Sentenced to Writing

This pocket story was inspired by the song Heart of a Hero by Club Danger. Grieg crept carefully through the darkness of the forest, taking care not to crunch even the smallest of leaves under his shoes. The moon hid itself in the sky, refusing to cast a mere glimmer of light through the foliage.  Sounds from ahead stopped Grieg in his tracks. He paused, frozen like a deer before flight. He listened. Someone from the large group ahead had crashed into something. The clank of metal on metal echoed through the still forest. They must be continuing on. So close! They are so close!  he thought excitedly.  Not daring to move quickly and risk giving away his position, he followed the group, just another dark shadow passing in the dark. His adrenaline heightened his senses. His racing heart thudded loudly in his ears, pressing frantically against his chest like a caged beast intent on escaping. Taking a short moment he closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing. A...

Prompt: You wake up with an irresistible drive to roam the woods in search of … something. You run out in your pajamas but soon you no longer need them. Taking to the sky with blue-black feathers, you soar overhead until you see one like you. He’s waiting. Crick threw off her covers, stifled in the oppressive heat of her bedroom. Her skin was sweat soaked, her shorts clung to her legs and her wet pajama shirt stuck to her chest. The air felt dead and heavy. She needed to move. Her windows were rusted shut with no hope of cracking them open to let in the cool night air. Instead she rushed out of her room, her baggy pajama shirt catching on the doorknob. “Really, door? Let me go.” She untangled her shirt, acquiring another hole in the already tattered shirt. Her parents’ room was at the end of the hallway. To get to the front door she’d have to sneak past their open door. They weren’t light sleepers by any means, but the floor in front of their room creaked. She suspected they did ...

Prompt: Humorous adventure 500 words. Your character is a chicken. Cross the road. We meet again , the chicken thought as it stared at the asphalt that stretched endlessly in either direction. This forbidden path had been the bane of the chicken’s existence, a promise of good things to come while at the same time being a harbinger of certain death. Many had come before and none had successfully passed to the elusive victory … the other side. What lived over there, no one could say. All anyone knew was that life would be better, if only you could avoid the metal monster guards that randomly paced along the asphalt’s length.  But today was a new day, and the chicken was fully prepared. It fluffed its feathers, gave its wings an experimental flap, and shook out each leg. It was now or never, the chicken could not face its flock if it gave up now. Give me victory or give me death. A metal guard chose that moment to speed past, the wind from their passing knocking the chicken head over ...

Prompt: Character has two consecutive dreams come true and then has a nightmare. Shandra woke in terror, the light from the double moons giving minor relief to the darkness of the forest. She’d tossed and turned all night, cinching her bedroll blanket into a suffocating cocoon around her sweat-soaked body. Panic rose as she struggled to get free, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Corban, but needing the coolness of the air on her skin to calm her racing heart. She succeeded in throwing off her blanket, the night air caressing her skin, mocking her with its breath. The darkness knew what was coming, it had to.  "You okay?” Corban was awake.  Her voice shook, “They’re coming for us Corban, and before the day dies, they will have us.”  Shandra jumped as Corban’s warm hand touched her shoulder. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a nightmare?” “My dreams have been coming true , Corban. The last two nights my dreams have come true . Last month I had three dreams in a row come t...

Prompt: People say that dragons aren't real, but I know better. People say that dragons aren’t real, but I know better. Dragons are just hard to see, unless you know where to look for them.  Can you imagine how irritating it would be if a bunch of tiny creatures started screaming every time they saw you? Or tried to stab you with their stupid little sticks? Or tried to take away all the shiny items you spent decades collecting? It would be frightfully frustrating.  No, dragons are still around, they just found the perfect little hidey-holes to stash themselves in. See, I know because there is a dragon living under my bed. His name is Maverick, or at least, that’s what I call him. Since he hasn’t corrected me I’ve just assumed that he likes it.  He spends his days lolling about, snatching up all the shiny things that end up on the floor. He’s quick about it too. Once I dropped my favorite blue marble, and before it could hit the floor, his scaley paw whipped out and caught...

