I think this is such an interesting character to explore.
I really loved this short story. It’s centred around the villain essentially and the way they think what they are doing is good.
via The Curse
via Dancing Nymphs
A mystical story in response to Image Writing Prompt #50.
I love this it is interesting perspective to write from.
Hey y’all! This is another response to Dragonition’s Writing Challenges. Don’t forget to check out the original post!
A Speck of Dust
This tiny, insignificant particle of dust. It came to be after some terrible person trampled on its home and family. His poor parents told him to run away, to find higher ground right before they were separated. He then hid in a dark corner, out of sight from the giants that ruined his life. A colony of strange and tiny little beings then moved onto him a few months after his solitude began. The speck of dust became great friends with the tiny beings, though they did make him gain some weight. His solitude ended in that corner of the old bookshelf, and he could feel himself coming back to life. He gave a solemn vow to protect the colony until the end of time, but everything…
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The water pressed in at him from all sides, cold and suffocating. He forced his eyes open, they burned with cold and slowly adjusted to the minimal light. He looked around frantically for the key hoping it wasn’t out of reach on the ocean floor. He could see nothing on the bottom the river sludge had been too stirred up and rose shifting in clouds. Then a tiny stream of bubbles caught his eye. He kicked down his muscles and lungs screaming. The chain attached to his leg catching and pulling at him and his body telling him to go the other way. His hands grazed the bottom. He scrambled for something to grab hold of to keep himself there. Something sharp snagged his fingers and then they touched something that felt right. He was losing consciousness and desperate to breath in but knew he couldn’t. He somehow fumbled the key into the lock at his ankle and breathed in turning the key as he chocked. He rose no longer held down by the concreate and chains. His head broke the surface. He spewed water coughing and gaging. He thrashed his way to the far bank. Spewed more water and collapsed on the rocks. He didn’t even have the energy to find amusement in the fact they’d thrown the key in first to taunt him with hope only to throw him on top of it and leave. They were overconfident and now they would pay for it. When he had a little more energy anyway.
Haha his is a great response 🙂
Hey y’all!T his is another response to Dragonition’s Writing Challenges. If you haven’t already, please check out my other responses here. Also, don’t forget to visit the original post! (Please understand that this is the opposite of how I actually feel about 4-H and my whole personality.)
4-H is the Worst
4-H is the most terribly, most absolutely worst. Club. Ever.
Having to work together with people face to face?
Inconceivable! And everything is a challenge!
So not only am I to work with others, but I have to work at it.
There are so many practices to go to, and
Having to show up to all of them makes my social life hard.
Everyone now has to wait until after 8:00 PM to see my
Wonderful selfies that I post ten times a day.
Oh, and the contests are usually hours away.
Really? Waking up at five…
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A beautiful little response
A Summer Dream’s Winter
It’s dark and cold on the beach. The ground shifts under my feet, which is usually a scary thought, but right now, it can only bring comfort. The wind howls from the gulf and a chill is sent through out my body. Though the moon is full, its light is hidden behind the grey clouds. Dust slithers around me like a snake and disappears into the vast wet void before me. I see lights in the far distance that bring in travelers or goods from who knows where. I sit and breathe in the strange, yet wonderful smell of the marine area. Closing my eyes, I feel the momentary peace that even pain cannot steal. A summer…
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Another short sad story. I like how it circles back to the idea of the piano it gives it a complete feeling. The writing is simple and polished making it easy and enjoyable to read.
“You never play anymore, you just sit there,” I told my dad one afternoon as the light fell on the black and white keys and his unwavering hands. He seemed lost in thought as always and kept his eyes fixed on his fingers. I recalled how the music notes would fill our home from early morning before we were ready to go to school. It was the sound of the keys and the smell of the coffee that made our home what it was.
And now, the sound ceased to exist.
It was three months ago when my mother passed away so suddenly. It was a calm night in March when I heard her being rushed down the stairs with my dad. I came out of my room with my headphones on my shoulders not knowing what was going on. She had on her light…
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I like the way they weave the story in such a poetic form.
Hey y’all! This is a response to Dragonition’s Writing Challenge #1. I hope you guys will enjoy it!
Link to original post
As we dance on the old, worn grey carpet, his eyes beam
Brighter in contrast to their deep dark pools.
Color floods my cheeks as he pulls me closer, our silent
Dance more intimate. I love it, him and the dancing. I close my eyes,
Embracing our last moment of silence together. He will never know.
Far into the distance the sirens wail close. I begin to
Gather my thoughts and pull back. My dark haired love sighs.
“How is it,” he starts, ” that every good moment between us,
Izzy, comes to an abrupt end? Come on; let’s just run to
Jayblu. They won’t find us there and we can live – “
“Knowing that we abandoned everyone and the rebellion.
Love, you know just…
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‘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.
‘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.
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.
An interesting story
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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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.
It is hard to represent the image of our imagination.
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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This is such a sweet story.
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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Great story. I like the details both of the moment and the flashes of the past.
Source: Writing Prompt #348
She somehow finds the last of her energy and launches herself up and at him with the knife. She could taste the familiar metallic tang in her mouth and knew that her lip was bleeding. It barely healed before this episode. It was a daily ritual for him as he enters the house and immediately loses his mind. It wasn’t anything important or drastic this time. It was that his dinner was a bit cold.
