Fantasy, Writing

A Gift from the Soule

It doesn’t seem like it’s October already. I ended up moving and having so much come up I didn’t write very much. *coughatallcough*

In any case, now things are settling down, I feel the muse bugging me to write again. Ideas have begun to swirl about and I feel the anticipation and excitement of writing. Or at least, that’s how it feels to me. In any case, I won’t be doing a word prompt today, but just the writing exercise of writing and writing for about a page or two. Writing is a much needed break from chickens, gardening, cleaning, moving, schooling, and a host of who knows what I’ve been doing, most of which I’ve forgotten already.

 

 

Staring into the darkness of night, he couldn’t help but feel it had changed. The welcoming folds of night had abandoned him. What had once been his playground, his domain, was empty. It had felt like he had belonged matched only by other predators of the night. Now, as he stood just inside the city limits, he was unsure. Emotions had once been a thing of the past, but now they rushed up threatening to overwhelm him. It was back in the courts when he had last reigned his emotions in putting up his aristocratic mask for all to see, controlled, calm, calculating, stoic.

 

He was so unused to this when it bubbled up he was incredibly distracted with it. His senses telling him what was going on became muddled and useless. Or else, he would have heard him approach.

 

“Wilhelm.” The decidedly male voice broke the almost silence of night. “Master.”

 

He turned around to face his shadow. The other eager waited for any sign his master was approving. His muscles seemed to tremble like a hound ready to be loosed upon the foxes.

 

Even this seemed, changed. His fight with the witch had done more than he had expected. Her range of power had grown since he had last fought her a century ago.

 

“Maxwell of Derlington.” He took a breath. His shadow visibly shivered at the sound of his voice. It was his gift, as all Old Ones had though they differed based on what seemed to be their upbringing. The gift of the thrall was his. If one didn’t know better, they would assume Maxwell was in love with him. “How has my Shadow been doing?” He asked putting his hands behind him in his favored courtly pose.

 

“While you were away, I kept threats away and your cattle fed.” Max’s voice had become breathy. His black hair fell into his face unable to stay behind his ear as he held his bow. Only when his master motioned for him to be at ease did he straighten. “There was only one stray vampire that had infringed on your territory, but he was easily subdued.”

 

Wilhelm turned strolling forward prompting his shadow to take several quick steps to fall into pace beside but behind him. “Good. It would not have been good to lose my territory while I fought the bigger threat.” His heart beat harshly as he remembered the desperate battle of wills. The Witch tried forcing his hand. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. She was, in a way, more broken than before.

 

“And….How did it go, Master?” Max hesitated to ask not wanting to annoy the man. When he answered, his eyebrows went up his mouth dropping open.

 

“Well enough, Shadow. Well enough.”

 

Max couldn’t help but be worried. When he had first approached, he had thought the rushing of blood had been prey. That the scent had been from another. It was from his master. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins without assistance. He could hear the breath in his lungs. He could even hear thee changes in his breath  and pace as they talked. The way only humans did. Was this some sort of test? Was his master trying to teach him in some way? What could it mean? More than these things, he had answered him straight forward and without demeaning him.

 

“Master?” He ventured unsure of this new behavior from the other.

 

“Hm?” Wilhelm turned eyebrows raising as he considered the man.

 

“What happened?” His hand moved as if to reach forward and comfort his master, but he dropped it back at his side.

 

“Not here, Maxwell. We must arrive at the manor. No need to look so alarmed. All is well.” The master vampire continued on the path to his home, but the closer he got. The more he worried the change the witch had made was permanent. Her spell was new to him. Maxwell was more learned even than him. Perhaps, he could assist in finding the spell to find how to counter it. But they would have to work behind closed doors. Should a rival hear of his weakness, there would be no hope.

 

When they arrived at the manor, the place was deserted besides the stray cat who had become too attached to Maxwell. If he would stop feeding it, they wouldn’t have this problem. The shadow was a bleeding heart though.

 

The master vampire led the way to the lower studies where he usually stayed to read, or pass the time away. Keeping pace behind him, Maxwell silently followed hoping for any treat or tips the master could pass on. It was unusual a master tolerated shadows or kept one. THe Old Ones tended to be more reclusive than almost all others. As the world passed by, they could handle it less. For some, it was the noise. For others, it was the rapidly changing culture. Technology twisting lives for better or worse.

 

As soon as the study door was closed, Maxwell turned to his master waiting to hear him speak of what had happened.

 

“Maxwell…” Wilhelm lowered himself into a chair without his usual grace. The journey had strangely tired him. “When I fought her. She…used a spell of sorts.”

 

The other’s breath fell from him. If this was all it was, it would be simple to fix.

