forum Writing Prompts

Started May 02, 2019 by @Bandito

tune

Eleven: Goodbye to a world.

He stared at her. "You're god?" He asked as he stared at the woman. Power radiated from her.
"Yes." She said, her voice deep and smooth.
"Why are you talking to me?" He asked, confused.
"Because I need someone to remember." She explained.
"Remember what?" He asked, even more, confused than before. What did she want him to remember?
"This." She said as the world started to crumble away. "Say goodbye to a world. Your world."

(interesting)
Twelve: Only an earthquake can change what's set in stone.

Nice!

I had like a sudden poetic moment

It was good.

Glad someone is following this thread!

Kaiman glanced around the wreckage through the screens lighting the otherwise dark room.
“Disgusting,” he said to the other person watching with him from the screens of her own planet.
From the speakers came a cynical laugh. “That’s what happens with the lords we have now. Nothing but senseless destruction and a twist of nauseating bureaucracy.”
Kaiman pressed a button, showing her face, the age beginning to truly show on his face bringing his own youth to contrast.
He frowned, “There wasn’t a good reason for war on that planet was there, Qiria.”
Her face was as hard as his, but time had erased all the naive hopefulness out of her life, leaving her with nothing but cold eyes and a faithlessness in all the humanoid species.
“No,” she finally said quietly, sadness leaking into her otherwise calculated tone. “A minor rule of a trade agreement broken. Some wealth was lost.” She clenched her teeth, “Nothing worth this though. These were good people. Innocent.” As she paused, Kaiman remembered she had spent ten revolutions -her time- on the same planet that was now ruined. For the next twenty revolutions, he thought, the capital city in complete disarray, the ruling family nearly all dead.
“There has to be a better way then this.” He said, “Someone could change it- Make things better.”
Qiria shook her head. “No one can change it Kaiman. The world does not change. It merely repeats the same, sad, twisted story. An everlasting loop,” she said bitterly.
She stared at him, then smiled sadly. “Only an earthquake can change what is set in stone.” She ended the call without waiting for his response, and so did not see the smile growing on his face.
“So,” he said to himself in the now completely dark room. “An earthquake.” The ghost of a smile flickered around his face. “Here we come.” And below him the earth trembled.

Peter ran through the thick woods, the same woods he once played in and wished that magic was real. He now wished with all his mind that it wasn't real, he wished he could go back to the days where he would use twigs and leaves to pretend there was magic. But no, it's real, he messed with it and now he would have to try and fix it or face the consequences. Peter stopped running, panting and out of breath in front of the old cottage, hidden in the rocks of the mountain. He desperately banged his fists on the wooden door which looked as though it would break with the slightest push but somehow it was sturdy as the grand doors that protected the castle. After a few minutes, banging on the door and shouting to the person inside the door swung open. Peter rushed inside and saw the old man that he knew as The Wizard standing by a bowl of water. "Please sir I messed up, I messed up very bad!" Peter pleaded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I know you did, I told you not to mess with that well Peter but you did it anyways." The wizards deep voice thick with disappointment and a hint of sadness. "Please there has to be something you can do!" He shouted desperately. "A curse is a curse Peter, only an earthquake can change what's set in stone."

Thirteen: Even your shadow won't follow you into darkness.

What's in hell? Nobody knows. Some say monsters and demons of evil. Others say nothing, just a still void waiting to be disturbed. Others say a flaming or freezing hellscape. Everybody has there own idea of what it looks like. But I've been there. It is not a place you ever want to go or be. Everything about it that others is true all at the same time. It is a place of darkness and pain. with no one to scream to. So please be good. Because even your own shadow won't follow you into that darkness.

