Prompt: 2 characters team up to solve a problem. Torin put his hand on his helmet as the car jostled them in the back of it. They were packed in like sardines, but it did nothing to keep out the freezing cold. Their breath froze in front of their faces, and they all moved around, trying to generate enough heat to keep them from freezing to death in the frozen tundra of Russia. The Russianfront. Where they had all been sent to die. Their vehicle ran over something, sending the group bumping around, hitting their heads. A gun went off in the chaos. Torin took a deep breath, catching a whiff of the blood. Hans. Hans had been shot. The stench of blood was overwhelming. That wasn’t a good thing. That meant that he was losing too much, too quickly. Torin felt his mouth water. It was good, strong, healthy blood. The blood of a child, really. The best kind of blood. Untainted. He longed to drink it up, and yet felt guilty for thinking such a terrible thing. Hans was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die. Not like this. But the blood smelled so good. “Don’t even think about it,” Elias put his arm on Torin’s shoulder to keep him from going forward. Torin looked properly shamed and looked down at his feet. Elias was right. He shouldn’t even be thinking such things. “Hans,” a solider cried, trying to wake his friend, but everyone on the convoy knew that he was gone and there was no coming back. Not even Torin would be able to save Hans now. There was another jostle and the entire vehicle flew into the air, and sent everyone flying. Torin could feel his ears ringing as he opened his eyes. He could hear the sounds of his team whimpering or screaming in pain. He could smell all the blood that had been spilled. Could smell the death around him. He took a deeper sniff, searching for the smell of Elias. As soon as he caught whiff of Elias’ blood, he made his way to his friend’s side. Elias’ eyes were open, but glazed with pain as he gritted his teeth in pain. If Elias had any more energy, Torin knew that Elias would be screaming as the pain flooded through his body making it nearly impossible for him to think, or move, or do anything but allow himself to die. And die he would. They both knew it. “Let me help you,” Torin begged, cradling Elias’ head in his arms and against his chest. “No,” Elias said, his voice so filled with pain that it ate away at Torin’s heart. Elias knew what Torin’s idea of help was. It would be to change him. To make him immortal. That was the only way to keep him alive at this point. Elias would rather die than have to live on like Torin. “No,” Elias gasped, “I don’t want to be immortal.” “But I can’t let you die,” Torin pled. Torin couldn’t help but think back to the moment he had been turned, in a similar manner as this was. He too had been dying. His best friend had cradled his head in his hands, holding Torin against his body like a child. He had begged to let him turn Torin, and Torin, being the young, reckless youth that he was, had agreed. He had figured anything was better than dying. At least if he was still alive he could continue to fight for the cause. He had been young and idealistic. He had wanted to continue to change the world. He had allowed his friend to change him, to turn him into what he was now. And now, watching his friend die in his arms the same way he almost had, he wasn’t sure which was worse. “I don’t want to be immortal. I don’t want to live like that. I don’t want to have to live with myself,” Elias explained with what little air he managed to find. Torin knew Elias had known how much Torin had suffered. Knowing what he knew now, Torin was sure that he would have made a different choice. Who wanted to live forever? Who wanted to deal with themselves and all their pain for forever, with no escape? “I want peace,” Elias said softly. Never had three words hit someone more profoundly. Peace. What was peace? Torin wasn’t sure he could answer that question. He wasn’t even sure he knew what peace was anymore. “For me?” Torin begged. Even as he asked, he knew that he didn’t want Elias to live forever for him. Torin didn’t want to force that on him, and have yet one more thing on his conscious. And he knew the answer. “Not even for you,” Elias confirmed. “What about your child?” Torin asked. While he didn’t want his friend to live forever for him, it was another thing for him to live for his child. Not even Brigitta knew about the baby, but Torin had smelled the child when they had last seen Brigitta, right before they got sent to this Hell hole. “I want my child to know that I died a hero.” With those words, the life left Elias’ body, and Torin was left holding the empty shell that used to house his friend.
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Prompt: You will never know. I will never show.
I thought I was over this. I thought the darkness, The pain, The sorrow, The nightmares, The anxiety and depression, Were gone. I thought I had won. But that darkness, The chills, The difficulty breathing The tears The nightmares They all came flooding back. As if they had been waiting And maybe they had. I hadn’t felt it in awhile. So foolishly, I thought I had won. But I hadn’t. That Hell was there, Waiting for me. And now I know, It always will be. But don’t worry. You will never know. Because I will never show. I’ll pick myself up Drag myself from the darkness And paste a smile on my face As if nothing ever happened. Even as it consumes me. This would have been a perfect time for me to add length to my Lancelot story, but I already did that one....and that one wasn't really calling to me. However, the story I wrote on yesterday really called out to me. This story really needs to be told. It's begging me to tell this story. So I am going to go for it. I'm telling this story.