 

“I didn’t recognize it.” He scrubbed his face trying to take the fatigue away. “You will have to search the books so we may dispel it.” Without another word, his shadow shot forward as only a vampire could and began to search the tomes. His collection was extensive, as he had taken it from every witch he had killed.

 

His shadow asked question after question until Wilhelm had become to annoyed. WHen his master had retreated to the fake window pane, he began his search through the older tomes. His finger came to rest on a spell from ages ago. One he had thought long passed.

 

“Master.” He turned on his heel looking up to see the longing in the man’s face. “I think…I found what you are looking for.” His master didn’t turn to face him but stared into the duplicated sky with clouds passing on the panes. Maxwell stood quiet for a moment. His eyes dropped to the page reading.

 

‘Once the vampire is subdued, the spell is cast. If it holds true, his gift will be taken. His might turned out. His soule once more restored.’

 

“I believe…she made you human.” He looked up from the book to find emotion twisting his master’s face. One he didn’t immediately recognize. One he had seen on cattle before as they walked knowingly to the slaughter. When they knew death had come at last.

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Fantasy, Writing Prompts

Elven Magic

  •  Word count: 300
  •  Genre: Fantasy
  •  Character: A nurse who knows more than the doctors
  •  Material: Coloring pencils
  •  Sentence: “Everyone keeps ignoring me.”
  •  Bonus: Winter is long and extremely cold.

 

“Everyone keeps ignoring me.” She whispered to herself tucking her long blonde hair behind her pointed ears. Bending down, she smiled at a sick child as she lay in bed pale as the sheets. She picked up a rag and wrung it out before wiping the sweat away from her face.

“How are you?” She asked in the most kindly way. It was what had set her apart from the others to the children. The girl opened her eyes managing to smile back at her.

“I’m feeling a little better, Ani.” She reached out as if to touch the nurse’s ears. The kids shortened her name as the elven name was often too hard for them to pronounce.

“That’s good.” She glanced around in a dramatic way sparking excitement in the little girl who sat up carefully eager to be a part of something. Pulling out a small parcel wrapped in white linen, she set it on the girls lap. When she unrolled the parcel, her eyes light up like the stars themselves. Coloring pencils and paper lay within the linen partially hidden even now.

“Oh, thank you!” She looked up at the nurse who smiled back.

“I’m sure this will help pass the time while you recover. I’m glad the herbs I gave you are working.” She put a hand on the girl’s. A little bit of magic trickled through, not enough to catch the attention of the doctors, but enough to help her heal. With the combination of herbs, the girl was recovering much faster. She only wished she had to do so in secret because the doctors thought her incompetent. Only men could be doctors. Where she came from, it was the other way around but not strictly so. Humans were odd. “I have to go deliver the other parcels.” She whispered making the girl giggle from the harmless secret. “Remember. Keep it hidden.”

“Keep it safe.” The girl recited with her. Their game of secret mission helped pass the time and entertain them. It was better than absolutely nothing that the human doctors told them to do. When one of the doctors went to come by, she quickly rolled it up tucking it under her blankets. Nodding and putting a slender finger to her lips, the nurse stood bowing her head to the doctor before stepping to the next patient.

Fantasy, Writing, Writing Prompts

Alspring

  • Word count: 800
  • Genre: Suspense/fantasy
  • Character: A god
  • Material: A whistle
  • Sentence: “We can repair this.”
  • Bonus: Your story involves a damsel in distress.

 

“We can repair this.” The god said standing in front of the woman still curled up in the arms of the statue. Her brilliant red hair spilled over the marble arm almost touching the ground. Humans always such strange creatures to him. She lie there as if the world wasn’t suffering. Like the world wasn’t on the verge of collapse because of his twin brother.

Her blue eyes stared up into the statue’s eyes like a long lost lover.

“You look so much more handsome as a statue.” She started off saying. His face twisted. He wasn’t used to mortals speaking to him like this. “I wonder why artists always carve your face like this. It doesn’t really look like you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. Pressing his lips together, he glanced at the statue then the woman. “We don’t have a lot of options.” He ignored the insults. “If you will not do anything, I will leave you to wraith wandering the halls.” This got her attention, but he was already turned around walking away. He heard her fall from the statue assumably chasing after him. His ear perked hearing her stumble in her haste.

“I’m sorry. I…I’m just scared. I’ve never had to do this or anything like this.” She slowed to keep pace with him in a quick walk. The god was much taller than her so his pace was faster. Even among mortals, she was short. “What do we need to do?” She asked looking up into his face.

While he didn’t look handsome by human standards, he had a certain appeal. His grey eyes were hard set and determined. He had strong features but his face was thinner. His hair roam about like fire having a life of its own. He didn’t have such red hair as her, his being more strawberry blonde, very light strawberry blonde.

