Fantasy, Writing Prompts

Life without Death – 750 words

  • Word count: 750
  • Genre: Fantasy
  • Character: A vampire
  • Material: A pen
  • Sentence: “It’s too warm.”
  • Bonus: Winter is long and extremely cold.

 

“It’s too warm.” The old vampire whispered to his heir. Elliot sat next to him fidgeting with a pen. He didn’t know what to say to his master. They had never faced anything like this. Never in their lives, long as they had been, did they ever expect him to become mortal again. No one even knew how it happened. His master wouldn’t tell him anything on where he’d been or what he’d been doing. Now, he was dying.

Elliot pushed the logs on the fire around in an attempt to decrease the output of heat. His hazel eyes drifted up to the old man deteriorating before him. Where once a man of great power had stood, now the same had become feeble no longer able to get onto his feet. His black hair had become grey then white. It wouldn’t be long now.

After poking the fire, he set the stick aside picking back up the old fountain pen. It had been a gift from his father who had died a long time ago. His master had found him in the cemetery that day. He had promised that he would never die. He promised power beyond his dreams. He had promised a life outside of the mortal one. Not that it was true at all. At the time, he hadn’t know they could be turned back. It was one of the few ways to fight a vampire apparently. His master told him it wouldn’t happen to him, the old ways had died out, but here they were.

“Master…” He mumbled but the man waved his words away. Elliot almost let it go, but his anger stirred. “Master.” He said more firmly. Their eyes met. “If a witch has stolen your immortal existence from you, then the least we could do is repay the favor.” His master smiled at him. It infuriated him even more, but he held his tongue.

“Elliot…” His voice shook. “I told you.” He took a breath as if speaking was too much for him. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

He couldn’t believe the man. First, he went and got himself effectively killed, then said he didn’t have to worry about it. What if she came after him?! His nostrils flared. His master laughed enough to make himself cough.

“Don’t you understand, Elliot?” When his master got no response, he sighed. More gently, he continued. “A few days ago.”

“When the witch changed you.” Elliot interrupted with a growl. His eyebrows drew down darkening his expression. His master took a breath trying not to react to the provocation.

“A few days ago.” He continued pointedly. “I heard an old witch of mine. Alliessa. We knew each other centuries ago. She would hunt me. I would kill her kin. It was back and forth.” His hand gestured lightly in the air before falling back down. “Well,” He paused. “I heard she wasn’t dead but actually quite close to us. Hunting me quietly, but I heard about it from a friend.”  

Elliot hadn’t heard this part of the story. Hadn’t known it had existed. He focused his attention on what his master was telling him. His master wasn’t looking at him now.

“So. I decided to do the only thing I knew I could do. Without a doubt, I could handle the old witch.”

Understanding was slowly dawning on him. His lips twitched down. His eyebrows together and up. “Master…” He tried interrupting but the man didn’t stop.

“But…you would never survive were she to find us. So, instead of letting her come here. I found her. She was stronger than I had anticipated, but,” He smiled at his heir. “I had killed her for certain this time, but not without cost.” Elliot was staring at the floor feeling utterly horrible.

“Now you know why you don’t need to worry. Never had to.” He sat up with great effort putting a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “I had become a vampire centuries ago because I thought there was nothing left for me in the mortal world. When I found you, I found what I had wanted years ago, but couldn’t enjoy. Now, I can at least enjoy my last few days with my son.” Elliot pressed his lips together. Human emotions bubbled up pushing past his barriers and down his cheeks.

“Master.” He choke. At the beckoning call, Elliot went over to him laying his head on his shoulder. “Father.”

 

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Fantasy, Writing Prompts

It Was Her – Writing Prompt – 300 words

  • Word count: 300
  •  Genre: Fantasy
  •  Character: A superhero (White Crow)
  •  Material: A bottle of whiskey
  • Sentence: “It was her!”
  •  Bonus: Your character has lost someone dear.

     

     

    “It was her!” He slurred sloshing his bottle of whiskey when he gestured to the man next to him. Tears brimmed his eyes. “Why don’t you understand?” He shook his head with a growl. “It…was HER.”

    The man next to him didn’t seem to react except to press his lips together. How could anyone know how to react in this situation? It didn’t make much sense. A drunk man rambling on, even if the drunk man was a ‘superhero’. He had single handedly stopped the Ellis of Uthuan from continuing her rampage. Anyone would have been proud, welcomed home with honors, but when he had returned he didn’t really talk much except to say. ‘It was her.’

    Not many knew who the Ellis was, only that was her name and she came from the north with an army and magic at her call. Her power was rumored to destroy human soul. When the White Crow had come from his secluded home, people had been hopeful. He had shown up only during dire times, but always brought peace in his wake. His life was entirely secret as he disappeared once his task was finished.

    Now, he only stayed in their city drinking his days away muttering those three words. People had tried to understand what it meant. Many had asked him trying to shake it out of him. Villhem leaned over putting a hand on the once great superheroes’ shoulder.

    “No one knows what you mean, but I can tell it is a great burden to you. Your tab is paid by me.” He told him simply letting his hand fall. The drunk turned to him staring into his eyes with his own entirely white eyes.

    “It was her…” He whispered. “Why don’t you understand?” White Crow shook his head. “It was my wife.”

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, Writing Prompts

100 Word Writing Prompt 2

In 100 words or less, write a story that includes the following: a nudist, a souvenir, an old photo album.

 

Sitting on the beach bum crusted in sand, he flipped through the old photo album. It was just pictures of himself with his ex. They had come to this beach. He had changed his lifestyle for her. People had laughed when he said he was a nudist. They said it was just because she was naked. But…He loved her. Passionately. Beyond sex. The souvenir he had bought her, a small music box, played its song for the millionth time. She had left him. Dropping the album to the sand, he stood stepping into the waves for the final time.

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.