Writing Prompt: Day 28


Day 28 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story based on this image.

Erin: I knew the second I saw him again my heart would relapse. That is exactly what happened. My heart was weak, he lurched for him. My body listened, and before I knew it I was in his house. I was smelling the familiar scent of his detergent mixed with his sweat. Before I knew it, I was on his bed and feeling him. The touch of his body was like a cup of coffee to me. My safe place, my source of life.

I closed my eyes and we were transported to the woods. My heart was excited I was giving in, and seemingly decided to dance in circles within my chest. I felt like I was seeping into the mud of the forest. I grabbed at the buttons of his shirt to save my drowning. One came undone and my hands decided all should follow.

The shirt melted off his shoulders and my coffee went cold. Every inch of his body was covered in tattoos. I traced some of the lines. “Oh,” he chuckled. “I got a few more,” he illuminated.

“A few,” I repeated his words.

“Okay more than a few,” when it became clear that I was thrown off he collapsed to my side.

How could I continue? Who was he? I wasn’t the type of person to slept with a stranger, and that was who he was now. Time had passed since he was the reason I woke up in the morning. I thought back to the day I left. I wouldn’t recognize myself back then. How could I expect him to wait for me? The old me not only abandoned him, but abandoned the world the day we parted. The person my heart longed for was gone too, the only person I ever loved was dead. “They’ve consumed you.”

“I’ve consumed my body, this is how I’ve always looked in my eyes.” I got up, because there was a speck of someone I loved in that body. A speck that wasn’t whole with me. We could never be our current selves together, we couldn’t afford to rewind.

Shannon: “I know you’re close. You should run now. Maybe you can still get away,” the last tracker standing had just traveled to the segment of the playing field where I was I lying down under the cover of a thick patch of leaves. It would take him a while, but if he was confident in my location, he would eventually find me. “Come on Mask, come out, come out, wherever you are,” he teased as he jumped behind a tree.

He wasn’t giving up on this segment. I needed an escape, but it might end in some backtracking. I got up to throw my last electronic screamer into the tree above him, and started crawling back toward the past segment. I needed to load up on competition aids, and distracting him would give me enough time to stop playing the hiding game, and start fighting back.

Before I exposed myself to the open path, I made sure he was chasing the screamer up the tree. He was, because as soon as he got it, he’d be able to put them together and my uniform would become its own screamer, and then we’d have no choice but to face each other. He’d finally see me.

One picture today, more room for you to run!

3 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: Day 28

  1. Kate:
    They would never accept him because of his lineage, so we made him as supernatural as we could with what we had. Sigils covered every inch of his tan skin; he practically glowed with magickal energy. But we always knew there would come a day he’d escape the careful confines of the forest and return to where we’d stolen him. I also knew that, when that eventuality happened, I would be the one to get him back using any methods necessary.
    Though, as I watched him run through the parting archway in the ancient wall dividing us from them, I realized it was going to be very different than I’d expected. His footfalls resounded on a metal sidewalk as he burst through the trees and humans in striking metallic clothing glanced with interest at him. When he stopped in pure shock at what lay on the human’s side I was about to run after him; remind him we were his family. That was when four heavily armed soldiers surrounded him and I lost my chance.

