These are my writing goals for August.
- Daily Writing: Flash fiction/Writing Tips and Thoughts/Words Go Here
- Weekly Writing: Short story (up to 7,500 words)
- Monthly Writing: 4 completed short stories plus a handful of flash fiction stories
What are yours?
This week’s writing prompt:
Go forth and write!
Remember to share your story.
James waited for Wendy by the Fallen Kings ruins. Anytime he received a request from her to meet, he felt both hesitant and eager. James figured one day it would be a trap, but he liked taking chances. Plus, given the opportunity, he was ready to kill Peter. James, or as the crew called him, Captain, was envious of Wendy’s travels with Peter. He wasn’t sure if it upset him more that she went with Peter or that he didn’t. Peter never trusted any of the other boys he brought to the island, especially after James betrayed him. But for Peter to put his trust in a girl was unthinkable.
But Wendy was different. She was kind, had a sense of purpose, and most importantly she never backed down from Peter. She challenged his every move, which no one would ever dare to do. Peter didn’t scare Wendy and that made her the scariest of them all.
It also made her someone James wanted on his side.
James heard careless footsteps crunching through the leaves and twigs of the forest floor. His body tensed as he silently drew his blade.
“Oh, put that thing away, Jamie, before you cut off your hand,” Wendy said, coming around a crumbled piece of stone. James sighed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight of Wendy although he silently cursed himself for it. She was the only one allowed to call him Jamie. Even if he protested and demanded she call him James, she wouldn’t have listened to him. He secretly liked it. Made him feel like a boy again, innocent and full of adventure.
“Wendigo, why the summons?” James tried to play down his awkward smiling. This was Wendy. Not some one to get stupid over. Plus, he was a bloody captain of a pirate ship, not some love struck teenager. Get it together, James.
She frowned. Unlike James, she did not like the nickname he had given her. “Peter’s leaving for England at nightfall and I am to go with him. It’s a recruiting mission.”
Every few months, Peter returned to the other side and collected what he determined were unwanted boys. Most of those boys were orphans or runaways, but some had families. Wendy’s brothers John and Michael had parents who missed them. Peter claimed that the parents forgot their children and replaced them with new ones. Wendy knew the truth.
“And you want me to do what about it?” James asked.
“I want you to stop him,” she said. Wendy sat down in the rubble of crushed stone and debris. She crossed her legs under her. Her brown hair was tied loosely in a braid down her back. She looked tired. Older.
James sat next to her. His knee touched hers. “Why don’t you tell him not to go? He listens to you,” he said.
She sighed, looking down at her hands before she turned her face towards James. He hadn’t noticed the sadness living inside her eyes. Had it always been there? She looked broken. “Not this time,” she said. “He’s sending me home, James.”
“What does that mean? This is your home. You belong here,” James said. His chest tightened. Peter must have found out about their friendship. He was punishing Wendy for it or punishing James or both. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll stop him, Wendigo.” James meant it with everything he was. He would kill Peter if that’s what it took.
“Please do, Jamie. I can’t stay there,” Wendy said. She stood up and turned to go as James got to his feet. He grabbed her hand, stopping her, “I promise.” He held her hand longer than necessary, searching her face for something. She smiled, softly, at him.
James watched as she disappeared between the ruins.
James needed to get back to his ship and gather his crew. He needed a solid plan to stop Peter this time. No more child’s play. Peter was sending home the only real friend James had. He was not going to let that happen.
“That was sweet,” a voice said from behind James. He knew that voice. He would recognize it anywhere. Peter. There was no point in pulling out his blade. James gritted his teeth and turned to face him.
“You are capable of making it so that someone feels regret, Peter. Why are you so miserable that you need to destroy everyone around you? You love her. You need her. Why are you doing this to her?” James asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Peter asked. He tilted his head slightly like a bird, looking at James with unnatural mossy green eyes.
“No, Peter. It’s not,” James said. “Everything’s a game to you and no one knows they’re playing.”
Peter chuckled. “You’re no fun, James. You went and grew up. You fell in love. You ruined everything,” Peter said. He stepped closer to James. He circled him like an animal about to attack its prey. James rested his hand on the handle of his blade ready for the attack.
Peter stopped a breath away from James’ ear and whispered, “And I don’t like sharing.”
©Danielle Tauscher, 2017
*writing prompt from: terribleminds
I’m cheating this week.
I’m following Chuck Wendig’s lead and using InspiroBot for this week’s prompt.
Do yourself a favor a click the link. Whatever prompt you get, write about it (or keep generating until you find one you like). Some of them are hilariously weird.
Don’t forget to share your story!
Go forth and write!
He made a choice.
Jack didn’t remember dying. He remembered the bridge and waiting for the trains to come. He remembered laughter and friends and the taste of cheap, stolen beer. He remembered her hand in his asking about the future.
He didn’t remember the moment the other one came. He was an older man, with hair like Einstein. He wore flip-flops and board shorts. His shirt had images of pineapples. Jack liked pineapples.
The man called himself, Sal. He was fast-talking, like a used car salesman from a small town. Jack didn’t understand why no one else could see Sal. Maybe he was the only one drunk off the beer.
Jack couldn’t feel her hand anymore. He reached out to touch her face but his hand went straight through her, like she was a ghost. It would take him several more attempts before he realized he was the one who was no longer solid.
His eyes searched Sal, pleading with the old, strange man for some answers. Sal only spoke in riddles about gates and choices and the end and recruits.
“There isn’t much time, kid. We need to get to the Gate,” Sal said.
Jack didn’t understand. He wanted to ask questions, but he felt lost, confused and unable to control his own body. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed.
And then they were at the ocean.
How? Jack thought. Weren’t they on a bridge just seconds ago?
“Listen, kid. This is the Gate. Here is where it happens,” Sal said.
What happens? What Gate? Jack didn’t see a gate. He saw the darkness of the water, but he did not hear the sound of waves.
“I need you to make a decision. The others will be here soon,” the old man said. “You chose to go through the Gate to whatever fate waits for you on the other side or you stay on this side and I give you a job.”
Sal said it so matter-of-factly, like it made perfect sense. Maybe it did. Maybe the choice was easier than anything else Jack ever did. He was curious about the Gate. Where did it go? And why was it kept in the ocean? He had questions. He knew he should be asking something. He needed more details, more information about the Gate and the Job. Mostly, he needed to ask why he was here.
But Jack didn’t ask questions. He watched the water. He remembered what the ocean sounded like, but did not hear it. He could not smell it. Jack knelt down in the sand. He dragged his fingertips through the sand, but felt nothing.
“Kid, do you understand what I’ve told you? You go or you stay. It’s your choice,” Sal said. Had he been talking this whole time, Jack wondered. “Hey, kid, you hear me? They’re here. What’s your decision?”
Jack saw the others walking out of the ocean.
He made a choice.
©Danielle Tauscher, 2017
We slid inside his skin. We stretched our new limbs, trying them on for size. This one fit perfectly like it was made for us. We roamed around his memories. That was our favorite part. Humans were an odd species. They longed for connection with others, but they held back their dark secrets. Humans were so afraid of being alone and left behind. They hadn’t realized we left them long ago. They searched the universe for us, the answers to the questions. We were always a moment out of reach. It was a game we played. We laughed at the humans. Such children, such animals. They were beneath us.
This boy was barely seventeen. He struggled against us. He felt us creep through his mind. He knew we were inside. He was rare. Most humans barely noticed our presence when we took over their bodies. They chalked up the invasion to a cold or lack of sleep. Never could they imagine it was us.
Yet, this one knew. He was who we waited for.
He would be the one to end our banishment.
©Danielle Tauscher, 2017