bright white light and annoying buzzing sound. I soon realized that the bright light was the rising sun and the annoying buzzing was my alarm clock telling me that if I didn’t get out of bed now I would be late. I wondered how I got to this time. The last hour I read on the clock was 3:26 am. Now the clocking says 7:03 am. When tonight comes the cycle of a sleepless night will begin again.

Here I find myself, yet again staring at the blank ceiling. You’d expect that staring at an overflowing, white canvas would calm ones nerves and wash away any anxiety. At least enough to fall asleep. Alas, we all know that is rarely the case, since just because the eyes are open does not mean that they also see what is in front of them. In moments such as this, we are blind to the present and instead are bombarded with an unsavory mix of mostly unpleasant past experience and reality-altering potential scenarios that we try to plan for.

As our minds endure an unending stream of thoughts, our body feels the aftershock as it is, yet again, denied its well-deserved rest. We get completely enveloped in this rumination and end up truly believing that there is not way out, when in fact there is. It has been there all along, if only you let your eyes see what is in front of them. The calming view of seemingly unending white should always be a reminder that, whatever your thoughts, the present moment is calm. It is this present moment that you are trying your best to run away from, yet are desperately reaching for its return.

And know that when you close your eyes, the only thing that changes is the color.

(I just discovered this blog by searching for writing prompts and I have to say I am liking it so far! This is my first attempt at a 15 minute writing prompt. Would love any feedback so I can improve.)

The sheets feel like a straitjacket. I sigh loudly and turn over, trying again to get comfortable. Even though the fan is on, it feels stifling in my room. I shift again, and my pajama bottoms twist around my legs. I kick at the sheets in frustration, trying to untangle the pajamas and free myself from the 500 thread-count restraints at the same time. I’m still imprisoned. This waking nightmare of frustration and anger. And not at anything in particular other than my own body which won’t let me sleep. I stand up and pace the room for a few minutes. My pajamas settle down, and I gain a brief reprieve from the sheets of stone pressing down on me. I have to get up early and I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to be awake right now. The fan drones on, but it never seems to stir up enough air. I lay back down and pessimistically drag the sheet up to my chin. Flopping over on my side, I punch my pillow underneath my head and close my eyes. And wait. Nothing. Nothing but a growing sense of anger at this ridiculous situation. I’m trapped. Denied the release of sleep. Sitting up, I pound at my pillow in an attempt to give my frustration the release it demands. But it ultimately backfires. The exertion causes my heart rate to go up, my blood to course faster, and my breathing to increase. I’m more awake now than I was minutes before. Sighing, I prop up my pillow and grab the book on my nightstand. Switching on the lamp, I open the book and start reading, trying to calm my mind and body into a state of restfulness. After 10 minutes I begin to feel sleep’s gentle pull. I switch off the lamp, pull the sheets back up to my chin, lay down on my side, and close my eyes…

The sheets feel like a straitjacket.

I lie awake thinking. That’s the worst thing I could be doing at 3 in the morning, but it seems like the only thing I can do. My body is tired, my mind is on full blast. I think about my parents back in San Francisco. I think about David, who is probably sleeping right next to her. I think about my dog, Max, who is sound asleep at my feet. The morning sun peaks through the window and I didn’t get any sleep again tonight. My alarm clock blares, I don’t know why I even have that thing anymore. Sleepless. I’m pretty sure I should just change my name to that.

I’ve been sleepless since day one. i haven’t been able to sleep through the night. The nightmares won’t allow me to sleep. The dreams are terrifying, the hunt me as I wake abruptly. Then everything goes black!

Exhaustion carried her body into wanting to sleep, but worrying kept her mind awake. What felt like hours turned into merely minutes. With working 12 hours a day with a 30 minute break somewhere in the shift, there’s no wonder why she’s tired. Every night is a stressful event to fall asleep, no matter how exhausted she was. She lays in bed without movement thinking about the world and her decisions that made her who she is today. Regret and satisfaction filled her head. She tried to forget what she was thinking, but it’s hard to after everything she was put through. Soon exhaustion hit her and what felt like an endless sleep took over her body.

As I lay here in my bed staring up at the ceiling the clock hits midnight. the TV is going in the background i shift and roll over to the tv nothing good is on. I flip threw the channels I found a good a show. Its that 70s show I roll back over and listen to the show in the background. I check the time again its 12:10 I start to yawn. Finally I pull the blankets up and curl up in a ball slowly drift to sleep.

I greet my insomnia like a well acquainted lover. I feel nothing more than defeated acceptance as we both go through the same routine like every night. I try to sleep, but my mind cannot be willed into silence. Tonight, my insomnia decided to greet me with a nice dose of existential crisis.

You know you’re going to die one day. Yeah no duh. Hahaha. Jokes on you. I dealt with that ages ago. (feeling of panic intensifies)

What exactly are you doing with your life? I don’t know. But please stop.

Is this all there really is? Wake up, eat, go to work, come home and sleep? For the next, probably, sixty years? …

Why haven’t you written that novel yet? …you know why.

It was the same reason, why I couldn’t sleep. There was a sense of restlessness that surrounded me, and seeped into my bones. The urge to get up and just… Do something. Anything. All to escape the monotony of life.

I felt as though I was one of those people who died at 22, but buried at 80. What had my life become? What would my previous self think of me now?

Or maybe it was something else that plagues you. Lets not go there tonight. I try beg with myself.

I don’t like seeing people sleep. They look like they’re dead. It such an intimate activity too. We’re all vulnerable when we sleep. Except ninjas.

