The Christmas Boots

 

The lone boot lay abandoned in the median of the busy intersection. Few people spared it a glance as they hurried about their day; the holiday was approaching. Homelessness was rampant in the city. No doubt it was just the cast off of one of the many vagrants who occupied that slender piece of concrete hour after hour, day after day.

One man cursed under his breath as he cut the turn too close and the boot caught under his tire, dragging along for a moment before breaking free and bouncing into the center lane. The next car swerved around it and then traffic resumed it's steady pace as cars sped over it.

It was so covered in dirt and filth it was impossible to tell what color it might have formerly been. Even before being run over, it was almost unwearable. The uppers were clearly pulling away from the sole in many places, the laces were completely gone and it was essentially held together with strips of dirty duct tape.

All the Little Things

It was quiet. Too quiet. I’d become accustomed to the patter of little feet following behind me, of constantly looking around my own feet to make sure I wasn’t about to step on her, to seeing her curled up in one of her many beds, to her snores and squeaky yawns, to impatient yaps when I didn’t let her back inside fast enough, to her theatrical spins and running about harum scarum as I prepared her food. It was too quiet. But she was everywhere I looked. From the beds still scattered about, the blankets she loved to burrow into, the few toys that she never played with on the ground, the gate across the hall to keep her from wandering, the stairs she needed to get on the bed. She was everywhere and nowhere. The hole she left behind was cavernous. And now here I sit, alone, wishing with all my heart that dogs’ lives weren’t so short and what I would have given to have more time.

Last Call

Uncertain if I'll pursue anything with this, but here's a very short blurb that I came up with a little while back.

She viewed it all through a blur, the edges of her vision slowly growing darker until it all faded to black.

She stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. An old security officer wandered by, offering her a smile.

"Off to somewhere exciting?" he asked her.

"Yes, I'm finally getting out of here," she told him, a smile stretching across her plump face.

"Where to?"

She shrugged. "Wherever the train takes me. As long as it's away from here."

The old man nodded sagely. "Mmm, the greatest kind of adventure, where your destination could be anywhere and nowhere all at the same time, where time means nothing and the possibilities are endless."

She nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir, exactly. I've always wanted to see the world and now I'm taking that chance."

She stood up straighter as the train appeared in the distance, gleaming black and gold. 

"Here it comes!" she cried, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

It slowly puffed into the station, groaning slightly as it finally stopped. The doors opened, but no one got off. Instead there came the call of "All aboard!"

The young woman turned to the old man with a grin, face shining, eyes bright with excitement.

"Well, sir, this is it! I'm off!"

"Best of luck, my dear. Go see that world."

With a little wave, she bounded up the stairs of the train. A few moments later, the train pulled out again, steadily gathering speed until it was a mere dot in the distance, headed due west into the setting sun.

The old man smiled sadly before turning around and making his way back to station house.

The Darkness

Darkness. She was intimately familiar with the darkness that lived inside her, that sometimes seemed to inhabit her very soul. Some days she embraced it in all its horror and other days she rejected it with a strength borne of desperation. For years there had been a balance, but a year of changes had upset that very delicate balance and more and more she found herself giving into the darkness.

The darkness was her enemy. No matter how well she knew it of that she was always aware. But the darkness was seductive too and while she was aware of the danger, sometimes she didn't care. Because the darkness promised release, an eventual freedom from pain, freedom from her own mind. And as time continued its inexorable march, that freedom became more and more appealing. And the darkness took advantage of that, sinking its claws into her, infecting her with its poison. Soon it would consume her.

