Writing Prompts

Illusion -Word count 600

  • Word count: 600
  • Genre: Science Fiction
  • Character: A hermit
  • Material: A remote control
  • Sentence: “Don’t trust everything you see.”
  • Bonus: The Sun is failing.

 

“Don’t trust everything you see.”  

The man that stood in front of her was disheveled even beyond what she thought possible. His eyes spoke of experience, and paranoia. She wasn’t entirely sure this hermit could be trusted. Since their society had pushed passed what they thought possible, everyone seemed busy living a life of ease as the robots did their jobs and everyone could pursue what they wanted. Discontent was at an all time low. A few were rejected. The usual like this hermit. They chose to live outside of society doing who knew what. Once in a while, they would be on the street shouting the ‘end is near’ but that had always been so, hadn’t it?

How this man found her was concerning. She had just been walking from work when she felt like she was cornered.

“There is corruption even beyond what you know.”

She gave him a smile, nodding but not believing what he was saying. “Riiiiight.” She drew out the vowel. This seemed to make the man mad.

“I’m not crazy. I know that’s what society makes me seem like so you don’t believe me. But you have to!” He looked so desperate for someone to believe him. Shaking her head, she held her hands up as a barrier between him and herself. There was something in his eyes. Something that disappeared when she rejected him as well. Like she had been his last hope. The last hope against…What? He reached out shoving a remote control device into her hand. Accepting it just so he would leave her alone, she took a step back. She had no idea what he wanted, so she ducked away hurrying off, somewhat surprised when he just stood there watching as if salvation had deserted him.

The look in his eye haunted her through out her walk home and the entire evening. When she turned on the tv to see what was new in the world, or what new invention had been made, she was shocked to see the picture of the man from earlier.

“In a sad turn of events, a man who chose to live on the streets has committed suicide.”

She stood staring unable to believe it. Had he been reaching out to her for help and when she walked away he… Sitting on her bed, she felt something in her pocket jab her leg. She leaned back pulling out the remote the man had given her. Her eyes flicked to the tv then back.

Turning the remote over in her hand, she turned her head trying to read the pencil on the back of it. ‘Point at the sky’ It said. She felt terrible about having abandoning the man in his time of need. Enough, she walked to her window staring at the sun descending the sky. She searched the remote of any sign of what button she should push, but there was no further instruction. The remote appeared to be an ordinary device. Old, but she knew what it was from her textbooks. With nothing else to be done, she figured she’d just push the power button. She pointed the remote at the sky and pushed the button.

To her horror, the sky fell into blazing red. The blue melted away across the sky passed the horizon. She stared at the collapsing star. This was what the hermit had been trying to tell her. Warn her about. Suddenly the past events made sense. The rockets of people ‘Scientists’ going out to explore space. Leaving the dying world. The domes. They hadn’t been luxury living. Had they put up this disguise for everyone that wasn’t worth something or important? 

“In this, the world of tomorrow, it seems like there is less and less to fear.” The newswoman went on to speak. “Science is bringing us so much now that we are able to focus on progression rather than survival. I don’t know about you, Jeff, but I feel like our future is bright.”

 

 

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Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – 500 words

I’m trying out a new writing prompt site. I’m kinda liking it. The site seems to have everything I need for writing. Lately it’s been really crazy over here. My computer got locked, so I couldn’t do anything with it. It was so frustrating, but luckily someone was able to help me out. Now I can get back to writing!

Word count

500 words

Genre

Suspense

Character

A bank counter

Material

A fridge

Sentence to use

“I can’t see you.”

“I can’t see you.”

 

The words drifted out filling the dining room dropping the temperature. Willard stopped writing on the paper. The numbers, facts, and figures blurred in front of his eyes. His throat convulsed reflexively. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. The voice just didn’t go away. He thought if he could make it leave him alone. If he could hide. It hadn’t worked.

 

“Where did you go?”

 

The voice drifted out again almost making his eyes roll back in their sockets. It didn’t sound like a child, or a woman, or anyone he recognized, but somehow all of them. He thought he felt in the voice he could hear someone he knew, but also there wasn’t anyone who sounded like that. The sound seemed to change every time he listened like it was trying to find the correct voice to use. Its indecisiveness was his only relief. It hadn’t found a voice that worked well enough yet. As long as it didn’t, he could continue on.

 

“Why are you hiding?”

