Day 128 Writing Short Stories

Heat

The scorching hot air shimmered against the backdrop of the desert city. The heat was making everyone delirious. There were barely any shadows to hide in before arriving in the city. A few cactus-like plants were scattered all over the rust-colored sand. The planet was a hell pit, and he had cursed his luck for being sent here.

He had been flying over the never-ending desert for a few days in his ship. The water was starting to taste like his own piss, and the air conditioner in the piece of shit tin can was ready to give out.

This was the last time he took this kind of assignment for money. He was better than hunting some low-life scum at the edge of the galaxy. But he had been curious why a professor of physics just up and disappeared with the state-of-the-art lab equipment and ran here onto this godforsaken planet. He had a hunch that there was money to be made. They wanted her alive.

He bet she was a bitter.

Fall, Cold, Love

I draw a blank with this one. Maybe it is the world love I cannot connect with. Yes, I’m aware that I have some serious issues. It has become painfully clear while writing these prompts. The words’ love’, ‘romantic’, and ‘relationship’ make me run away and fast. And the odd thing is that I have been together with my husband for over twenty years now. So it’s not that. I’m just damaged beyond repair.

Devil’s Own Luck

He flashed a smile. The parlor was in the huge manor at the edge of the town. There had been a promise of gambling, alcohol, and women. So the rumors said, and he had secured an invitation. He wasn’t disappointed. This was no Christian house. This was the other sort of house, where the master liked to indulge himself, and he was ready to win his money, women, and soul under him. He had the Devil’s luck by his side and had been for centuries.

One after another, men and women fell under his spell, and he was a wealthy man who could live his life as he wanted for eternity. Or as long as he provided the Devil with his share, and it was easy. People wanted more than they had, and they were willing to do anything for that, even pay him to go away. That was the plan here. The master of the manor would pay with his soul to make him leave and not burn his life to the ground.

He latched onto one of the girls invited there to make the men lose their time and minds, and spun her around with the rhythm of the music.

He didn’t mind being the Devil’s advocate. He pressed her hard against him and kissed her harshly. Her knees buckled underneath her, and she was his to have.

A young man with aristocratic lines came into the parlor. He seemed to command the room. He was beautiful, and there was that entitled harshness in his eyes.

On nights like these, he loved to play the devil.

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

My wrist is getting a lot better. Two and a half weeks until I can take the cast off. Hopefully, the ligaments have attached themselves to the bone, and this was just a scare.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a sinful day.