Here's some updates on what I wrote yesterday, to make it flow more with the story that is being told. I hope you enjoy it. I will keep you posted with how this goes. Prompt: Take something you've posted before and edit it. Brecken pushed through the crowd, ignoring the vendors pleas to buy their wares. He wasn’t there to shop. He had a job to do. As he pushed through the milling throng, he placed a protective hand to his hip where his gun was located. His nerves vibrating with fear, Brecken finally got to the arranged spot. Now all he had to do was wait. His bosses had promised that the target would find him. They weren’t wrong. As the sun began to go down Brecken spotted the target. He was coming right for him. He took a deep breath and took cover, waiting for the target to come closer, just like they had planned. Brecken’s breath started to match the rhythm of the target’s footsteps, and Brecken was easily able to slowly count them. When he deemed the footsteps to be close enough, Brecken showed himself. “Give me your wallet or I’ll shoot,” Brecken said, pointing his gun at the man he had stopped. The gun was trembling slightly, and Brecken put his other hand under his hand holding the gun in order to steady it as he took deep breaths to calm himself down. “No,” Torin shook his head. Torin wasn’t the least bit concerned about the fact that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. This kid hardly looked old enough to be holding a gun, let alone know how to use it. Although, he knew enough to know that kids were wielding weapons younger and younger, and it was often the youth that were the ones to pull the triggers and were the ones who suffered the cost. And even if this kid was capable of shooting him, which Torin seriously doubted, based on the sweat popping up on his brow and the shaky hands, Torin was tired of it all. This wasn’t the first time and Torin had no reason to believe that this was going to be the last time someone pointed a gun at him. Staring down the barrel of a gun was getting rather tedious. “What do you mean no?” Brecken asked. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Brecken had been told that all he had to do was threaten the target and show off the gun and make sure that the target knew that Brecken had the capability to follow through on his threat. The target was supposed to agree, anything to avoid getting shot and killed. The target wasn’t supposed to tell Brecken to shoot him. Shooting a person was not in his job description. “I’m serious,” Brecken continued, hoping that his voice didn’t sound as shaky and uncertain to the target as it did to his own ears, “I will shoot you.” This was great, his first task that his bosses had given him and he was already screwing it up. He was terrible at this job. He wondered what would happen to him if he showed up to his bosses empty handed. “Let me repeat myself,” Torin said calmly as he watched Brecken squirm. It was a rather ridiculous sight. Instead of the person getting mugged sweating and stammering profusely and trying to gain some kind of control in this situation, the roles had been reversed and it was the mugger who was desperately trying to regain his composure and try to get a handle on this situation. Torin couldn’t help but have a small, smug smile. “Hello no,” Tonrin continued, that smug smile still planted on his face as he nearly roared with laughter. “Um,” Brecken looked around. No one was around. He didn’t have to shoot Torin. No one would know.He’d still have to find a way to get the wallet, but maybe they could work something out where he got the wallet and didn’t have to shoot the guy. “Okay, I guess,” Brecken started to lower his gun. “Aren’t you going to shoot me?” Torin asked. “I don’t know,” Brecken admitted. He was thrown off guard with Torin’s lack of care about what was going to happen, and Brecken needed a chance to re-evaluate his life and his decisions. “This has never happened before,” Brecken continued. “Well, until you do,” Torin said, hearing the gurgling of Brecken’s stomach, “Want to grab a bite to eat?” the growling grew louder, “I’m starving,” Torin threw out with a shrug. Brecken placed his gun back in the holster and nodded. He could go for some food. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for two days. He had been too nervous about this job to be able to eat much of anything, and now that it was over, his stomach was reminding him of the neglect he had put it through, and was refusing to be put through more. Torin strode toward a nearby cafe, not really caring if Brecken joined him or not. Brecken raced after Torin and the two of them entered the cafe together. “I’m Racaliff,” Torin said, using his middle name, as he often did in situations like this. It wasn’t wise to give people your first name. You never knew what they were going to use it for. “Branson,” Brecken said. He too had been told not to give the target his first name, although he wasn’t sure why, he had decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. The two of them found an empty table in the far corner where they wouldn’t be desturbed. They studied the menu for a moment before giving the waitress their order the first time she came to the table. “You aren’t much of a mugger,” Torin stated as they sat down and ordered their food. Brecken stayed silent. His first mugging and his target was telling him just how badly he had messed it all up. This was definitely a low point in his life. “Are you old enough to drink?” Torin asked out of the blue. “The ID in my wallet says that I am,” Brecken shrugged. Torin smiled and nodded. He had just been like Brecken when he was his age. He had gotten quite good at convincing people that he was older than he was, one of the benefits of his long life, and a necessary skill for someone who looked younger than they were. “I can work with that,” Torin gestured the waitress over to the table and ordered some drinks for the both of them. “Listen here, kid,” Torin said, chugging his entire drink in one go. Brecken grimaced as he too took a sip of his drink. The alcohol burned. Although he didn’t want to, he chugged the entirety of his drink as well, almost as if to prove to Torin, and maybe a little bit to himself, that he wasn’t just some screw up kid who couldn’t manage his job. “You’re playing with the big boys now,” Torin said, easily drinking down his drink as if it was nothing more than water. Brecken glowered at Torin. Torin may be old enough to drink, but he wasn’t THAT much older than Brecken himself, if Brecken was any judge of age. Torin couldn’t be older than 25, if he was that. Brecken had been sure that Torin was 19 when he first talked to him, which would make him younger than Brecken by a year. However, with recent events and the conversation, Brecken determined he may be young looking, but he had to be at least 21, but no more than 25 surely. “I’m not a child,” Brecken said, he could feel ire boiling up in his veins at Torin’s way of speaking, “i could have killed you back there no problem.” Torin nodded his