 

He steadied his hands so he could keep writing. His work needed this in by tomorrow. At first, he hadn’t wanted to, but he didn’t finish at the office in time. What else was he supposed to do? He really needed this job. This company gave him security and good pay. The work wasn’t demanding most of the time and he got sick leave.

His thoughts were abandoning him. He found he was having a harder time thinking now that it was 10 p.m. The voice only called out at this time. When he had first moved in, he had asked about it but no one knew what he was talking about. Not wanting to be the resident crazy, he had kept it to himself.

 

“Are we playing a game?”

 

He took a deep breath. Why wouldn’t it leave him alone? Despite his best effort, he found himself responding.

“No. I’m not. I’m trying to work. Now leave me alone.” Willard said.

His hand ran through his dark thinning hair as he tried to compose himself. Talking into the air made him feel even crazier. What if this was a symptom of something? Was his mind breaking? His family didn’t have any tendencies.

 

“Oh? Aren’t we?”

 

His eyes unfocused off of the paper onto the fridge in front of him. He really shouldn’t respond. Yet, it enticed him. “No.” He shook his head dropping his gaze to the numbers that had once looked so familiar. He had moved the fridge in front of the wall to block where it was coming from.

The voice was deciding too quickly. Responding more often. It had once seemed like a friendly neighbor talking with him or at him. After a few weeks, he had noticed it sounded less ambiguous and more, familiar. He would swear he could feel it trying words in its nonexistent mouth. When it settled, he felt fear grip him. He had lost.

 

“I am.”

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.

Writing Prompts

Writing prompt -First line

Random number- 1251

They’d had a lot of freedom back then and not just because their environment was safer – few children had been allowed to roam as much as they.

Perhaps this was the reason they had a certain fearlessness about them. Together they claimed they could conquer the world. The whole neighborhood had become their playground. No tree was safe from being climbed. No hole was left hidden. And when even their whole neighborhood had become too small for them. They turned to areas outside of their street. As long as they stayed together, neither felt afraid. They ran to the grocery store for Popsicle, or went to the park. No one ever bothered them. It was like something told everyone they were going to be okay.

Once in a while, they wondered why they were allowed to roam so far and freely, and the other children couldn’t. At first, they thought it was because they were so responsible. Their parents thought they were old enough, strong enough and good enough to be on their own. But as time wore on, they saw more and more parent with their children. More and more they began to wonder after their own. They would go home and there they would be wondering why they were back. There wouldn’t be much of an answer except for them to go back outside to play. In the beginning, there was no hesitation. With each year that passed, it was like something was screaming at them to stay, to yell at them to care if they were there or not.

They began to see their freedom as a lack of caring in their parents. Together, they postulated. What if something had happened to them when they were out? Would their parents notice? They began to test how much their parents cared.

At first, by just staying out too late, or leaving earlier. Their parents said no word. They brought home increasingly strange items. It would never matter what. The longer they stayed out, the happier their parents became. Or so they soon found out. One night, they even chose to stay in their treehouse all night. They watched to see if their parents would come out crying wondering where they were, but they saw adults going over. Bottles appeared in their hands. They laughed, watched the tv more, played games and did things they never did around them.

The morning after their night in the treehouse, they sat together thinking of what to do. Their parents didn’t care where they were here or there, home or not. They barely even acknowledged their existence. When they were there, they were sad. She even told him once, when she went home without him, she saw their mother crying. That had solidified it. They were going to leave. They weren’t ever going to come back. If their parents didn’t want them there, he told her. It didn’t matter. They would find someone who did want them.

He led her into the house resolving to get their things and leave.

“Last night, was the first good night we’ve had in a long time.”

They heard them talking.

“I felt like I was finally free.”

The relief in their voices brought them both to tears. They didn’t have to ask if they really wanted them or not. To them, it was clear. Their parents never did want them. That’s why they were always drinking from those bottles when they were near.

“Come on, Ellen.” He beckoned her. As they walked down the hallway to their bedrooms, they froze in the door way. There was nothing there. Their beds. Their toys. Nothing was there.

As they turned around, trudging towards the front door. He tried to console her as she sobbed in his chest. Their parents must of heard them because they stopped talking.

“Bye, Mom. Dad.” He managed to say as he went back out the front door.

What had they done? Did they do something wrong? Were they not good enough? Maybe they just didn’t want kids and they had come along by accident?

Standing out front of the house, they looked back at the house. They both quietly said good bye again before wondering off down the street. Now, they felt confused as to why they had such freedom. Why they hadn’t been wanted. Why they drank from those bottles when they were around and celebrated when they left.