My chin slipped down my arm until the counter top gave me a cold shock. I sat up straight and rested my elbows on the reflective surface. “Here ya go.” said the bartender gingerly. I smiled keeping my eyes closed and felt for the drink to push it back. “I’m nineteen.” The man chuckled. “It’s coffee.” Slowly I blinked into the early morning light filtering through the east window then down to the glass. I peered at the chocolate infused frappe then to the stranger who was wiping down the counter. “How do you know my order?” I asked. “You and your boyfriend come in every morning at nine.” he said a smile turning the corners of his lips. My heart skipped and responding heat flushed my cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend.” I replied. “Good to know.” he winked then moved down the grey counter to meet another customer. I watched the peppy man. He worked quick with his hands, pristine teeth displayed in a laugh or smile while he interacted with the other person. Slowly my eyelids sank down disrupting my view. “You pull an allnighter too?” asked the bartender his voice wafting over music. I forced my eyes open and they met bright sapphires. “Yeah, you worked all night?” “Yes Sir.” he nodded leaning over the counter, Cheshire grin inches from me. I felt a telltale blush rise to my cheeks again tinting the porclain skin scarlet. The mocha gave me a distraction from the attentive and attractive man. “So what kept you up?” he questioned calling for my attention again. “Homework. I’m taking summer classes.” I told him. Quickly I checked my phone to see if Jace was on his way. “What do- ” the bartender paused looking to the next customer and tossed the towel over his shoulder. “Let’s continue this later, what’s your name?” “Brandon.” I said wondering if I was being quick to assume where he was going. “Hi Brandon, I’m Jack.” he shot me another electric smile. “What do you say we meet at the paper lantern at seven tonight?” My heart lept into my throat stealing my ability to speak but I nodded, agreeing to the offer. I slid down from the counter needing to remember how to breathe the bar coffee shop suddenly….

Shaking her head to clear the fog she thought about her day. It was Tuesday wasn’t it? She wasn’t quite sure anymore. The days had begun to blend into one. How long had it been since she had had more than a few hours of sleep two weeks, three? Between her work schedule, the kids and her eighty-year-old mother with dementia, she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had slept all night, or even gone to bed at a decent time for that matter. Judy longed for time to herself. A time when she wasn’t so exhausted that all she would do with that time was sleep. She wanted time to peruse her dreams. Dreams? It seems as though that train has long left the station. After twenty-eight years of marriage someone who only cared about what he could get from others, manipulation and lies, she was finally free OR was she?

One, two, three, four, five……….wait. What? I swear there were seven cracks in the ceiling last night and the night before that and well, all the nights before that. No I’m not an insomniac. It is just that, sleep and I are not really the best of friends. But my life had always been like this, the one thing that I desperately needed was the one thing i could not have. I had tired myself to the verge of unconsciousness hoping to fall asleep as soon as i hit the bed. But it seems like all my efforts were in vain, again. My mind began to wander to the events occurred during the day. That was my night routine. Recreating the events in my head according to my satisfaction. Sometimes I just forget what really had happened and my mind welcomes the thought of what i wanted to happen. Like today, I had not been pushed against the lockers with a swift kick to my stomach during recess but I was sitting in the ground with my best friend having my favourite burger. My thoughts were running, creating a story on their own accord, exceeding the speed limit when suddenly…. *triiiiing* My eyes snapped open. My hand reached for my hea, it was feeling a bit dizzy. I turned to my right and took in the drool wetting my pillow. Had I been asleep?

The man stood on the front porch steps, glancing wild-eyed around the porch. I kept repeating it but it was as if his ears were sealed off .The man takes a step forward, almost tripping over the salad bowl lying there. I walk hastily over to him to take his arm and the man shrugs me off, as if the mere thought of me helping him is repulsive. In that very moment, it was just me, him and the moths circling the decapitated lamp across the street. The silence was deafening and comforting at the same time. It seemed wrong to refer to the man as my grandfather because of how distant he was from me. A stranger may have been better company. Family for me was not a word that brought comfort and joy to my heart but rather one that equals disdain and unpleasantness. I said it again but he’s walking away. I don’t attempt to follow the man. I take the path opposite and aimlessly hop like a wild rabbit seeking shelter. It would have always ended like this. Him talking the path opposite to mine. It was foolish of me to think otherwise.

This is my first, I don’t have any experience but I’m very interested to try.

I hear the voices getting louder. They’ve become the people I talk to for they are the ones I can’t avoid. My anxieties, my dreams, my memories. All the subjects that the calm darkness wants to share.

No matter how much I try to escape, I keep coming back to myself, with these conversations I don’t even ever dream of talking about with other people. I love the distractions, I am not ashamed, but if I really am not, I would be sound asleep right now. It isn’t that I hate talking about it, it’s that I don’t have anything profound to say. How it makes me uncomfortable, I tell you. The appearance of lacking intelligence and emotions embarrasses me.

Given the miracle of being awake every morning, I’d rather be asleep. But I cannot, as the weight of my eyes can’t outweigh the thoughts in my head.

Really, this is your first? It’s amazing! I’m surprised you didn’t have any experience. I applaud you.

Thank you very much. What a wonderful response. You just made my day.

You’re welcome, sir. From one author to another.

I find myself tossing and turning, never ceasing to think. My mind runs like a child drugged with adrenaline, and my heart pumps like my body had actually been through that marathon. I can feel it – that creeping feeling of anxiety and guilt that seems only to appear at night. Shivers slither their way up my spine, and I bury myself in the protection and warmth of the covers, face deep in the pillows. In the dark, I can see the shadows. Shadows of chairs, shelves, my desk – somehow they came to become threatening. Even Teddy, the stuffed bear on my windowsill, was transformed into a horrible monster that would try to kill me whilst I sleep. Underneath the bed was worse – shadows that could solidify and take me with them. What’s worse than fearing something you can see? Something you wouldn’t expect. These were the irrational fears that would keep me up at night. The bedsprings creak in the old mattress as I try to adjust to a comfortable position. When I was younger, that sound would be a lullaby. My parents would sleep next to me, and I’d know that there were other people making such noise beside me. And if they weren’t making that odd errr sound, they’d protect me. Now, I live alone in a lonely apartment – without Mommy and Daddy to keep away the night terrors. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget everything I had thought about, and drift to bed.

*This is my account, sorry about the guest submission.

I find myself tossing and turning, never ceasing to think. My mind runs like a child drugged with adrenaline, and my heart pumps like my body had actually been through that marathon. I can feel it – that creeping feeling of anxiety and guilt that seems only to appear at night. Shivers slither their way up my spine, and I bury myself in the protection and warmth of the covers, face deep in the pillows.