head even though he didn’t believe a single word Brecken had said. There was no way that Brecken would have shot him. It was never going to happen. He didn’t have it in him to shoot someone, at least not yet, at any rate. However, with a little training and pointers in the right direction, Brecken might be just as good as his grandfather was, once upon a time. “You and I both know that that is not true,” Torin said softly, chugging another drink down in one go, “Now, whoever you’re working with is probably going to be seriously upset with you when they find out that you didn’t take the shot.” Yes, Torin knew that the mugging was just a front. Brecken’s bosses didn’t care about Torin’s wallet. They didn’t care about how much money he had or didn’t have. While Torin wasn’t sure which side the bosses were on, he knew that they either wanted to capture him to study him, or kill him. There was no inbetween. No gray area. Not this time. “I was just going to say that you gave me the wallet instead,” Brecke said with a shrug as he shoved his mouth with food. He was sure he could make some forgeries to make it look like it was really Torin’s wallet. After all, he was the best of the best when it came to forgeries. No one could forge anything quite as well as he could, especially when it came to official government documents like ID, birth certificates, death certificates and the like. Torin shook his head with a smile at just how naive Brecken was about the world he found himself in. Brecken honestly did believe that his bosses had just wanted a wallet. How sweet. How innocent. Yet how dangerously stupid. “They don’t want the wallet,” Torin explained, “They want me.” “No,” Brecken shook his head, “They don’t.” No. He wasn’t a killer. They knew that. They wouldn’t send him out on a mission like this, to kill someone. “If you really believe that,” Torin said, “Here,” he pulled out his wallet and tossed it over to Brecken, “Take it. Show your bosses that you got what they wanted. Tell them that you didn’t kill me. See what they say.” Brecken stared at Torin confused, however, Torin nodded encouragingly toward Brecken. Brecken had to figure out for himself what life was about. Torin wasn’t going to stand in his way, he knew Brecken wouldn’t listen. He was too much like his grandfather. Always having to do things his own way, he would have to stumble through this on his own or else he would never learn. Torin stared sadly at Brecken’s retreating back. Yes, Brecken had to figure it out on his own, but Torin would be right there when Brecken was ready. Chapter 2 Brecken flipped through the wallet as he headed toward headquarters. There wasn’t much in it. A credit card, a driver’s license, and a couple of bucks. Really not worth killing a person over. Brecken pulled out the driver’s license and examined it. It wasn’t real. Brecken could spot a fake a mile away, that’s what made him so good at forgeries. This driver’s license wasn’t the real deal. Brecken stared at it. Maybe that’s what his bosses wanted. The fake driver’s license. With a shrug, Brecken put the license back and walked into the warehouse. “I got it,” Brecken confirmed, waving the wallet about like he had won a prize. He was feeling rather smug that he managed to get the wallet without killing anyone. He had almost convinced himself that this Racaliff guy was just pulling his leg at the cafe and hadn’t meant anything by what he had said. “And the target?” one boss asked, staying in the darkness. “He handed me the wallet no problem,” Brecken placed the wallet on the platform in front of him, “So I let him go.” “You did what!” the boss to the right shrieked. He stormed up to Brecken and started punching him. “You weren’t supposed to let him go,” Brecken felt each word. “You were supposed to kill him!” a shot rang out, nicking Brecken in the leg. As he struggled to avoid getting hit by one boss, he looked up at the boss with the gun. It was still smoking. Brecken wasn’t all too sure whether his getting hit was an accident or not, and he began to wonder if his boss cared. “You idiot!” another shot rang out, this time it hit Brecken in the shoulder. This time Brecken knew that this wasn’t an accident. They were purposefully firing at him. As Brecken crumpled under his wounds and the wrath of the boss that was still attacking him, he realized that Racaliff had been right. A guard grabbed Brecken by his injured elbow, causing Brecken to nearly black out with the pain. Brecken struggled as much as he could as the guard escorted him outside. He had a sinking feeling that if he let the guard take him anywhere he wasn’t going to see the light of day ever again, and in all likelihood, he wouldn’t be able to live to see the end of this day. Finding strength in the adrenaline pumping through him, Brecken knocked the guard to the ground and raced as quickly as he could off the compound. Although no one followed him, he didn’t doubt for a moment that soon people would be searching for him. Bruised, bleeding, and with no one else to help him, Brecken thought of the address on the driver’s license. Yes, the license was fake, but he was hoping that the address was real. Torin was his only hope. Brecken raced toward the address as quickly as he could. The activity made him weaker, but kept him from passing out. By the time he reached the address he was barely standing, and barely keeping himself from drifting off into the darkness of unconsciousness. With all his might, he pounded on the door, hoping to wake someone up, hoping that Torin was at that address. Torin’s eyes widened as he opened the door. Not so much in surprise at the fact that Brecken was there, he had anticipated that much, but at the fact that Brecken was so badly beaten. Brecken nearly lay in front of him, shivering, bleeding, and his dazed eyes were full of fear and pain. Torin grabbed Brecken as Brecken began to sway and fall forward. “You were right,” Brecken mumbled, “You were right.” Torin could see the evidence of his correctness written all over Brecken’s body. There was no need for him to be told just how right he was. “I’m sorry….” Brecken continued to mumble as Torin helped Brecken to the couch, “I didn’t know where else to go.” Torin leaned Brecken back on the couch and covered him up with a blanket as Brecken lost consciousness. With a heavy heart, Torin went about taking care of Brecken’s wounds, saving what blood he was able to manage for a rainy day. With Brecken taken care of, Torin kept vigil through the night. He wasn’t going to let Brecken die like Elias had. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Not again. Torin would do for Brecken what he couldn’t for Elias. That was his vow. This prompt is a bit on the long side, but I just started writing and things just started pouring out of me and I decided I would just go with it until I ran out of gas on it. So I did, and it kept getting longer and longer, but this is obviously a story that needed/wanted to be told. So, it is with great pleasure and pride that I introduce to you....Mugging Gone Wrong.