That night was the worst. They sat all alone in the park swinging not sure what to do now. The days prior had been filled with such happiness, but now nothing seemed to hold the same thrill. A stranger walked by looked over at them before going wide eyed and hurrying on. That seemed to be the reaction to them these days.

“Sam.” Ellen whispered almost not daring to ask. “Why do think everyone seems to hate us? Did we do something wrong?” She turned her head to look at him on the swing next to her.

“I don’t think so.” He replied trying his best to be strong, for her at least. “I think it’s the same reason it’s always been.” Jumping off, he spun around trying to be enthusiastic to make her happier. “We’re responsible. We don’t do anything bad. Ever. We don’t hurt any animals. The police never have to worry about us. We don’t damage people’s stuff. We’re good kids. Now, come on, Ell. Let’s go find somewhere else to play. This place is gloomy.”

Turning on his heels, he began to lead her from the park, but seeing a woman standing there unnerved him. He put his sister behind him wary. They had never been afraid to be out at any time of day or night, but this woman scared him and Ellen. He puffed up trying to appear bigger than he was. It was his job to keep his sister safe.

“What do you want?” He asked in his strongest voice.

The woman came closer to them. Her greying hair tied back in a tight bun. The clothes were covered in flour, but had recently been patted with wet hands. Her blue eyes were soft and loving. The wrinkles on her face told of countless hours laughing and smiling.

“You look lost, Little Ones.” She said.

The girl clung close to him not sure what was going on. He tried his best to step away but now it felt impossible.

“What happened?” She sat on the stairs to the playground not coming closer as if sensing their distress.

“We…We can’t go home.” He told her, though he wasn’t sure why. “Our parents don’t want us any more.”

She nodded knowingly, even sad. “Why do you think that?”

Taking a deep breath and steeling his upper lip, he told her everything they had seen, all that had happened.

“Oh, Little Ones.” She went over to hold them both. It was a feeling they hadn’t felt in a long time. A glimmer of memory stirred in their heads.

“Grandma?” They asked. When she nodded they held onto her even tighter.

“My Little Ones.” She said again kissing their heads. “Come. Let me tell you about what happened.” Drawing them close, she sat down on the stair. “Your parents love you very much. It isn’t because they don’t want you. You see, there was an accident. They don’t see you because they can’t.” They looked up into her face somehow understanding now.

“It’s time to come home.” She smiled.

Writing, Writing Prompts

More Writing Prompts

This one happens to be a rather short one.

Write a complete story in only one sentence about a packet of seeds.

It was all that was left, as it dropped it’s last seeds into the packet; the only thing left of his life with her.

 

That was so short, I decided to do more than one here.

What happens when a webcomic artist starts seeing mythical creatures everywhere.

 

He had always assumed it was because he hadn’t been out in a while. Fantasy and myth had always interested him, but he had thought the interest was because it was cool or such. Myth and legend drew him in like no other stories did. His mind would fill with images of flying horses and giant reptiles breathing fire. That was what had pushed him to start the webcomic. It was centered on a select few who had been chosen by the gods and such. It seemed cliche, but he loved it. He had tried less conventional ideas but they never interested him, and because of that never got continued. It was his fantasy comic he worked on the most.

Strange thing that. He had just taken the story where ever he thought it should go, but had his thoughts somehow been altered? In the story, the select few had been attacked, originally for drama, but the last one standing ended up hiding among humans. He forgot who he was. This panel had been what had startled him. He felt stupid writing like this because it felt so much like he was drawing and writing about himself. He feared someone would come along and mock him. Still, he couldn’t stop. Whenever he tried to take the story some other direction, add in new characters, it never felt right.

As he stood outside in the rain, he felt he should go to the hospital. He didn’t feel ill. His head didn’t hurt. Nausea hadn’t crept up on him. His chest didn’t hurt. No. Nothing quite so dramatic. It was the little people with wings dancing on the railing of his balcony. He shouldn’t be able to see that. They looked like they were laughing and using the decorative posts like a slide. An urge to draw this into his comic felt almost overwhelming. The people flew up sitting on the top railing. He was barely paying attention to them, so it took a moment for him to realize. They weren’t sliding back down.

His eyes dropped to one. Words formed into his mind. The sensation of them watching him settled on his mind.

So, what are you going to do?

