Visual Writing Prompt: April 15, 2015

Visual Writing Prompt

Relax and let the image inspire you. Write at least 500 words. Don't over-think things. Your 500 words can be the beginning of something new. They can be part of your current work in process, if you have one. Whatever you want. The point is... there are no rules. Just write!

I don't care where you post your writing, or even if you do. It's just my hope that you'll find inspiration from these daily images and just let it flow. Fly by the seat of your pants and throw out that inner editor/critic. If you feel brave, you can post a link to your writing in the comments below. If you're not feeling especially brave--yet--then send me an email and let me know you're here. I'd love it if you signed up for my mailing list or followed this blog. If you're feeling especially thoughtful, you can buy one of my books!

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Lori L. Clark

Lori L. Clark currently resides in Hazelwood, MO with three rescue dogs. When Lori isn't listening to the voices in her head, waiting for the next creative inspiration to strike, she also loves to read, run, paint pet portraits and save dogs. Email Lori at


  1. As soon as my foot hit the warm sand, memories of the summers spent at the lighthouse flooded me. The voice of my sister echoed in my head, her laugher, her excitement whenever she spotted a starfish or found a crab bigger than mine and her screech each time she skidded down a slimy rock.
    In the distance, small lights flickered from the row of small beach houses. The clink of plates carried across the breeze and I envisioned families sitting down for dinner after a long day in the sun, much like we had all those years ago.
    I grazed my hand across the old piece of driftwood that had been there for as long as I could remember. Its once rough bark had smoothed out over time, whispering against my skin like the finest silk.
    “You jump, Ari.” Elizabeth’s voice echoed in my ears. I turned my head from side to side, fruitless really, as I knew I wouldn’t find her. That piece of driftwood had seemed so big when we were children. I used to climb to the top and pull Elizabeth up, not letting go of her hand until she’s steadied herself. If only I’d held on a bit longer, she would still be here.
    The sweep of light from the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse illuminated parts of the beach. Without hesitation, I placed one foot in front of the other. The glow called to me, pulling me forward.
    The sand soon became damp beneath my toes, small pools of cold water rushing up to tryto suck me in. My feet slapped against the coarse grit, every now and then a shell nicked into my skin. The warm flashes of pain didn’t deter me from my journey. The closer I got to the shoreline, the more determined I became.
    The surf rushed up to greet me and as soon as the freezing saltwater grazed my ankles panic gripped my chest. I sucked in a harsh breath and held it, willing my heart to slow it’s furious rhythm. Elizabeth’s screams rang in my ears. I thrust my hand out in futility. Elizabeth wouldn’t be there to latch on. Still, the ghost of her small hand found mine and I curled my fingers into a fist.
    “I won’t let go, Elizabeth. I swear, give me another chance and I won’t let go.” My voice rasped and faltered, interrupted by sobs. Her wide brown eyes flashed in front of me, the terror I felt reflected in them.
    A wave rolled toward me, crashing around my ankles, snapping me back to the present.
    “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on. I tried, I really tried.” Thought I spoke the words aloud, they carried into nothingness. Just like Elizabeth.
    I stomped my foot into the sea, an attempt to hurt it like it’d hurt my sister. Like it still hurts me every day. The ebb and flow continued, ignorant of my attempt to punish it.

  2. Beautiful! Love the way you write. <3

    1. Thank you! I just enjoyed taking part. It's amazing how one picture can develop into a story! This is a really great idea you have here - very inspiring! <3


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