Singular Prism by Kathleen Roxby

Invading their memories he sought their hell that he might understand and make real a world, a time--gone...

Who has not dreamed of one day waking to find the lost one at the gate....

...Across all the nearest meadows, the wind still smells sweet and pure. What is it that makes me feel so disturbed?

Learn the circumstances and inspirations for and published credits for this month's featured writing.

In response to this month's writing prompt: Have you ever encountered prejudice, either personally or as a witness?

A wide range of ideas to spark your writing energies for this month.