I wish you a happy and safe new year!!!
Prompt: Different time. Different empire. Same graveyard. Chileana stared at the cold rock slab that now marked where Hunter had been laid to rest, looking at the name, as if she hadn’t read that name over and over again over the years, as if she hadn’t learned how to create letters by tracing her fingers over his name. Her heart still ached for the loss of Hunter…her precious Unter. Chileana looked over at Hunter’s father’s gravestone. The two of them now slept side by side forever. They had died at different times, lived in different empires. Yet here they were, buried in the same graveyard. No matter how much time passed, no matter how many empires came and went, the graveyard would stay the same. The pain would stay the same. And one day, in a different time, with a new empire on the horizon, she too would find herself here, in this graveyard, right next to Unter, to be together in death.
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Prompt: “New year, new me,” he said, raising a glass in his empty apartment. The door flew open on the twelfth chime.
Prompt: I walk down memory lane because I love running into you. He sat down at the table, surrounded by pictures of her. In a drunken state, he traced the picture of her face. She was so beautiful. So wonderful. With the pictures he strolled down memory lane, basking in the bliss that was his memories of her. He loved those moments. He loved walking down memory lane, because it was the only place that he could run into her, and he loved running into her. He loved seeing her, talking with her, being with her. As the time approached midnight he poured himself another glass and raised it to his empty apartment. “New year,” he muttered, “New me.” That’s what they always said. It was an overdone saying. Nobody really changed much with the new year. They may say they would. They may say that they would be better, would do better, but they never really did. No matter how much they pretended, no matter how much they hyped up the fact that this year would be different, each year was always the same. As the clock struck twelve, the door flew open and a man blustered in, looking just as confused as Tyler at what was happening. Tyler looked down at his drink. He must have made it a lot stronger than he thought he had. That was the only explanation he had for seeing someone who looked exactly like him, only sober and less of a mess, standing right in front of him. “Put that down!” the man ordered, “Don’t drink that!” Another man came blustering in behind the put together man. “Oh let him be,” he slurred, “He’s miserable. He deserves a drink.” “He’ll turn into you,” the put together man said, looking at the other man in disgust, “Constantly in and out of jail because he goes on drinking binges and then stalks his old girlfriend and threatens the man she’s with, to the point that the poor dude ended up fighting for his life. Next time you could kill the man. Do you want to live with that on your conscious?” he turned to look at Tyler. “Who are you?” Tyler asked. “We’re you,” the put together Tyler said, “The new year, new you Tyler.” “Which one?” Tyler asked. He couldn’t be both of them. That much he knew. “That all depends on the choices you make,” the put together Tyler said, “And what you want to do with that drink.” He looked at the drink in Tyler’s hand. Tyler glanced down at it, slowly got to his feet and poured it down the sink. ‘New year, new me,’ he thought as the liquid slipped away. Prompt: The queen took up her crown, wiped the blood off its points, and took her place on the throne that was rightfully hers.
Sasha stared numbly at the ground. After she had been dragged away from Aiden’s body she had almost turned to a statue. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. Her brain couldn’t process anything. She was stuck in a void that she couldn’t break out of even if she wanted to. Felicia picked up Sasha’s crown and wiped the blood off its points. She placed the crown on Sasha’s head. With the crown on Sasha’s head, Felicia led her up to the empty throne and helped her take the throne that was rightfully hers. welcome back!!! I hope you enjoyed your Christmas (or holiday that you celebrate) and are ready to jump back into it!
Prompt: If I die, will you let them go? Carrie winced as the knife dug deeper into her neck, causing blood to start dripping from the hole it created, staining the neck of her shirt. Felicia’s face was nearly unrecognizable through the bruising. Hunter could tell from the way she was holding herself and with her shallowing breathing that she had a few broken ribs. Allen and Aiden had been tied together, with Aiden leaning his unconscious body heavily against Allen’s back, causing Allen to have to lean in a position that looked far from comfortable. Saralee gently stroked James’ hair as he struggled to keep breathing as the wound in his stomach began to steal the life from him. Jesse was subtly trying to untie her hands from behind her back, but with her dislocated shoulder, it was a slow and painful process. “Don’t,” Carrie said softly, more mouthing the word than actually speaking. She tried to shake her head, but the knife kept her from doing more than a slight jiggle of her head. Hunter’s gut clenched as more blood seeped out of the wound as the knife nicked Carrie’s neck once again. Hunter looked over at his friends again, and saw all the pain they were in, all the pain that this man had caused, all the pain that Hunter could put an end to. Hunter looked at Carrie, his eyes trying to convey that he had heard her, and he was sorry, but he couldn’t. It was something he had to do. “If I die,” Hunter said, tearing his eyes away from Carrie’s. “Hunter,” she said softly. Hunter didn’t have to look at her to know that there were tears in her eyes. He couldn’t think about that. Not now. He had a mission to accomplish. “Will you let them go?” Hunter continued. The man with the knife at Carrie’s neck looked at Hunter and smiled and nodded his head. He nodded to his men, and they began to swarm around Hunter. “No!” Carrie cried, struggling against the man’s grasp, causing the knife to nick her once again, “Hunter!” She managed to break free from the man’s grasp and raced over to Hunter, falling into his arms and clinging to his neck. He grabbed hold of her, embracing her momentarily. “It’s okay,” he said. “No,” she shook her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he said again. He kissed the top of her head and pushed her away. He would have to do this. To save them all. Prompt: “Christmas, Schmistmas.” / “You bite your tongue!”
