Tag: writing prompts

As If This Was Going to Work

As If This Was Going to Work

He was accustomed to the darkness, to its tranquility. But he didn’t allow himself to be lulled by the light tapping of tree branches against the windows, or the subtle hiss of wind through the chimney. As he waited in the darkness of his familiar living room, he waited for one sound, an inevitable pattern …

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It’s Crunch Time!

It’s Crunch Time!

Believe it or not, I haven’t taken a break from blogging all year. (What?!) But summer is approaching and, now that we live in beautiful British Columbia, that means everyone wants to come and visit us. (Or our awesome mountains, lakes and weather. Same thing, right?) That means I have to make the last big …

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He Crossed the Brittle Bridge of Bones

He Crossed the Brittle Bridge of Bones

It was cold. Colder than the whipping winter winds atop the jagged peaks of the world’s highest mountain range. Colder than death. The chill did not touch him. But as Azmih watched, his companion jolted awake, shivering violently against the frigid air. His head whipped from side to side, long black hair smacking his neck …

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Images Are Blurred

Images Are Blurred

Please check the bottom of this post for an exciting announcement! . . . “You can put a stop to this.” She could barely hear the words over the pounding in her ears. Her own personal drum, beating the rhythm of her doom. While the respite lasted she could do nothing but gulp great gasps …

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Characters Go Out Together

Characters Go Out Together

“It was a dark and stormy night.” Balancing the electric torch in one hand, Dormal illuminated his face while he wriggled the fingers of his free hand. He had perfected the ‘spooky’ voice in his teenage years, but his brother didn’t seem impressed. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?” His brother arched an eyebrow, a teasing …

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Can You See Yourself For What You Are?

Can You See Yourself For What You Are?

The lash of the whip summoned a high-pitched wail, not quite human, not quite feline. Each cry pierced deeper until the screams tore through his core. It hurt more than if the punishing blows had fallen against his flesh. He strained once more against his bonds. Sharp metal scraped against barely healed wounds. He ignored …

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They Return Every Year to Lay Flowers on the Spot

They Return Every Year to Lay Flowers on the Spot

The villagers returned every year to spread flowers across the bog. A riot of pinks and blues, purples and yellows, even shocks of pristine white sprinkled like snow for one glorious afternoon before they were left to wilt in the mud. Then they returned to their festivals and dances, their stories and feasts, hoping against …

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In Dreams

In Dreams

They came to her in dreams. Names and voices, images and events. Without context, they flooded the quiet hours of the night, leaving her to sort through them in the morning. To find meaning and act upon it. Just last night, a young man with hazy features attending her court spoke the title ‘mother’ in …

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