He was so startled by the clarity of the soft feminine voice, he stumbled backwards. His breath hitched. One of the people flew up the rain breaking into droplets around her.

You know. Don’t you?

He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say to that?

I was wondering how long it would take. 

He wasn’t certain what she meant by that. Five of the people flew to his hand each taking a finger drawing him forward. His mind felt like it was going a thousand miles per hour. They drew his hand forward. No. This wasn’t real. The people stopped staring up at him.

Do you really believe that? 

He opened his mouth to say he did, but stopped. This seemed to make them happy letting them lead him forward again. Adrenaline was pumping into his body, but he couldn’t exactly figure out why. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He didn’t know why he had been worried before. Stepping up to the railing, he watched them drop his hand on the cold, wet metal. They flew up dancing in patterns around him. Their little voices chanted. The words were impossible to get out of his head. He stepped up on the bottom rail. His body felt so light. He didn’t…know if he could think well.

Come on. You know. We are just on the other side. Everything you know to be true. 

Something dropped in his stomach, but he still swung his legs over the railing letting himself sit on the top. The cold rain drenched his clothes. Little trails of water racing down his face, and arms falling around him. The little people were right. The humans weren’t where he belonged. He had drawn the creatures because he had once seen them. The story he had written was exactly what had happened.

Setting his heels onto the bottom rail, he straightened. The little people, what he knew were fairies, called to him. They beckoned him forward. A small something in the back of his mind twisted around fighting, but it didn’t seem important. Taking a deep breath, he felt the hole that had always been there. The one telling him he didn’t belong. These people wanted him. He would be back with those who wanted him. Finally, someone would want him.

His eyes closed as his hands released the railing. The wind flew around him thrilled his mind. For a moment, he felt lighter than ever. He felt suspended in air. Zero weight gave way to the sensation of falling. A scream shocked his mind into reality as the ground rushed up to meet him. A distant voice, a light weight on his head.

The last one has been killed. We need to return to let them know. His friends couldn’t save him. Such a pity. 

The little people flew off quickly as humans rushed over trying to keep the man alive. People shouted at each other about what they had seen. Police would arrive soon. Medics to try and revive him. But it would all be forgotten, except by those who had tried to save him. The ones who had tried to grab his clothes to pull him back. The one who screamed knowing he would die. The others had finally won.

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

6

What makes them crave it? What makes them go insane? What takes their humanity and only leaves a shattered box? Is it the taste? Or does some sort of chemical reaction happen that changes them? That’s what I found out.” He grinned wide at a young woman. His hands reached out grabbing her shoulders. “I’ve found it!” A sort of glee formed in his eyes. She watched him unsure of why he was acting so strangely. “I want to take you back there.” She frowned as he stared at her unblinking. He wanted her to be like him. Whatever he was now. Her foot slid back as she tried to pull away but his grip was too strong. He grinned at her. His eyes wide. “Come with me.” It didn’t sound like he was asking her. She stared unable to pull away. Her mind panicked throwing ideas around searching for anything to get her away. The penetrating stare shifted to the right. She followed his gaze to see a strange man crouching to her left.

 

The man’s clothing was dirty as if he had crawled along the ground. Even his hands and face was covered in a blackish grime. When her eyes lifted to his, they held nothing. He held a blank expression as if looking through her eyes unfocused yet focused on her. His lips were twisted up and frozen in a permanent smile much like the man holding her. The man that had been her boss.

 

“You…You seek the 6?” He stuttered. “The 6? 6? 6? 6? 6? 6?” His head cocked to the side as he shambled forward using hands, feet and knees. It would have been funny had the situation been different. Her boss let her go turning to frown at the man. Whatever that had taken him seemed to dissipate.

 

“Get away from here. This is none of your business.” His hands motioned for the man to leave but he crouched there grinning at him as if unaware of what those motions meant. He had the innocent expression of a puppy, but the malevolence of a serial killer. The woman crept backwards while her boss was preoccupied. She disappeared passed the doorway they had been standing in. Her boss didn’t appear aware of where she had gone or even concerned by her departure. Shifting backwards, the man disappeared down the stairwell as silently as he had arrived. Which was a feat considering how he was walking, backwards staring eyes locked on the boss. The shine off his white teeth the last to fade into the darkness.

 

The police chief walked into the historic inn holding his clipboard. It had notes on the case along with ghastly pictures of things he’d rather not think about. He had first objected but his daughter was as strong willed as he was. She insisted on joining him even if it was one of the most dangerous cases he’d been on.