In the dark, I can see the shadows. Shadows of chairs, shelves, my desk – somehow they came to become threatening. Even Teddy, the stuffed bear on my windowsill, was transformed into a horrible monster that would try to kill me whilst I sleep. Underneath the bed was worse – shadows that could solidify and take me with them. What’s worse than fearing something you can see? Something you wouldn’t expect. These were the irrational fears that would keep me up at night.

The bedsprings creak in the old mattress as I try to adjust to a comfortable position. When I was younger, that sound would be a lullaby. My parents would sleep next to me, and I’d know that there were other people making such noise beside me. And if they weren’t making that odd errr sound, they’d protect me. Now, I live alone in a lonely apartment – without Mommy and Daddy to keep away the night terrors.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget everything I had thought about, and drift to bed.

Up again. She hadn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep in over a month. Every night she would lie awake and think back about her time with Arren. It felt so strange, to lay in bed without him. Every time she moved, she was reminded that he wasn’t lying next to her anymore. She spent countless hours thinking about what she could have done differently. Could she have just had a baby with him so that he would be happy? He had given her the world. Emotionally and financially. But he wanted a baby. He wanted to be a father. And she just didn’t have the same dreams.

She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As she grabbed the glass from the cabinet she glanced over at the table. That’s where her and Arren had their last conversation. He told her he had to leave. They wanted different things. And he told her that even though he loved her, it just wasn’t enough. They both sat and cried for hours. But in the end, it didn’t change anything.

As she put her glass in the sink she decided to go for a drive. She had to be at work in four hours, but she clearly wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anyways. And going for drives always helped to relax her. As she opened the garage door and put the car in reverse she was yet again flooded with memories. Her and Arren used to take drives all the time. Some days they would go on short drives around the neighborhood. And other days they would just drive for hours, with no particular destination in mind.

As she drove, she started questioning herself again. Had she made the right decision? She was only twenty-five. Maybe in a couple years she would want kids. Would she look back and regret letting him walk away? How would she feel when some other woman gave him children?

Before she knew it, she was back home in her driveway. Only an hour had passed. She still had two more hours to kill before she needed to start getting ready for work. She knew there was no point in lying down. However, she had run out of ideas. And eventually she was going to have to get used to sleeping alone. No better time to start than now. So she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up. She decided to see if there was anything on tv. She knew there would be plenty of infomercials that could put her to sleep. As she began watching an infomercial about a particular knife that was promised to be the next big thing, she felt herself drift off.

The day had been long and stretched. The move itself had been a breeze. Stella had walked the dog to get change and maybe a coffee. As it turned out, change for the meters was entirely unnecessary, as the movers would be double parked, and coffee proved unfindable. It wasn’t that she could not find coffee, it was that she was with the dog, the peppy and robust, still recovering wire-haired hound who was determined to let it be know to all passerby (canine and otherwise) that she was back. A mysterious run-in with a car a three months prior had left the creature with a slightly atrophied hind leg and bionic pelvic binding. She barked at men in suits, she barked at the miniature humans who stomped their feet very near to her snout and overwhelmingly sensitive ears. It was the door slammers downstairs and the skateboarders clattering along the sidewalk that really did it. At night she whined to be let on the bed, so used was she to the human elevator service of arms.

Somehow Ash had packed the bulk of the loft in the wee small hours of the morning. Skeletons of futons and the dining room set were gathered in tidy piles and their third-floor walk-up had turned into a vault of itemized bins. The mother arrived, immediately followed by the movers. They caravanned up the street to the tower, an automatic elevation in financial and social real estate to be nested into. Then there were the installations of the basics: tech had so advanced since her girlhood, and she was hardly to be considered old, that lights, water, air, and home had seemingly been constructed around her in moments.

Now she was in a new living room, half-full of their new life together. Her eyes strained in disbelief and lack of sleep, momentum of the move itself and the suddenly heightened pace of life feeding her fuel of adrenaline.

Dinner. Wine. A shower. It was half past twelve when she lulled to sleep, her eyes burning, her body exhausted, muscles sensitive and expectantly taught. The skyscrapers in the distance were a scattered array of left-on floors. She tossed and turned, watching Orion’s Belt drift upward as the hours passed, out of her line of sight. She watched for fingerprint sized human figures to flicker across the empty lit-up rooms in the distance. There were none. Sleep. She longed for it with pain and urgency, which also kept her thrashing between the soft sheets and the comforter. Why are all those lights on? she wanted to know. Aircraft warnings blinked red and white. The city was a goddamned Christmas tree. She could not tell if she was dreaming or hallucinating. The rouge smear upon the horizon beyond the cityscape bled upward as the sun began to rise and erase the night. Had she slept at all?

The night was dark and cold. And the three teenagers were getting restless. The man had been gone for four hours and it was their first chance of escaping in four weeks. He had kept them locked in a cave underground and they hadn’t slept. They had been too busy protecting each other and fending off the wild wolves that the man puts into the cave every other night. They had suffered terrible scratches and bites. They hadn’t eaten or slept in a month. And to add onto it all, they were being tortured over and over again every day. The boy wanted to be able to protect the two young girls when the man came back. He was supposed to be strong and be a hero. But he was hardly able to walk without falling. The younger of the two girls was in very bad shape, with highly infected bites and bone showing through her pale skin. The other girl wasn’t as bad off as the younger, but she was no super-human. None of them were strong enough to fight off another rabid wolf alone. And none of them had the brain power to figure out an escape plan.

The man rotated his victims every day and tortured them in a separate chamber. He had been doing this for a long time and he knew how to make the hits hurt without killing. He knew how to cause immense pain and not cause internal bleeding. He knew how to make you suffer without feeling the slightest bit of sorrow. He knew how to not kill you until he was ready to watch you die. He considered himself a hero, because he wasn’t killing them right away. He walked from his home into the dark forest through snow and wind. He unlocked the cave gave and jerked it open. He walked into the small space and pointed to the young boy, “You.”