Biting her lip, she managed to catch his eye, but he appeared less than pleased.

“Do not expect me to react like your mortal counterparts.” His voice had dropped from the soothing musical lightness to a darker tone promising of unpleasant things. She stared at him shocked. “You will get nothing from me. I at first thought you might be the one I needed to save to help bring the world back to order. The prophecies even said I’d find the one we needed here, but you.” He stopped walking to face her. “Are not who we need. You only think of your simple mortal needs. Cowering. Insulting men. Do you think I can not see your thoughts? I am no mortal. I know.” His grey eyes turned into storms making her draw back. “You are safe for now, Mortal, but you are no longer requested to join the Hunt.” He spun around growling sounding like thunder. The woman stood behind him shocked but didn’t follow. How could he had thought she of all people was the one to bring order to Life and Death?  

He left the broken temple feeling less than stellar. His mission here today had failed. The only reason he had left his home was to find her. Well, not her from inside the temple reeking of manipulation and ego, but the one that was supposed to be the balance. He dropped himself on a broken column staring at the ground. His mother would be disappointed were he to return with nothing.

The stars like a scale hanging in the sky. A balance between the sun and the moon, to Life and Death. She will be the hands to hold each side like a bridge between the beginning and the end. Mortals climb from one hand and across her back to the other. While the brothers judge whether mortal men shall pass from the plate.

It had been the final words spoken to him and his twin before she too had passed from this finite world. She had spoken of it too, but he had remembered too late. His brother took her to his realm beyond. Their mother said she would stay with him for a time then his brother for a time. That hadn’t bothered him. It was the time to come. When she said Death would reign.

The war broke out and his people started dying. The woman his mother spoke of was to stop Life from bringing in those not suppose to be there, but also stop Death from taking those not ready. A mediator between the two.

A noise brought his eyes from the ground. When he saw the creature chasing one of his people, he couldn’t just sit idle. He jumped from his place running after them. They were heading for the river. THe creature probably aimed to drown the mortal. He leapt in front of it brandishing his spear. Light burst from the tip making the creature screeched falling backward tripping over its own massive tail. Lowering the spear, he turned to the woman cowering in the nook of an oak.

“No need to fear.” He soothed. When she looked up, he tilted his head. Her grey eyes looked so much like his own. “Woman. Whence have you come?” He asked. She held her knees to her chest letting her brown hair fall in front of her hiding her. “If you wish me to leave, I shall, but…I don’t bring and harm with me.”

She took a handkerchief from her dress pocket wiping her nose. “Ah…It’s…It’s not that.” Her alto drifted out from behind her curtain of hair. “I just…” He could hear her take a deep breath. “Need a minute.” The god stood waiting patient.

When she lifted her head, she met his eyes not with defiance, like he’d seen in some, or lust. In her eyes, he could see how broken she was. There wasn’t a hint of arrogance within her. “Woman…” He said again but more softly. “Where have you come from?” Now he was more concerned for her than curious. The look in her eye spoke more for her than her silence.

“I don’t know. All I remember is…it was dark.” Her head turned trying to hide what might be seen. Things she didn’t want him to know, but she didn’t know why. “I…I know…” She tried to gauge how much she could tell him. When he dropped into a crouch in front of her, she managed to see into his face. “I…didn’t like it at all.” She whispered now that he was so close. His eyebrows drew together compassion in his eyes. “It hurt…” Her lips curled down. All at once, she was in his arms sobbing.

From Life’s arms, a damsel is brought. Piece by piece will the bridge between Life and Death be wrought.

He knelt holding her wondering at the events playing out this day. His mother had been right. Not that he doubted, but she had been right. “Come. We will go to my home. It is neither dark, or painful there.” Scooping her up, he straightened.

She couldn’t help but be worried about this. What other choice did she have? If she asked to go, she could feel he would let her, but that creature that had chased her was still out there. She ended up nodding. Shortly after he started walking, exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes gradually closed leaving her sleeping in his arms.

 

When she awoke next, she was lying in a meadow. Where they had just come from had the crisp air of autumn. Here, there was the warmth of spring. She could see the man, or god who had saved her wandering around, but she couldn’t tell what he was doing. Standing up, she brushed off her dress and straightened it out.

“Where are we?” She called out.

He turned letting go of a branch he had been holding. A smile stole across his face. “My home. Alspring.”

 

Fantasy, Military, Writing Prompts

Once Threatened – 700 words

    • Word count: 700
    • Genre: Military
    • Character: A werewolf
    • Material: A whip
    • Sentence: “You will take the fall for this.”
    • Bonus: There seems to be no one left on the planet.
    • Keith Dedreich

 

 

 

“You will take the fall for this.”

The crack of the whip reverberated against the concrete wall. His back stiffened as the pain flooded his senses. He growled low under his breath so the soldier wouldn’t know how much it hurt.