Sleep eluded her that night, her unfocused and scattered mind allowing the darkness to creep in. Carefully, it reached out its tendrils and began to gather those scattered thoughts, twining them together in a way that fit its purpose. Unaware of what the darkness was doing, of why her thoughts had begun to clarify, she found herself thinking back over the day, criticizing her every word and action. Why was it so hard for her keep her mouth shut? Why couldn't she be more competent in her job? Why were words so difficult sometimes? Why was she so useless? Around and around she went, sleep drifting farther and farther away as the darkness weaved its malicious web, drawing her deeper and deeper into its embrace. The internal vitriol she spewed at herself ate away at her, driving her to despair. It took her a long time, too long, to finally sense the web closing in around her mind. She began to fight it but those tendrils of darkness had wormed their way deep into her very being and this night she would not win. When sleep at last claimed her, pulling her free from the darkness and granting her mind the respite it so desperately needed, it found her more fractured than ever, the damage done by the darkness bordering on the irreparable. But there was still a spark of resilience and she had the strength to continue fighting the darkness, at least for a little while.

Hope

Hope is a delicate, fragile thing. Like a crystalline object, so easily shattered. Or a spark so easily extinguished by a breath of wind. It was this spark, one that had remained stubbornly alive for months, that she hoped to destroy once and for all.

"Um, I don't know how to say this, but, I like you. I don't want this to affect the way that we work together or anything, but I wanted to tell you."

Those first words came out in a jumbled rush growing more measured after the confession had been uttered and ending limply.

"What?"

He sounded genuinely surprised. She'd thought he might have had an inkling of her growing feelings, but evidently not. Or he was a good actor.

She repeated those three simple words. They were harder to get out this time because she knew what was coming.

"Thank you for your honesty but, I don't feel as strongly. I like you as a friend and a co-worker though. And don't worry about work, this won't affect that at all."

His words were spoken kindly, gently. She chanced a glance up and made eye contact. She didn't know what she expected to see. Judgment, disgust, pity. But all she saw was compassion and understanding. She knew he'd been where she was now and it was obvious to her that he didn't want to cause her any pain.

"I understand and thanks for your honesty."

The air hung between them awkwardly for several moments before he turned away.

"See you on Monday."

"Bye."

She watched him walk away, waiting for the relief that it was over to wash over her. Instead waves of pain and grief threatened to overwhelm her. She hurried to her car and let the tears come. Why did it hurt so much? She knew he was going to reject her, they always rejected her. She'd only been actively interested in four men in her almost thirty years. The first was the only one she'd dated, the other two had rejected her and now he had too.

What was it that made her so undesirable? So unlovable? No, she didn't fit society's standard of beauty in the slightest, but were men truly so unable to see past that? Was her appearance always going to be the roadblock to finding love and happiness?

Long minutes passed as the tears kept coming. This was wrong. She'd only confessed her feelings because she'd known he would reject her. She'd been certain that once that happened, her feelings would fade and that silly spark of hope would finally die. But there it was, a stubborn light that continued to burn.

Time, she thought, her breathing steadying as the tears slowed, all I need is time.

Four months later she bid him good night after another long day of work. She glanced over at him as she prepared to back out of her parking spot and head for home. His eyes were glued to his phone, he never glanced up. He never did.

A familiar pain in her chest reminded her of her unrequited feelings. Confessing had done nothing to extinguish them, she still liked him and he was still uninterested. How pathetic was that.

As she turned out of the parking lot, she wondered how long those feelings would continue. She'd never experienced anything like it. She'd gotten over her previous rejections well enough, but she couldn't kick this one. She turned on her music, anything to distract her, to pull her out of her thoughts.

Time, she thought for the umpteenth time, all I need is time.

Hope seems like a delicate, fragile thing. Like a crystalline object, appearing easily shattered. Or a spark which can be so easily extinguished by a breath of wind. But sometimes that crystalline object is hard as diamond and sometimes that breath of wind sets the spark ablaze.

The Virus

It was a beautiful spring morning, the sun shining, birds singing, trees blooming, in short, a perfect day. But few people seemed to take notice of its beauty. Everyone bustled about, their minds on all the things they needed to do, no time to stop and smell the proverbial roses. All except one young woman who gazed about her with delight as she walked through the grocery store parking lot. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, lifting her face to the sun as a gentle wind played with her hair. It truly was a glorious day. After months and months of cold and snow, this was the first truly warm day of the new year. Behind her, an older woman suddenly sneezed.

