It was just a small hotel, the only I could find.
I felt lucky to find it, for I was in a bind.
I hadn’t planned to stop here, but snow began to fall
and I could not seem to see the road at all.
The walls were thin as paper and the folks next door
enjoyed one hour of passion, then tried for one hour more.
Both were very vocal in making their demands
about what the other should do with lips and hands.
Those classes in dictation I had to take at school
that I never thought I’d use now became a tool
to record their dialogue, and when the night was through
I took out my computer to do what writers do.
Every cry of passion, every scream and moan
although I cannot claim it for my very own
I can still incorporate in my coming story,
using strangers’ passion for my creative glory.
The prompt was: You’ve obtained a journal — one with a multitude of confessions inside, but you don’t know who this book of secrets belongs to. What do you do with it? Feel free to alter this prompt for your own purposes.
For Daily Inkling