Prompt: Mistletoe kisses “Oooh,” everyone gasped as they looked over at Peggy and Marcus. They had walked into the room at the same time and had found themselves standing right under a mistletoe. Peggy’s cheeks flooded with heat as she glanced embarrassedly over at Marcus. She had always wanted a mistletoe kiss. She had always imagined how romantic it would be to have the love of her life kiss her under the mistletoe. It was almost as romantic as kissing in the new year with someone she loved. Those kisses always seemed to be the most romantic kisses, and she wanted that. However, she wasn’t going to get it with Marcus. And she didn’t want it with Marcus…..at least she thought she didn’t. She looked at Marcus. She had never realized how attractive he was before. She even liked the stubble on his chin, a look she never before thought she would enjoy. She liked her men clean shaven, not scraggly and unkept, but Marcus seemed to pull it off as naturally and as easily as if the look had been made for him. Peggy shook her head. She couldn’t be thinking this. She shouldn’t be thinking this. No. She wasn’t. Not really. It was just the whole Christmas magic, mistletoe kiss romance that was getting to her. She was letting herself get carried away with the magical romance of it all, when it was nothing more than a silly tradition, and there would be nothing magical about kissing Marcus. “You two have to kiss,” Anya ordered. The rest of the group agreed. “No,” Marcus shook his head. “Come on,” Jared urged. “It’s Christmas,” Anya said, as if that would change Marcus’ mind and he would give in. “Christmas Schmistmas,” Marcus said with a shrug. “It’s tradition,” Donny coerced. “Tradition is just peer pressure from dead people,” Marcus said. Peggy shook her head as she rolled her eyes. Marcus always said that. At first it had annoyed her, but now it was part of his charm. She shook her head again. No, she couldn’t be thinking like that. Not now. Not ever. “Did you know you are under a mistletoe?” the big don asked as he came up behind Peggy and Marcus. Peggy jumped and let out a screech, but Marcus, ever his put together self didn’t seem the least bit phased by his boss’ sudden appearance. “Did you kiss her?” the big don asked. Before Marcus could respond, the rest of the group responded for him, confirming that Marcus had not, in fact carried through with the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. “Well, what are you waiting for?” the big don asked. Suddenly, Marcus’ unflappable demeanor changed, and he looked nervous and uncomfortable. If he could, he would dig himself into a ditch and never come out. Marcus looked over as if begging Peggy for some help out of this situation. If it had been just the group, Peggy would have helped him out, she might not have wanted to, but she would have gotten him off the hook somehow. However, her boss was there now, and there was no way she was going to go against what her boss said. He could have her killed for doing something like that, and she wasn’t going to stick her neck out and risk what could happen because a simple mistletoe kiss made Marcus a little uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, Marcus stepped closer to Peggy. He put his hand on her neck and gently turned her so they were facing each other. Then slowly, gently he brought his lips towards hers and kissed her. Tentatively, nervously at first, as if this was his first time kissing a girl. Peggy had never thought a kiss from Marcus would be so light, so tender, so nervous. It made Peggy’s toes curl in delight. As his confidence returned, he kissed her even more deeply, and Peggy melted. It was a magical mistletoe kiss. Prompt: An unexpected assassin, a fish stick, and the beach
The little old lady glanced up from her book and stared at the water lapping against the sand of the beach. A young, athletic man came jogging along the waterfront. The little old lady smiled and struggled to her feet. The young man, noticing the lady’s struggle, jogged to her side, hoping to help her to her feet. “Here,” he said, not even out of breath from his running, “Let me help you with that.” “Why thank you young man,” she said as he helped her to her feet. “No problem,” he said with a shrug. With her securely on her feet, he was about to get back to his run, but she stopped him in his tracks. “Let me buy you some fish sticks for your trouble,” she said. “Oh no,” he shook his head, “It’s alright. It was no trouble at all.” “Oh come on,” the lady begged, “You wouldn’t deny an old lady the pleasure of eating fish sticks with such a nice young man, would you?” Although the young man clearly wanted to get back to his run, he relented and allowed the little old lady to take him to the vendor that was selling fish sticks. As they walked, the old lady’s cane hit the young man’s shin, making him wince. “Oh dear me,” she said, “I’m so sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” he winced, rubbing his shin with grimace, “It’s fine.” Suddenly, he started feeling woozy and lightheaded. In an instant he was on the ground, foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. As the life left his body, the lady straightened up and strolled to her car. Mission accomplished. Prompt: “Don’t you just love Christmas time!” breaks out into song. ‘Frosty the snow man…’” / “Melted.”