The next day, the news began reporting on the sudden increase in allergies that seemed to have gripped the nation. And then people started dying. The young woman who had so enjoyed that beautiful spring day was among the first to die. An autopsy revealed an aggressive new virus as the cause, a virus that was totally unknown. The medical and scientific world threw themselves into discovering what it was and where it came from, but the more they studied it, the more questions they had. It started out as a kind of respiratory infection before spreading to every other body system and wreaking havoc until the body could take no more and simply shut down. Once diagnosed, a person had only weeks to live at best, days in the worst cases. But what made it so deadly was that a person could remain asymptomatic for weeks or even months before becoming symptomatic as they inevitably did. Weeks and months that a person could still be transmitting the virus.

What began as mild alarm soon grew into full on panic as the virus spread across the globe. Within weeks it had invaded every continent except Antarctica and within months there were cases in every country. The drastic measures that countries began to adopt seemed to do little to stop the spread. Occasionally the number of positive cases would slow, but they never stopped.

For the next two years, the virus ravaged the world. Every time scientists thought they had found a way to contain it, it would evolve again and the number of sick and dead would skyrocket once more. Mass graves became normal as the death toll increased and cemeteries and morticians became overrun with the dead. And as things worsened, the dead were left to decay where they died in their homes. There was no one left to collect the bodies, it was every man, woman, and child for his and herself.

But as the human population declined, other life flourished. Without the threat of humans, many endangered species began to slowly recover. Forests began to grow and spread, slowly swallowing up villages, towns, and eventually cities. Buildings began to crumble, the revived plant and animal life speeding up their decay. The skies above once smog covered cities began to clear as factories ground to a halt and cars remained permanently parked. Five years after the outbreak, human life had ceased to exist on planet Earth. Animals and plants ruled the once thriving cities abiding by the only laws that remained: the laws of nature.

A young fawn followed its mother from the ruins of an old parking structure, lifting its face to the warm sun. It was a beautiful spring morning, the sun shining, birds singing, trees blooming, in short, a perfect day.

The Girl

If you know me at all, then you know that I am not a fan of zombies. I think the whole concept is seriously overused and just not that interesting. However, more recently I heard of a zombie movie that I thought I might actually like. It's called Train to Busan in case anyone is interested. Anyway, the general story is about a father trying to save his young daughter during a zombie apocalypse. Obviously there's more that happens, but that's kind of the bare bones of the plot. In reading about this movie, I suddenly thought, wouldn't it be terrifying if the kids were the zombies, not the adults. That's not an aspect that's been hugely explored, at least not as far as I'm aware; I'm not a zombie aficionado. And so the idea for this story was born. I think it's pretty clear that it's not complete, but I wanted to share what I have so far to see if people thought it was worth continuing and just get some general opinions. So please, read and comment, constructive criticism is very much appreciated as always.


It started with one child, a single child living in the countryside outside of Berlin. A smart, sweet child who suddenly disappeared. After days of frantic searching, she was found at last covered in dirt and mud and blood. Naturally her anxious parents rushed her to the hospital, but it was soon determined that there was nothing physically wrong with her. The blood was not her own. As the days passed, her parents came to realize that their sweet little girl was gone and in her place was a primitive, increasingly violent and terribly strong creature that began to attack anyone who came near. The doctors were utterly perplexed by her condition. Months passed with little progress in treating her. Their one discovery was that although she behaved primitively, she was almost disturbingly intelligent, certainly far beyond that of a normal eight year old. It was several more months before they began to notice that the girl was not hostile towards the other children on the floor when they passed by her window. If any adult passed by too closely, she would violently attack the window, smashing at it with her fists, her eyes wild. But when a child passed by, she simply watched them intently, almost longingly, sometimes even reaching out to them. The doctors decided to perform an experiment of sorts. The children on that floor had long been given up on by their parents and other family members and accidents did happen from time to time. If anything went wrong, it could easily be covered up.

