Writing Prompts Week 20: A Story Written In Second Person

You used to walk in the garden, amongst the flowers and untended grass. Your feet left little footprints to follow. Now that grass grows untouched, alone, and the flowers wither in their solace.

You’d weave around the marketplace and dance down the pier. The players always lifted their tunes when you passed. People sang more joyously for your presence. You were happy and loved.

Your shoes were worn thin with all the days you spent running across the cobblestone streets. Your clothes bleached in the sun. The rain was sweeter then. The sky was brighter and the birds more lively. Your childish joy brought light to the town.

Then you cut your hair. Your smile faded and your steps lost their spring. You gave up your youthful garb and traded it for armour. Your toys were replaced with blades.

The day you took up your sword was the day the sky wept. The people grew silent. The image of your fading silhouette burned into their memories. You left them behind. You promised you would return someday.

You were too late.

The crops failed. The people left. The land fell into ruin. All that is left are the crumbling husks of buildings, stray dogs, and abandoned tools. And myself. Cursed to sit and wait; to watch for the day the sun returns.


Writing Prompts Week 19: A Story Set In A Theatre

Duck beneath the fallen beam and creep around the rubble at the entrance. This was a familiar path. Past the long abandoned popcorn stand, around the hall. There was only one door still useable on the first floor.

Entering the theatre hall, a lone person was in view. He sat alone at the middle row, watching the abandoned stage.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Continue reading

Writing Prompts Week 18: A Story About a Historical Figure

Amelia had never been the girly sort of young girl. She’d often run around in trousers with skinned knees and hop over fences like the boys did. She liked it that way, being more free to have fun.

“Oh, you should be more lady-like,” her grandmother would scold her. “Why don’t you go help your mother in the kitchen like a good girl, instead of acting like you’re a boy.”

Amelia stuck her tongue out by way of answer. She did help out, though. She liked to experiment with different ways of cooking things. Green beans  were always such a pain to take out of their pods, so she cooked them in the pods. They tasted just fine. Corn was annoying to husk too, but she couldn’t make it taste any good.

There was many a time when Amelia would be found in a scrap with the neighborhood boys. She’d come home with mussed hair and a bloody nose and dirt all over herself. Her mother gave up admonishing her for it and simply shook her head while attending to Amelia’s various cuts and bruises.

It really shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Amelia would want to grow up to do something traditionally thought of as a man’s job. Her mother cried the first time she set off on her first solo flight. 

Fame found her quickly. And then she was gone.

Writing Prompts Week 17: A Story Set in a Country I’ve Never Been to

“Atlantis,” she announced proudly before shoveling a forkful of rice and chicken into her mouth.

Her companion shook his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy, Heather. Have I told you you’re crazy? Because you are. Atlantis is a myth.”

“And what did Professor Michel always say? ‘All myths are stories’, and this one had to have come from something. I intend to find out what.” Heather pushed her empty plate away from herself and stood, hefting a backpack onto her shoulders.

“Is that why you hijacked my family’s trip to Athens? So you could do crazy stuff like this? I hope you’re not expecting me to help you with this.”

“You don’t have to come with me. I just needed to get to Greece, and you know how I am about flying alone. Your trip happened to be at the same time I wanted to come out here. Convenient.”

“How are you even going to find it, assuming it does actually exist?”

“Oh ye of little faith. I’ve been in contact with a research group the past few months. They’re based not too far out of town and they also believe that Atlantis could have once been a real city. There are a few prospects they’ve dug up, and I got invited to join them for the underwater investigations.”

He leaned his chin on his hand. “So, I couldn’t come even if I wanted to.”

“Nope,” she giggled, sticking out her tongue at the man. “I’ll make sure to write. Tell your parents thanks for the ride.”

He watched her scamper off, down the road from the restaurant and towards the docks. There was a spring in her step that he hadn’t seen in a long while and, for just a minute, he began to regret not joining her on this latest adventure.