    After what seemed like an eternity of bickering with the fairie queen I conceded defeat and was sentenced to exile unless I could bring him back. I walked out of the meeting in the grand throne room and into the open corridor in defeat; sliding down the opposite wall to sob quietly to myself for a moment. At my back, the rough tree branch wall softened as my body was wracked with silent cries. All around me fey rushed by the door to the throne room, ignoring my slight figure.
    When, after a long time, a gentle hand settled on my shoulder I looked up with shining eye. Standing above me was my little half-sister; she was dressed in royal armour like she was off to fight a dragon. She smiled down at me with her childish cheeks blushing as I admired her outfit. “Come on, seester. We have a human to track,” she spoke with her heavy accent, holding out her pale green hand to me. Gripping her fingers with my deathly white digits she pulled me up against the wall.
    There was a horrible moment where two of the guards opened the throne room door and glanced at me, but they were on patrol and didn’t care if I left or not. I was exiled but we weren’t big on shooting ourselves in the foot; and not letting me gather reinforcements would be doing just that. Finally I met my sister’s big olive eyes and muttered, “Thank you Ida, but I cannot drag you into my mess. He was my responsibility. Besides,” I added after remembering her garb, “the human world is very different from when I took him.”
    She just laughed her tinkling, infectious laugh and we sauntered down the hall to the ire of every fey we met. With Ida’s suit sparkling like a knight we strutted back to our apartment where I nearly collapsed into our couch. When she had removed the top layer of plate silver Ida sat beside me, holding my hand worriedly. There was such kindness and selflessness in my sister; she was a shining star in a deep dark sky.
    Finally calming myself enough to think of a plan I turned to my spell book, but it took me back to my past. Once, centuries ago, a fey soldier had been on patrol at the outskirts of our realm of the forest. He had heard a whispering melody flowing through the trees on an unknown breeze; a methodical, nearly-hypnotic sound. When he followed the phantom music he came upon a fair-skinned human maiden sitting on a stump in a clearing, singing.
    The maiden had been braiding her golden locks with lotus petals when the fey arrived; she had gazed at the pointy-eared intruder with wonder. As my father would tell it, she seduced him over many a moon. But the truth was that they had fallen in a forbidden love and when she became pregnant they both feared for their futures. Neither had the heart to give up their lives; my father was prominent in the queen’s court and my mother was a powerful witch and healer. When I was born, though, the dilemma was tragically solved. Dying during childbirth, my mother gave me to the fey.
    A fey with human magick was very rare, but not totally unheard of. Having a human spell book, though, was. The grimoire’s rough leather cover felt warm and tingly in my fingers as I flipped through the pages for the spell I wanted. When I’d found the correct enchantment I stood before our fractured mirror, sighing at the tragic human, fey hybrid I saw there.
    Skin pale as the moon with brilliant sapphire shards for eyes and fair golden hair stood out as distinctly human. But I also had a slender face, ethereal features and pointed ears like a fey should. Those elven characteristics were the beloved parts of me I was about to banish. Taking a few deep breaths I recited the potent charm while following the flowing hand movements to the molecule.
    Suddenly I was no longer staring at a piece of glass with a half-elf in it; I was looking at a full-blooded human girl. Her face was slightly pudgy with ugly rounded ears that were hidden entirely by a mass of golden hair. Where there had been long, slender features there were slightly curvier appendages that stretched the limits of her soft cotton clothing. Sighing, I turned to see Ida removing the remaining armour and smiling faintly at me.
    “Well, get on with it,” she instructed forcefully while staring at the perverted image of her sister. How could she be so strong to let me do dangerous spells on her when she could simply walk out the door and continue with her perfect life? I was about to argue when she thrust the weathered book into my hands and looked me in the eye.
    Breathing loudly I reread the charm and dropped the book back on the soft cushions. My poor little sister was about to become a disgusting human; but I bet she’ll look fabulous anyway. When the spell took effect, her gracefully curving ears retreated, her deep emerald hair dulled to brown, her irises became rings between large pupils and whites, and her skin paled. By comparison, though, she was an attractive human.
    Stepping forward to look at herself in the fractured mirror she shrieked with wonder at the sudden appearance of a human in her skin. She rocked on her heals and gave me a hug before rushing into her room. When she returned she had two sets of men’s clothing; one for each of us to wear since our elven clothing didn’t fit anymore and we needed to fit in with the humans.