Unknown

She stands on the brink of the unknown. Ahead is possibility, freedom, a potentially bright future but also uncertainty and the risk of failure. Behind is everything she's ever known and while she doesn't necessarily love it, the familiarity of it is comforting. But it's also a prison and the unknown is becoming more and more tempting. But what if she should fail? Could she bear to return to the life that she was so tired of, a life that felt meaningless and routine? She wanted adventure, to see the world, to truly live. She was tired of being bogged down by the mundane. But her friends, her family, they were all right there, so close. How could she survive without them? They were her rocks, her pillars. What if distance should cause them to drift apart? That she knew she could not bear. And so the fear kept her at bay, kept her from taking the leap. She felt bound to fall and if she did, could she rise again? But what if maybe, just maybe, she flew?

Twilight:Rewritten (Chapter 3)

I had someone ask me when the lead male is going to appear. All I have to say right now is patience. It'll probably be another couple of chapters. I really want to develop my female lead and give a clear picture of her life so the differences between before and after him are obvious. You'll likely meet him before the end of the week, so just be patient. All in good time.

It was after one in the afternoon by the time I woke up. I dragged myself out of bed and went to the window, pushing aside the curtains to look out the window groggily. The day was once again overcast, but the clouds hung lower today and the threat of rain was heavy in the air. My grumbling stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours. I began to head for the kitchen before remembering that I had yet to go shopping and the house was completely devoid of food. Groaning, I dug through boxes for shampoo, conditioner, soap and my other bathroom supplies. Thus armed, I marched into the bathroom to try to make myself presentable enough to go out into public.

Despite my desire to get out and go shopping, I had to admit that the shower was pleasantly refreshing. I studied my face in the mirror as I dried my hair, trying to decide if I felt like putting out the effort of applying makeup. Normally I at least wore concealer and foundation with a bit of blush to even out my complexion, but I had noticed the previous day that without the harsh sun of the desert hitting my skin, it actually looked quite pretty. I walked back into the bedroom and opened the curtains wide before turning to face the mirror that leaned against the wall. My skin looked smooth, almost flawless, which was a feat in and of itself and I was certainly paler than usual; no one here would guess that I was a Latina though my skin was still too dark for me to be taken as a pure white girl. I shook my hair over my shoulder and took a moment to admire how the darkness of my hair highlighted the paleness of my face. I'd never considered myself to be really pretty. I figured I was average at best, but looking at myself now, I actually felt pretty for the first time in who knew how long.

Twilight: Rewritten (Chapter 2)

One thing I want to mention before I get too far along is that what I'm doing is just writing. I am really not doing any kind of editing at this point, so I realize that what you're reading is very raw. I'm sorry if that bugs anyone, but my goal at this point is just to get everything written and then go back because I have an issue of getting partway through a story and just stopping. If you've read my blog, that's probably pretty obvious. I do best writing short stories where I can get all my ideas out at once. I'm hoping this one will fare better since I actually have the story fairly complete in my head which is a first honestly. Anyway, I will hopefully get chapter 3 written and posted between now and Tuesday. I have classes all day tomorrow so I don't expect I'll get anything done then.

I was woken up by a light tapping on my knee. I opened my eyes slowly, blinking owlishly as I looked around in confusion. It took me a second to reorient myself and remember where I was.

"Sorry to wake you, girl, but we're here," Duane told me, gesturing at the small house before me.

His words shook the final remnants of sleep from me as I leaned forward and took my first look at my new home. I was relieved to see my red Xterra already sitting in the driveway. It had been simpler just to have it moved along with the rest of my possessions rather than making the almost 1,500 mile drive myself. I was already paying to have everything else moved and moving it as well had proved to be much cheaper than I had expected.