“This can all end when you give in.” The soldier with the whip in his hand took a step back ready to deliver the next lash. “You know what you need to be doing.” He watched for a second to see if the one chained would say or do anything. When he didn’t, he struck again. “Just admit it!” He shouted as he added more lashes onto the man.

His back arched with each additional blow. He gasped feeling the old familiarity of his wolf beside him. The Old One didn’t like what this whelp was doing. The soldier had no place beating him like this. He had no idea the power barely contained. Just because his wounds healed rapidly didn’t mean he felt no pain. The wolf circled him, even if in just his mind. They could easily take this one. He was no threat. Shaking his head, Keith fought off the temptation. He soothed his wolf humming the old lullaby their mother had once used.

The soldier lowered his whip reflexively hearing the man hum. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on right there, but instinct told him he was in grave danger. His superior had told him to break him, to push him into shifting, but now that he was at the tipping point. He couldn’t do it. Fear pushed into his veins like a drug.

“So, you do understand.” Keith said after a few minutes of composing himself. His eyes opened but the human was gone out of them. The reflective glow of his eyes could be seen in the mirror opposite of them. The soldier watched him carefully fighting the urge to run. “I will let you leave.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. A shudder ran through his prone body. The chains rattled with the movement. Keith was trying to keep the wolf in check, but the Old One had other plans. If it hadn’t been for the chains, he would have been Shifted and at the soldier’s throat.

“Your life for mine. Let me out of the chains. I’ll forget this ever happened.” He lifted his head using the mirror to stare into the wide eyes of the soldier. “Or I can just break them and tear you apart starting with your limbs.”

His CO’s voice rang through his head as he listened to the wolf. ‘Under no circumstances will you let the wolf go. The chains are the only thing protecting you and everyone else.’ Still, the soldier felt almost compelled to let the wolf out. His life was on the line right then. His daughter was turning six. If he didn’t, he would never get to see her again. He wouldn’t be able to see her face light up when she opened her birthday present and saw what he got her.

“Decide quickly.” An inhuman note had stolen into his voice. Keith bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to hold onto the wolf.  

When the chains fell off, he could not suppress the howl. The soldier had run standing at the back of the room now with his rifle out. It would be useless, but at least he didn’t have it aimed.

“Remember your promise.” He gulped swallowing hard as Keith stood rubbing his wrists.

“What promise?” Keith turned his eyes over his shoulders watching the effect his words had on the soldier.

“Y-You said…If I let you out, you would let me live.”

He chuckled to himself straightening out. For a moment, he toyed with the idea. “I never promised.” Turning around, he could see the soldier trembling. Even after having starved and beat him, the soldier thought of him as a threat. He couldn’t help but find that amusing. It told him exactly what they thought of him. “But I will.” He said at last having frightened the man enough the wolf was appeased. “You ever come near me or my pack. I will forget that promise.”

When the door buzzed, he stepped out into the corridor. The scent of fear rolled over him like ecstasy. These ones had no promise.

Military, Writing Prompts

Hope comes with the Sun – 550 words

Instead of giving the writing prompts a title like ‘Writing Prompt 50/51’ etc, I think I’m going to give them simple titles. It’ll be easier I’m hoping.

 

Word count: 550

Genre: Military

Character: A disobedient slave

Material: A guitar

Sentence: “How do you feel?”

Bonus: There seems to be no one left on the planet.

 

“How do you feel?” He lowered the broken guitar in his hand. The body of the instrument only held onto the neck by the strings, though some of those were broken as well. The slave in front of him held her arm in front of her trying to back away from her master. “Did it hurt?” He took a step towards her. The woman pulled her legs underneath her body so he wouldn’t have an easy target. The guitar clattered with a twang as it fell from his hand.

She had reached the back of the room. Her back pressed against the damp drywall. “Y-yes, Master…” Her voice failed her telling him that this time. He had gotten to her. “I-I’m sorry, Master? I…I promise I won’t do it again.” She stumbled over her words. Her gaze on the ground. When he didn’t answer, she dared to look up at his body. Her gaze roaming up to his face. She wouldn’t look in his eyes, but he wasn’t moving. Scanning his body, she tried to find any reason he wasn’t moving. Blood dripped from his mouth, but there was no wound.

“Master?” She whispered. Her voice sounding odd in the silence. It was only when she glanced around the room did she notice a man standing in the door way. His face twisted with rage. Her breath hitched. “I-I’m sorry!” She backed away farther trying to somehow merge with the wall behind her. There was no way she could tell why this new man was angry with her. Her bare feet shoved against the dusty floor caked with debri. Her arm stayed in front of her guarding against the blow that would come. It always did. “I didn’t do anything. I promise.” She couldn’t help the sob as she spoke. The footsteps on the man got closer.

