Treading unbeknownst in every mind, a lurking shadow without figure. Ethereal, fantastical, a character of the mind, his existence is whispered into the crevices of the world. At the dawn, so it is. He remains elusive in the fabrics of fiction. 

As the beams of life start to emanate across the horizon, his shadow begins to take form and solidify. His imminent presence brings a cloud of dread. As the first icy breath tickles the back of your neck, he steals the irretrievable, leaving only the black knife that pierces you. It is poisoned, spreading its cold, ruthless venom to every fiber of your being. You see him clearly for the first time; an enemy is born. 

You live with the mark of his darkness for some time, before once again you feel the crawl of his fingertips along your spine. The knife drives with familiarity this time, but just as raw, just as agonizing. The animosity turns to ache, capitulation, despair. He is the victor, and you fall slave to his musings, hypnotized by the prospect of finality. He turns you against his opposer, and now a new hatred, a new rivalry forms; he is now your savior from all that is wrong. But he passes by you, leaves you to the pain, the turmoil, as you await his rescue. You beg and plead into the heedless night for the nameless stranger to offer his companionship, to vanish into his domain.

No word, no whisper of his whereabouts. You must move on and let his shadow fade into the distance. For he does not offer comfort. He is distant and cold, fraught with purpose. Let him diminish into the recedes of the universe, you will come to know him in time. When dusk sets in, his figure will loom larger, more vivid, more tangible. No knife, no enmity, an embrace awaits, familiar and welcome, as equals you become with a final breath. 

Morning, Prosers,

We interrupt your normal reading for a very special service announcement.

A number of weeks ago we announced the launch of our brand new bookstore, promising that we were working on an extension to that bookstore that allows Prose Partners to sell their books and make money from their words.

Remember that? Well, the time is upon us.

In seven days time, that part of the Bookstore will go live. It is hugely anticipated and right now, the whole team are working through the night to bring you a new, flexible, and fair way to sell your words.

We are officially in testing.

So, why are we telling you in advance?

Well, for the next seven days we will be running Prose Coin giveaways (our new currency), so that on launch day you have a wallet that already has funds.

How do you get your hands on the coins? Get interactive! We are running a seven day event in our lovely Facebook Group (we’ll link in the comments), and across all of our other social networks (@theproseapp).

Today’s giveaway is a challenge. All you have to do is enter it to be in with the chance of winning. Let’s take a look at the prompt:

Prose countdown coin challenge: Write the first chapter of your bestseller in 50 to 500 words. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and how many shares will also be taken into consideration.

The winner will receive 1000 coins! When sharing to all your social media channels, please use the hashtags #LitUp #GetLit #ItsLit #Hybrid #WeAre

This seven day countdown also gives you the opportunity to get yourselves ready to read, and write, the best word porn known to humankind.

So, what are you waiting for? Get joining our Facebook Group, get following our social networks, and get entering the giveaway challenge.

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose. 

Ash raining from the sky,

Searing, hot winds rushing by,

Plumes of smoke shroud the land,

Like a dark, deathly marching band,

Molten lava flows like a stream,

It's so much hotter than it seems,

But the change is almost peaceful,

The lava silencing life, gliding, graceful,

Over the valley, filling it to the brim,

Listen closely to this prehistoric hymn,

It tells of life, joy, sorrow and death,

When the land has been violently reft,

The earth's magma heart manifesting,

Trees clinging to the dirt, roots protesting,

But the lava wins, greedily grabbing its prize,

It gushes over the land, growing in size,

Soon it stops, finally run out of life,

Leaving the land in a blackened state of strife,

But from this, mountain ranges have formed,

New valleys and hills, a world reformed,

Animals slowly return to this place,

As soon as the plants push through, revealing their face.