Prompt: “Give me your wallet or I’ll shoot.” / “No.” / “What do you mean no??? I”m serious, I will shoot you.” / “Let me repeat myself, hell no.” / “Um….okay I guess.” / “Aren’t you going to shoot me?” / “I don’t know, this has never happened before.” / “Well, until you do, wanna grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.” Brecken took a deep breath and waited for the target to come closer. Brecken’s breath matched the man’s footsteps, and Brecken counted them slowly. When the footsteps got close enough, Brecken showed himself. “Give me your wallet or I’ll shoot,” Brecken said, pointing his gun at the man he had stopped. “No,” Torin shook his head. Torin wasn’t the least bit concerned about the fact that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. This kid hardly looked old enough to be holding a gun, let alone know how to use it, and even if he was a professional mugger, it was hardly the first time, and Torin had no reason to believe that it was going to be the last time either. Staring down the barrel of a gun was getting rather tedious. “What do you mean no?” Brecken asked. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Brecken had been told that all he had to do was threaten the target, and show off the gun to make sure that the target knew that Brecken had the capability to follow through on his threat. The target was supposed to agree, anything to avoid getting shot and killed. The target wasn’t supposed to tell Brecken to shoot him. That wasn’t in the job description at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “I’m serious,” Brecken continued, hoping that his voice didn’t sound as shaky and uncertain to the target as it did to him, “I will shoot you.” This was great, his first task as a mugger and he already was screwing it up. He was terrible at this job. “Let me repeat myself,” Torin said calmly, watching Brecken squirm. It was rather a ridiculous sight. Instead of the person getting mugged sweating and stammering profusely and trying to keep control of the situation, the roles had been reversed and it was the mugger who was desperately trying to regain his composure and try to get a handle on this situation. Torin smiled smugly. “Hell no,” Torin continued, that smug smile still planted on his face as he nearly roared with laughter. “Um…..” Brecken looked around. No one was around. He didn’t have to shoot Torin. No one would know. He’d still have to find a way to get the money, but maybe they could work something out. “Okay, I guess,” Brecken started to lower his gun. “Aren’t you going to shoot me?” Torin asked. “I don’t know,” Brecken admitted. He was thrown off guard with Torin’s lack of care about what was going to happen, and Brecken needed a chance to re-evaluate his life and his decisions. “This has never happened before,” Brecken continued. “Well, until you do,” Torin said, his stomach growling, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since his afternoon snack, and he was starving, “Want to grab a bite to eat?” his stomach growled again, “I’m starving.” Brecken placed his gun back in the holster and nodded. He could go for some food. His stomach growled as well, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for two days. He had been too nervous about this job to be able to eat much of anything, and now that it was over, his stomach was reminding him of the neglect he had put it through. Torin strode toward a restaurant, not really caring if Brecken joined him or not. Torin had reached the end of the sidewalk by the time Brecken finally caught up with him and the two of them entered the restaurant together. “I’m Racaliff,” Torin said, using his middle name, as he often did in situations like this. It wasn’t wise to give people your first name. You never knew what they were going to use it for. “Branson,” Brecken said. He too had been told not to give first names out to anyone. “You aren’t much of a mugger,” Torin stated as they sat down and ordered their food. Brecken stayed silent. His first mugging and his target was telling him how badly he sucked at it. This definitely was a low point in his life. “Are you old enough to drink?” Torin continued, staring at Brecken. “The ID in my wallet says that I am,” Brecken shrugged. Torin smiled and nodded, “I can work with that.” He gestured the waitress over to the table and ordered some drinks for the both of them. “Listen here, kid,” Torin said, chugging his entire drink in one go. Brecken grimaced as he too took a sip. Alcohol burned. He didn’t want to, but he too chugged his entire drink, to prove to Torin, and maybe himself, that he wasn’t a ‘kid’. “You’re playing with the big boys now.” Brecken glowered at Torin. Torin may be old enough to drink, but he wasn’t THAT much older than Brecken himself, if Brecken was any judge. Torin couldn’t be older than 25, and that wasn’t THAT much older than 20. “I’m not a child,” Brecken said, “I could have killed you back there, no problem.” Torin nodded even though he didn’t believe a single word Brecken had said. There was no way that Brecken would have shot him. It was never going to happen. He didn’t have it in him to shoot someone, at least not yet, at any rate, but, with a little training and pointers in the