Shoulders tense, in the dark, a storm inside. She longs for quiet, for calm, for nothingness. The strange squeal of the pipes echo’s through the house. She decides that she must call the next morning and get someone out to check why they’re making such a hideous noise. The warm dark space is not a comfort for her. Her thoughts jump, thinking of different events that day, that week, conversations that she should have had, what she could have done to make strides towards her ultimate goals. As she lies, tense. A tremendous longing is in her, she’s not sure for what. Peace, expression, love? And she lies there, alone, with the noise in her head. Listening to the pipes wail. Tomorrow everything will be better, all that she could have done today, she will do tomorrow.

Lying awake on my side of the bed, I think of all the possibilities that could unfold on my wedding night, just like I’ve done every hour for the past week since the proposal.

We could run in together, both swept up in the giddy frenzy of what is expected by all the guests to come, a blush creeping up our necks and filling our cheeks with the rosy color we laughed about when we first met on that snowy day outside the office. Maybe we aren’t giddy at all—maybe we’re both feeling playful, wild, and a little bit sexy, ready to tear at each other’s clothing and consummate our marriage like animals.

Maybe he’ll throw me down on the bed and ravage me, push my stomach against the wall and have me for his own, force me down on him until he’s ripe with anticipation and ready to burst and I have no choice but to swallow or face the consequences. It’s not that I like these nights, but at least he’s enjoying himself. At least it’s only sex. At least it’s better than when he has a few drinks too many and I become his personal punching bag, a target for the silverware and fine china his rich father can afford to buy him—with the money from the bank account he used to bribe the jury on the last domestic case he was involved in.

If I shut up, say all the right things, and make sure to do everything he asks, my wedding night could be all I ever dreamed of. It’s already planned that I have the Tiffany blue color scheme and flower arrangements I’d wished for since I was a young boy playing dress up in the attic, now all I needed was my perfect night. All I needed was to hold my tongue and do what was commanded of me and I’d have the perfect end to the perfect wedding.

And after that, the perfect honeymoon and the perfect life with my perfect husband in our perfect house with our perfect knives and our perfect porcelain plates and cups and teapots and his perfectly powerful arms and hands and fingers…

The list goes on and on—every possible scenario for every night of the rest of my life. All sleepless. All scared. All right next to him.

John stared at the clock until his eyes ached- he couldn’t fall asleep if he tried- the stupid ass kicker turbo coffee he had drunk 2 nights ago had kept him awake for, yep, 2 days. THIS was the damn third. “i’m gonna kill Steve…” He muttered. “He thinks he’ll be able to sell that shit to the public? he’ll sooner get lynched by angry customers.” “Then they’ll kill him for you.” Alan muttered beside him. Alan had also been victim to the horrendous coffee.” “Hmm,” John responded. “We could sue him.” “Splendid idea.” “Yeah? I’ll contact a court tomorrow and we what we can do.” Alan did’t respond. Must’ve gone to sleep. John glanced at the clock and waited, watching the minutes tick. There was a long stretch of silence that felt so peaceful, John could almost hear he sounds of the ticking clock fade away into the distance as he got lost in a wonderful fantasy of sueing steve, and enjoying the satisfaction gained after 3 nights of complete hell. “Has it been 3am yet?” Alan spoke beside him, quite suddenly. . Alan slept facing away from the clock, his eyes closed shut tightly- but his voice sounded awake as ever. He wasn’t fooling anyone. John looked at the clock gain. ‘No,” he said. “15 more minutes.” He heard Alan curse something vile under his breath. “What was that?” John said, snickering. “Bloody piss-flaps? Never heard that one.” Alan was silent for awhile. John could tell his brow was creased with worry. “We won’t make it to the audition at this rate.” John shrugged. “If I remember, it was YOU who decided to conveniently forget the alarm clock.” “Oh shut up.” Alan muttered. There was silence between the two for a couple of minutes. John turned over on his side.”Say, Alan?” “Yeah?” “You remember the pretty girl that was there at last week’s audition?” “The brunette in the pink skirt?” “Yeah.” “What about er?” “She was…. Swell mann….. I hope she’s there next time.” “John?” “Yeah?” “Shut up.” Alan turned over again and started to mentally count, while john played with the jack-in-the-box necklace that hung around his neck. All the while the clock ticked louder than ever. “Fuck this,” Alan said, now sitting up completely. “Let’s get some coffee.”

There are days in my life where sleeping was the toughest job I have to do. Whenever I close my eyes the unanswerable questions poke my eyes for the answer. I just lie down and think for the answers. So, at least tomorrow I can sleep. But my questions was never answered, because I was too young to understand the hypocrisy in human philosophy. Now I am young enough to understand it but not strong enough to handle it. I wish one day will come where I can sleep with peace, far from the hypocrisy. Until that day I have to compromise my questions, to sleep.

How do you get someone like her off of your mind… how do you just tell yourself to stop? It’s not like you didn’t want to… you would love to just close your eyes and get a few hours of rest but…when you closed your eyes her figure would appear. She’d be lying next to you. Chest to chest. Toe to toe. Hip to hip… soul to soul.

It was no use.

She was engraved in your mind, engraved in your heart as the first person to have control over you like this. Everything you thought about was her.

She met you at the library earlier that day and you thought your heart would be jump out of your chest, it was beating so hard! She needed your help writing her paper but you could barely focus on the books or your lap top with her so close. All you could think of was how beautiful she looked in that pink sweater, and how she smelt like Vanilla.

And you felt like such a clutz, you had dropped your pencils and she helped you pick them up but her hand brushed against yours for a second too long and your almost melted onto the floor. You felt so stupid you started to apologize for dropping the pencils but she just told you it was okay…

But the more she talked the more you watched her lips. And the more you watched her lips the more you thought of how soft her lip probably were. They probably felt like the inside of a rose and she probably tasted like the most expensive, most delicious, most illegal wine known to man kind. You wanted to know how they would feel pressed against yours. And you wanted to know if she would be okay with- with kissing another girl. Would she push you away in disgust or would she pull you closer…

How do you sleep with all that on your mind?

i’ve become one with the moon, depending on the stars to offer their light. Warming myself up under the beautiful night sky. I enjoy my dreams very much, I hope they don’t mis understand. I’ve gotten this attachment with the big round fella up top. He craves my attention, My company. I’ve come to realize we are much a like after all, both beautiful, untouched, strong and misunderstood.

