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
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.
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.
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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I love the ambiguity of the monster although it seems less a monster and more a wise being.
Source: Writing Prompt #350
She floated above the freezing lake waiting for the monster to reveal itself. The cold air fluttered around her like pigeons. She sighed, breathing warmth into her cold hands. A little ripple barely noticed was all that she needed to smile. He’s come, she thought to herself.
She turned to her right just as the monster’s head gently surfaced. His blue skin was sleek with water dripping down, his green eyes glittering with the reflection of the mountains around. Sarah, is it time? It said in husky voice.
- yes, my dear. It is finally time
- And are you certain that you’ve made the right decision? Is this the right way forward?
- Yes, I am certain. I have thought of this long and hard. I cannot bear to think what could happen lest I stay.
No answer, the sound of silence was calming. She looked at the…
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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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An interesting response Time to decode.
“What do these symbols mean?”
“There are three basic principles of communicating information that I know –letters and words exert a pull on the other, choices are gradually narrowed down to end speculation, and the final elimination of other alternatives.”
“What is your final message?”
“Words have become redundant. It is possible to communicate through symbols. Language is dead.”
“What are you trying to say? We work in a research lab, and write several papers and reports.”
“Unfortunately, not in the same era.”
“There are some numbers on the last page to denote a date. It says 3050.”
The ending of Pyramids is very good and well done with the 52 word challenge that isn’t easy.
‘Do you remember when we lived down there?’
‘Not really it was too long ago.’
‘Then you’re lucky.’
“What is that memory which pains you?”
“It is embalmed and bandaged, and preserved in a pyramid.”
“Why does that pain you?”
“You and I were sworn enemies, and you lie next to me.”
Here is the link. Yes it was ironic and perhaps a fitting end.
He sat on the rail of the bridge watching the people cross, waiting for his next victim.
He didn’t know that he was being watched, followed from the second he stepped out of his house. He didn’t realize that there is someone who wanted to prove his methods were not up to par, not meticulous enough. He didn’t know that during his last attack, the single slip up was the reason he was now hunted.
Once a hunter, now hunted.
Hunted because he let the girl scratch his face and the police found the evidence of his DNA underneath her fingernails.
And now, he was no longer part of the group. No longer welcomed.
Watching, he was being watched. Planning, his death was being planned, schemed.
The next day, newspapers read “the Bridge Serial Killer was Found Dead Beneath the Bridge.”
‘What are you?’ I asked.
‘An angel,’ he said, ‘I guess that’s what you would call me.’
I stared at me dubiously. He had bright blue hair, and was covered in intricate Celtic-knot tattoos. He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. His wings were huge and white the feathers gleamed in the moonlight.
‘Nice tats,’ I said at last.
He glanced down at his arm, ‘Thanks,’ he said after a pause.
‘What are you doing down here?’ I asked.
‘I fell…’ he said.
‘What did you do?’ I asked.
‘I fell in love with you,’ he said.
‘But we just met,’ I said.
‘But I was watching over you,’ he said.
Then he stepped forward and kissed me. I went to pull back in surprise and then let myself melt into the kiss. His arms went around my waist and I felt his wings enfold us in our own private cacoon. He pulled away for a second and I sighed contentedly.
‘So was it because you fell for a human or a man?’ I asked.
‘Because you are human,’ he said, ‘we are not to love any of you more than the rest.’
‘So gender has nothing to do with it?’ I asked.
‘No and it’s never been a problem,’ he said, ‘humans always like to make up random shit that should be deemed sinful.’
‘You swore,’ I said incredulous.
‘Yeah so,’ he said, ‘I already fell didn’t I.’
We both laughed.
There was a knock at my door.
‘Coming Darling,’ I called.
I opened the door to find two police men standing dripping on my doorstep.
‘Mrs Hess?’ the older one asked.
‘Yes, I was expecting my husband,’ I said, ‘what is this about?’
‘May we come in?’ asked the older of the two.
‘Yes would you like a drink,’ I said politely, ‘what is this about?’
‘I think you should sit down,’ said the younger.
I sat down.
‘We are sorry to inform you that your husband is dead, his car ran off the cliff,’ said the older.