right direction, Brecken could really make something of himself in the criminal circuit. “You and I both know that that is not true,” Torin said, chugging another drink down in one go, “Now, whoever you’re working with is probably going to be seriously upset with you when they find out that you didn’t take the shot.” Yes, Torin knew that the mugging was just a front. Anyone else would have shot him regardless of whether or not he had given them his wallet, because the wallet was of no importance to them. “I was just going to say that you gave me the wallet instead,” Brecken said with a shrug. He was sure he could make some forgeries to make it look like it was really Torin’s wallet. After all, he was the best of the best when it came to making forgeries. No one could forge anything quite as well as he could, especially when it came to official government documents like ID, birth certificates, and the like. Torin shook his head with a smile at just how naive Brecken was about the world he found himself in. Brecken honestly did believe that his ‘bosses’ had just wanted a wallet. How sweet. How innocent. How dangerously stupid. “They don’t want the wallet,” Torin said, “They want me.” “No,” Brecken shook his head, “They don’t.” No. He wasn’t a killer. They knew that. They wouldn’t send him out on a mission like this, to kill someone. “If you really believe that,” Torin said, “Here,” he pulled out his wallet and tossed it over to Brecken, “Take it. Show your bosses that you got what you wanted. Tell them that you didn’t kill me. See what they say.” Brecken stared at Torin confused. Torin nodded to Brecken encouragingly and Brecken stood up and walked out of the restaurant. “I got it,” Brecken said, returning to headquarters, waving the wallet about like a prize he had won. “And the target?” one boss asked. “He handed me the wallet no problem and I let him go,” Brecken shrugged. “You did what!” the other boss yelled, railing against Brecken. “You weren’t supposed to let him go!” more blows “You were supposed to kill him!” a shot rang out, nicking Brecken in the leg. “You idiot!” another shot, this time in Brecken’s shoulder. Brecken looked up at the bosses that were attacking him. Racaliff had been right. A guard grabbed Brecken by the elbow and pulled him up, leading him outside. Brecken struggled to break free. He had a sinking feeling that if he let the guard take him anywhere, he wasn’t going to see the light of day ever again, and most likely wouldn’t live to see the end of this one. Brecken knocked the guard to the ground and raced as quickly as he could off the compound. Bruised, bleeding, and with no one else to help him, he remembered the address on Torin’s ID and ran toward the address, hoping that he could find Torin there. Brecken pounded on the door frantically, his breath coming in gasps, as he glanced around, searching for someone to come out from the shadows and kill him. Torin opened the door. Torin’s eyes widened, not so much in surprise at the fact that Brecken was there, but at the fact that Brecken was so beaten. Brecken was shivering, bleeding, and his dazed eyes were full of fear and pain. Torin grabbed Brecken as Brecken began to sway and fall forward. “You were right,” Brecken mumbled, “You were right.” Torin could see the evidence of his correctness written all over Brecken’s body. There was no need for him to be told just how right he was. “I’m sorry…” Brecken continued as Torin guided him inside and onto the couch, “I didn’t know where else to go.” Torin leaned Brecken back on the couch and covered Brecken up with a blanket as Brecken lost consciousness. This phrase always makes me think of Gilmore Girls....I know, it's weird, but it does. Anyway, honestly when I saw this prompt all I could think about was that scene in Gilmore Girls (A Year In The Life) when they do the music video scene, with Rory and Logan and his friends and the top hats. So that scene just kept playing over and over in my head, and I couldn't think of anything else to write about, and that scene was already taken. So, I stopped thinking. I sat down at my computer and just started typing, and this is what happened.
I can't decide if I like it or not, but that's what came of this prompt so that's what I'm going with. You decide. Is it any good? Do you like it? Let me know. Prompt: Something wicked this way comes *Cue the evil music* *Cue the wicked witch cackling* ‘Something wicked this way comes.’ *Cue the ominous chanting* ‘Something wicked this way comes.’ *Cue the fog* *Cue the wind* *Cue the cloaked figures* ‘Something wicked this way comes.’ *Cue more chanting* ‘Something wicked this way comes. Something wicked this way comes. Something wicked this way comes.’ *Getting louder with each phrase* *The hooded figures reach out* ‘Something wicked this way comes.’ “Great and cut,” Anamaria says. The cameras go off. The fog disappears. The hooded figures remove their hoods and walk away. “Hello darling,” Fitzgerald smiles, giving Anamaria a kiss. Something wicked this way does really come. Such a sweet scene, so tender, but it hurts at the same time, because you know bad things happened in order for the character to feel that way, and feel that need. But I love it! Hope you do too.