His legs felt like sandbags slowly wearing him down with every step he took. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel. It had become so easy to distance himself well…from himself. His breath grew soft and shallow. His eyes looked like rose stained glass and as he began to lift his head the sudden wave of exhaustion made him stumble slightly to the left. He quickly grabbed the stairs and shook his head. Gazing at his king sized mattress he began drifting towards it. The weight of his feet fading as he began to slip off one shoe and then the next. Unbuttoning his shirt he melted gently onto his bed.

Before the enteral realm of darkness overtook him an intense vibration from his right pocket jerked him back to reality.

“Detective Warren, its Jami there’s been an emergency update on the case. Get to Fourth Lincoln street asap”.

“Got it” he replied as he ran his hands over his face and with a exaggerated sigh he opened the rustic wood stained drawer and grabbed his badge.

She angrily clutched the sheets tightly in her fists, squeezing her eyes shut. She wanted nothing else to let sleep sweep through her, the alluring deity with a mind of its own that brought the greatest blessing she could receive. She softened her grip on the sheets and let her eyes relax. She let a hesitant breath go in and out. In and out. In and out. Her breathing got slower. Several minutes passed. Her body was motionless. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, laying haphazardly across her cheek. She didn’t move it away. To actively move was to be awake, and she was almost sure that she was not awake. She slowly cracked her eyes open, hoping desperately to be in the midst of a haunting dream, picturesque and dangerous, but an adventure nonetheless. Her eyes were greeted by darkness, and she was immediately disappointed by the dark shadows on the wall, a tell tale sign that she was as awake as ever. She felt the tiny prick of tears welling up in her eyes. She fought this battle every night, and she lost more often than not. She didn’t have the strength to keep fighting. To fight the midnight thoughts that flew around her head, keeping her awake well into the early hours of the next day. Her body was exhausted- trembling and fatigued, but her mind was spinning around just as fast as always, tormenting her awake. Tears began to slide down her cheeks and she curled into a ball, making herself as small as possible. She was crying. And that’s how sleep finally found her, with dried tears on her cheeks. It spun its sweet spell over her, and she finally drifted into peace.

He wished he had grown to appreciate sleep, despite the fact that he didn’t need it. Even well past his tax paying years, he had turned a blind eye towards it. Insomnia did that to you, he figured. Besides, he had no desire to long for something he couldn’t have. Envy, it did things to him. The case of Allison Melzen left him taking late night trips to the coffee shop downtown- even with his insomnia. The girl felt no fear to the monsters assigned to her case, forcing him to take one her case. He had no wish to get his hands dirty, preferring to sift through files. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. When he’d arrived on the job, he could see why she had laughed at the monsters under her bed. With the screams downstairs, to the week of alcoholic abuse, she already had monsters of her own. Each day, he found himself guarding her against him, if it meant she would be happy.

My rating for myself: 1/10

SLEEPLESS BY LESLIE Oh my god ! Why can’t I sleep? Two melatonin, two TYLONAL PM and a glass of wine. I’ll be lucky not to O.D. Ok if I fall asleep in feefteen minutes I’ll get six hours. Perfect. I dont know why we dont go to SIX FLAGS any more. I used to love those parks as a kid. We should take the girls there. Dam ! I did it again. I let my mind wonder. Ok Leslie concentrate. The room is nice and cool and it’s nearly pitch black in here. Ok right side first. Breath, breath, breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale….I do like that movie. WAITING TO EXHALE. I usually like movies with primarily black casts. I really like Tyler Perry. I love the message and the music. Why am I thinking about this ? Who cares No one can hear your thoughts. Ok inhale, exhale, in our. You have got to be kidding me. I have to pee. Where is the toilet paper. Why can’t anyone put another roll on the dam holder? If I turn on the light I’ll never get to sleep. Oh well. Drip dry. Ok If I get four hours I’ll be fine. Sleep. Breath. In, out in and dam its got in here. Well there goes the nightgown . Oh much better. I am cozy. Breath, inhale. What the heck? Is this a chip? CRUMBS!!! I HATE CRUMBS. I can’t believe he ate chips in bed. I just washed the sheets. Today! He is so rude. He doesn’t respect me at all. He used to be so sweet. I think he’s going through a mid-life crisis. I hope he knows how much I appreciate him. I know he’s under a lot of stress. And yet there he is. Sound asleep and i bet he won’t even have to get up to pee. Pee, oh dam I have to go again. I have to shake out these chips anyway. Ok. two hours . Inhale, exhale, in, out. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. Babe can’t you hear the alarm? Why did you set the clock for four a.m.? You dont have to get up for an hour. Snooze? Are you seriously going to press snooze? I give up. ” Enjoy your sleep I’m going to make coffee “. “Honey go back to bed”. “What time is it?” ” It’s only six”. ” I have to get the girls ready for school”. “You must need sleep. School is out for the summer. Starting today”. Breath, breath, breath.

