Monthly Archives: December 2017

Writing Prompt #409

Writing Prompt Dragonition 409

Writing Prompt #409: She was going to be locked up in the ward forever if she didn’t get control of her powers soon, surrounded by pale lavender walls forever.


Shapeshifter (Story Fragment)

‘He’s right behind me isn’t he,’ I asked.

‘Actually he’s right in front of you,’ she said.

‘What were?’ I asked looking around and checking behind me just in case.

‘He’s the cat,’ she said.

The cat who had been stalking up and down the coffee table, arched its back and hissed at her.

‘Sorry Dad,’ she said, ‘but he would have found out eventually.’

‘Don’t tell me he’s a shape shifter,’ I groaned.

She nodded.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to the cat, ‘I shouldn’t have talked about you behind your back but you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.’

The cat yowled at me and stalked out of the room. A minute later a tall ginger haired man stalked into the room.

‘You should be more careful with your words young man,’ he said, ‘especially if you want to keep seeing my daughter.

Mirrors (Story Fragment)

Every way she turned there was something reflecting her. She’d catch glimpses of her face, her legs or the whole of herself. Often it gave her a fright she didn’t connect to the person in the mirror. It wasn’t that she wasn’t self-aware it was the person reflected in the mirror was not who she was. It was like seeing herself in a costume she had forgotten she had put on. She tried not to look in mirrors for the most part but here she couldn’t avoid them. She was trapped in a house full of mirrors.

The Girl: Response to Dragonition Writing Prompt #389

An interesting story

Miss Marie’s Scribbles

He was willing to stay a couple of nights but no longer than that. He could not bear to go on in this manner more than a short amount of time. He could not bear to put the girl, or his wife, through that kind of pain.

She looked so peaceful as she slept. Her youth was written all over her face, the lines around her mouth smooth and shallow, unmarked by heavy stress. All that mouth had seen was laughter and flirty smiles and sweet, gentle kisses.

She rolls over under his arm, her hair tickling his chin. Her hair screams youth as well. A vibrant red, not yet overrun by stubborn grays, not yet dulled by pain and struggle. It smells sweet and spicy, her perfume – probably something from Victoria’s Secret – colliding with the cologne his wife had picked out for him years ago to make…

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Hidden House (story fragment)

The roof was also the walls, it sloped up making a triangle at either end of two long walls. Trees hugged either side, stretching branches to arch over the roof, providing both shade and camouflage. Most people didn’t even notice it was there. The strange shaped house was cosy and deserted. He crept up and peered through the window between the almost closed curtains. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. No one had been inside for months. He tried the door it was locked but the key was buried in a pot plant. He crept inside and looked around. He would make it his if no one returned, it was perfect.

Eyes (in response to Writing Prompt #381)

It is hard to represent the image of our imagination.

Bedoor Bluemoon

via Writing Prompt #381


Crumpled paper covers every flat surface of his room, he can’t get the eyes right.  He is usually very good at sketching portraits but the eyes were haunting him.  It all started one day in his dream.  He dreamed he was sitting next to the lake hand in hand with a lady dressed in a light blue dress.  She had her head covered by an over-sized hat and her delicate fingers wrapped in pink lace gloves.  Her brown hair did not move.  It was propped and primped into soft waves that cascaded around her face and framed her small features.  She was looking down at her hands and her long thick lashes set themselves ever so gently on her cheekbones.

He wondered who the lady may be but didn’t know how ask.  He was afraid to speak lest the calmness be disturbed by his voice.  He…

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The Gift (in response to Image Writing Prompt #37)

Bedoor Bluemoon

iwp37Image Writing Prompt #37

Jacqueline stood next to the shop waiting for her best friend, Danielle, to show up.  It was a sunny Saturday morning in the small village of Piana where trade was plenty and spirits were high.  Danielle skipped down the road and smiled at Jacqueline who held up the bag of coins they managed to save from the beginning of the year.  It was finally time to buy the gift.

Both girls entered the shop reluctantly:  Jacqueline with her high blond ponytail and Danielle’s short black hair were out of place in the high class French accessories shop but they didn’t seem to realize.

  • There are too many to choose from, aren’t there?
  • I know

They walked past a red velvet hat that caught Jacqueline’s eye.

  • how about this one?
  • I don’t think my mom likes the color red.  What about your mom?
  • She prefers dark colors.

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