Twilight: Rewritten (Chapter 1)

I am aware that this is a very short chapter, but I'm finding as I begin to write that a fair amount of research is required. This is mostly due to the fact that I want to make this my own and not be an obvious rewrite of Twilight because the way I have it planned, it's going to be quite different. As I plan out more and more of the story, I'm finding that I'm taking the very general idea of Twilight, boy meets girl kind of thing but, surprise, boy is actually a vampire and then adding my own twists and turns. One of my biggest goals is to make my female lead have an actual personality. I always hated Bella because she was so boring and I really want to avoid that here. I want my lead to be someone that people can appreciate and identify with and sympathize or empathize with. I want her to be real. Anyway, generally speaking, I think I'm going to continue making the chapters relatively short. I don't have a ton of free time and shorter chapters makes it easier for me to stay focused and actually get something written rather than waiting and hoping for larger chunk of time to be available. In any case, here's chapter 1 and again any thoughts or opinions would be much appreciated!

I pressed my head against the hard glass of the airplane window, straining to see every part of land below. I was struck once again by all the green I saw. It dominated the landscape in a way I had never seen, but then green isn't exactly a common color in the Land of Enchantment. Green mostly came in the form of the weeds that grew everywhere. Browns and greys, though? Those colors were everywhere. I wasn't a fan of them, the colors of the desert. To me they signified desolation, a place where life wasn't meant to grow or thrive. But green, green was life and what I saw below me was a lot of life.

Twilight: Rewritten (Prologue)

I realize it's been month since I've posted anything. Honestly, as much as I've been saving writing prompts on Pinterest and all, I simply haven't had any actual desire to write. However, as I was cleaning out the trunk of my car earlier today, I came across a box of books that had been sitting there for I'm going to say well over a year. They're all books bound for Goodwill, but me being me, I went through to make sure there was nothing that I wanted to keep. Among the various books was the Twilight series, four of the books I hate most. Out of random curiosity and a half-assed desire to try to once again understand why these books are so popular, I flipped through the first one and was once again massively unimpressed. The concept was still spectacularly stupid to me and the writing awful. Not that I can really talk since I can't say if my writing is any better, but then again, nothing I've ever written has gotten on the New York Times Best Seller list. And as most people know the popular Fifty Shades of Grey series originated as a Twilight fanfiction before the names were changed and it was published. Well, flipping through the book, I decided that I wanted to attempt my own "fanfiction" piece, except that I'm not a fan and my idea was rather darker and more in the typical vampire theme. If you've read Twilight, you know it starts with a prologue. Below is my prologue. I'd love some genuine feedback if it sounds interesting and if I should continue. I may continue anyways, but feedback always helps. ;)

Forever. That’s what he’d told me, what he promised me. An eternity together. He wouldn’t lie to me, he couldn't. Why would he when he so clearly loved me; it was in his every look, his every move. It couldn’t all be a lie, could it? I raised my hands to cover my face, to block out the sight before me, and found myself staring at blood, my blood, covering my hands like a scarlet glove. My breath caught in my throat as I stared, my mind struggling to understand all that had transpired within the last hour.

I slowly raised my eyes to his, hoping beyond hope to see even a glimmer of affection. I saw nothing. I looked up into the eyes that had once been so filled with love and finally understood. I had fallen for a monster. I let out a short, hysterical laugh as the pieces slowly fell into place, as I was finally forced to face and accept the inevitable. I was an instrument, his instrument, only wanted and useful until the job was completed. And now, the job was done; I was of no more use to him. A cold smile spread across his lips as he saw the veil lift, as I saw him for who he truly was: a master of manipulation.

I stood up painfully, every inch of my body screaming in protest. His eyes flared with interest, clearly wondering if his prey was going to put up a fight. I, however, had no intention of fighting him, I saw no point in delaying the inevitable. But even as he stalked me, I was once again struck by his beauty, his gracefulness. I was no longer under his spell though and for the first time, I saw just how terrible and dangerous his beauty was. How could I have been so blind? Looking back, it was so easy to see that he was using me. As tears slowly trailed down my cheeks, I turned away from him and pressed my palms against the cool glass of the window. The sun was just beginning to rise over the treetops in all its glory. I drank in the sight for a long moment, thankful that beauty, not darkness would be the last thing I saw. I slowly closed my eyes and waited.