Sighing, I fell into the deliciously embracing blue folds. Wriggling my head into the perfect position on my fluffy plaid pillow, I promptly shut my eyes, a slight smile on my face as I waited for sleep to take me. I passively wondered whether I’d have any interesting dreams that night. I loved a good dream, it made me feel like I still had some creativity left in me. Creativity, that is exactly what my boss said I’m lacking in my project during our meeting today. I just need to dream to get my creativity back, but to dream I need to sleep. Resolved, I attempted to shut my mind from any more intrusive thoughts attacking my attempts at sleep. But they were persistent; streams of thoughts swirled into a writhing mass of intersecting worries and self-criticisms. Where will I go in a month, where will I live after this short internship, knowing my boss’s disappointment concerning my lack of progress prophesied a lack of the one good reference I so desperately needed to land future jobs. My partner wasn’t having it, he was sick of my stagnation in life. I parried thoughts on my disintegrating relationship with my boyfriend, my family’s disappointment on what little I had to show for after attaining my college degree, on and on. A full onslaught of thoughts was determined to disallow me my peaceful rest. I turned to face the other side of my stubby foam-mattress bed. Now I will be able to sleep. I just needed a change of perspective. It was just that pesky light on the microwave that were disturbing my efforts to slumber. Here we go. Come to me, O sleep… What felt like an hour of suppressing this tangle of worries later, I decided I just needed to stretch a bit before bed. I’d read previously that stretching before bed helps to relax the muscles and allows you to drift off more comfortably and easily. If only there were a way to stretch the mind’s eye… A brief yoga session in the middle of my tiny dorm room and I was ready to hop into what seemed like a feast to the overworked and overanxious brain. A good long night’s rest, at last! I thought about sheep and how it was funny how that helped people. I good naturedly tried it myself. Sheep, my co-worker was talking about sheep for some reason today. Why would she be discussing sheep of all things… sheep… She was vegetarian! That’s it. She was discussing the innocence of the lamb. Innocence. Puh. Lost that a long time ago. If only I’d remained celibate instead of giving myself all to my first boyfriend, changing myself to suit his fancy, only for him to leave me in the dust when he landed a prestigious job in a consulting firm. And when I needed him most… that bastard. Wait, how did I get here, I’m supposed to be sleeping peacefully. Okay, back to the sheep. Screw the sheep! Sheep don’t help, I think that thing about counting sheep is an old wives’ tale. It means nothing, it does nothing… Hey weren’t those my father’s exact words when I told him the purpose of my internship? My parents never supported me. That’s why I’m in such a shitty situation. No support, no love. Just out here on my own. I better start taking notes on how the homeless eke out a way to survive on the streets. It’s always been my number one fear. Well, up there at least, after jellyfish. Those alien tentacles just floating through space and time, piercing you when you least expect it.. So pretty at first glance but once you get too close… My whole life is a jellyfish. Tried to do too much coming from too little and it caught up to me. No support system, no money. I’m definitely stinging now. Where is that light at the end of the tunnel they always tell you about? I see no light. Light, where are you… light… I see the light… What? It’s light in here now. It’s light out! I can see the light! Wait, it’s morning!? Oh my goodness I have to be at work in four hours. Another sleepless night encumbered by my restless worries… My relationship with my boss certainly isn’t going to get any better. I can’t function without sleep, but I can’t sleep so that I can function.

Camomile tea, classical music, comfortable blankets. It felt as if I’d tried it all but, no matter how hard I tried, sleep just would not come. The vivid, red glare of the the clock’s screen, stared deep into my soul. Black numbers questioning my sanity, almost impressed by my ability to stay conscious. Rolling over, I sighed deeply, forcing my eyes shut. If only I could do the same to my brain. Thoughts continued to race around my head, zooming at speeds far faster than any car could hope to achieve. I’d long ago deemed three in the morning, my existential hour. Perhaps the inky sky, complete with sliver stars shining brighter than the world’s most precious jewels, forced me to compare the underwhelming dullness of my own life to the infinite beauty of the universe. Or maybe it wasn’t the bright stars but, the glowing screen of my phone. The cage of social obligation forcing me to wonder which of my “friends” were doing things far more interesting than I could comprehend. The dazzling lives of celebrities challenging my hope for an ordinary yet, content existence. All of these ideas seemed to link to one daunting, unavoidable prospect. The universe was bigger than anyone could ever know. Life was a simple attempt to see as much of our world as possible.

Sleep that elusive stranger. Hard to find no matter how much I try. Soul yearns to catch a glimpse of his luxurious arrival, but Alas! seemingly never to be. Sleep you make me wait, wait forever more. Sounds of the night keeping me company on a thousand days or more. Sleep, please take me with you on a journey beyond this confined space. Allow me please, to rest my tired eyes even for a brief moment in time. Sleep, I stay up waiting for you through the long, dull waking hours until it is morning again, when it is time for me to get up and go.

I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! Oh the misery! Undying marks of sleeplessness under my eyes tingle when I rub them. They love telling me, “Oh just sleep! It’s easy!” But is it? Is it really that easy? Is it really as hard as I make it out to be? Is it them or is it me? Shadows laugh when I turn off the lights, all I want is silence! They have conversations when they think I cant hear, “You know, she’ll go mad after a few more days.” I won’t stand for it! I will not go crazy! I am not crazy! Even if it is torture to stay awake I owe them thanks for keeping the dreams away. They are why I do not sleep! Do you not see what haunts my thoughts during the night? My nightmares are spilling inside my head: blood, gore, death, fire, crushed dreams I will never accomplish! They need to stop, but they are caused by sleep. Therefore I will not! I will never again lay my head to rest! I can’t do it. Haha, they are all here! Can you not see them? Why can no one else see them? Am I crazy? Are they right? I am cold, and the bed looks oh-so inviting! Is it worth all the lucid horror I will experience? No… I will not let this tempt me!

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What Is Creative Writing? (Ultimate Guide + 20 Examples)

Creative writing begins with a blank page and the courage to fill it with the stories only you can tell.

I face this intimidating blank page daily–and I have for the better part of 20+ years.

In this guide, you’ll learn all the ins and outs of creative writing with tons of examples.

What Is Creative Writing (Long Description)?

Creative Writing is the art of using words to express ideas and emotions in imaginative ways. It encompasses various forms including novels, poetry, and plays, focusing on narrative craft, character development, and the use of literary tropes.

Table of Contents

Let’s expand on that definition a bit.

Creative writing is an art form that transcends traditional literature boundaries.

It includes professional, journalistic, academic, and technical writing. This type of writing emphasizes narrative craft, character development, and literary tropes. It also explores poetry and poetics traditions.

In essence, creative writing lets you express ideas and emotions uniquely and imaginatively.

It’s about the freedom to invent worlds, characters, and stories. These creations evoke a spectrum of emotions in readers.

Creative writing covers fiction, poetry, and everything in between.

It allows writers to express inner thoughts and feelings. Often, it reflects human experiences through a fabricated lens.

Types of Creative Writing

There are many types of creative writing that we need to explain.

Some of the most common types:

• Short stories
• Screenplays
• Flash fiction
• Creative Nonfiction

Short Stories (The Brief Escape)

Short stories are like narrative treasures.

They are compact but impactful, telling a full story within a limited word count. These tales often focus on a single character or a crucial moment.