 

For the past few months, random people were found jabbering on about something called ‘the 6’. Whatever it was, it had a different effect on each person. They had traced each person’s travels to this location. More people talked about the ‘6’ here than elsewhere but he was no closer to finding out what it was then when he started. A noise pulled his attention from his notes. A man was crawling in a crouch down the stairs in an ambling slow fall. Yet, he caught himself each time. It was startling to watch. As soon as the man had reached the bottom of the stairs, safely surprisingly, he laid straight before rolling against the wall and grinning into the wood. The police chief stood watching him expecting something more from the crazed man, but he did nothing more. He turned to someone coming to down the opposite stair.

 

“Dad.” His daughter Amber came down the stairs. She didn’t smile at him, but her eyes brightened at the sight of him. Her hair was bright red like her mother. Her eyes deep blue. She was strong in form like a dancer, but not willowing. Her arm was curled around her own clipboard. “There was a man up there that talked about the 6.”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the crawling man shot from the corner bolting to his daughter. He tackled her into the stairs laying on her nose to nose staring into her eyes. “You have the 6? You have 6?” He tilted his head. Running over, the chief went to grab the man’s shoulder but his daughter already shoved him off. He dropped into his crouch knuckles on the rug. “You said 6. You talk about the 6. You have the 6?” He dodged any attempted to grab him like a boxer. “You said 6!” He shouted startling everyone. Standing up, he faced her then the police chief. “Liar for miar. Liar in the box like a fox.” He turned on his heel marching to his corner to fall on his face on the floor.

 

The police chief went over to his daughter slowly to not provoke the man any further. Reaching out, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I don’t understand…” She murmured. “In any case,” She spoke in a near whisper. “I don’t think we should mention it around other people unless…well, we want that sort of reaction. Now that we are closer to an answer, where more people are like this, I think it’s better we don’t speak about it around people at all. THere’s no telling if someone might have a worse reaction than he did.” His daughter turned to pick up her clipboard, but the chief watched the man. He couldn’t explain it but he knew the man was somehow very aware of them despite looking at the wall.

 

“I think we gave them a glance at our hand.” She looked up at her father brows drawn in confusion.

 

“Our hand?” She asked, but her dad didn’t answer only walked to the doors. What hand they had given away was a bit lost on her. Was it the fact they knew about ‘6’ or that they were police? Her lips pressed together.

 

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. I don’t like this place. It feels wrong.” Coming from the police chief, his daughter knew something was amiss. It wasn’t like him to be unnerved by anything. She knew he wasn’t sharing all the information with her, but part of her was glad. From what she had seen. What lied within this mystery was a gory mess meant only for horror stories. Nevertheless, she needed to continue. She was the only one that had her father’s back in this. No one else believed anything about it.

 

She sat on the steps with her knees drawn up to her chest her arms wrapped around them. What had her boss been thinking? That strange look in his eyes gave her the creeps. It was almost like he wanted something from her, but what was it? He had looked crazed, driven mad. His words…Had he really found it? Why would he actually use it? He of everyone should know what it does. He’d been studying it longer than anyone.

 

Her eyes pulled off of the pavement to an older man and a young woman walking from the inn towards their car. It was nicer than anything they had here, which labelled them as travellers. If they travelled here, they could only be looking for it. No one ever travelled here for any other reason. Everyone seemed addicted. Her world revolved around this stupid thing and she didn’t even know what it was. Her boss had given her hints, tips, and bits of information. Enough to keep her following him, but not enough to figure it out. He strung her along all this time with promises of fame, money, glory, or anything she might want. She hadn’t been in it for that, but more…to maybe fix this. She had studied biology and chemistry for a long time. There was never any indication it would help, but after her mother. After what happened to her mother, she had vowed to find out what ‘6’ was. Ten years later she still had no idea. She had found her boss, Damen, but he didn’t lead her anywhere but in circles.

 

She looked back at the man and woman. They were looking around for something and looking at clipboards. Whatever they were doing, it was so unusual someone was following them down the street. He was one of the shamblers. More animal than human. They weren’t the ones to really be worried about. Not that she had found. They were erratic, unpredictable, and sometimes terrifying, but mostly harmless. Unless, they thought you had ‘6’. Why was it called ‘6’ anyway? Sighing, she stood up heading down the street rubbing her arms. With her boss gone berserk, she only had the little bit of money left to find a way back home. There was nothing left for her here. Her goal unsuccessful. So close. She thought she had almost solved it. Her mother would remain where she was it seemed.