Prompt: There is a reason why I go through that door first. It’s to make sure everyone else walks back out. “You don’t always have to go first,” Carrie put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, stopping him from blazing ahead of the group. Hunter turned and looked back at her. He wanted to run his finger over the creases in her brow, and erase all the worry that was etched there. Instead he placed his hand on her neck and put his forehead up against hers, hoping that the contact would somehow, magically fix all of her worry. “Aiden would be more than happy to blaze the way ahead,” Carrie whispered, staring at Hunter’s lips, they were the only thing that wasn’t too close to see correctly. “I know,” Hunter whispered back, “But there is a reason why I go through those doors first,” he paused for a moment, letting their breath mingle between the two of them, “It’s to make sure everyone else walks back out,” he finished. “You don’t always have to be the hero,” Carrie whispered, holding onto Hunter’s shirt, and bringing him even closer to her, if that was possible, “You can let other people take the lead.” Hunter’s breath caught in his throat at the thought. He wasn’t sure if he could do that. It wasn’t who he was. “I know,” Carrie said softly, “I know. You have to do this.” Hunter breathed a sigh of relief. “Just,” she grabbed Hunter’s shirt tighter as he began to pull away from her, “Be careful.” “Of course,” Hunter nodded. Hunter began to pull away again, but Carrie stopped him again. “Kiss me,” she said softly, “Please? For luck?” Hunter obliged. A little less romantic than I had originally thought that this prompt would be...I was thinking maybe a proposal or something, but it didn't quite work out like that. So you get this instead :p.
Prompt: A single lily, a cliff, three hours It had taken us an hour and a half to climb up this cliff. As we reached the top, I sunk onto a nearby boulder, trying to catch my breath while Blake went off to who knew where. When I finally got my breath back, I walked to the edge of the cliff and looked over the edge. The ocean was storming below me. Even the anger of the ocean was calming. I stared down at the stormy water, letting my mind wander. As the wind picked up, I wrapped my arms tighter around my in order to ward off the chill, but it did little to help. I glanced around, looking for Blake who had the backpack where I had stowed a sweater just in case I had gotten chilly. He was nowhere to be found. I glanced down at my watch. Half an hour. He had been gone for half an hour. Where could he possibly be?Freezing to the point of distraction, I wandered off to find him. “Blake!” I shouted, “Blake where are you?” Nothing but the wind. “Blake!” I called again. This time I listened harder, trying to hear something, anything that would give me a clue as to Blake’s location. “Blake!” A noise. It sounded like a groan. Someone was in pain. Blake! I rushed to the sound. It was coming from over the cliff. As I looked down, I saw a little ledge where Blake’s body was laying, a single lily on his chest. From my vantage point, he looked dead. My heart hammered in my chest. “Blake!” I shouted, making my way carefully down to the ledge. “Brooks?” he asked softly. “I’m here,” I said, taking his hand, “What were you doing?” “I wanted to give you this,” he slowly and with what appeared to be a great effort, handed me the lily in his hands, “I was reaching for it, and I slipped and fell down the side of the cliff and onto the ledge.” I examined him. It looked like he had broken at least one of his legs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if both of them were broken. “We need to get you off the ledge,” I said. We heard a groaning sound, like the sound of the earth splitting apart from more earth. With wide eyes, we stared at each other. The ledge wasn’t going to hold up much longer. “Go,” Blake ordered. “Not without you,” I said. “I can’t climb the ledge. I won’t be able to make it. I’ll only slow you down. You need to go. Now!” The groaning came again. The ledge couldn’t hold both of our weight. Maybe if I got off the ledge it would give me enough time to find a way to get him off the ledge as well. I quickly made my way up the cliff. As I reached the top, the ledge gave way, sending Blake tumbling into the angry water below. Prompt: She hated her birthday. Each year it reminded her of the fact that she was there because the outside world had rejected her.
Evelyn stared out the window, her red hair made her look like her head was on fire, but did nothing to overshadow the wretched birthmark that marred her otherwise perfectly innocent and childlike face. "I have something for you Evelyn," Harper said quietly, drawing Evelyn's stare away from the window. Although Evelyn was technically a superior, there were only three of them in the household, and so formalities were allowed to slide as long as Evelyn's relatives weren't visiting, which happened with less frequency than a solar eclipse. Evelyn picked up the package that Harper was hefting into the room. It was a present. Of course it was. A birthday present. For her 15 birthday. The day that she was considered to 'come of age'. Not that Evelyn really went in much for birthdays. In fact, she hated her birthdays. Each year her parents would send some kind of trinket, usually with little to no thought about whether or not it was something Evelyn would want or need, with a hastily scribbled note wishing her a 'Happy Birthday,' and 'Wishing her well until they saw her again.' It was a token gesture with no meaning or love. Evelyn was willing to bet that they only remembered to send the package off because her sisters, Harper, and/or Cook reminded them that they had another daughter off in no man's land and they needed to at least pretend that they cared, even if it was just on her birthday. Evelyn knew that her sisters, Harper, and Cook all meant well. They wanted her to be able to celebrate a happy birthday, and enjoy the day of her birth. However, it just served to remind her that her parents had rejected her. They had sent her to no man's land because they didn't want to see her, because they didn't know how to deal with her. They hadn't wanted her, and the farce of a present just reminded her, every year, of that fact. So Evelyn hated her birthdays, because they always reminded her that she was here because her parents, and the entire outside world had rejected her. This was Saturday's prompt, and I told you that I had cut it short because it was getting rather long and if you wanted the longer version to reach out to me and I would get it to you. Well, your wish is my command :). So here is the longer version of Saturday's prompt.
