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An update from our second Weekly Writing Workshop! The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. Every Friday, we meet for one hour via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. At our session on Friday April 10, we introduced ourselves and discovered that besides Stone Soup team members calling in from Canada, the UK and the USA, we had workshop members from Canada and across the United States–Massachussetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma and California were all represented! This week, William Rubel, Stone Soup’s founder, set the challenge for the group, suggesting that we write about COMFORT for 30 minutes before coming back together to read and discuss what we’d written. The Writing Challenge: Write a story, poem, or other prose, on Comfort. Use the idea of comfort, not just the word: you can consider notions like comforting, comfortable. The Participants:  Anya (13), Analise (9), Liam (12), Abhi (12), Vivian (11), Lucy (12), Mico (13), Silas (10), Georgia (11) Our participants were inspired in different ways by this idea. The examples below touch on some recognisable themes of cosy fires, soothing cups of tea, and cool water on a beautiful day. Other contributions included a gripping story about a disappearing brother, challenging the idea that comfort is necessarily a good thing; and a thought experiment about the mysterious Miss Rose and her disappearing comfortable chair. Below you can read just a few examples of the great work that came out of the workshop. The Little Cottage, by Anya G., 13 Rain lashed at the windows Spraying them Stinging them With icy droplets of water That streaked down the glass The wind howled Whipping around the little island Chasing itself, over and over Like a vacuum Sucking soul from the world And on the little island Trees were bent, contorted Threatening With every creak, every groan To fall through the frozen air But inside the little cottage With its thatched roof And smoke twirling merrily into the abyss of sky Orange light glowed through windows Commanding the dark to retreat The air was warm in the cottage Flushed with the aroma of baking bread A scent that wrapped itself around you Soothing, like a favorite blanket On the coldest of nights And a fire crackled cheerfully Each pop and whiz writing a song While the flames danced along An uplifting tune A reminder of the happiest of days With mugs of steaming tea With volumes of cherished books Well-cared for in their old age The little cottage sheltered And cozily outwaited the storm Untitled, by Anya G., 13 The water is cool, collected It rolls over me Submerging me in its underwater bliss So faint now are the shouts of joy As kids swim over my head There is nothing here And yet it is a rich nothing An emptiness that resonates Clear as a bell I should be thankful To be a part of this holy space With its ripples of light A crystal clear emptiness Stretching on forever Sunrise by Lucy Rados, 12 I sat on the bench, Dew covering the ground, Fog obstructing my view. A mug of hot tea in my hand, The steam rising as if tendrils of comfort are wrapping around me. A blanket Draped over my shoulders; A shield to the chilly autumn air. I look to the east As a sliver of light Pierces the mist. The light rises Spreading comfort through me. Pink and orange Flood the sky Like a wave crashing over my head. The whispers of wind Throw my hair around. I know I am safe By the comfort around me, By the sunrise to the east