Recently I joined a website called Reedsy. Every week they have a short story competition. They give several prompt options, you write 1,000 - 3,000 words, and then you submit it to possibly win $50.  This last week I finally decided to participate and the prompt I chose to use was:  Start your story with two characters watching a sunrise and end it with one of them seeing the moon reflecting off a lake. Check out my submission here:  Changed in the Dark

Prompt: Write about a person who meets with the ghost of an old friend for tea every so often. Shep hiked his rucksack further up his back and started the five mile walk to the abandoned cabin, set deep in the Briscoln Wood. He couldn't remember when he'd first come upon the cabin, which was more like a glorified shack, held together by sheer force of nature. He did remember how shocked he'd felt when he'd found out it was haunted though. He reached his destination just as the sun sunk below the tree line, giving the cabin a foreboding air. He wasn't worried though. The cabin may have been haunted, but he knew the haunter and how much they disliked the "others" disturbing their guests. The cabin was in shambles and squirrels darted out of their hidey-holes as Shep made himself comfortable. The only set of furniture that was usable was a little table with two rickety chairs. He busied himself with setting the table with the battered tea set from his rucksac...

Prompt: Her skin was carved with scars that someone else earned. The crowd watched breathlessly. The princess held the sword easily in her grip. The worthy soldier kneeling before her bowed his head respectfully. With only a slight hesitation she began to speak the words of the ritual. "With this sword and with my power I proclaim thee a Guardian of the realm." Her voice grew louder and the sword began to glow a fierce white. "From this day hence you shall protect our royal person, til death takes us both." A hint of orange began to color the light from the sword. "Should you betray the trust bestowed upon you," the sword's light change to an impenetrable darkness, "the only life that shall be forfeit is your own." As she tapped the sword to both of his shoulders, the sword ceased glowing, and the princess' voice returned to her normal volume. "Rise my Guardian and take your rightful place at my side." The new Guardian r...

Prompt: Your character hears a language they’ve never heard before now, yet they speak it fluently. Turns out, they’re not from where they think. Kayla walked home from school with her identical twin, Marci, by her side. They walked perfectly in sync, feeling comfort in each other’s presence. Junior year had been hard enough being in all separate classes, but now their parents were going to send them to different summer camps. As they neared their home, Marci broke the silence. “You’ve still got that burner phone, right? The one Tracy snuck from her dad’s store?” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. If I left it at home Mom would sniff it out in like three minutes.” “Good, I don’t think I’d survive all summer not getting to talk to you.” “Where’d you get a phone from?” Kayla asked. They’d been figuring out this communication plan for weeks. Their parent monitored everything they did, and some things teenage girls didn’t want their parents to know about. “John’s going to give me one...

Your character is standing in front of a wall. How do they get over it? What’s on the other side? The wall stretched towards the clouds, the top unseeable from the ground. Giant slabs of smooth granite were fitted so tightly together that the edges were seamless. She put her hand on the cool stone and looked behind her. “I’m supposed to do what now?” She asked. His lips turned up in a smirk, “You must cross to the other side of the wall.” She stomped her foot, “And how am I supposed to do that? Do you see this wall,” she pointed dramatically, “there are no footholds, nothing to help me get over this wall. And it goes for miles! It’s not like there is a gate conveniently waiting for me.” The winged being rolled his eyes in impatience. The masculine voice responded, “Stalling will not help you, child.” “Oh, you quit that. You have wings. As you can very well see, I have nothing of the sort to get me over that wall.” “Quit yammering at me, and cross to the other side of the wall. There ar...

 Prompt: Write about a character whose solution to every problem is to run. “Why do you always run from your problems?” I yelled.  Nothing I said made Ren stop his feverish packing, he just yelled back as he stuffed random things into his duffle bag.  “Some things you can’t face and live, so I’m running and you should run with me.” “I don’t even know what you’re running from!” I tried to block his way to the next room and make him talk to me.  He dropped his bag and put both of his large hands on my shoulders. “Ryah, love of my life, the best thing to ever happen to me, I need you to move.” I gave in and stepped aside. He rushed past and started pulling clothes out of the drawers, flinging loose things all over the place.  He spoke as he grabbed, “I’ve been running from this man for fifteen years and I can’t afford to stop now.” “But why do you have to run?” “ We have to run Ryah. If he knows that you’re important to me, he’s going to do things to you and I won...

Prompt: Use the following characters in a scene: a floating skull, a headless man, an apparition. Darkness was just beginning to descend upon the sleepy town, signaling to the supernatural creatures that it was safe to leave their havens, for the humans were at last abed. Dale poked his head around the corner of the cemetery, his body-less head bobbing gently with the breeze. Mark and Steve hadn’t arrived yet. He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Come on, fools, there are places we need to be,” he grumbled to himself. A ghostly apparition appeared right in front of Dale. “AH!” Dale screamed. “Mark! Stop doing that to me. I know you can control it, so stop popping up when I’m not expecting you.” The misty being just shrugged, a smile barely visible on the faded face. “Do you know when Steve’s going to show up? We’ve got places to be.” Dale asked Mark the Apparition. Mark just shrugged again. Dale floated up until he was higher than the cemetery walls. There were plenty of creatures about...