Peggy pulled a pan from the oven and began to frost another one. Marco walked into the kitchen, his eyes widening at the sight of a grown woman wearing an elf outfit, decorating cookies. “Don’t you just love Christmas time?” Peggy smiled at him, not pausing in her cookie decorations. She couldn’t help the song from bubbling out of her and she began to sing. “Frosty the snow man,” she began. “Melted,” Marco said. He grabbed a cookie, bit off the head and walked out of the room. Prompt: “Why are all of the cookies on the floor?”
Gemma walked into the room, the floor made an odd crunching sound as she walked on it and she looked down at the ground. Cookies littered the floor. All of her cookies. Her precious cookies. The cookies she had thought she had hidden in case of emergencies. “Why are all the cookies on the floor?” she asked as Jenica walked into the room, seemingly unperturbed by the cookies on the floor. “I don’t know,” Jenica said with a shrug of her shoulders, “I think Anna and Henry were doing something in the kitchen.” They were always doing something weird. Littering the floor with cookies wasn’t any more shocking than some of the things they had done. “Why are all the cookies on the floor?” Gemma asked again when Anna and Henry came into the room after hearing their names. “Well see,” Anna giggled. “Santa came early and wanted some cookies, and because he was eating cookies, his elves wanted some and so did the reindeer and they made a big mess,” Henry finished explaining. Gemma rolled her eyes. She liked them better when they hated each other. Today is a double prompt that I think work really well together.
Prompt: One character hates the holidays the other loves them. Even though they’ve only just met they have to prove to the other that they are right! Prompt: “You know, the idea of Santa Claus is pretty messed up. It’s a fat man who breaks into your house with presents made by tiny people who know if you’re bad or good. How do they know?” / “You’re ruining Christmas for me. Stop.” Peggy danced into the house, decked out like the perfect little Santa’s elf. She had decorations filling her arms and the rest of her car as well. She was ready to decorate the house in full Christmas cheer. She was going to make this house the Christmas place to be, whether or not anyone else cared about the holiday. She was going to convince them that this was the best time of the year. “You know,” Marcus said, running into Peggy as she decorated the hallway, “The whole idea of Santa Claus is pretty messed up.” Peggy looked up at him, shocked that someone was actually talking to her. She had been here a week, and no one but her boss had actually talked to her, everyone just looked past her, ignoring her, or they glared at her like they would like nothing more than to bury her, and knowing their profession, their killing her could be a real possibility. “That’s not true,” Peggy said. She loved Christmas. It was the best time of the year and it was a hill she was about to die on. “It is,” Marcus argued, “I mean come on,” he rolled his eyes, “It’s a fat man who breaks into your house with presents made by tiny people who know if you’re bad or good.” Peggy’s face fell. He had a point. But she didn’t want to think about it like that. She’d much rather like to think about the magic of Christmas. “How do they know?” Marcus asked. “You’re ruining Christmas for me,” Peggy said, pausing in her decorations, “Stop!” “It’s my job,” Marcus smiled and winked before sauntering away. His mission to destroy Christmas was complete. Prompt: “But you have to! It’s tradition!” / “Tradition is just peer pressure from dead people.”
Darren looked positively green. He looked like he wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. He would even welcome the earth opening up and swallowing him whole. Yet none of that was going to happen. He was trapped. “You know,” Peggy said, taking Darren’s hand and giving it a light massage, “You don’t have to do this.” “I have to,” Darren said, “It’s tradition.” “That doesn’t mean anything,” Peggy said with a shrug, “Tradition is just peer pressure from dead people, what does it matter?” That got a slight smile from Darren. However, it wasn’t that simple. Tradition may be peer pressure from dead people but his boss was buying into said peer pressure and if Darren didn’t go along with it, Darren would find himself in a grave, and he wasn’t ready to die yet. |
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