Short stories are known for their brevity.

They deliver emotion and insight in a concise yet powerful package. This format is ideal for exploring diverse genres, themes, and characters. It leaves a lasting impression on readers.

Example: Emma discovers an old photo of her smiling grandmother. It’s a rarity. Through flashbacks, Emma learns about her grandmother’s wartime love story. She comes to understand her grandmother’s resilience and the value of joy.

Novels (The Long Journey)

Novels are extensive explorations of character, plot, and setting.

They span thousands of words, giving writers the space to create entire worlds. Novels can weave complex stories across various themes and timelines.

The length of a novel allows for deep narrative and character development.

Readers get an immersive experience.

Example: Across the Divide tells of two siblings separated in childhood. They grow up in different cultures. Their reunion highlights the strength of family bonds, despite distance and differences.

Poetry (The Soul’s Language)

Poetry expresses ideas and emotions through rhythm, sound, and word beauty.

It distills emotions and thoughts into verses. Poetry often uses metaphors, similes, and figurative language to reach the reader’s heart and mind.

Poetry ranges from structured forms, like sonnets, to free verse.

The latter breaks away from traditional formats for more expressive thought.

Example: Whispers of Dawn is a poem collection capturing morning’s quiet moments. “First Light” personifies dawn as a painter. It brings colors of hope and renewal to the world.

Plays (The Dramatic Dialogue)

Plays are meant for performance. They bring characters and conflicts to life through dialogue and action.

This format uniquely explores human relationships and societal issues.

Playwrights face the challenge of conveying setting, emotion, and plot through dialogue and directions.

Example: Echoes of Tomorrow is set in a dystopian future. Memories can be bought and sold. It follows siblings on a quest to retrieve their stolen memories. They learn the cost of living in a world where the past has a price.

Screenplays (Cinema’s Blueprint)

Screenplays outline narratives for films and TV shows.

They require an understanding of visual storytelling, pacing, and dialogue. Screenplays must fit film production constraints.

Example: The Last Light is a screenplay for a sci-fi film. Humanity’s survivors on a dying Earth seek a new planet. The story focuses on spacecraft Argo’s crew as they face mission challenges and internal dynamics.

Memoirs (The Personal Journey)

Memoirs provide insight into an author’s life, focusing on personal experiences and emotional journeys.

They differ from autobiographies by concentrating on specific themes or events.

Memoirs invite readers into the author’s world.

They share lessons learned and hardships overcome.

Example: Under the Mango Tree is a memoir by Maria Gomez. It shares her childhood memories in rural Colombia. The mango tree in their yard symbolizes home, growth, and nostalgia. Maria reflects on her journey to a new life in America.

Flash Fiction (The Quick Twist)

Flash fiction tells stories in under 1,000 words.

It’s about crafting compelling narratives concisely. Each word in flash fiction must count, often leading to a twist.

This format captures life’s vivid moments, delivering quick, impactful insights.

Example: The Last Message features an astronaut’s final Earth message as her spacecraft drifts away. In 500 words, it explores isolation, hope, and the desire to connect against all odds.

Creative Nonfiction (The Factual Tale)

Creative nonfiction combines factual accuracy with creative storytelling.

This genre covers real events, people, and places with a twist. It uses descriptive language and narrative arcs to make true stories engaging.

Creative nonfiction includes biographies, essays, and travelogues.

Example: Echoes of Everest follows the author’s Mount Everest climb. It mixes factual details with personal reflections and the history of past climbers. The narrative captures the climb’s beauty and challenges, offering an immersive experience.

Fantasy (The World Beyond)

Fantasy transports readers to magical and mythical worlds.

It explores themes like good vs. evil and heroism in unreal settings. Fantasy requires careful world-building to create believable yet fantastic realms.

Example: The Crystal of Azmar tells of a young girl destined to save her world from darkness. She learns she’s the last sorceress in a forgotten lineage. Her journey involves mastering powers, forming alliances, and uncovering ancient kingdom myths.

Science Fiction (The Future Imagined)

Science fiction delves into futuristic and scientific themes.

It questions the impact of advancements on society and individuals.

Science fiction ranges from speculative to hard sci-fi, focusing on plausible futures.

Example: When the Stars Whisper is set in a future where humanity communicates with distant galaxies. It centers on a scientist who finds an alien message. This discovery prompts a deep look at humanity’s universe role and interstellar communication.

Watch this great video that explores the question, “What is creative writing?” and “How to get started?”:

What Are the 5 Cs of Creative Writing?

The 5 Cs of creative writing are fundamental pillars.

They guide writers to produce compelling and impactful work. These principles—Clarity, Coherence, Conciseness, Creativity, and Consistency—help craft stories that engage and entertain.

They also resonate deeply with readers. Let’s explore each of these critical components.

Clarity makes your writing understandable and accessible.

It involves choosing the right words and constructing clear sentences. Your narrative should be easy to follow.

In creative writing, clarity means conveying complex ideas in a digestible and enjoyable way.

Coherence ensures your writing flows logically.

It’s crucial for maintaining the reader’s interest. Characters should develop believably, and plots should progress logically. This makes the narrative feel cohesive.

Conciseness

Conciseness is about expressing ideas succinctly.

It’s being economical with words and avoiding redundancy. This principle helps maintain pace and tension, engaging readers throughout the story.

Creativity is the heart of creative writing.

It allows writers to invent new worlds and create memorable characters. Creativity involves originality and imagination. It’s seeing the world in unique ways and sharing that vision.

Consistency

Consistency maintains a uniform tone, style, and voice.

It means being faithful to the world you’ve created. Characters should act true to their development. This builds trust with readers, making your story immersive and believable.

Is Creative Writing Easy?

Creative writing is both rewarding and challenging.

Crafting stories from your imagination involves more than just words on a page. It requires discipline and a deep understanding of language and narrative structure.

Exploring complex characters and themes is also key.

Refining and revising your work is crucial for developing your voice.

The ease of creative writing varies. Some find the freedom of expression liberating.

Others struggle with writer’s block or plot development challenges. However, practice and feedback make creative writing more fulfilling.