I did a lot of bad things as a kid and I fully expected to burn in Hell for all of them. I thought they'd take my soul a lot sooner then they did, but I guess the sayings are true… only the good die young. I would have wished to, but fate had not given me that kind of mercy. I hadn't started out as a demon, but I had definitely become one. No baby comes from their mothers womb infected, but sometimes, they get the good ones. My mom used to tell me she loved me. She used to hold my face between her hands and tell me I was the most beautiful child in the world and that I would become something great. This wasn't the great I'd been expecting. At six, my mother took herself from us. None of us had known she'd been depressed, but after that my father got less intentional. He quickly lost all the money we had and sent me off when he could only afford to take care of himself. The hellish demon I became wasn't enough to push my old life from my head. My shadow followed me everywhere. It haunted me, peering over my shoulder or walking out in front of me. I had no choice but to become the orphan kid, running through the street stealing bread and other foods from merchants carts. I did have a choice to start murdering though. Some people become more empathetic when bad things happen to them. I know, I know, I obviously didn't. I'm one of those ones. I was friends with one of the good ones. I don't know if friends is the right word for it. Allies. Until he got what I wanted. I was thirteen when I murdered for the first time and it had been my friend. I emptied all his pockets into mine and left him to rot under the bench in that alleyway. I continued on this way for a while, until I decided to give up. I stopped eating and would lay, leaned against the brick walls of back buildings. I didn't want to end my own life like my mother had before me, instead waiting to be taken from starvation. The gods would not take me. I survived five weeks without food. Maybe I really was a demon. I continued on after that, looking for trouble wherever I could, starting bar fights and obviously cheating in card games and at gambling tables. I was twenty when I left the city, looking for an ancient cave said to possess creatures of extreme strength, hoping maybe one of them would best me. I stood at the mouth of the cave, and I walked inside, into the pitch black darkness. My shadow didn't follow me there. When the ancient beast tore me apart, I wished I could have died with my mother. Like I said, I expected to burn in Hell, maybe I'd become a demon of Hell myself and would serve on Satan's hellish crusade. Instead, when I died, the first thing I saw beneath my eyelids was my mom. When I opened them, she was still there. My shadow had followed me here.

Not bad my dude.

Nice! Like how it's the narrator telling their story.

Fourteen: As he was valiant, I honor him. But as he was ambitious, I killed him.

Oooooh! I like!

Prompt: As he was Valiant, I honor him, but as he was ambitious, I killed him.

The gigantic, dark blue beast stood there, wings torn and limp on either side of it. In its jaws, it held the slender neck of another just like it, except the other dragon's scales were a pure white except for the red stains, blood. The blue dragon released its hold, the lifeless body crumpling before it.
The white dragon's jaw was twisted, wings mangled. Its throat was completely torn out, blood flooding the cobblestones, seeping into the cracks. What had once been bright blue eyes were glassed over, dull and lifeless. Broken spines were upon its back, charred black scales in places.

The blue dragon slowly slid back onto his haunches. His breaths were ragged, labored. The beast's own form was covered in jagged wounds from the other's claws and fangs. Ice cold blood seeped from the wounds, running across the blue scales, dripping silently to the stones beneath him. His gaze never left the broken body before him.
"…I'm s-s-sorry dear brother…I-I had not planned f-f-for this…I was hoping…h-hoping you would have…m-m-more sense…"
Slowly, vacuous yellow eyes closed. Thin streams of smoke rose from the beast's nostrils, "Y-you were always valiant…b-b-brave in any situation…I honor you…b-b-but you became ambitious…too ambitious…"
The dragon became silent. There was not a sound, the birds having gone silent during the battle, the wildlife swiftly evacuating to safety. The only sound was the soft whisper of the wind that blew through the destroyed village. He remained still for sometime, before slowly his eyes once again opened.
"I tried to stop…s-stop you…but I-I-I was too late…so I was forced…to kill you…"
His eyes shined, a shaky rumble coming from deep in his chest. A shimmer, then a drop as a tear slipped off the side of the beast's muzzle.
"P-please forgive me…brother…it w-w-was not suppose to be like this…"

"Why?" She screamed as she clutched her brother in her arms. Tears ran down her face as she shook, both with sadness and anger.
"Because I had too!" The hero yelled back. He too had tears running down his face.
"He was just trying to make a difference! He was doing the right thing!" She yelled.
"But he was doing it the wrong way!" He yelled back. "He had to be stopped." The hero dried his tears and turned his back. "He was valiant, I honor him. But as he was ambitious as well. Too ambitious. I had to kill him." He said as he walks off, leaving her to her grieving.

