The Beggar’s Coins response to Image Writing Prompt #179

I love the way you created such a good sense of place in such a short piece. In response to Image Writing Prompt #179

Let Me Tell You the Story of...

On Sundays, I respond to a writing prompt that I enjoy.  This week, I chose the dragonition image prompt #179.  The image creeped me out (contained an antique doll), so I’m not including it this time, but the prompt words included in the story are bolded.  Because I read Longtails and reviewed it earlier, I wrote this from the perspective of human-like mice.  It may or may not be a fanfiction…

“Alms for the poor?”

I jumped when the beggar, ears ragged and fur matted with the filth of the city streets, tugged on my cloak.  Without thinking about it, my hand reached for the short-sword on my hilt, but I let the blade rest in its leather scabbard.  “I don’t carry coin I don’t intend to use for myself,” I said.  “The Church of Screel will gladly give you sup, if you’d find your way there.”

The…

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The Raven Man response to Writing Prompt #541

I like the twist in this story in response to writing prompt #541.

EluminoraCreations

https://purpldragon.wordpress.com/2018/05/12/writing-prompt-541/

When the rack of bells jingled behind him, signaling that someone had entered the shop, Zeke didn’t look around. Business usually picked up on Friday afternoons as people realized the random parts they needed for their home improvement attempts. A steady stream of people had been flowing through the shop since about lunchtime. That was four hours ago now, and the hum of conversation and the occasional dissatisfied customer had faded to the background of Zeke’s consciousness. With every flick of his knife against the wood, a sliver of his problems seemed to fall away. By now, with the head of the raven steadily forming under his blade, he wasn’t worrying. When the shop fell silent, and when that silence cracked with his mother’s yelp of horror, he took him a moment or two to return to the present.

“I understand that you sell many things here, Mrs. Hammer.”…

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The Last and Most Special Snowflake (response to Writing Prompt #151)

A response to Image Writing Prompt #151. I like the light hearted tone of the dialogue that contrasts with the underlying darker environmental theme.

Let Me Tell You the Story of...

This week, I chose the prompt presented on Dragonition.  The prompt was a photo with a set of dialogue, and in this case I put the prompt in bold.  Because the prompt was pure dialogue, I chose to continue by writing only in dialogue.  I must also admit that the darkness in Carrie Ann Golden’s Extinction Event probably helped me set the tone here.  Thanks to all on WordPress who serve as inspiration to me!

‘You said there would be snow.’

‘There’s a bit.’

‘What, that tiny pile?’

‘I didn’t say how much.’

‘I can’t do anything with that.’

‘Add some sugar and make a snowcone.’

‘Gross.’

‘Did you come over here just to complain?  This is the last snow you’ll ever see, and you’re just going to grumble about it?’

‘Other people have snow machines.’

‘The weather’s never going to get this cold again.  Look, my snow’s…

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A Bother of Wings (Response to Image Writing Prompt #146)

I love this story it is so adorable. I love the focalisation on the dogs so you get the feeling it is from their perspective.

Darkness response to Writing Prompt #349

A story exploring the fear of darkness with a creepy twist at the end justifying the fear.

Response to Writing Prompt #349

Fear that he would outlive …. (Response to Writing Prompt #427)

I think this is such an interesting character to explore.

via Fear that he would outlive ….

The Curse (Response to Image Writing Prompt #71)

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

Dancing Nymphs (Response to Image Writing Prompt #50)

via Dancing Nymphs

A mystical story in response to Image Writing Prompt #50.

Writing Challenge Response #4 – A Speck of Dust

I love this it is interesting perspective to write from.

Underwater

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.

Writing Challenge #2 – A Summer Dream’s Winter

A beautiful little response

The Piano

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.

Bedoor Bluemoon

via Image Writing Prompt #43

“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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Writing Challenge #1 Response – Rebellious Sacrifice

I like the way they weave the story in such a poetic form.

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.

https://bedoorbluemoon.com/2017/12/01/eyes/

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)

This is such a sweet story.

https://bedoorbluemoon.com/2017/11/29/the-gift/

Bedoor Bluemoon

Image 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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The Freezing Lake (Response to Writing Prompt #350)

I love the ambiguity of the monster although it seems less a monster and more a wise being.

Bedoor Bluemoon

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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You Will Pay (Response to Writing Prompt #348)

Great story. I like the details both of the moment and the flashes of the past.

Bedoor Bluemoon

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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Response to Image Writing Prompt #29

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:

https://tearasakuramori.wordpress.com/2017/10/01/image-writing-prompt-29/comment-page-1/#comment-340

Emptiness (Response to Writing Prompt #308)

Well written response to capture his feeling.

Bedoor Bluemoon

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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The Lost Boy (response to Writing Prompt #304)

This is such a lovely story in response to my prompt, I’m glad you gave it a happy ending.

Bedoor Bluemoon

(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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“Burning The Evidence” (Image Writing Prompt #27 — Dragonition) (Response)

This is such a great response, a very amusing read.

Scott Blackstone

“We should burn the evidence” Eretemis offered, hanging the offending object over the fire to emphasize his point.  Perfectly serious, he tried to seek out an answer in Valen’s face, the question in his eyes rather than his words.

“The evidence?” Valen snorted, rolling his eyes and swiftly freeing the whiskey bottle from Eerie’s grasp. “You can burn as many bottle as you want, and the evidence will still be inescapable.”  Though his slur wasn’t nearly a match for his friend’s, Valen’s voice carried all the signs of a man well into his cups. He blamed 18+ years of being sober for that.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not at all drunk.” Eerie’s attempt at enunciation came across as a drunk father trying to teach his son to read, only cementing Valen’s opinion. He didn’t seem to realize this, however, and tipped a new bottle back to his lips, frowning…

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Time to decode (response to Writing Prompt #281)

An interesting response Time to decode.

Pyramids (response to Image Writing Prompt #25)

The ending of Pyramids is very good and well done with the 52 word challenge that isn’t easy.

The Bridge (response to Writing Prompt #240)

Here is the link. Yes it was ironic and perhaps a fitting end.

Bedoor Bluemoon

Writing prompt 240

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.”
How ironic.

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Fundamentals (response to Writing Prompt #237)

Lovely story I look forward to reading more the link is here.

Writing Challenge #24

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

Writing Challenge #23: Describe a single object using only one sense per paragraph.

Writing Challenge #22

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

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

Writing Challenge #20: Write a short story or poem in second person.

Writing Challenge #19

Writing Challenge #19: Write the final scene then work backward to where it all began.

Writing Challenge #18

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

Writing Prompt #230: He glanced at her but wasn’t quick enough to catch the glare she shot his way.

Writing Prompt #229

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

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

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

Writing Prompt #226: She should have dealt with the boy sooner before he grew up to be such a huge problem.

Writing Prompt #225

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

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

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

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

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

Writing Prompt #221: He sat down at the piano and just played to the empty room for hours.

Writing Prompt #220

Writing Prompt #220: Her laptop came alive, walking towards her on spindly metal legs.

Writing Prompt #219

Writing Prompt #219: He looked around at the mess in his room realising he would never get it clean.

Writing Prompt #218

Writing Prompt #218: The house creaks with every gust of wind and every movement of the people inside.