Welcome to The Daily Aftershock Writing Prompt—a daily invitation to write from the edges of aftermath, memory, rupture, and repair.

Each day, you'll receive a short, charged prompt designed to crack something open. There are no rules, only resonance. Use these however you need: to begin a poem, to open your diary, to find your voice again.

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Not the glossy city, not the postcards. Write into the belly of it: the late trains, the mouldy walls, the overheard arguments through thin partitions. Write to the person who kept going, who lost and found themselves in alleyways, on night buses, in NHS waiting rooms. Honour them.

Here’s a way in:

You weren’t made for survival, but you did survive, didn’t you?Even the pigeons looked more alive than you, once.Still, you stayed.Still, you kept waking up.

Let it be messy. Let it say everything you couldn’t say then.

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