What Does a Creative Writer Do?

A creative writer weaves narratives that entertain, enlighten, and inspire.

Writers explore both the world they create and the emotions they wish to evoke. Their tasks are diverse, involving more than just writing.

Creative writers develop ideas, research, and plan their stories.

They create characters and outline plots with attention to detail. Drafting and revising their work is a significant part of their process. They strive for the 5 Cs of compelling writing.

Writers engage with the literary community, seeking feedback and participating in workshops.

They may navigate the publishing world with agents and editors.

Creative writers are storytellers, craftsmen, and artists. They bring narratives to life, enriching our lives and expanding our imaginations.

How to Get Started With Creative Writing?

Embarking on a creative writing journey can feel like standing at the edge of a vast and mysterious forest.

The path is not always clear, but the adventure is calling.

Here’s how to take your first steps into the world of creative writing:

• Find a time of day when your mind is most alert and creative.
• Create a comfortable writing space free from distractions.
• Use prompts to spark your imagination. They can be as simple as a word, a phrase, or an image.
• Try writing for 15-20 minutes on a prompt without editing yourself. Let the ideas flow freely.
• Reading is fuel for your writing. Explore various genres and styles.
• Pay attention to how your favorite authors construct their sentences, develop characters, and build their worlds.
• Don’t pressure yourself to write a novel right away. Begin with short stories or poems.
• Small projects can help you hone your skills and boost your confidence.
• Look for writing groups in your area or online. These communities offer support, feedback, and motivation.
• Participating in workshops or classes can also provide valuable insights into your writing.
• Understand that your first draft is just the beginning. Revising your work is where the real magic happens.
• Be open to feedback and willing to rework your pieces.
• Carry a notebook or digital recorder to jot down ideas, observations, and snippets of conversations.
• These notes can be gold mines for future writing projects.

Final Thoughts: What Is Creative Writing?

Creative writing is an invitation to explore the unknown, to give voice to the silenced, and to celebrate the human spirit in all its forms.

Check out these creative writing tools (that I highly recommend):

Read This Next:

• What Is a Prompt in Writing? (Ultimate Guide + 200 Examples)
• What Is A Personal Account In Writing? (47 Examples)
• How To Write A Fantasy Short Story (Ultimate Guide + Examples)
• How To Write A Fantasy Romance Novel [21 Tips + Examples)

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Describe The Weather In Writing With Better Vocabulary

When you describe the weather in writing, you set the scene for your story or a part of your story.

It’s an opportunity to show readers the setting rather than tell them about the weather using a couple of quick adjectives.

Using highly descriptive or figurative language and a variety of grammar structures helps you paint the picture vividly in a reader’s mind.

In almost every story, both fiction and nonfiction, there is usually at least one reference to the weather.

Article Contents

How to describe the weather in writing

We all know this famous opening line from Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s 1830 novel, Paul Clifford.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Many have criticized the phrase, and Writer’s Digest went as far as to call it the literary poster child for bad story starters.

The main issue is that it uses two very weak adjectives: dark and stormy. Neither of them is usefully descriptive.

The second problem with the phrase is that it starts with a grammatical expletive .

When writing about the weather, using it was,  or there was is a common writing fault. It’s because we so often refer to the weather as it.

But few people take into account what follows Bulwer-Lytton’s famous clause. It’s a pity because the complete sentence is a wonderful example of how to describe the weather in writing.

It was a dark and stormy night ; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

He uses descriptive noun phrases , strong verbs, and powerful adjectives.

The combination of these three elements paints a vivid picture for readers.

Choosing your vocabulary

You can find many lists of common and unusual words to describe the weather, so you have plenty of choices.

But you should avoid words that are too simplistic. It was hot, cold, windy, or rainy are all very weak expressions.

But if you describe the heat, the cold, the wind, or the rain with noun phrases, you can improve these easily.

The sun started baking early across the plains, delivering a scorching promise for the day ahead.

The cruel icy wind cut like a knife across her cheeks.

Rain, as always, arrived too little, too late to save the crops.

Words that are not widely understood are also worth avoiding. While it’s interesting to find new words, not all of them are useful.

A good example is petrichor. It is the smell or scent of rain arriving after a period of dry weather.

But it is difficult to use, and it might send readers hunting for a dictionary.

The petrichor gave a hint of hope to the farmers.

It would be better to use a descriptive phrase.

The sweet far off scent of rain on dying grass gave hope to the farmers.

Brontide is another, meaning the sound of distant thunder or rumblings of an earth tremor. Again, it’s a great word to know, but with very limited use in writing.

Try this simple formula

Anytime you need to write about the weather, keep this little trick in mind.

Start with a noun phrase, use a strong verb , then add a descriptive clause .

You also need to describe the noun and verb with adjectives and adverbs.

Here’s a quick example.

The heavy dark clouds rolled slowly and low across the parched pastures, but they were heartbreakers, as not a drop of rain fell before the cruel wind carried them away.

It’s an easy way to make sure you avoid the grammatical expletive and weak adjectives.

You can also experiment with similes or metaphors . For example, raining cats and dogs.

Use verbs that sound like the weather

Onomatopoeic verbs and words are perfect for describing the weather because they make a sound.

Here are a few examples to illustrate sound words.

The pitter-patter of raindrops.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Light hail pinged on the window pane.

With each step, the fresh snow crunched underfoot.

A bolt of lightning cracked across the night sky.

A cold north wind hissed through the trees.

A sudden boom of thunder forewarned us of the approaching storm.

Verbs and words like these are extremely useful because they are action words and highly descriptive.

This article is not a lesson or lecture on how to describe the weather in writing.

It’s purely a reminder that you can always improve.

I have listed a few ideas above, but there are many more ways you can make the weather more interesting.

All it takes is to remember that the setting for a scene or a story needs careful thought and imagination.

But if there are two key takeaways from my article, they are these.

1. Avoid using the grammatical expletive when referencing the weather.

2. Use noun phrases and strong verbs.

If you do those two things, the rest of your weather scene setting will come very easily.

Related reading: Words To Avoid In Writing That Say Nothing

About The Author

Derek Haines

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