    After raiding the armoury for the smallest, sharpest knives we began the extensive journey to the human colony. As soon as we crossed through the archway it grew shut behind us, throwing us into the mossy darkness of the woods without our night vision. Ida took my hand firmly and started forward on the meandering pathway through the trees. Knocking against my leg comfortingly was my leather satchel that held the grimoire as we walked along.
    For the first few hours we silently hid in our own worlds until we saw something ghosting through the trees ahead of us. Grasping deftly for my sword, I met the short handle of a dagger instead and wrenched it to shoulder-level. Ida had her own dagger out as we both eyed the lightly shifting branches in front of us as the stag stepped forward. As the antlers glinted in a shaft of sunshine Ida and I laughed at our worry.
    For the next while we chattered about what I’d missed while I was living on the outskirts last year and what Ida had not been privy to when I was in the queen’s court. I learned from Ida about the fall of several other sects of fey who attempted to battle the human’s and their mechanical armies. Fortunately I had nearly-positive news from the court about our own sect; we had perfected the walls surrounding our compound so no human would ever be able to step foot in it again. After I spoke those words, though, we were both deathly silent with the realization of what that meant for our freshly humanized selves.
    When we finally reached the edge of the woods and peered at the humans from a safe distance, their metal city blinding in the midday sun, we were taken aback. Our challenge to retrieve the captured human might be more difficult that I originally thought. Stepping back into the safety of the trees I rested against the coarse bark, thinking my stupid plan through.
    “We cannot go out there without any protection or charms,” I spoke without much hope for our futures. Sighing I cracked open the magick tome and searched for the sigils section; we were only human now and needed all the help we could muster. I read through every page on sigils while Ida watched the humans going about their normal routines. After a while I jumped up and, using a water spell, created mud at the foot of an ash tree. Carefully I lopped a low branch off the tree and sharpened it to a point.
    Next I enchanted the sludge to stain our fair skin and tested the tattoo on my arm, tracing a powerful protective sigil onto the inside of my wrist. The skin soaked up the stain efficiently and, wiping away the muck, I was left with a thin, swirling symbol on my arm. Half an hour later both my arms were covered in painful lines which made me feel like I was touching a live wire.
    Ida flinched when I drew the protective symbol on her arm and demanded the minimum amount; if they stayed on our skin when I reversed the spell she didn’t want to be marred for life. For me, it didn’t matter.
    When we were finally ready to step out into the new world we held hands and giggled at the prospect of something we hadn’t seen before. The excitement was short-lived as the same soldiers who had taken our human surrounded us as we admired the designs of a slow-morphing sculpture. Seeing our tattoos the soldiers laughed out loud until I murmured a spell and the lot froze, eyes blinking rapidly in the bright sunshine.
    Skipping, Ida and I made our way, after I tried a few different spells, toward our human. We had assumed he had been deposited in whatever jail they now had, and we weren’t disappointed. For this generation it was a blank white square building with multiple offenders squished into the same cell. Our human was just sitting in a corner cowering from the tough humans.
    Smiling sweetly at the metal-clad guard Ida stabbed him with her dagger, murmuring that she was sorry before straightening like nothing had happened. Once we figure out which button opened his cell, after releasing a few dozen criminals, our human ran to our marginally familiar faces. When we finally made it back to the forest I was ready for a break from this excitement. But Ida obviously enjoyed this work; when we got back to the compound I promised myself to tell her so.
    It took a fair amount of effort but we finally arrived back at the wall, which didn’t open for our human forms. While we’d expected that I had still hoped they’d let us back in. Hastily I flipped back through the spell book to the alteration spell and tried it on Ida with great success. Even the improvised tattoos were gone from her olive skin. As she stood before the wall of branches it gaped to let her through but wouldn’t stay open if I was too close.
    I sighed and put myself back to usual with little effort before shoving our tattooed human back through the archway. But when I looked down at my pale arms the dark sigils still swirled up my skin; I really was more human than fey.