The reason was never really important or drastic. The children are still awake. The lights in the kitchen were on. Her friend called during dinnertime. All ridiculous reasons.
But this time, when she felt her head bang on the table again, it was as if something or someone possessed her. She could feel her eyes swelling and her lip burst open but she didn’t cry again. This time was different. She…
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This is such a nice story in response to Image Writing Prompt #29. It just make me feel happy reading it. DJ and Ella have such a lovely relationship. Here is the link to Teara’s story:
Well written response to capture his feeling.
Source: Writing Prompt #308
It was just an urge that he’d acted on, he’d punched the window and now he was standing in a pool of shards. He was looking for any other feeling besides the feeling of emptiness that has consumed him for years now. This was not a good day for him; he had better days when he felt like he had some control over his life. But today was different, today was just black.
He woke up this morning with emptiness around him. The feeling of grief consuming him even though he didn’t lose any loved one. The pit of his stomach seemed so heavy, his heart felt burdened, and his breathing stressed. All these feelings even though he had a good night sleep. He felt afraid, no, he felt very afraid to get out of bed. He felt the ground was filled with demons, red hot…
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This is such a lovely story in response to my prompt, I’m glad you gave it a happy ending.
(writing prompt #304.https://purpldragon.wordpress.com/2017/09/14/writing-prompt-304/)
Source: Writing Prompt #304
He watched through the window as his mother tucked his half-sister in bed and kiss his step father goodnight, then he turned and vanished into the night. It was a daily ritual for Tom since he ran away from his father’s house six months ago. His father was an alcoholic who, in his opinion, probably didn’t even realize he wasn’t around. He was living bad days and worse nights when his father would come back from the bar and wake Tom up from his sleep just to start beating him. One night, Tom decided it was enough, he was going to go live with his mother instead.
His mother always wanted him in her life. She never gave him up, on the contrary she fought hard to gain custody of Tom but it was all because Tom’s dad knew how to best beat…
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Writing Challenge #24: Start with a single word for example dragon and write it in the middle of your page. Then write words that you associate with your word (dragon) around it with lines connecting back to the word (dragon) such as fire, flying, and scales. Then do the same for each of those words.
Writing Challenge #23: Describe a single object using only one sense per paragraph.
Writing Challenge #22: Write a four part/paragraph short story or poem. For your first paragraph write in a fantasy genre, in the second write in a science fiction genre, in the third write in a thriller genre and in the last write in a romance genre.
Writing Challenge #21: Write from the perspective of a character who is not central to the plot or who is not the main hero. For example the side kick or the friend of the character that everything is happening to.
Writing Challenge #20: Write a short story or poem in second person.
Writing Challenge #19: Write the final scene then work backward to where it all began.
Writing Challenge #18: Write about where you are without using what you see only use your other four senses to describe where you are.
Writing Prompt #230: He glanced at her but wasn’t quick enough to catch the glare she shot his way.
Writing Prompt #229: She took up the whole table with her maps but if they were going to find the treasure they had to do it properly and without getting lost.
Writing Prompt #228: The clock struck midday and the pigeons resting on the clock tower took off with a clatter of wings.
Writing Prompt #227: Learning to read minds accurately took longer than he expected but he was starting to get the hang of it.
Writing Prompt #226: She should have dealt with the boy sooner before he grew up to be such a huge problem.
Writing Prompt #225: The most likely place to find most people was at their home but with him it was the library or the running track.
Writing Prompt #224: She looked up at the five story graffiti covered walls of the laneway wondering if she could scale them and escape.
Writing Challenge #17: Write a short sentence, now rearrange it as many ways as you can to change the meaning. For example:
Jack and Jill went up the hill.
Up the hill went Jack and Jill.
Jack went up the hill and Jill…
Writing Prompt #223: He turned on the lights when he heard the strange noise, he wondered why people didn’t try it more often on TV.
Writing Prompt #222: She couldn’t understand how anyone could sleep in such a noisy house, someone was always awake playing music.
Writing Prompt #221: He sat down at the piano and just played to the empty room for hours.
Writing Prompt #220: Her laptop came alive, walking towards her on spindly metal legs.
Writing Prompt #219: He looked around at the mess in his room realising he would never get it clean.
Writing Prompt #218: The house creaks with every gust of wind and every movement of the people inside.
Writing Prompt #217: Her breathing was slow and steady like she was asleep but he couldn’t wake her up.
Writing Challenge #16: Pick two random chapters from any book or books. Use the first sentence of one chapter to begin your story or poem and the last sentence from the other chapter to end your story or poem.
Writing Prompt #216: She shivered but not from cold, something wasn’t right in this house.
Writing Prompt #215: He feels the knife sink into his calf just below his knee and his leg give way, then the pain hits him.
Writing Prompt #214: All she can hear is the deep breathing of the sleeping beast.
Writing Prompt #213: He can see it’s a list but he can’t read it, he wishes he paid more attention in school when he had the chance.
Writing Prompt #212: Days pass and she’s still not back from her mission, he tries not to worry, she always comes back.
Writing Prompt #211: The carpet was threadbare and the paint was cracked but the place had potential.
Writing Prompt #210: He peeked quickly around the corner but the tunnel was deserted.
Writing Challenge #15: Choose a stranger you saw recently and write a story or poem from their point of view.