Which do you like better? “I wish Lancelot was real,” Andrea sighed as she hugged the book to her chest. “I don’t,” Laylanie scoffed, “What fun would that be? No, I want to be in his story instead.” Andrea and Laylanie fell against the bed with a dreamy sigh, dreaming of how wonderful it would be if they could be a part of Lancelot’s life, and go on daring adventures with him, and get to live in Camelot. It would be a grand experience. The two of them fell asleep and dreamed of the brave and handsome Lancelot coming and sweeping them off onto the adventures that he had taken, keeping them safe from harm. In the early morning hours of the morning, they heard a loud crash and the sound of banging metal and someone whispering. “What’s going on?” Andrea asked, jerking awake and shaking Laylanie until she too was awake. “What?” Laylanie yawned, not particularly happy at being woken up at three in the morning. “Sh,” Andrea shushed as the noise came once again. “What is that?” Laylanie asked. Andrea shook her head to say that she didn’t know, and the two of them headed down the stairs to see what was going on. Laylanie, finding a bat on the way down the stairs, took it with her in order to attack the intruder who had come into the house, while Andrea just needed to push the call button for 911 if she needed to. There was a man in shining armor looking a little more than lost, in the kitchen. Andrea and Laylanie stared at the man as he tried to figure out where he was, then they glanced at each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. ‘Is that who I think it is?’ Laylanie asked with her eyebrows. ‘I think so,’ Andrea shrugged one shoulder. ‘How?’ Andrea just shook her head. She had no answers for that one. “Lancelot?” Laylanie asked, gathering up the courage to speak to the strange man. “M’lady,” Lancelot swept off his helmet and bowed to them, not seeming in the least bit startled by their presence there, “How…” as he straightened and saw the two girls standing there, all of his decorum flew out the window. “You’re Lancelot?” Andrea asked, her eyes bugging out of her head as she stared at him, star struck. “Yes, M’lady,” Lancelot bowed again, “Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?” “New Jersey,” Laylanie said. “New Jersey?” Lancelot swallowed. He tried not to look terrified or confused out of his mind, he was a knight after all, and knights weren’t scared, they weren’t confused. They were strong and noble and weren’t scared of a place called New Jersey. “Yeah,” Andrea sighed. “It was found by the Europeans long after your time,” Laylanie said. Lancelot’s eyes continued to bulge as he tried to figure out what had just happened to him. The last thing he remembered was standing in the middle of Stonehenge when suddenly he was standing in this odd place with two ladies who were dressed in the oddest way. It couldn’t quite be appropriate. Lancelot, not used to such dressed women, had no idea where to keep his eyes, so he kept them lowered on the ground, for respect to them. “What are you doing here?” Andrea finally got over her star struck-ness and was able to speak once more. “I do not know,” Lancelot explained. “What’s the last thing that you remember?” Laylanie asked. Lancelot explained that he had just received word of the Round Table and he was on his way to meet King Arthur. He had gone to Stonehenge in order to seek guidance. “We have to get you back to England!” Laylanie exclaimed. “But why?” Andrea asked, turning to look at her friend like she was crazy. They had just been talking about how much they wanted Lancelot to be real. They had wanted this, and now Laylanie wanted to send him back? No, Andrea wanted to keep him for as long as possible. “If he doesn’t go back to England then he doesn’t meet Arthur. He doesn’t meet Guinevere. None of the story happens! He has to go back.” “Maybe it would be better if he didn’t go back,” Andrea said, thinking about the stories that she knew of Lancelot. As much as she adored Lancelot, his presence wasn’t exactly a good thing, at least for Arthur and Camelot and the whole survival of what Arthur was trying to accomplish in Camelot. Maybe it would be better if Lancelot didn’t find his way back to England, and stayed with them instead. Laylanie turned Andrea so they were looking at each other head on, “He HAS to go back.” “But you know what happens if he goes back. Things would be so much better if he didn’t go,” Andrea said softly, keeping her voice down so that Lancelot wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying. “It doesn’t matter,” Laylanie said, “It’s his story, and he has to go through with it. We don’t know what will happen if he doesn’t go. What if something terrible happens, something even worse, because he wasn’t there to play his part?” “How could it get much worse?” Andrea asked, “It’s already pretty terrible. Camelot totally dies, how can you get worse than that?” Laylanie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She honestly had no idea how it could get worse, but she knew that, as much as she wanted Lancelot to stay, he couldn’t stay there. He had to go back to England. He had to go home. Somehow, they had to get him back to Camelot and let him finish his story. “We’re going to try and get you back home,” Laylanie said instead, turning to Lancelot, “But we can’t do anything until morning comes, so why don’t you rest here tonight and we’ll figure it out when the sun comes up?” No one slept really well that night. Andrea was too excited about having Lancelot in her house. Laylanie was worried about how to get Lancelot back home. Lancelot was too confused and frightened about his situation to want to close his eyes. “Okay,” Laylanie said the next morning at breakfast, “We’re going to fly to England and go to Stonehenge. People say it’s a magical place, and we have the best chance of getting him home if we go there.” “He can’t fly on a plane wearing that,” Andrea gestured to Lancelot’s outfit. “You’re right,” Laylanie said, rushing to her feet and grabbing her boyfriend’s