Writing Prompt: Day 90

90.jpgDay 90 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Let chasing pavements inspire you.

Shannon: I’m fighting for something that I’m not even sure I want anymore, and I’m starting to think my real motivation is that I want to see the conclusion. If I end this now then I’ve worked this hard and come all this way just to turn back, and never see where the trail ends and what can be found there. The only problem is what if the trail doesn’t end. What if that is the conclusion? What if I have to keep walking this path until I get too tired to carry on? At this point I could never be satisfied with that ending. I can’t see how I could come to terms with no ending, so until I can I’ll carry on.

Erin: Eventually I was forced to face the fact. He was never going to be mine. I could spend my life waiting for him and being there for him and he wouldn’t budge. If he was frozen in stone I had to make the move, which needed to be to let him go. So I did, and in doing that I made progress, my life was in motion, and I could chase people who just might chase me back some day.

What do these lyrics mean to you and your character?

2 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: Day 90

  1. “Abby!?” my roommate’s harpy-like voice pierced through the calm chanting on my speaker and upset the perfect spirals I trailed in the incense. If we’d been in a cartoon smoke would have been spouting from her nostrils and ears when she screeched, “What the heck are you doing?” Hastily, I extinguished two dozen candles scattered about the room, doused the incense in water and paused the CD I was playing. When I was standing before her, I’ll admit my legs trembled.
    Clearing my throat under her hawk stare, I sucked in a shallow breath, “Well, I was about to perform a love ritual and maybe test out a potion I got from the store?” There was a horrifying pause where I thought something violent might occur, even though that had never happened before, this seemed the time for a first.
    Rolling her eyes, Jess sighed, “Without me? What kinda coven leader are you?” A wicked smile stretched her rosy lips as she ducked passed me and stood in the center of the ritual room. Across the windows was dark fabric that hung to the floor, an altar was set up to the north and candles dripped on furniture around the room. As Jess inspected the herbs I had set aside, I went around relighting each candle and consecrating them individually.
    Finally finished reigniting the light, I turned the CD back on and Jess glanced up from my grimoire. “Well, let’s begin this spell. She said it’s easy and wrote the instructions on the back of my receipt, so it looks pretty simple,” I explained, plucking the slip from the dresser and holding it before me. When I strained to read the scribbles, I took a tiny step backward to allow the candlelight to touch the frail page. Squinting, I stuttered, “There’s a short chant, then-uhm, then you need to bring, no, you chant while you’re burning the rose petals into the consecrated water. After that you, spill, no speak the name of who you want to fall in love with you,” glancing up from the page, I finished the instructions, “and into the jar the whole thing goes.” There was a look that flashed behind Jess’s eyes that reminded me of a puppy’s owner, but ignored her.
    “Great, let’s get to it. Le’me at that chant,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling with wonder.

    Half an hour later, after finding the perfect place to hide the jar, I was stiffly surfing the internet while waiting for a reply. I’d messaged Justin the moment the spell was completed, calling on the goddess to act as quickly as possible in my time of great need, but he was away from his phone. In horror, I’d nearly smashed the whole thing, which would have dispelled everything we’d summoned to aid me, but Jess hid the jar before I could. When the computer finally beeped, I held my breath as I brought up the chat screen, “I’m in love with you, Abby.”
    For a second, I swear my heart stopped until I read who sent the message; Jess, who was sniggering as she sat sideways in an armchair. I threw a pillow at her, knocking a couple candles to the floor where they shattered into a dozen waxy shards, which sent us both into a laughing fit. When I snapped myself out of it, beginning to pick up the candle pieces, the computer beeped again. “Yeah, very funny, Jess,” I sighed, as I threw a few fragments into the basket, but Jess stayed silent.
    Rushing back to the computer, I read the familiar message I, in the deepest part of my mind, expected to see, “Come on Abby, haven’t we been through this enough?” The pleading tone was gone from the last few, as well as the sympathy; I’d been silly to keep trying. Heat rushed to my cheeks as the tears streamed from the corner of my eye, unwilling to yield.
    “Alright, Jess, let’s try that potion next, I’m sure it’ll work. We’re meant to be, right?” I whispered, partly to myself and partly out into the all-knowing universe. If we weren’t meant to be, who was? Gathering my wits, I shoved the candle basket aside and began to collect herbs and stones for the potion in the pot we used for edible spell work. After consulting the recipe and stealing Jess’s phone, I sauntered out into the kitchen to create the potion.
    A few minutes later, murder in her eyes, Jess stalked from the room and retrieved her cell with a malicious glare in my direction. “I guess I can help. But you’re just wasting your time, aren’t you?” she sighed, leaning her elbows on the faux-stone countertop and staring with pity in her eyes. But I didn’t care, that boy had been stolen by a witch, not a real one, and I wasn’t going to stand for it. There were some things spell craft was for; messing around with love spells and potions was beginner stuff.

    After a lengthy process of adding various ingredients and mixing, the love potion was finished; it smelled like sweet alcohol was spilled on a bouquet of roses under a cherry tree. With three glass jars filled with the sickly concoction, I flitted around the room in search of strawberries to dip in it. “So, your strategy to get him to ingest this stuff is what, now?” Jess’s nose was wrinkled as she sniffed at a jar. While I knew she didn’t mean to rain on my parade, someone had to state the obvious.
    “Well,” I began, dipping the ruby fruit in the brew, “they’re a peace offering, obviously. He’s going to want to not appear like a little baby at his party tomorrow and try one.” If I could have convinced myself, I could’ve called that a win, but even I wasn’t buying that. But we were soulmates; we’d end up together anyway, I was just giving fate a little shove in the right direction, right?


  2. Created to Write:
    Josh knows.
    It’s not like she was trying to keep it from him. Neither of them knew the other’s identity.
    But he knows.
    Denisa Lacey -the girl that he had the guts to ask out- is not who he thought she was.
    Denisa Lacey -who had similar interests with Josh and is funny and adorable, and dorky- has a whole other side to her.
    And Josh doesn’t know what to think of that. Sure, she likes him, but she doesn’t know Josh is Jade. She just knows Josh, went on a couple dates with Josh. And she knows Jade, whom she teases and flirts with while he’s trying to bring her to justice.
    Josh runs a hand down his face, his legs crumpling underneath him as his butt hits the floor and his back pins itself to the wall.
    It should be so easy, so very easy. ‘You know who she is now, so stop seeing her,’ Josh tells himself.
    But it isn’t that simple. He knows what she’s like when she isn’t… well, doing wrong. He knows more about who she is. He knows she isn’t all bad, so maybe… maybe he can find the Denisa that doesn’t want to be a thief, or hurt gifted people.
    He also knows that isn’t easy. But can’t help be drawn to her. He won’t let her go, but he can’t let her keep doing what she’s doing.
    He wants to pursue her, but…
    What if she doesn’t want to hang up being Bronze Scimitar? And what if that is the real her?


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