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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.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Suggestions:
* A smashed phone screen still lighting up.
* A plant that was nearly composted but regrew from the stem.
* A piece of clothing patched again and again.
* A burnt pan. A rusted hinge. A jigsaw puzzle missing pieces.
* Something seemingly ruined… still in use.
Don't force it to end neatly. Let the object speak in fragments, changes, repairs. Let its recovery be as awkward, halting, or beautiful as your own.
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.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Suggestions:
* A smashed phone screen still lighting up.
* A plant that was nearly composted but regrew from the stem.
* A piece of clothing patched again and again.
* A burnt pan. A rusted hinge. A jigsaw puzzle missing pieces.
* Something seemingly ruined… still in use.
Don't force it to end neatly. Let the object speak in fragments, changes, repairs. Let its recovery be as awkward, halting, or beautiful as your own.