flannel pajamas off the bed. It was the only thing they had that might possibly fit him. “He can’t wear that,” Andrea complained. “We don’t have another option,” Laylanie handed Lancelot the flannel pajamas, and Lancelot curiously took them, “I hope that Stonehenge works,” Laylanie sighed as Lancelot went to change. “I guess I do too,” Andrea said. Lancelot deserved to live his story, and quite frankly, even with how his story ended, maybe he would be happier in his own story. At least in his story, he lives on forever through the legend. At least in his story, he wasn’t scared, not really. At least he knew his story. This world wasn’t anything like his world, and it wasn’t fair to keep him in this world. Given the opportunity, Andrea would much rather be in his story too. No one wanted to be in this story. “What am I wearing?” Lancelot asked as he stepped back into the living room wearing the flannel pajamas that he had been given. “It’s called flannel,” Laylanie explained, “It’s all we have right now.” “Why can’t I just stay in my armor?” “Because we can’t get through security if you are wearing armor.” “Security?” “Yeah, for the plane,” Andrea stated. Lancelot looked like he had just been sentenced to hang and had no idea what his crime was, or what a noose was. “It’ll be a lot easier to show you,” Andrea shook her head and grabbed Lancelot’s arm. The trio made their way to Laylanie’s waiting car. “I’m not getting into that contraption,” Lancelot shook his head, “I’m not going to die like that.” “It’s perfectly safe,” Andrea encouraged. They could tell by the look on Lancelot’s face that he didn’t believe them in the slightest. “Oh come one,” Laylanie said, pushing Lancelot into the car, “We don’t have time for this. Our flight leaves soon.” As Laylanie weaved through traffic, Lancelot stared wide eyed at everything that was rushing past him. As they got out of the car at the airport, Lancelot wobbled. “Are you alright?” Andrea asked, steading Lancelot. “Carsick?” Laylanie looked almost guilty at the thought that she had made Lancelot sick. Lancelot had no words, and had no idea what this ‘carsick’ thing was that they were talking about, so he simply nodded his head. They knew better than he what he had. After a moment of letting Lancelot get his bearings, they were racing him through a crowded building. He could hear the sounds of strange bells going off. Everyone was dressed so strangely. What kind of place had he been brought to? And how in Merlin’s beard did he get himself back to Camelot? Andrea and Laylanie lead Lancelot through the security and onto a waiting airplane. He kept his eyes shut and gripped the armrest the entire time. “Okay,” Laylanie finally said when they reached Stonehenge. Lancelot breathed a sigh of relief. At least something was the same. At least Stonehenge still existed. “According to my research,” Laylanie said, referring to her internet articles she had managed to read while Andrea kept Lancelot from accidentally killing himself or someone else, “You need to walk between those two rocks,” she pointed, “And the two of us,” she looked to Andrea, “Have to wish really hard for him to go back.” Andrea and Laylanie closed their eyes to focus their wishes as Lancelot did as he was told. The wind picked up and there was a cracking sound. When Andrea and Laylanie opened their eyes they were once again in their bedroom, reading Lancelot’s story. The two girls looked at each other. “Did that really happen?” Andrea asked. Laylanie picked up the book they had just been reading and flipped through it. In it was a new story. A story where Lancelot had disappeared for several days while heading to the Round Table. When he reappeared, he was wearing strange clothing and had a strange story to tell. Everyone thought he was mad. Which lead to him and Guenivere not ending up together. Lancelot fell for the nurse who helped him during his ‘madness’ and Arthur and Guenivere lived happily ever after. Camelot sadly went to ruin when Arthur died and no one else could rule as he had ruled. “Looks like it did,” Laylanie said, passing the book over to Andrea so she could read it. “I guess he could have stayed after all,” Andrea pouted, “Looks like things turned out pretty good for him.” “But, would it have turned out good if he had stayed? The nurse was in his time, a place he knew and understood, do you really think he would be happy here in this time and place?” Andrea thought. Probably not, she admitted, but there would always be a part of her that would always wonder. Maybe that was the curse of humans. The questioning. Always wondering, what if, what would happen, always wanting to be somewhere they weren’t, always wanting to be a part of a story that wasn’t theirs. Prompt: A character downloads a new app, but something unexpected happens…..
Lorraine was two seconds away from throwing her history book across the room and storming away without a second glance. Why was history so confusing and complicated? Who could remember everything that happened such a long time ago? A text alert notified her to just the kind of distraction she needed. Her phone. It was always useful. After responding to her friend, she played around on her phone, trying to do anything but her school work. As she was searching through apps, she found a history one. It was perfect. ‘Makes you feel like you were there,’ it promised. ‘Guarantee to help you remember all those pesky details,’ another one said. It was just what she needed. The fact that it was free was just icing on the cake. She quickly downloaded it. She couldn’t wait to get started on it. Maybe it was just the thing that she needed in order to pass her history class. As she clicked on the button to launch the app, she felt herself being tugged into the computer screen. Her room faded away, and she was watching a joust. One more click and she was watching Anne Bolyn get beheaded. History was literally at her fingertips with just a click of a button. |
Skye BallantyneI am very excited to welcome you to my blog! Hope you enjoy! Categories |