“Sh…” He soothed, but it wasn’t a sound she ever felt comfort from. “He’s gone. No. You didn’t do it. I did.”

Fear snared her heart. A man strong enough to kill her master was a man strong enough to hurt her worse. Her lips quivered in a frown.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you were down here…” His voice had gone so soft she couldn’t help but look passed her arms. His brown eyes were turned down. Why was he so sad? “I would have put an end to him sooner.” When he looked back up, he was extending his hand slowly toward her. “Would you allow me to take you out of here? The war is over. This doesn’t need to continue.”

The news struck her more than anything else had. It was over?

“The camp was liberated weeks ago. We…” He swallowed hard. “We didn’t know about this place.” His eyes flicked around but went back to her face. Reaching out again, he took her hand making the dried blood crack off her knuckles. “You’re safe now. This will never happen again. You’re free.” He pulled her out of the basement. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the sun on her face. She had thought she would never see the sun again. Now, with the sunlight glinting off her skin. She felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, it was over.

Romance, Writing Prompts

Short- To A Fresh Start

  • Word count: 700
  • Genre: Romance
  • Character: A heart-broken lover
  • Material: A pencil
  • Sentence: “I don’t want to ask for too much.”

Bonus: Your character is loved by everyone.

 

“I don’t want to ask for too much…” He trailed of unable to continue speaking. His fingers  continued turning and twisting the pencil in his hands. His green blue eyes stared at the curtain rippling from the A/C unit. He didn’t really see anything at this point. The whole situation had overwhelmed his mind and emotion to such a degree nothing was processing. “I mean. I had just…hoped.” He stopped talking again.

Hope was all he had at this point. A fragile thing glinting on the edge of a cliff teetering between falling into the abyss and rolling back to a lush forest.

“I…” He turned his gaze up at the woman standing there in her yellow sun dress. She was beautiful by anyone’s standard. Her brown hair  fell around her face curling lightly on her pale shoulders. While her make up was flawless, and her clothing well chosen, her beauty did not extend beneath the surface. Her narrowed blue eyes cut deep into his hair sending the glimmer of hope off the cliff. He swallowed hard. “Ok.” He whispered standing up from the wooden chair and tucking it into the table.

The woman folded her arms and turned from him effectively cutting him off. It wasn’t even as if he had asked for anything. He only wanted them to work out. She didn’t even want to be with him it seemed. This was it. The end. He didn’t think he could take any more of the cold shoulders, the ignoring and silent treatment.

Carefully, he set the pencil back in the cup so expertly arranged with the other items on the dining table. This place had been his home for three years. It was beautiful like the woman he had shared it with.

“If this is the way you want it.” She didn’t respond to him like she so often did. “I’m done with this.” That barely caught her attention. Perhaps, she thought he would be crawling back to her because tto her they always did. “If you won’t act like an adult.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. This had long been in the planning stage. It was spur of the moment, but now was as good a time as any. “I’m done with being treated like you should be worshiped but treat me like crud. I am a man.”

“I wish you would act like one.”

The words stopped him but only for a moment. “I am a man. It’s not because of sex like you will tell everyone, but because of your behavior. Your coldness.” He could tell she was pretending not to listen, and maybe she really wasn’t, but this part was for him. “You refuse to support me even on the best of days. Only when I present you with the appropriate gifts will you then maybe do something for me. I need someone that will be there for me.” He turned facing the door. “I’m actually glad you refused to marry me.” He could see her twitch from the corner of his eye. “Now I don’t have to serve you papers. “

He started for the door no longer hesitating. Only once he had all his things, he faced her again. “There will be no more gifts, no more money. I have cut you out of my life.” Now he had her full attention. Even as he stood there, she began screaming at him. She threw vases, bowls, or whatever she could grab. He had waited until he was at the door so he could use the door as a shield. He wasn’t even sure what she was saying at this point, or if she was saying anything. At first, he had intended to say more, but it felt done so he closed the door. His suitcases were in his car. Soon, her place of luxury would be gone. He would sell his house and move somewhere else. Some place that wouldn’t remind him of the long term mistreatment.

 

 

Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – First Line 2

random word count – 445
First line – The house wasn’t the same to her any more

The house wasn’t the same to her any more. Sure, the paintings were all in the same place. The colors were the same. The entire layout was the same. Something felt strangely different. This was her home but not. She couldn’t quite place the feeling at first. The place didn’t feel the same.

She went about her day cleaning up after the little ‘party’ she’d had, but now she felt alone. It wasn’t like she always had to have someone around. There had always been people around once upon a time. After moving out, she had become accustomed to her house and the way it was. Now, it had changed for whatever reason. It felt empty now.

