forum Weekly writing prompts?

Started September 05, 2018 by @Nomadicd20 group

tune

(More of my brother's characters and one of mine own)

Thunder reared back, the heat from Chan's magic catching him off guard. Danny jumped ahead of his brother, slashing at the man with a sword he had conjured, but Chan moved aside and delivered a sharp blow to the boy's back, sending him to the floor.
The next attacker came in fast, swinging her scythe as she had practiced. As Chan dodged the blade, he had to admit that Aqua was getting better. But still, she had yet to get the hang of the proper balance required to wield a weapon that was almost as big and heavy as herself, and he easily swiped her feet, the scythe clattering to the floor with her.
While he was occupied, Danny had time to gather himself, and he spun into another sword attack, which Chan quickly turned and blocked with his own. "You're really reaching, boy." He said calmly. Danny narrowed his eyes and jumped away from Chan's sword, his own disappearing, and he lifted his hands, a bright yellow magic circle appearing in front of him. Chan lifted his own hand, and it shifted into the large, deep purple claw that always seemed to frighten the little ones. The light came at him fast, but he caught it with the claw, only glancing at it before locking eyes with Danny and crushing the ball of light. "Go ahead, try again." The demon sneered, and the boy's leopard-spotted tail twitched in annoyance. Before he could make another move, three arrows shot through the air in rapid succession. Chan swatted all of them away, and caught a forth, crushing it as well.
The young wolf shifter that had fired the arrows huffed angrily at their mentor. "Come on, Chan, let us come with you! Please?" Riverpaw begged for what was probably the hundredth time now. "No." Chan said. "But we can fight! We can take care of ourthelveth!" Thunder joined in, sending a fireball at the demon. Chan rolled his eyes as the magic simply dissipated when it hit his claw. The fact that Thunder had broken a tooth falling down the stairs just the day before wasn't helping the kid's argument. "No, you can't. You're as helpless as a lamb without its herd, all of you."
"No we aren't! Just take us with you and we can show you-" Chan cut Aqua off with a sharp glare, and the water princess went stiff, clutching her scythe in case he would attack. "Show me what, exactly? That you are all still younglings with barely any sense? That you can shoot little balls of light from your inexperienced hands, or that you tend to hesitate when it comes to harming someone?" He looked at Danny and Riverpaw with those last two remarks. "W-well," a soft voice finally spoke up from the side of the room, "if..i-if you took us out there, a-and maybe helped us? Showed us the best ways to fight in a real…um, fight?"
The other kids looked over at Zorro, nodding in agreement to the small fox shifter's suggestion. Jayson, who, with Zorro, had refused to fight Chan as a last-minute attempt at proving they could leave, swayed back and forth on his feet. "Wouldn't it be easier than just training us here all the time?"
"Yeah! No better practithe than handth-on practithe, right?" Thunder said, tilting his head a bit at Chan. "I think we can handle it, Chan, really." Danny said, but the tall demon walked over to tower above the boy, and Danny took a step back with his small ears pinned against his head. "No. I will not say it again, you are NOT coming with me to this mission. It is dangerous and you are all still training. I will not put you kids in danger just because you think you can handle it. Do not ask again."
Without another word, he headed towards the door. Danny growled lowly as their mentor walked off, and he threw another light attack. This time, it hit Chan right in the back, though it didn't seem to do much but make him stutter to a stop in the doorway. "Dude!" Jayson and Riverpaw hissed, the two staring wide-eyed at the lion-leopard hybrid as the other kids stared at Chan.
The demon exhales slowly, then turned around to face Danny, who was now shaking slightly at the realization of his mistake. Chan suddenly lifted his claw, and a dark purple spear shot out from its palm, pinning Danny to the floor by his shirt before anyone could even utter a sound.
"You are only children. Children that I will not have acting like fools because of their own pride. Children that still have much to learn about their powers, themselves, and the world… Children that will not be ready until I decide they are ready."
Then, he left, leaving the children in the locked mansion.

Week 17: Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.

I like it.