Use the following items in a story: Six-pointed star, egg (opening action of some sort), Pendant/Necklace/Amulet, Crown (male version) Sparklies glittered everywhere the Dark One looked. Each nook and cranny of the interior of the giant oak tree held a priceless treasure. Each treasure stolen from those who did not see the worth of what they had. The Dark One would give each piece the attention it deserved. The golden, six-pointed star shown in the fading light from the entryway. “Sheriff” was printed on the front. The Dark One snatched it from the molding body of a fallen officer of the law, took it, in the dark of the night, hours before the body was found by the townspeople. It held a place of honor, the center of the stash. Stacked neatly on the tippy top of the teetering tower of tokens.  The star was held up by a silver crown that once graced the head of nobility passing through the Dark One’s territory on their way to somewhere grand and glorious. The noble was mu...

Create a scene where two friends are taking a walk outside. They begin flirting and realize they like each other.   “What did you think of Mr. Chelsy’s new haircut?” Chad asked as he hiked his backpack further up on his shoulders. “Ugh, that mullet?” Amanda answered, disgusted. “Those went out of style like thirty years ago. What sane person would let someone do that to them? It should be a war crime.” She had one hand keeping her purse from swinging around and the other swung lazily by her side, helping her stay balanced as they walked down the uneven sidewalk. Chad chuckled as he dropped his hands to his side, “I know right?” They walked in easily silence until they reached the next stoplight. They both looked at the signals, the crosswalk they needed still said “Don’t Walk”.  Amanda leaned slightly off the curb to look further down the street. “I don’t see any cars.” They waited a few more minutes and the lights still hadn’t changed. Chad looked down at her, ...

Use the following five words in a story: Cactus, Cauldron, Rain Cloud, Octopus/Kraken, Cave Simone wiped the sweat from her forehead as she stirred the contents of the cauldron clockwise for two more strokes. Her potion would be ruined if an unintended ingredient got added at this point. Revenge was specific and would only be had if everything was added in perfect timing. She’d already added ten spines from a wilted cactus, twin tails from an albino salamander, twenty drops of eel blood, and a witch’s tear. All that was left was the kraken tentacle; added slowly in pieces cut in precise squares. As she added each piece she thought of the magnificent creature that had been willing to part with one of its legs. She had found the poor things wedged tightly between rocks during low-tide. It had been struggling to free itself for hours and was exhausted, baking in the sun. Using her magic, she freed the beast and helped guide it to her home in the cliff caves. The trek was dangerous to...

In any other mission, she would have been grateful for the natural cover, but tonight it made her uneasy.  If she could hide, so could her enemies. Breaking into the royal treasury wasn’t difficult. The guards were sloppy and paid more attention to their wineskins than they did their surroundings. They hadn’t even noticed when the first shift never returned, they just took their places and paced from habit. Who would be stupid enough to rob the royal treasury, they probably thought.There were five checkpoints and countless guards between the entrance and the loot. And I passed by them all, Salitha thought as she clung to the rafters, high above the heads of the lazy guards dawdling below. The sticky tar on her fingers and toes kept her from slipping, but it left its mark on the beams she used, a trail leading from the outermost window to her present hiding place. I can’t believe this is working, she thought. She had been trying for months to make it to the treasury. Flirting ...

I started these writing prompt/short stories to help me get into the writing mood. This one kind of took off on me so it is quite a bit longer than my others so far. Enjoy! I heard the call as I scrubbed the floors below deck. Pirates had been sighted, and laden as we were with so much cargo, outrunning the fleet vessel wasn't likely. I couldn't afford to abandon my post, the whip marks from the morning still open and tender. I'd only missed one spot in my scrubbing to earn that punishment. Then the captain had poured all waste bins on the floor and made me scrub it clean again. There was still a quarter of the deck left before I could dare to take a break to relieve myself.  The tell-tale crack of a whip made me flinch, even though it wasn't near me, but the sound came through the wooden planks above my head. Captain and the first mate were fond of that whip, and as equally unfond of me. The money I had given them to allow me to board this ship only held their re...