The party hadn’t been very big, so the clean up had ben brief. Whatever it was that had changed still bugged her. She went from room to room scanning, searching, but never finding whatever it was.

Whatever it was, she would have to deal with it tomorrow. She began making dinner, basic since she was put out from cooking so much the day previously. The smell of Italian food filled the air, but didn’t delight her like it usually did. The sauce came together. The pasta finished cooking. Putting it all together in a bowl, she took it into the front room plopping down on her fluffy couch. She smiled when the tv came on for once flicking to the her favorite channel. There she ate her dinner and watched her show without any interruption. It was relaxing. Something she hadn’t been able to do for quite a while.

Finishing up her meal, and episode, she cleaned up after herself without any issue. She hesitated once in a while, but nothing ever happened, so she continued. A knot was forming in her belly. Her instincts were telling her something was wrong, so so wrong. She hoped with a distraction she could place whatever it was.

Dinner was finished with everything cleaned up. The place was probably cleaner than it had been in a while. She didn’t have work today or tomorrow. Without cleaning, she felt her schedule would be free to do whatever she wanted for once. A happy little thrill shocked through her popping a smile up on her face. She could possibly paint. Turning on her heel, she went to the door leading to the basement.

The door was open.

The door was never open.

Her breath held. She swallowed hard. Had someone opened it when the party was going on? Her hand stretched out touching the doorknob but there was no electric charge stinging her hand like usual. This wasn’t good.

The demon was gone.

fan fiction, Writing, Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – Skyrim fanfiction

I would appreciate it if you call me Peyton, you will hate me in the end.

I don’t take the moral path. I don’t believe in the ethics of normal people. Your beliefs are not my own. All my life, I have fought against the traditions of my ancestors. Polite. Mannerly. Moral upstanding citizens of the world. In this time period, they are meaningless. My family members are just another part of the species that share a similar blood structure. The people that came before me. Nothing but dust.

So many get offended when I talk about the dead like that. They gasp putting a hand over their mouth unsure how to react as they’ve never found another with my…ideals. I don’t care about the lives that lived before me. They may have had a hand in my existence but that is where it stops. There is nothing more they mean to me. Dust is what we all shall be. Dust is what you shall be.

It’s not like I have particular beliefs about death and dying. I wasn’t traumatized as a kid. Or. Not that I remember. No. My parents were caring, loving people. Each trying their best to instill in me a love for honor and tradition. Like all other children, I had tried to follow my parents.

It wasn’t until I was older when I suppose I faltered.”

“I was walking home from school when I heard a groan from the woods by the path. At first, I was unsure but I was curious. After I’d gone off the path, both figuratively and literally, I saw…a man.” His face lit up with wonder. “His arm raised like the arm of God. Sword sparkling in the sun. He brought it down again and again. Blood splattering the bushes, trees and ground. The man hit the other with such force it sprayed blood even the distance to me. I remember because I had speckles of red on my skin.” The awe from a second ago tempered with reverence. “The man didn’t even bother to clean up the mess. He just lowered the sword watching the man twitch and writhe on the ground not yet dead. The coldness of his face. In his eyes.” His eyebrows twitched up millimeter by millimeter. “I didn’t realize you could be anything but good, moral and ethical. At that moment, I saw what you could aspire to become. This…god among men. He was a true god. Not this figurative thing people talked about. No. He was

“I didn’t realize you could be anything but good, moral and ethical. At that moment, I saw what you could aspire to become. This…god among men. He was a true god. Not this figurative thing people talked about. No. He was truly…truly something else.” He breathed. “I don’t know what happened in that moment, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head. Him standing there like an avenging god uncaring for the life of another. Blood soaked sprayed all over him. His lips turned in a curl of pleasure. The ice he had for eyes. How calm he looked. Not the fear I saw on everyone else’s face when they talked about the frightening. No. This man knew no fear. He was the beast they feared.” His head slunk back against the wall. “I think that was the moment. I wanted to be like him. I wanted people to fear me like they did him. I wanted to bathe in the power drenching me.” A small laugh escaped his nostrils. “I didn’t want to be this fake god they spoke of trying to make me fear. No. He was what I aspired to be.” His eyes closed looking for once to be calm and peaceful. “I couldn’t get the image out of my head.”

It took a moment before Peyton continued talking. The man had captured my attention completely at this point. This man with the confidence to speak like this. I never would talk about the taboo and evil this way. He did it so naturally. I was thoroughly convinced he meant every word he said. Peyton interrupted my thoughts drawing me back into his story.

“I don’t think he saw me. When I think about that moment that changed my life so thoroughly. I don’t think he really saw me.” He turned his head to cast those cold eyes on me. “When I got home, I constructed the best effigy of him I could make at the age of twelve. I hid it in my wardrobe. And soon. I began to add things to this makeshift shrine. I began to draw him more and more always in red.” Shifting in his position against the wall, he drew a knee up to rest his arm on.

