At a beautiful local pond called Abbots Pool, I was struck by the tranquility of the foreground, the lily pads and sun-drenched green and purple reflections, while in the background a group of teens are planning to jump in and disrupt the calm.

As I sat enjoying the scene, a grey heron flew in, waded for a while, and then flapped away.

This clash of natural idyll and human nature seems at first an affront, but this pool is far from wild – it was used by medieval monks from St Augustine’s Abbey as a spot to farm fish, and has been landscaped in the 1920s.

And yet, wildlife, including humans (and dogs) loves to splash here.

Can you turn this juxtaposition of rural and landscaped, wild and domestic, into a 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.

Occasionally I glance up and feel awed by the beauty of the trees and the sky above me. It’s as though I’ve stepped into another, possibly far away, world. The extreme beauty can be dizzying.

Other times I glance into the heart of a flower, and feel the same.

With natural world flourishing in the summer sunshine, it seems there are multiple worlds of all different sizes and complexities all around us. This offers the perfect opportunity (and perhaps excuse) to dive headlong into fictional world-building.

How can you build up textures, smells, sounds and sights to create an imagined space that feels authentic? What details have you chosen to notice, or invent to include?

Now, who or what will you devise to populate the world you’ve built? Are they peaceful or warlike? Petty or magnanimous, or as varied and strange as human beings?

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.

A Bristol landmark blazed into headlines in May when a local arsonist set Underfall Boat Yard alight. The beautiful harbourside business lost boats and “a lifetime’s collection of tools” in the fire. This boat was dragged out burning in an effort to save ships moored nearby. Sooty remains of historic vessels languish in the water.

It’s a terrible loss, but could have been far worse if it had happened a few weeks’ earlier when the city’s ferries were undergoing their annual survey by the Maritime and Coastguard Agency. The Bristol Ferry Boats workshop was destroyed.

Naturally, Bristol residents are outraged and busy fundraising to help rebuild.

Can you write a story where a single criminal act disrupts a city’s day-to-day activities? Might it bring people together in surprising ways?

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.

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.