Few gardeners are fans of slugs. Their voracious appetites are far from made up for by their oozing bodies. And yet… And yet this curiously pale specimen caused me to stop in my tracks for a closer look, and then google ‘albino slug’.

I found this page, with the statement: “Emphasizing its spooky nature, we gave the species the scientific name Selenochlamys ysbryda, based on the Welsh word ysbryd, meaning a ghost or spirit. The common name “Ghost Slug” soon became popular. Identifying it with the obscure genus.”

Intriguingly, the page also state: “The bizarre Ghost Slug made headlines in 2008 when described as a new species from a Cardiff garden.”

Where were these slugs before then, and if they didn’t yet exist, why did they evolve? What evolutionary advantage could their white skin have, given that they’re most often discovered in dark, damp spaces, rather than snow?

Incidentally, I spotted this one in Arnos Vale Cemetery, which is very apt given the name.

My searches also informed me that slugs and snails are more closely related to octopuses than insects, which is a detail I love.

Can you turn this into a tale of evolution, oddities and unexpected beauty?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

I have a passion for imaginative, creative attractions, especially those that blend theatre, art and immersive experiences. Bristol is home to a curious ‘amazement park’, Wake the Tiger, which leads you into another dimension via a glowing tree. Laid out over an old warehouse, the park features an enticing steam-punk aesthetic coupled with an ecological narrative, but beyond that a favourite aspect for me were the countless hidden doorways and passages leading from room to room, or world to world.

Early on in our journey, my husband and I found a door and stepped through it, startling a trio of visitors on the other side. While they gaped, I told them we’d been there for seven weeks, but didn’t realise the weirdness of my claim until they scarpered through the door we’d entered from. It turned out we’d emerged from what looked like a cupboard.

How brilliantly bizarre.

Could you dream up a similar scene built on unexpected entrances and spaces to explore? What goals would you give your visitors and what perils or challenges could you introduce to heighten the stakes?

Discover Wake the Tiger.

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

On a street near where I live, plane trees have had their branches coppiced into fists. This one has threaded its stumped arms through a starburst of electric wires.

Currently wires and tree stretch outwards in seeming harmony, but it may take just one bad storm, or bad mood, for this tree to reach out and pull the whole network down.

It feels almost as if the surrounding houses are dependent on this tree for more than shade, shelter, improved air quality and the rest. Perhaps if trees really did have the power to knock out streaming services on a whim, we might be more careful how we treat them.

Might we really be walking such a narrow line, or wire?

Can you turn this into a short story or other creative work?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

The idea of No-Mow May has made a huge difference to our much-needed and much-threatened insect and invertebrate life.

By giving humans an excuse not to undergo the arduous task of cutting grass (‘I’m not being lazy – it’s for the bees!’), they’ve reminded us of something important – beautiful doesn’t naturally equate to neat. In fact, a bit of rough and ready makes a lot more sense when it comes to gardens, parks and forests!

What other ideas could tap into human indolence or competitive spirit and at the same time help to protect our wild world? Can you turn this into a hopeful tale?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

The marks left in sand by humans, animals, plants and the wind, hint so much about what’s happened. But they’re also utterly ephemeral – the next time the wind blows or something passes by, this evidence will disappear.

What does this disarray show? What happened here? What came this way? Where has it gone? And what might happen next?

That’s up to you. Can you use this as a prompt for a tale or other creative work?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

On a rare, sunny blue-skied day (they’ve been few and far between this spring), I paused to admire this pink-blossoming tree in a local park. What a glorious sight! It makes me think ‘in the pink’ must have been born from a vision of hope and life like this.

Can you write a story stemming from this flush of vitality?

Alternatively, create something inspired by the black-clad figure hunched on the bench to the left of this image. What’s happening in their world?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

Even the most pristine strip of sand  is strewn with bits of plastic rubbish these days. On a recent outing to Weston-Super-Mare in north Somerset, my sister and I couldn’t resist doing a bit of a beach clean. The more we cleared, the more we found. The hardest to gather were tiny specks of blue and red plastic that I could imagine finding their way into marine creatures’ stomachs and into the food chain.

Can you use this as inspiration for a story? You could create a piece about some strangers brought together by a communal litter-pick, or have someone change their supermarket choices, or even career options, as a result of what they see washed up.

Alternatively, focus on the animals it impacts, and don’t forget that includes us humans.

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

The other day I glanced at a  plane tree I’ve strolled past a thousand times and noticed something strange. In a small nook on the patchy, rugged trunk, a community was dozing.

Snails. Lots of them. All sitting close together and still hibernating, tucked up in their shells.

What startled me was how many times I walked so close this winter and early spring, and never spotted them before.

They aren’t covered up at all – just hidden in plain sight, and relying on their predators’ lack of attention to detail. What a simple, yet apparently effective, means of survival!

What else might we be passing by in our daily lives without realising? And, equally, how precarious is our own safety in the nooks we call homes?

Can you turn this into a tale or other creative work?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

I love how this tree appears to be sporting the botanic equivalent of a tattoo on its trunk, and that the tattoo it’s chosen is of a tree. Nature often seems to me to be the best artist, and this feels like proof.

But does this tree on tree artwork mean something extra in these climate-crisis times? Is the tree calling for action to save the plant and animal life we depend on?

Could the forest be plotting a coup?

Or do trees simply rise above our petty troubles as we scurry about and continue seeing to the world’s oxygen production and habitat needs?

Can you turn this into a hopeful story, poem or other creative work?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.