“I knew after a while it wasn’t enough. Not enough. Not nearly enough. He was demanding in his presence in my mind. He needed…He needed something so much more than crude drawings, wax and prayers.” He grew distant like I was no longer sitting in front of him. It was times like this I forgot to continue writing. “My family had a cat. It was old. I didn’t think anyone would notice when it didn’t come home.” He took a deep sighing breath. His shoulders relaxed their tension. The euphoria that took over his face sent chills down my spine. “I picked the cat up one evening before it got dark. It purred in my arms relaxed and unaware of the danger it was in. That alone made the act so thrilling. With my pocket knife my father had given me for my twelfth birthday, I held the cat down and stabbed it. I was scared at first but feeling the warmth. It was so absurdly warm. I hadn’t expected it. The cat tried to get away fighting with everything it was worth but I had it by the neck. Pinned unable to move. I stabbed it again. Then again. The glee that followed would dominate my mind from then on. I tore the cat apart throwing the blood everywhere laughing with as one in a drugged state. The carcass in my hand limp and heavier than I had really anticipated. It was tiring. I set the cat down and like my father had taught me. I skinned it. I took the skull wrapped it in the fur and tossed the body away beneath a tree. I was quite the macabre scene I’m sure, but no one was home and the ground took the blood from my shoes. I washed up after I got home having set the skull and skin to dry in a place no one ever went where it would be safe until I could retrieve it.”

He leaned against the wall again his remembrance having excited him. “I did that night what I had never done before. I’d never had the sensation before, but the memory of the cat’s pain. The whole…thing. I found a fire in my loins as had never happened before. It was only with that memory and myself did I find relief. The memory served as material for a long time afterwards.” He took a large breath letting it out all at once before continuing. “After the skin and skull were dry, I set it in my shrine. Many more would be added to it over the course of the year. Some small some larger. I even found the skull of a human at one point. I became paranoid, however. My parents seemed to be aware of what was going on in some form and I knew what I was doing was…wrong to them and so many other and knew I shouldn’t ever let it be seen. I moved my shrine to a small luggage bag taking it to the place I first saw my god in all his glory.” He was watching me now as if trying to gauge how I was taking all this information, but it was just because I had stopped writing.

“From that point on, I would take anything I had blood, bone, skin and sacrificed it to him there. I even began killing things on his shrine in dedication to him. I would pray for him to send me more victims. I asked him to teach me how to do more. I needed more. I couldn’t …couldn’t get enough.” He was breathless again with a vague look in his eyes. I had long noticed his arousal but I wouldn’t mention anything of the sort. Not when I knew what type of person he was and with everything he was saying. “It took me by surprise when one day I had killed a dog on the stone I had set up in front of his shrine. I pinned it with steel camping stakes. It whined gloriously. Beautifully while I killed it taking so much pleasure in its continued pain. I’m not sure when the man had come up, but I suppose he had been watching the entire time. Only when he got closer did I realize, he…” His eyes teared up and his voice broke. “He was my god. The one I had worshiped for years now. There he stood. His sword in hand. His cold eyes on my flesh. If he struck me down then, I would have reveled in the joy it brought me. No, he looked at what I had done.” He choked on his emotion. “No. I had pleased him. He was. He was so happy at what he saw. I had done something he was proud of.” It took another minute for him to recover.

“My god then showed me the way, the path and everything that came with it. He taught me how to slaughter the weak, the helpless and make it hidden. He taught me so much more than I could have ever learned on my own. It wasn’t until I was older did I realize I was his apprentice and our craft was of blood. He took me places I had never been. He brought such…peace and joy to my life.”

My pen paused as a question drifted up. Peyton seemed to sense the question waiting for me to ask. “So…you left home with him? Didn’t you ever think…” I didn’t finish. I didn’t have to.

“No. I left with him without a word to my family. I didn’t care. They were nothing to me and to my god. He had chosen me and called me to a greater work than they could have ever realized. They didn’t know. Nor would they.” He stopped a smile twitching his lips. “Or at least, not for a while.” I found myself frowning as I wrote this down as well. Peyton continued once again.

“It wasn’t until I was sixteen that he first introduced to me a new way. He showed me how to scare others with my craft. How to cut so the blood sprayed in a pattern that terrified normal people.” His hand made a cutting motion in the air. “Then.” He smiled readily. “He gave me a sword of my own. That night we went slaughtering like men and women go caroling. From door to door. From place to place. All. Any. He had taught me well enough no one could stand against us.”

My eyebrows drew together. “If you were both, so good at it, how did you get caught?” I asked looking up into the killer’s eyes.