The Judger of Souls

The old man sat huddled up against the wall, seemingly just another homeless person struggling through life. The buildings towered up on either side of him, dark and forbidding. He glanced up at the small patch of sky visible to him and noted the fading light. Night was his favorite time, when fools went out drinking and nightmares came alive to devour souls. He fully considered himself to be one of the nightmares, one who preyed on the fools who drank too much, on the young and the innocent. He didn't discriminate. As long as he could subdue them, he hunted them.

As the last of the light faded, he stood up and stretched, letting the blanket wrapped around him fall to the ground. Pulling a small mirror from his pocket he checked his reflection. He ran his fingers through his hair and beard in an attempt to comb some of the knots from them to no avail. Giving up, he shoved the mirror back into his pocket and picked up the bag and hat that lay next to him. With the cap on his head and the bag slung over one shoulder, he set off through the gloom of the alley looking for all the world like a harmless old man who wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Help! Help me!"

The Assassin

This is a story I came up with and wrote in about 30 minutes. I saw this prompt and the story just kind of hit me. I realize it's probably not all that great considering the fact I typed it out in such a short amount of time, but it was fun to actually have the inspiration to write after not having really any free time to do so during this semester. So hopefully it's better than I think it is and if not, well, I had fun writing it.

She never forgot that it was a job, her way to provide for her family, to get medical care for her father and sister. She also never forgot what she was taking away every time she pulled the trigger: a father, a son, a mother, a daughter. Their faces haunted her dreams at night, but she never tried to make them go away. What she did to survive was nothing short of monstrous, but when she was the breadwinner of her family, she didn't see another way out. It made her hold her family closer each night she made it home safely.

She had tried earning money the right way, through hard work and sheer willpower. But she could never earn enough, not on her own, and she began to despair as her family slowly slipped deeper and deeper into debt. She was well-known for being an expert markswoman; it had been her one release as she'd grown up and she had practiced every chance she got. Still, she was shocked the first time she was approached by a tall man who wanted to hire her expertise to kill a man who had committed some crime against him. She had refused immediately on impulse. She had been taught that a gun was not meant to kill a human unless there was no other choice. But he insisted that she think about it, offering her a large sum of money if she accepted.

Divided: Part 3

Lea crouched behind the sturdy trunk of the tree, eyes fixed on her prey. One of her knives dangled loosely from her fingertips. The deer she was hunting took a couple steps closer to the tree, nibbling at the grass that grew near the stream. She was beautiful, delicate and graceful, but Lea only noticed that she was well fed and healthy. Inching forward, she slowly raised her hand.

The deer's head jerked up as a sudden change in the breeze alerted her to the scent of the human nearby. Gathering her legs under her, she wheeled around, bounding for the safety of the large trees and bushes behind her. Lea leapt out from behind the tree with a wild cry, throwing her knife with deadly precision. The deer crashed to the ground just feet from the thicket, Lea’s knife buried deep in her heart.

The dying animal thrashed weakly as Lea approached and knelt beside her. With gentle strokes she soothed the doe who slowly quieted under her touch, her great heart slowing till it beat no more. Lea said a prayer over the deer, thanking the gods for providing food to feed her people and asking for the doe’s forgiveness in taking her life. Retrieving her knife, she began to gut the doe stopping suddenly as she sliced down the center of the stomach. How could she have missed something so obvious? The doe had been nursing and recently. Somewhere out there in the dark forest was a fawn waiting for a mother who would never return.

Shock and guilt sent Lea reeling to her feet. Turning away, she heaved into the nearby bushes, her stomach giving up what little food she’d eaten that day. She was always so careful during the spring and summer months to make sure that any prey she hunted were not nursing mothers. But today she hadn’t even thought to check. Her people were starving and depending on her and the other hunters to bring back the food they so desperately needed. The rabbits she’d killed two weeks previously were the last fresh meat they’d had. Since then none of the hunters had succeeded in bringing in anything but a few handfuls of vegetation. Still, not even their desperate need would ever have induced her to break the vow she’d made so many years ago.