Mark turned back upon feeling her touch his shoulder. "What is it now?"
They were in a huge, darkly lit room with an arched ceiling. Mark felt as if he was inside a mansion from the French Revolution. In a way, he was.
"Don't forget," she whispered.
A long, uncomfortable pause.
"I know that." He twitched a little. "I always knew that. How could I forget?"
"You know how, Marcus. Don't."
"Stop worrying," he hissed. He twirled a golden goblet around his fingers. "You're making me nervous!"
"You shouldn't be."
"What the hell else should I be? I'll be a mass murderer in less than two hours!"
"Stop being rude, now. You should be polite. And professional. They wouldn't trust anyone else, you know."
Mark could feel his heart trying to kill him. He wiped his hands on his shirt and blinked a few times as he turned back toward the candlelit dining room. His footsteps echoed loudly inside the massive, tunnel-like hallway. And then he was someone else: A king, a thief, a heartless golem.
"No matter how polite I may be, sister, my plan is not to grovel to the swine, but to kill all I meet. The mirrors in this place will keep me from forgetting.

Week 18: In peace, sons bury their fathers; in war fathers bury their sons.

Numb.

Staring blankly at my hands.

Old and wrinkled.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Not this way.

Never this way.

Dirt under my fingernails. Locket clutched. My only lifeline.

No time to go back. No time to do it right. No time to say goodbye.

But I have her now. I have to take care of her. I have to.

My brilliant child's perfect daughter.

How are things so beautiful born in times like these?

How can things still be good?

I have to move onward.

I have to.

"I made you proud, dad." I smile hopefully. It's all I've wanted for a while now.
He chokes. "Yes. Yes, you did. I was always proud, though-" His voice breaks off and he turns to stare at the sky, his face is ice but his tears are fire. I don't know why.
I look away, ashamed of my dad's weakness, but something seems strange. it takes me a moment to realize that the child I'm seeing is myself. But he doesn't look like me. His face is a mess, half of it is gone. His chest is bloody and his clothes are filthy. I can see the bones through his skin. Dad had just taught me their names. He seemed to hope smart people would get jobs, but privately I think it's absurd, because no one gets jobs.
Oh.
I get it.
I'm a ghost!
I learned about them in the books my dad made me read. I'm not a good reader, but I read the books with ghosts fast. It always seemed so incredible, to still be conscious but not be alive. So…I'm dead. I died. I passed away, but I won't rest in peace. I smile. Now I can eat all the food I want. Now I can just walk through the wall if I want to go outside. Now I can do anything I want and I won't die!
I brush past my father as he finally crumples to his knees and screams. He'll get over himself when he realizes I'm right here. I brush past him again when he doesn't respond, even making strange whoo sounds, but he just leans on his shovel as if he's eighty instead of twenty. Why isn't he doing anything?
I turn and head back to our house, hurt. He was never home enough to pay any attention to me, and when I die, he doesn't even notice my ghost flying around. I float through the front door and head straight for the cookie jar. I reach for the lid, but my hand passes through it. I try again, and nothing happens.
Oh.
I get it.
I'm a ghost.
I won't be able to open a book ever again. I'll be conscious, but never alive. I'll be stuck here, never able to just rest in peace. Now I'll never be able to eat anything ever again. Now the sunlight will just pass through me. Now I will never be able to do anything I want, not even die. And I want to die. I'm a child, and I want to die.
I flee the house and fly to the bridge, to the doctor, all the way to the war front. Jumping won't kill me. Poison won't touch me. The soldiers won't even look at me. I am dead to life, but alive to death. I can't even cry.
Eventually, I drift back to the house. A father is standing in the yard, staring at nothing. My corpse is gone, a wet mound of dirt has replaced it. I look at this father with hatred, bitterness, envy. It's his fault I died, I think. He was gone when the bomb hit. He never told me where he went, but it was for a long time. And now it's too late. Now it's time to make him regret my ever being born, not to make him proud. Now it's time to curse, to scream, to haunt this disgusting old man. And as his other children are born, I will curse. As they grow up hungry but alive, I will scream. And as, sometime in the never-ending future, fathers upon fathers move into this house, the ghost of a son will haunt them.

Week 19: Your character is visited by a loved one they believed to be dead.

Nice.