 

The town was small, but it had a surprising amount of people. Most had been seeking 6, but had become trapped here. Much like she was now. She had been told the town was like a black hole. No one escaped. No one left but in a bag.

 

There were four types of people she had found here so far, not that she had spent much time here or around them. Shamblers, as people called them. The semi-insane, semi-sane people that were barely coherent. The Bliss. People blissfully ignorant of everyone. Ones who seek but haven’t found. Unknowing of what terrible fates remain for them. Then, the amply named Teddies. The ones driven to the point of violence. They no longer care what violent, or manipulative  measures it takes to get more 6. No matter the games to play or who hurts. Her boss apparently became a Teddy. She didn’t want to stay to find out what she might become. 6 was like alcohol in a sense. There were different reactions to it as well. The fourth she had an idea of was what she called the Pawn. People unaware of their actions but performed complex tasks. If asked what they were doing, they usually had no idea. Pawn went about purposefully, which suggested someone controlling them. Which also suggest maybe a fifth type? The Mastermind?

 

Even with the amount of people here. She found the town in disrepair. Since she had some education, she hoped someone might want her services. Maybe with medical or constructing? After taking the 6, most people seemed to be incapable of comprehending anything, much less repair or maintenance. She walked up to a man who looked in charge.

 

“E-Excuse me?” She held herself, strangely cold. “I was hoping you could help me?”

 

“I don’t have 6.” He stated without looking at her. “Leave me. I need to finish.”

 

She watched him for a moment before turning. A hand clamped on her shoulder. Pain thrashed from her shoulder down her arm. Looking up, she stared at the man holding her shoulder. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “Please let go!” She cried trying to get his hand off. His grip was impossibly strong. “I didn’t…I didn’t do anything.” Her eyes flicked around but no one was watching or doing anything. “Help!” She cried out louder, but no one moved. Panic welled up within her. Her eyes darted from person to person. They all acted as if it were a normal day. “Help!” She yelled again  flailing out as the man dragged her into the building. He was still talking. Still looking at papers. While she bit, clawed, and fought for freedom.

Writing, Writing Prompts

Could Be Worse

One Could Do Worse

 

In this infinite world of beauty and luxury, one could certainly do worse than this. Dancers spun around spinning turning about their gowns flairing. The orchestra played their waltz. Bored party goers sat on the side lines watching the people come and go. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling lighting the room with swirls of crystal white. Tuxedos finely fitted to the men strutting about. Dresses embedded with jewels. Yes. One could do worse.

Her eyes shifted to the man in the corner near hidden. His face white and sullen showed a lack of affection for parties such as this. He was going to turn this party topsy-turvy. And it was going to be a blast. All she had to do was wait for the signal. It was hard waiting. The people drifting had absolutely no idea of the events about to unfold. It was so hard waiting.

Lifting her head, she watched the man glide to the dance floor like a poltergeist. A flutter started in her stomach. It was like kismet, fate, destiny. Whatever you wished to call it. He was hers. She stood graceful as a supernatural being could be. Floating to the dance floor, she held out her ashen hand the man taking it.

Everyone watched as the two moved in perfect sync. Each step timed with each other. Every movement liquid. It had gone silent apart from their steps rhythmic in their clicks.

No one was quite sure what to do about them. They couldn’t ask them to leave. It could lead to war. They couldn’t have them crashing their parties, but what were they to do? Eyes flicked about nervously, unsure of what was to transpire. The two remain staring into each other’s eyes. A small barest hint of a twitch at the corner of his lips.

“You look beautiful tonight, My Queen.” His deep baritone rumbled washing excitement over her features.

“Thank you, My King.” She didn’t hide her expressions nearly as well as he did, nor did she try to. Her smile was brighter than the lights shining about them.

A nefarious smile crept across his face.

“They’re staring, My Liege.” She whispered a coy smile on her lips, a blush on her pale cheeks.

“One can not resist staring at the brightest star in the night sky, Meine Perle.” He kept them dancing and turning though the music had long since stopped.

They didn’t continue for long. There were things to do. He held her hand high with his as he turned to lead her from the dance floor. Black seeped from the windows. People screamed panicking.

She looked from him to the table he led her to. Foods of various sort scattered on the table in ornate patterns. People scrambled about behind her running from the black. Picking up a food, she returned her eyes to him lifting to her lips the soft delicatessen.