Divided: Part 2

"Cataline! Cataline! CATALINE! Where are you, girl?!"

Cataline sighed and walked back into her room from the balcony where she'd been watching the sun set. She loved watching the blaze of colors fill the sky. It was one of her greatest regrets that she didn't get to enjoy it more often.

"I'm here, mother," she called back, wearily settling herself on the small chair in front of her vanity.

"Oh, good!" her mother exclaimed, panting slightly from climbing the stairs. "Kyleen will be up in a moment to brush your hair and help you change for bed. Don't forget that tomorrow's a very special day!"

"I won't, mother," she said quietly, gazing at her reflection in the mirror and dreading the coming day.

Sensing her daughter's distress, her mother moved to stand behind her, gently laying her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "It'll be alright, Cataline," she murmured gently. "Kyleen will help you get ready and no one will notice. Never fear." She kissed the top of her daughter's head before leaving the room, pausing for a moment at the door to look back. Anger once again coursed through her as it did every time she saw her daughter's scarred face.

Divided: Part 1

Since I had several people tell me I should continue developing the story from my last post, I decided to do just that and this is the first part of the continuation of that story. Let me know what you think in the comments!

A soft chanting came from deep within the monastery, echoing off the bare stone walls. They stood in a circle around the flames, their hands joined together as they sought the wisdom of their god. Carefully arranged in a circle around the flames were laid six thin sheets of stone painstakingly carved with ancient runes that only the monks of the monastery could read. The words glowed scarlet in the dancing firelight, seeming to take on a life of their own.

This was the prophecy. Thousands of years ago their god had spoken to the head of their order, giving him the prophecy that was to change the order of the world. Since that time, the prophecy had been fiercely guarded by the monks, the exact words known only to their inner circle. But now the time was coming for it to be set into motion. If ever there had been a time when the world needed to change, it was then for the world was terribly divided. The rich lived in towns of extreme grandeur, feasting on the best food, dressing in the most elegant clothing, living in opulent mansions, all of them commanding a bevy of slaves and servants from the poor class. The poor lived in towns set far apart from those of the rich, forced to survive and try to scrape out a living in the frigid mountains, arid desert or rugged plains, the best land, of course, in the possession of the rich. There was no equality; the rich ruled and the poor served. They had no rights, no ownership, nothing. Everything they had could be stripped from them at a moments notice.

And though the rich depended on the poor to till their fields, raise their livestock, cook their meals, sew their clothes, and serve them in every way, they refused to lift even a finger to help them regardless of how dire their circumstances. Entire towns of the poor were regularly wiped out by disease, wild animals, bandits, and natural disasters without the rich ever noticing. They were safe behind the high walls and gates that protected them.

And so as the division between the two classes continued to grow, the monks prayed over and over again for the events of the prophecy to be set into motion. Surely it was time. Their chanting grew louder as they poured out their hearts and souls, the sound traveling through the dark halls out into the frigid mountain air carrying a message of hope and change.

Divided: Prologue

Writing Prompt: As my story came to a close I realized that I was the villain all along.

I've always been intrigued by the idea of writing a book or short story focusing on the "villain" who really doesn't understand until they've lost everything that they were the villain. A villain who's very human, who truly believes they're doing the right thing for everyone involved. This is a very short portion of a story that I have semi-formed. So at the moment I'm asking for opinions. Should I continue and flesh it out, or just drop it?