Cool

That was swell my good… persons

It had been two days.
Masao didn't pant as he ran. The bottoms of his jeans were already soaked. It would be only a few hours before he would have to stop. But it was worth it. They were worth it. Even if he wasn't. They never cared. Oh, poor thing. No one cares about you. It's not my fault! How could it not be?
There it was. The dreaded sign. The prequel to his death. The thing in the sky, still currently shining somewhere else but slinking closer to him and his skin.
He ran faster. They'll have to care now. And why? Because I died for them. But does coming back nullify that?

It had been two days.
Chizuko's sister smiled as she left. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Chizuko smiled back absently. "Okay." Her head hurt but she still didn't drink. Water reminded her too much of what they drank. Disgusting. Monsters. Masao.
Her brother in law - she never liked him. Of course, she pretended to, but really, how could a girl like someone so cold and vain?
Because he's still your brother in law.
No, no, not anymore he wasn't. He died. Poor kid. Chizuko still thought of him as a kid, even though he was her age. Because he acts like one. Or was it because she treated him like one?
Who knew. Who would ever know? He was dead, he was gone, they had killed him. And hopefully he wouldn't have to be killed again.
Chizuko was finally done with her hair. She opened a drawer and selected a lively shade of pink. She began to dust her cheeks with the powder, but there came a loud knock on her door. Could it be?

Masao held still as he listened through the door. He knew he should be doubled over by now, his heart pounding, but he only wiped the muddy water off of his face. At least his hand was shaking. I don't want to die again. You need help. They always hated me. Maybe once, just once, they would show some kindness? If they paid no attention, why would they pay a kindness. You don't want to die, but you'll die anyway if you don't try one last time. Just one last time. She doesn't care enough to kill you.
Footsteps approached. High heels, probably; those ugly yellow ones Chizuko always wore. But why was Chizuko coming to the door? Why not Hiromi or Chika?

Chizuko opened the door slowly. Yes, there he was. Masao, the deceased, the undearly departed. He had come back after all. Again, poor kid. But even more, poor Chizuko; now she would have to kill him again. In her own house. It was hers now, now that Hiromi and Chika were resting in the ground. At least they hadn't come back.
Get it over with, be quick.

Masao smiled in relief as the door opened. Chizuko. All dressed up in white and blue. He craned his thin neck to peer past her. Hiromi? Absent. Chika?
"Oh, they died," Chizuko said as she raised a stake.

Chizuko returned to her antique mirror and began to apply lipstick as the sun shone brightly outside.

Week 20: "Maybe I belong among the stars."

Maybe I belong among the stars.

U’faari sat on the steps of her house, watching the stars. She had a keen interest in the stars, which her parents had named her after in their language. Due to the day-night cycle on their planet, it would be night for many hour of each ‘day’ but only become light every now and then. Because of that, the stars and moons were often visible as long as there were no clouds. U’faari spent much of her time, mapping out the stars and seeing how different months tended to effect the moons.

But sometimes, U’faari felt different, when looking at the stars. She was different compared to everyone on this cold desert planet after all, and we’re being honest with you. To everyone on this planet, she was an alien. To herself, she was a human, but had never known that, so she called herself ‘different.’ Her adoptive mother had said they found her in the trade, and spent many sleepless nights and days trying to save her, which worked. She was different, but her mother could not have children of her own, and U’faari was her child, a child she raised as one of her own.

U’faari had always been treated differently by the other children. She looked extremely different to them, and did not know how to act around them at first. She had gotten better, but had not made too many friends. Even then, as she no longer went to school, and preferred her mother’s homeschooling instead, she drifted apart from them.

She wondered what her other species was like. Did they look like her? They probably did. But what was their history? What planet were they on? What was their life like?

She glanced backwards, hearing her mother approach. Her mother was like most of the species females, red skinned, with four eyes and yellow eyes. Often a light red for hair, which tended to be shortish or fairly long, but there was always plenty of it. They also had a tail, something U’faari did not share.

“I’ve noticed you have been watching the stars, U’faari. Are you alright?”

“Yes.. I was just wondering.. do you know where I am from?”

Her mother pondered, sitting down beside her and looking to the sky. She placed her chin on a trimmed yet clawed hand, before lifting her head and looking to U’faari.

“Unfortunately, I do not. But someone probably does.”

“Who?”

