Lady of the Moonlight

No one knew when the war had started. It seemed to have always been. It was a stream of constant battles between the vampires and werewolves. No one could really say when or how the initial conflict began, but an eye for an eye was a proverb both sides followed almost religiously. Authorities had been called countless times to break up the riots. They stopped coming.

The crows and ravens were the messengers of violence. The smart folk knew to stay away from where they flocked; the clever ones bribed them with food for safe passage. The birds took no sides. They only served whoever best served their desires. They watched. And they waited.

The vampires trusted the ravens. The werewolves knew they could count on the crows.

Until one day they couldn’t.

The day she came.

Whispers spread ear to ear. Rumours. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why this school? She was one of the fae. A siren. An elf. A witch. Something else entirely.

Watching her glide by, her feet hidden beneath the hem of her skirts that trailed behind her, made everyone fall silent. Her eyes were dark and shadowed, her hair gold and ethereal, shining even beneath her hood. When she’d passed, everyone blinked a fog out of their eyes and wondered if she’d been real.

The birds flocked to her, an ominous murder foretelling some doom.

All the fighting stopped when she entered the fray. She always walked into the crowd boldly, and it parted before her footsteps like a mist. All breath was stolen from their lungs. Every head turned to watch her pass. When she was gone, they dropped their arms and walked back to whence they came.

All was silent.

The vampires and the werewolves, once bitter enemies, huddled together in fear of her. They cowered whenever a black shape soared over them and spoke only in hushed tones.

One night, when the moon was full and the wind was still, they gathered in the courtyard to confront her. She stood in the centre, head bowed and smiling as though she’d known all along they would be coming.

All the fire in their eyes went out, replaced by a sheer terror whipped up by the sudden gale that whipped around them.

She may have said something. She may have not said a word. All they knew was that she lifted her arms, calling the black birds to her on the wind. When they surrounded her, a whirlwind of nearly impenetrable darkness, she let out a cry.

And she was gone.


No one knows when the war stopped, or when the carrion birds ceased to flock here. In a single night, both were gone, replaced by a fog of memory long gone.


Let’s face it. If you haven’t figured it out by my lack of actually posting my prompt fills, I’ve decided to stop doing them. Life and general writers’ block got in the way too much for me to be able to realistically continue doing the weekly prompts. Life is still in the way a bit overmuch for me to post here in general with any regularity, at least for now. I’m not sure when things will settle down for me or when the muse will strike me again, but I’ll try to pop in with a story or two at least once a month if I can.

Weekly Writing Prompts Update

I’ve been bad at keeping up with my writing prompts recently. As of now, I’m currently 3 weeks behind on prompts. I’m mostly just writing this post to say that I’ll be skipping the week 29 prompt. It states that the story needs to start with the opening line “F*** you!” which isn’t something I want to start any of my stories with, to be honest. As such, the next story that will be posted will be the week 30 prompt, and then week 31 to hopefully catch up again. Thanks for being patient and for reading my little short stories. They are a fun exercise, even if some of the prompts are more difficult to fill than others.

Skipping Week 29

Writing Prompts Week 28: A Story That Ends At Sunrise

“It’s not safe out there,” he said, pulling the curtain closed against the oppressive darkness. A high-pitched wail emphasized his point.

Three figures huddled closer together. One was crying, another consoling him, and the third held the fire poker they’d commandeered as a makeshift weapon.

“And what about Emily?” The second asked. “You can’t expect us to stay here until morning and hope there might be something left of her to find and bury.”

“If I let you out, you’re as good as dead!”

“Well at least I’ll have had the guts to try,” the third one spat. “Step aside!” They strode towards the door, shoving the man aside when he tried to block them. “I’m not abandoning Emily.”

The air outside was filled with high-pitched screaming. Large bat-like creatures flew across the canopy in a blur and the sky was glowing from a large fire not too far off. They forged forward regardless, working their way down the path they knew their friend would have taken before night fell.

Twice, they were assaulted, but they managed to fend off the beasts with their makeshift weapon. Once they nearly turned their ankle as their foot slid down toward the bottom of a gully they had misjudged the location of. There was no sign of Emily.

“Can’t give up,” they muttered, more as an encouragement than out of conviction now.

They eventually came to a thick grove of trees, just outside town, that had dozens of the creatures swooping and screaming at it. None could get past the densely packed branches, though. One spotted them and made to dive at them when it was pierced by an arrow with red fletching. Her arrow.

They wasted little time worming between the trunks that ringed the grove. Stray branches pulled at their clothes and scratched their face until finally there was a gap in the trees.