  2. Russell:
    Fishel leaned against the side of the metal shack, quietly watching the makeshift village go about their day. Sheds and huts made from left over pieces of old trucks, cars, and cargo shipping containers lined about in surprising organisation. Some of the houses were only enough to keep a roof comfortably for one person, two at most. Though it seamed the community did not mind. A trio child ran past the lonely young adult, chasing a fluorescent pink ball. A river raft drifted up to a wooden dock, tying ropes around metal hooks to anchor it. An old bearded man with healthy muscles pulled over his shoulder a net burgeoning with squirming salmon.
    Collin calmly walked around the children playing leaned against the shed with Fishel. “How you are doing lad?” He passed cocaine leaf to Fishel who hesitantly accepted. “The cap’tin is talking to the village council about getting our ship back.” He chewed on a cocaine leaf absently. “The bandits hiding out here have been harassing them along with the locals, seams those thieves aren’t just attacking jump routes.” He watched the village bustle and brim with life.
    Fishel took a careful bite of the leaf. He soured. “This leaf tastes really bad.” He said squinting through the bitter after taste.
    Collin laughed. “It’s takes awhile to get used to.” He took out a bar of toffee chocolate and broke it in half, one for him and fishel. “Have it with some toffee, it tastes better that way.” The Collin took a bite of his toffee and chewed. He swallowed. “We should get going, our friend wants us to meet outside the village. Collin started walking away towards the thick treeline with his hands in his pocket. Fishel followed.
    As they followed the dirt path out of the village, the jungle grew deeper with creeping vines starting to spread across the path. Collin briefly checked his Crowning.51ml handgun. Fishel checked his own pocket pistol strapped to his hip. Fishel coughed politely. “Are you worried about getting into trouble?” The sound of alien birds chirping like that of a slide whistle echoed through the jungle.
    Collin shook his head. “No, I’m more worried if our friend ends up having someone follow his tracks.”
    “Which is most likely the case?” Fishel glanced behind his shoulder and saw the fleeting shadow of a rat darting across the path into a bush. “I can do for less excitement.”
    “Same here Fishel. Same here.” Collin lamented as they reached a tranquil clearing. A shallow glimmering pond sparkled as a stream flowed into it. Purple and turquoise buds grew from the branching green arms of vines. Sunlight spilled into the center of quite landing. “Beautiful little meeting place though.”
    Rounding the corner, a tattooed man approached. His body turned canvas caringly scribed with runes and symbols, flowers blooming from the barrels of guns inked on his shaven chest. Well structured and his head shaven, he met the two privateer’s eyes with emerald eyes. “Hola amigos, are you with Captain Desterhan?” His voice was like that of vanilla melting with dark chocolate. “I’d like to work with him.”


  3. Created to Write:
    Starry Knight slowly steps into the park. The dense trees would have made the path dark enough, but black and gray ‘ink’ coats some trees, with hand prints and splashes. Some of the path is coated in it, which means Starry has to watch where he steps.
    He keeps his eyes peeled. Liquid Steele has to be behind all of it, including the disappearance of his team. He needs to find them and stop him. But he has no idea how.
    Starry continues to walk, noticing that entire trunks of trees are now completely black. His toe touches the ink on the ground and he has to yank hard to get it unstuck.
    Then there is an archway of hedges, the leaves black and shiny. Starry stops, touching the pen at his side. A shadow comes through the arch, revealing himself as Liquid Steele.
    The villain has no real costume. He only prefers to go bare chested, to show off the tattoos on his front, back, and arms. He grins at Starry.
    “Long time no see,” he says slowly.
    Starry doesn’t say anything, but picks up his pen. Steele flexes one of his arms. The tattoos seem to duplicate, and slide down his arm. The black pools in his hand, a few drops hitting the ground. He throws it at Starry. The hero dodges, working his way into the foliage. He almost face plants into ink, but he keeps going until he finds a bare patch of walkway. He starts to draw, feeling Steele come up behind him.
    When Starry finishes, he animates the drawing, allowing it to take shape. The net is thick, with weights on all the corners. Starry turns and throws it over Steele when he gets close enough. The net keeps him pinned.
    Due to a lesser intelligence, Steele seeps more ink out of his arms. But it touches the net, keeping it on the ground. Steele yells, trying to yank the net off him. Starry takes this opportunity and runs on, finding another ink infested archway, and entering the ink-master’s ‘lair’.

    (Yet another villain for my story created. Thank you! I aim to finish Day 31 today, so you’ll be hearing a lot from me!)


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