“I do have a general idea, but not exactly. Someone in the trade might know, though.”

Someone in the trade. That was where she was from. Or how she got here. She looked at her mother, making eye contact, but her mother spoke before she did.

“Are you thinking of going to look for them, my child?”

U’faari paused, considering her answer.
“A little.”

“…I am glad you are honest with me. However, I want you to at least finish your schooling here, before you do anything.”

Her mother did not disapprove, but still saw U’faari as her own child, so she was very close to her. When, even then, if U’faari left her, she would most likely be alone in terms of family. Her husband was killed in action and most of her older family members had died from natural caused, while the younger ones mostly cut ties when finding out about U’faari. She understood though, that U’faari would probably have this thought after a while.

“Also, as long as you promise. Promise to stay in contact with me.” She finished.

U’faari hugged her.

“I promise.”

U’faari yawned and her mother smiled, suggesting to go inside. U’faari agreed, packing up her notes and heading inside with her mother, who held the door open for her. She pulled aside some curtains that let her to her room and closed them. U’faari set down her items and sat down in her bed, laying down.

“Maybe I belong in the stars.”

((I actually created a character concept from this that I really like. When the characters spoke like “this” they were speaking in a different language but like “this” it was English.))

"Maybe I belonged among the stars, Aulen!" I cry.
I am speaking in the past tense because now I am nothing but a breathing corpse.
A long, heartfelt pause. So much for not getting emotional.
I take a shaking breath and turn to gaze out the window. Nothing. Nothing is there. Nothing at all. Nothingness.
And soon I will be nothing, too.
But again, that is what I deserve. Sad little mistake that I am. "The Earth was better off without me. That may seem obvious, sunshine, but at first even they fell for me. You can remember it - the cameras, the interviews, the money, the honor, the fame. 'Superalien', they called me. I certainly looked like it, with my horns and eyes and skin. Only you knew what I was. What I was not anymore as I spoke this. I cannot be classified as human now, sunshine, I am a monster-" I break off and take refuge in the window again. Glaring little eyes. Shining joyful about my impending death.
"I died twice already, so why was I still scared?" I whisper softly. "Third time's the charm."
Beep. Oxygen needs checked. I get up and do it, and I am not sure why. Why I am still keeping myself alive. Why I am in the first place.
"It's because this time, it wasn't quick, like chopping off a head and being shot. This time, it was long and drawn-out, slow and cruel, cold and just. It's because I knew I was going to go to Hell as soon as it was finished, and because I knew Hell is what I deserved. My frozen, perfectly-intact corpse is now floating around in the bottomless pit of space. And as you are listening to this recording, Aulen, I am screaming somewhere far below, writhing in agony, along with the whole Earth's inhabitants."

Week 21: My bloodline is irrelevant to my value.

Nice one!

Awesome prompt!

Cool

Seleane was going away.

He was going away because he didn't belong.

He didn't belong because he wasn't human, witch, fairy, anything.

And this was because he was a dark elf.

He knew about dark elves, he knew he was one, he knew everybody knew he was one, but he hadn't known they would send him away for it.
Dark elves lived in the Black Forest, the shadowy nightmare full of monsters and death. The Black Forest was their home. The Black Forest was his home. But he didn't want to go near the place. It was terrifying, eerily silent, dangerously mysterious. But Seleane was going away.

Seleane belonged in Anolle with everyone else, with his family. But his family said that he belonged in the Black Forest with his real family. He didn't know why they had suddenly become so nervous around him. He had always looked menacing, with his pointy teeth, his pale skin and hair, and most of all, his solid black eyes. But they had tolerated that, accepted it, up until now. His mother, a witch, had taken him in when she found him and taught him what she knew about the Dark elves' magic, but now she was tense and cold. Now Seleane was going away.

The Dark elves looked just like him. The Dark elves had the same magic as him. The Dark elves would treat him like their own. But he was not their own. He did not want to be their own. He wanted to stay with his mother in their tiny wooden shack on the edges of Anolle. He did not want to be standing in front of the Black forest all alone, shivering in his thin clothing, trying to hold still as the Dark elves with their beady eyes watched him. But then something gave him a sudden shove toward the predators who retreated quickly. Because

Seleane

was going

away.

Nice

applause