The flames were getting closer. I shifted slightly in an effort to move away from the heat, stopping as a searing pain exploded in my chest. I could feel the blood pooling in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. At the same time I realized that I had no feeling in my legs. I gasped out a laugh at the irony of it all. The prophecy, that damn prophecy. It was the cause of all this. The laughter died on my lips as I stared up at the darkening sky. I tasted blood, my blood. No, it wasn't the prophecies fault, it was mine. Me thinking that I could stop it from happening and instead putting everything in motion. Me thinking that I was the hero destined to save everyone. But no, I was the villain. Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks. All I'd wanted to do was help, to be the hero for once. I was no hero, I was never meant to be one. I could feel the heat searing my skin. So this is how it will end, I thought, just like all the stories children love. The hero has vanquished the villain and everyone lives happily ever after. I closed my eyes for the last time and gave myself up to the flames.

The Dream

Writing Prompt: She was the ghost haunting his dreams, with a sad song and murderous eyes.

This prompt just sounded so fascinating and so perfect for a horror story that I couldn't resist passing it up and giving it a go. I actually didn't intend for it to become quite as dark as it did, but I'm actually rather pleased with how it turned out. Hopefully it's not too creepy or disturbing for anyone.

Every night, for two long weeks, he had dreamed the same dream. He found himself standing on a gravel path in the middle of a sea of grass. The waist height grass was a strange blue-grey color and it stretched in every direction as far as he could see. The sky above him was a forbidding grey, but not a cloud was in sight. And then there was a silence, a silence so profound that he could hear every beat of his heart, could almost imagine he was hearing the blood pump through his veins. Not a breath of wind disturbed the grass, there were no birds, nothing. The air was heavy, every breath a struggle. He sensed rather than knew that he was the only living creature in that strange, grey world.

He would walk for what seemed like hours along the path, searching for he knew not what. He never strayed into the grass, there was a malevolent energy that seemed to come from it and he had no desire to encounter it, even in his dreams. No matter how far he walked though, the scenery around him never changed. So when he at last grew weary of wandering, he would sit down in the middle of the path and search for something, anything that was different. There never was. Every blade of grass was identical to all the others, every pebble beneath his feet identical to the one next to it. He found it all equal parts fascinating and disconcerting.

And then she came. An ethereal creature the likes of which he had never seen; her skin lily white, her cheeks and lips a soft coral pink, her hair the pale gold of a new sunrise, her eyes the clear blue of a summer sky. She wore a gossamer dress of purest white that seemed to float about her as she walked lightly through the grass. She was the most beautiful, fey thing he had ever seen, yet he sensed that she was or could be dangerous. If she ever chose to harm him, she could do so, dream or no dream. And that realization frightened him.

Broken

Writing Prompt: Write about the loneliness that took you by surprise.

I saw this prompt and for some reason it really stuck with me. I haven't written anything in a long time, so I don't quite know why it struck me, but it did. As I started writing though, it took a different direction from what I was expecting so the end product doesn't really follow the prompt. It is generally based on a real event in my life but as my memory is imperfect, there is also an element of fiction. Hopefully it's not too horrible since it has been so long.

She sat by the window, staring absentmindedly into the rain. All around her was sound: music, laughter, idle chatter, the clatter of dishes, the clink of cutlery, the metallic clang of pots and pans. But in her little corner, there was silence; she was alone. There the sound seemed muffled, as though heard from a great distance. She heard it, but it didn't fully register. All around her was the sound of life and happiness and friendship, all sounds that she didn't want to hear because they reminded her of how alone she was.

Her head snapped around as she heard a familiar voice among the clamour of so many that were totally unfamiliar. There he was, just walking in with his roommate and a couple other friends. As if drawn by her gaze, he suddenly looked in her direction. Their eyes met for a brief moment and he seemed to pause, but then he turned and continued on with his friends, getting their food and choosing a booth on the opposite side of the room.

She fought back the tears that threatened to escape and turned to look back out the window. The rain was coming down harder now, mirroring the storm she felt inside. A few weeks ago she had been part of that group, laughing and joking and talking. Even then she'd felt lonely, like she didn't really belong, but at least she could fake it and at least she wasn't totally alone. Not like now. Alone in a crowded room. She scanned the room and realized that she really was the only person sitting alone. That realization was even more depressing.