“I wanted to be.” His smile faded becoming softer.

“You…Wanted to be?” I asked searching his face.

“My god died a few years back ascending into the heavens with a fury of fire. As was his request.” He looked sad, if a man like him could ever be. “But I only let myself be ‘captured’ for one reason and only one.” He looked back at me. “It’s time I took an apprentice.” Cold rushed through my veins. I swallowed hard looking back at him. “The Dark Brotherhood awaits.”

 

 

 

 

(Part 1 of the Apprentice Fan Fiction)

Writing Prompts

Writing Prompts

Today, my brain feels like it’s in a funk. It feels like my brain is just in a fog and hasn’t quite woken up yet. So, instead of working on my books, I’m here. Trying to get my brain to work. Enter, writing prompts. I know it sounds weird, but it can really help. When you have to write from the view of a broken appliance, it really get the brain working. It’s amusing, it’s frustrating. It gets my brain working again.

I’m not sure if they want me to ask for permission to post a link, but the website is http://www.creativewritingprompts.com. Hopefully, that sets up a link you can click. I find it so much easier when you can click the link to take you there. Usually, I right-click the link and open up in a new tab so I can stay on the same page I had been on.

The writing prompt I got for today is write from the point of view of a broken coffee maker. I think it’s writing prompt…188. Yes, it’s 188. This is a very…interesting prompt. I’ve never been a coffee maker, contrary to popular belief. I may love my coffee, maybe more than the next person. How is someone supposed to function without it? I’ve tried. I don’t function. I stare like a zombie at people wondering strange things like. If a flood started up, would we be able to escape from where we are and survive? What type of world would we live in? Would it turn into Waterworld? What would I be? Would I be the crazy guy who ends up trying to eat people or just…What was everyone saying? I would look around from person to person as they stare at me.

“What? I was just imagining life post-apocalyptic where everyone has to fight for survival possibly killing and eating each other trying to establish a new dominance in a system that  doesn’t work.” They would continue to stare at me then laugh nervously and quickly switch the subject. You see. I’m the special one in the group.

You see. I’m the special one in the group. I think strange and off-kilter things. I wonder what it would be like to feel a knife buried into my belly. What it would be like to die. What would it be like to be reincarnated? Would I retain my memories? It seems most people don’t think of these things. Or at least, I’ve found most people are highly surprised when I mention I was wondering what would happen if the mountain exploded due to the negligence of a federal officer who set off a nuclear bomb that through us into a nuclear winter. Most of my ramblings tend to be catastrophic. If you hadn’t noticed. I wonder about the weird building off in the distance. The strange person staring up at a giant tree looking like their are contemplating climbing but afraid of the social stigma of an adult climbing a tree.

I fuel my writings with these thoughts. Pour them into books, short stories or whatever else I feel like. Hopefully. You will enjoy them. Yes, I know I’m procrastinating writing about a coffee pot that is broken and neglected.

 

Twitch. I don’t know what happened. Hot liquid poured down my back. Bitter, tough, grainy stuff shoved into my mouth. My belly was removed and now. Twitch. I feel weird. This energy keeps making my brain go weird. I’m trying to serve my master the best I can. He’d always been kind to me. Some others don’t get bathed. Some I’ve heard get used once then thrown away. That is the scariest thought to me. What if I don’t do well enough and my master throws me away. Twitch. I’m working the best I can. He’s come over to me. His face is red and whistling. His water must have boiled too quickly. I don’t know what’s the matter. Twitch. I feel weird yes. But I’m still trying to do my job. Can’t he appreciate that? Ouch! What the hell was that for? He’s hitting me?! I’m just doing my job. What? No! Don’t touch my…

My energy…It’s gone…I feel…even more strange. My master has picked me up. It feels like he’s cradling me in his arms. Is he crying? I don’t know. Maybe his boiling water just leaked out the top. He doesn’t work right when he doesn’t get the bitter stuff that is my job to make. His water always boils too quickly. But…Where are we going? Is that…Is that the trash can? Oh…I…I didn’t mean to make it wrong! I swear! Please….I’ll do better? He’s just walking away not even talking to me any more. Whatever happened. Apparently, I can’t make it better. His hand puts something over the top of me, over the top of the trash can. With everything dark, there is nothing left to do. The whole experience has left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Work hard for someone for years and this was always what happens. Cruel irony to have happen that which was my most feared thought. Oh, well, perhaps. Perhaps the place after the trash can won’t be so bad.

 

 

 

 

I hope you enjoyed the short writing prompt. I don’t even know what more could be written. Suppose I could write about the coffee pot’s trip to the dump and it’s fight for survival. That would be strange. Maybe fun. Maybe another time. For now. This has been another rambling writings by me.