Tag: writing prompts

We have Something in Common

We have Something in Common

Despite the incessant ding of the open elevator doors indicating he had reached his destination, Domerin Lorcasf lingered in the small metallic chamber with his arms crossed over his chest. “Good morning, Argus,” he called to the empty air. “How are you?” “Greetings, Commander Lorcasf,” the monotone voice sounded all around him. Somehow, it always …

Read More Read More

Committing a Crime

Committing a Crime

He had always been light on his feet. It was how he got the name; Silkfoot. He often boasted he could prance across a cloud. If he was wrong, no one would ever be able to prove it. A quick glance across the room confirmed his lumbering partner moving with the same silence, if not …

Read More Read More

Obsession

Obsession

How do I make a man like the archmage love me? He is surrounded every day by beauty and power. He is inundated with it, steeped in it. And I am so ordinary. A skilled warrior, yes, but in an army of the elite. If it were simply a matter of skill, of proving my …

Read More Read More

I Have a Girl’s Courage

I Have a Girl’s Courage

The terms of this prompt were somewhat more interesting than normal. The instructions are to choose a book. Turn to page 51. The first sentence of the last paragraph becomes the beginning of your scene. My sentence comes from Living Your Yoga by Judith Hanson Lasater, and reads: “I have a girl’s courage.” I have …

Read More Read More

What She Found Under the Snow

What She Found Under the Snow

Zita tied her green hair at the nape of her neck before she leaned over the sewing machine. With practiced fingers she adjusted the needle before pressing her foot to the pedal. Only for a moment, she wasn’t going far. Tiny stitches closed a tiny hole, her patient unaware anything had ever been amiss. The …

Read More Read More

A Small Mound of Stones

A Small Mound of Stones

Holding the image of safety in her mind, Morulin lit the candle and upended the contents of a small velvet pouch on the table, leaving a small mound of stones. She tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach by reminding herself this magick worked. She knew it did; her mother had used it several …

Read More Read More

Colours

Colours

Blood dripped from the edge of his blade, bright scarlet against the steel. It filled his nostrils with an acrid tang, his mouth with the taste of iron. It oozed, hot and sticky, from the wound in his forehead, long but shallow. Kneeling, he wiped the blade clean on the shirt of one of the …

Read More Read More