‘No your wrong he can’t have,’ I said.
‘Is this your husband?’ asked the older showing me his driver’s licence in an evidence bag.
‘Yes,’ I said starting to cry.
They stood awkwardly watching me.
‘I shouldn’t have made him go out in this weather,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t have asked him to get me soup.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said the older one.
I knew it was but I wasn’t going to tell anyone what I’d done.
‘Do you know how it happened,’ I sniffed and grabbed a tissue.
‘A truck swung onto the wrong side of the road and he swerved off the road to avoid it,’ he said.
‘I shouldn’t have asked for the soup,’ I started crying again.
What I really shouldn’t have done, what I hadn’t needed to do was sabotage the brakes, the ironic thing was he would have died tonight anyway in this random accident. The younger policeman patted my hand sympathetically while the older went to make us some tea.
The echidna waddled peacefully through the grass nosing under fallen branches and bark for insects. A larger creature skidded on rocks and loose earth and it instinctively dove for cover under a rock only leaving its spiny back exposed. It hadn’t bothered to see that made the noise just knew instinctively to find shelter before something decided to scoop it up and eat it. It waited for silence to resume then slowly extricated itself from under the rock and wandered off. It was completely unaware of the still and silent presence looming over it.
Kay peered down through the skylight at the family sitting around the table. The youngest a boy reached for the bread and one of the older girls pulled it away responding to the mother’s command. She couldn’t see a father the boys were all too young. She looked closer. The children didn’t seem at all alike but half resembled the mother in some feature. They must have different fathers she decided and they all must have left. Then the kitchen door opened. The children jumped up to great the woman who walked in, their other mother Kay realised. Kay could now see the woman’s resemblance to the other children. Kay smiled down at the family she should have known better than to assume.
The fog drifted around her. She could barely make out the trees around her or even her feet. She walked carefully knowing if she stepped off the path and into the swamp it could swallow her in seconds if she was lucky or drag her slowly down centimetre by terrifying centimetre as she struggled to free herself. She felt for the next stone with her left foot. As a child she’d been able to run along these hidden paths with her eyes shut but she hadn’t been home in years. She had never wanted to come back but now she was, one careful step at a time. She had to warn them and she was the only one who could that still cared enough.
The clouds hung grey and heavy over the hill dotted haphazardly with houses. Their size varied from tiny units to massive eight bedroom, two story giants. Trees mottled the remaining space forming green organic blobs among the red square rooves. A bird sat on a TV antenna occasionally letting out a chirp calling to the other birds. Then it took off with a clatter of feathered wings. Sief held on tight to its neck feathers. If she fell her own wings were probably still not strong enough to save her from this height, even if it was only one story. The bird finally landed. Sief quickly slid to the ground. The bird ruffled its feathers and took off again. She looked up through the broccoli leaves to watch it fly away.
Wind hissed past my ears as I ran downhill. Sticks and gravel skidded under my feet occasionally. I had to check my pace as I hurtled past trees. If I tripped they would catch me. I hadn’t seen them but I could hear them behind me their panting an echo of mine. They called for me to stop. There was no way I was stopping not with a ghost chasing me. I didn’t dare glance back at the shadowy figure. I had nearly caught up to my friends. I yelled at them to run. Then I was in the middle of them. They grabbed me asking what was wrong spinning me around.
‘Ghost,’ I panted pulling at them to run with me.
I couldn’t see them but I could hear them around the corner panting and feet slipping. Then just as my friends were starting to run the girl rounded the corner.
‘Wait,’ she panted, ‘your phone.’
We all stopped and looked back at her and my friends looked at me with looks that asked seriously that’s your ghost.
‘Thanks,’ I took my phone from her, ‘I thought you were a ghost, I’m sorry I ran.’
She smiled at me and vanished.
The pattern on the floor tiles made me dizzy. The floor looked as if it was made of dips and mounds instead of being perfectly flat. I tried not to look at it, since every time I did it made me stumble. It was difficult not to look when everything was reflected in the mirrored walls. I looked around for the door but it was reflected everywhere. Finally I spotted it and made a dash for it and tripped on a real dip in the floor. I cursed the illusionist architect who created the room and their infuriating sense of humour.