“Lue! Thank God you’re alright!” A tall figure enveloped them in an embrace, their vision momentarily blocked by the fabric of her robes.

“I could say the same to you, Emily. I thought I was going to find you dead.”

“Not a chance. They can’t get in here, so I’m just waiting for dawn. Or company, I guess. Are you my brave hero?” Her eyes took on that flirty glint that usually sent Lue’s heart crazy, but the effect was dampened by a horrendous screeching from a creature caught in the branches of a tree.

“Huh, holly. Should have thought about that before.”

“I told Eirik they would be weak to that, but would he listen? No. And now we have to hole up in that silly shack every night.”

“I mean, would you rather be there or here, though?”

“At least here there’s fresh air. And I can watch the sunrise.”

Suddenly, the air was filled with piercing shrieks from every direction. Both of them flinched initially, but Emily recovered quickly once she jammed pieces of cloth in her ears. She gestured for Lue to do the same and beckoned them to follow her up a tree. They looked at her like she had gone completely crazy, but followed her all the same.

Rather than being beset upon by the creatures, they were treated to the sight of them all fleeing in the same direction away from the rising sun. It was the most beautiful sunrise they’d ever seen.

“We should head back,” Lue finally stated. “The others are worried.”

Writing Prompts Week 27: A Story Featuring A Song

Spinning, laughing, dancing
To her favourite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone

She was like a spirit, the way she glided across the ground, her dress fanning around her like blooming flowers as she twirled. The field grass waved alongside her, giving rhythm to her steps. From somewhere, music played, carried on the wind.

Crooked little smile
On her face
Tells a tale of grace
That’s all her own

Humans didn’t come here. Only fairies and spirits. They watched her move with entranced eyes. She came here often, and they loved her. Sometimes one would try to join her, pull her into their own dance, but she payed them little mind as she made her own steps, humming her own tune.

Eyes wide open, always hoping
For the sun
And she’ll sing her song to anyone
That comes along

She always vanished with the sunrise, returning home and leaving her audience behind. They were left with the final notes of the music lingering in their ears. What magic did she possess to entrance the fae so well? None of them knew.

Writing Prompts Week 26: A Story About Nostalgia

For some reason, the smell of fresh bread reminds me of when I was small. Particularly when I would play in the garden with my sister. I’m not sure why, but it makes me miss those simple days.

We had grand adventures together in the woods, fighting off imaginary beasts and climbing mountains that were actually trees.

And I remember sneaking sweet peas while helping my father with his vegetable garden. He was always the green thumb in the family.

It also reminds me sometimes of the day we got our first dog. A golden retriever, with thick, fluffy fur and big brown eyes. She was a good dog, always looking after us.

My apartment doesn’t allow pets.

I miss home. I should stop making bread all the time.

Writing Prompts Week 25: A Story Set At Summer Solstice

First day of summer. For Delilah, that meant just one thing. Summer festival!

In the sleepy little town she lived in, the festival was probably the only thing she had to look forward to there. Well, and Christmas, but that was ages away.

The festival was the one time of year where everyone from around town and the outskirts of it would gather together and set up an entire day of fun activities, local goods, and various contests, all capped off with a fireworks show and an entire night spent telling folk stories around the bonfire.

It helped that this was about the only time of year when she could see the cute boys that lived in the area.

Delilah usually spent half the festival helping her mother with her bakery stand before swapping out with her brother to go dancing. She did the same this year as well.

Dancing was a great tradition that took place during the fireworks. It was an immaculately planned event where the fireworks went off in time to the music. The most seasoned dancers knew the best ways to accent their performance as light exploded in the sky.

Delilah knew one boy who would make an excellent partner; the mayor’s son was trained nearly all his life to dance in the most flashy way possible to the tune. He wasn’t much to look at, however, and his hygiene tended to leave more to be desired than she would prefer.

The butcher’s son was more attractive in Delilah’s opinion, but he had a terrible personality and was known for stealing kisses just for the fun of it. It was also rumoured that he had wandering hands.

Now the farmer boy was very sweet. He knew how to be polite and didn’t try to talk down to people or act like he was better than anyone, and he had helped Delilah on more than one occasion when she found herself stranded halfway home. He had two left feet when dancing, and his freckles and curly hair made him look more childish than handsome, but Delilah found herself thinking about him more than she ever expected.


“It’s not right for a lady to be alone on the solstice,” a soft voice came from behind her.

Delilah turned around to find the farmer boy, Jeremy.

“Are you alone tonight? I could accompany you if you like.”

“That would be wonderful, Jeremy, thank you.” She put her hand in his and they walked out to the open part of the field, where music was beginning to play.