Writing Prompts Day 22

Day 22 of the daily prompts:

Arrow

The bowstring was pulled back into a tight tension. She kept the arrow pointed at the enemy line, waiting for the command to release it. She relaxed her shoulder so that her hand wouldn’t start shaking.

Then the command came, and she released the arrow, watching it arch over the battlefield while she drew another one and adjusted it on the bow string. She got another command to shoot and another. The enemy line wasn’t falling back. They used their shields like blankets over them. Here and there, men fell into the arrows, but they kept advancing.

The Documents

He reached for the upper floor window, balancing his feet on the railing and holding on with his other right hand on the rope. He dragged the window open slowly, not to make a sound, and slipped in from the crag. The documents he was looking for would be in the safe behind the horse painting the Mafia Don had won in an auction. It was all in the dossier instructing him to steal the documents.

The horse painting was where it was supposed to be. He carefully lifted it up when the door came crashing in. He reached for his gun, only to find pointing it at the most insufferable man there was in the business.

“What the fuck you are doing here?” he let out.

“The same thing you are,” the man smiled, standing over the door. “And you might want to hurry up. I don’t think my entry was as subtle as yours were.” The man laughed.

He snarled and turned to the safe.

The Garden

He held on to the warm cup of Earl Gray and listened to the birds singing their spring tweets. Their sounds were melodic and long like they should be in the spring. There were wrens and robins, all singing their songs.

The early yellow and blue flowers were already reaching for the faint light coming between the clouds. He loved this time of the year when everything bloomed in bright colors, and the air was still crisp enough that he could sit for hours watching his garden and listening to the birds singing.

The tea was perfect, too. It was hot enough to warm him and cold enough to drink without burning his mouth. He had been waiting for these kinds of mornings his entire life. And now, finally, he was retired and could enjoy his garden, with the feeling he didn’t have to be anywhere else. Today, he would weed the flower beds and put in pulps for the summer flowers. He smiled and took a sip from his bitter black tea, feeling it warm his chest. This was what he had been waiting for all these years.

The Prompts are from the book: A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

It’s fun to notice what scenes are harder for me to write than others. The mafia prompt was hard. It’s a strange genre I haven’t written before, and it has a detailed description of what kind of personality the other burglar has. But that’s the best part of the prompts. They are forcing me to write out of my comfort zone.

Thank you for reading! Have a magical day!