Fifteen: In the end, no one heard the truth.

Sixteen: The true villain was the one no one even knew existed.

Seventeen: There's two sides to every story, I wish I knew yours

(Dear lord, it's been so long since I wrote something, let alone something like flash fiction. Hope this is good!)

"Go on, then." Sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, weapon lying several feet out of reach, the eyes peering through the gap of the helmet were still calm. "You've won. It's well within your rights to kill me, after what I've done."
For a long moment, the woman held her sword over her enemy's throat, and where they had shown no fear, her face was a story of grief and fury and fear and hope, playing out over her eyes and cheeks like dancers on a stage. In her grimace, the person on the ground could see the pain she'd been through, the determination she held. Almost disinterestedly, they watched, wondering what death would feel like.
The sword wavered, then dropped, the tip burying deep into the moss-covered dirt of the clearing they'd fought in.
"Not yet." The woman made no move to help her opponent up, and so they stayed on the ground and arched an eyebrow at her in confusion.
"And just what does that mean?"
The woman sighed deeply, tossing down her shield, its hardy wood covered in fresh scars. "There's two sides to every story," she said. "Sometimes more."
"What do stories have to do with duels between a criminal and a hero?"
"See, that's your side." She flashed a grin at them, and they finally sat up, confused by the turn the day had taken. "My side, this is just a story of a well-known mercenary getting asked to do another impossible job. Boring, almost, until I actually got to fight you. I wish I knew yours."
They frowned. "You want me to recount the fight we just had?"
The woman leaned back in laughter at that, and if her armor had been less well-made it would have spelled her end, a quick knife to the gap between throat guard and chest plate… but her suit defended every inch of her skin, as did her reputation. Without their weapon, trying to fight back was useless.
"I don't just want to hear about the fight," she finally said, grinning back down at them. "I want to hear about you. What made you do all this, what you were thinking, what you did when you were away from all other people. I want to know it all." They pondered for a moment, thinking back. In the end, it was at least a tactic to live a while longer.
And the woman intrigued them. Despite the lack of interest the world held, this woman and her desire to know, the emotions her face had held before she refrained from murder- it all made them curious.
"Two sides to every story…" they muttered before nodding and looking up at her, voicing their thoughts without restraint. She was still going to kill them, after all; why not indulge a bit? "I just wish I knew yours."
The woman blinked in surprise, straightening up slightly from where she'd leaned against her sword. "Really? Well then." Her smile returned, and she sheathed her sword to sit on the ground a few feet away from them. "After you."

Whoaaaaa I love this!!! I really want to hear what comes next, pleaseeeee write more if you have time? Honestly the only 'problem' I can think of is that you called the villain 'they', it works fine and it's not actually bad, just unusual. But this is so awesomeeeeeee!!!

He stood silently, clad in black alone. A bundle of white daisies hand by his side. He could feel the damp morning dew from the grass seeping into his shoes but he didn't make any effort to move. He stared down at the gravestone ahead of him, eyes brimmed with tears that he was fighting to hold back. Tyler Reeves, 2001-2019, brother, son, friend. He felt as though he were seeing the words for the first time, it had only been a week. Grass was just starting to sprout from the rectangle of dirt laying by his feet. It may have only been a week but it felt like a lifetime. The tears fell from his eyes but his face did not change from his blank, hurt expression. He quickly wiped the tears with the sleeve of his jacket and gently set the flowers in front of the stone. There are two sides to every story, I wish I knew yours.

@Bandito I'm glad you like it! I did have specific OCs of mine in mind for this which is why the person on the ground is a they and not a he or she, but I ended up just liking it better without names. And if I have time, I'll definitely be writing more for this, or just for this thread in general! I really miss having little prompts like these to just work on, brings me back to my writing roots on the Writer's Digest website XD