‘Really you find the great big creepy spider cute?’ I asked.
‘Yeah isn’t she adorable,’ said Jodi.
‘No,’ I shuddered.
She picked it up. It ran up her arm and down the front of her shirt. She picked it up in her hands and held it out to me.
‘Want to hold her?’ she asked.
‘No thanks,’ I said.
‘She’s harmless,’ she said.
‘Yeah well I still don’t want to hold her,’ I said.
‘Ow,’ she exclaimed, ‘she nipped me.’
‘Totally harmless,’ I laughed.
‘Shut up,’ she said putting her spider back in her tank, ‘she’s not poisonous to humans, I’m fine.’
I followed the footprints in the snow. I didn’t have any other option. I was a city girl lost in the forest and my last memory was of a bag being pulled over my head.
The footprints stopped at the stairs leading up to the log cabin. My hand shook as I knocked on the door. An old woman opened it.
‘Please I need help,’ I said though chattering teeth.
‘I was wondering if you’d turn up,’ she smiled, ‘they said you fell out of the truck, they’ve been searching for hours.’
I turned to run but she was faster and stronger, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.
When you tell someone you have a dragon and they tell everyone. Everyone thinks you’re crazy.
Walking into school I could feel everyone staring. My dragon coiled its tail around my neck so tight I could barely breathe. I knew no one else could see it.
At lunch I sat alone under a tree. Rob sat down beside me. I glanced over at him. He twitched and rubbed his ear.
‘I can’t see your dragon but I believe you when you say it’s there,’ he said, ‘I have a goblin, it drives me crazy.’
We smiled at each other and my dragon licked my nose.
Christine Lucas wrote a very intriguing expanstion of my story fragment the lovers you should check out her blog here Christine Lucas.
The wind ruffled his hair. She liked how it sent his fringe tumbling over his eyes. This would be the last time she saw him looking like this, strong, handsome, his skin glowing with the last rays of a dramatic sunset. As if sensing her gaze he turned to face her. Sadness tinged his eyes. ‘Are you having doubts?’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Though it is a long way down and the river fast flowing.’
‘It is, but we are together. That’s all that matters.’ He reached for her hand. Their shoulders touched as they sat on the railing of a bridge. They looked down at the raging river below them. The breeze smelled sweetly of honeysuckle. ‘Scared?’
‘A little,’ she tried to look nonchalant, swinging her bare legs over the gorge.
‘We don’t have to jump you know.’
‘But you’ll think I’m a coward.’
‘No I won’t,’ he…
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They sat holding hands on the rail of the bridge bare legs swinging.
‘Should we jump?’
‘I don’t know it’s a long way down.’
‘Other people have done it.’
‘We don’t have to.’
‘Will you think I’m a coward?’
‘No just the sensible person I fell in love with.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘Let’s do it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes I trust you.’
Together they slide down so their feet were on the bridge and their arms still on the railing. Then still holding hands they jump into misty air and fell towards the river.
This is a fictional short story fragment.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a bird. To fly everywhere and see the world from above. People think birds a free but really they are just confined by different boundaries than we are. We are confined by these fences and the guards with guns but even before we were here we weren’t free. That’s what we were trying to fight for but now I see freedom is all relative. You can only be free if you think you are. Maybe that’s what people are talking about then they say the birds a free. The birds just don’t know where their freedom ends yet.
This is a fictional short story fragment.
Here is a responnse to one of my prompts by nombredelapluma. Please go check out their blog.
https://purpldragon.wordpress.com/ gave a prompt and I am responding to it with this. I suppose it’s been done before, but here’s my take on the story:
Writing Prompt # 19 It wasn’t her fault her brother was a klutz and pulled her down the hill with him when he fell.
Jack. Jill. He was an idiot, a showboat, playing up there on the edge, and she grabbed his hand to steady him when he went off balance and started to fall. He pulled her over and she immediately went to her tumbling mode, recovering quick. He continued to fall, believing this was the end. He had just purchased, and begun drinking, his bottle from the soft purple cloth sack. She practically dove after her idiot brother, to slow his descent, but even with her efforts, the bottle was shattered. At least Jack didn’t die. This was just the latest of his…
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