Day 97

Prompt: an isolated place.


Cup of coffee in hand, I step out onto the porch, taking in the chatter of the woods. There’s peace here, no cars or whistling trains. Just the birds, the bugs, and me.

I stretch and sit at the small table, opening my laptop and letting the world suck me in. Writing is easier here in the clean forest air. There are no cell phones, no notification popups, no neighbors stopping by for a chat; all the clutter that stops words from flowing is gone.

The scene itself is an inspiration: stretched trees reaching toward the clouds, soft bushes rustling in a gentle breeze, and a thick carpet of gentle grass broken by a narrow dirt trail. Paradise is here, away from the noise, entrenched in a land ripped from Tolkien’s mind. Time to write.


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