Day 132 Writing Short Stories

Son

They say the crow flies to the east to carry sorrows with them. They say the birds see who will die and who will live, and if you learn to listen, they will tell their secrets. He was a crow boy, son of a crow man. He had carried his medicine with him to the lands that knew no bones of his ancestors. The crow boy felt it in his spirit, the cold land spare of gods. There was only greed and the one.

He shivered in the harsh rain, watching the manor under the oak tree. The tree spoke of injustice and hate. Many had died underneath it, and many would die if the crow boy failed. The man in the manor would come to his lands and rob the sleep of the crows, and the great one in the sky would weep blood.

He cawed, and the crows came. The wind pushed the door open, wrenching it from its hinges. The crow boy stepped in, and people fled from him. They screamed unspeakable things, seeing the blackness in his eyes and the crows in his hair. He rode up the stairs where the man would lie. He slept a sleep of the worriless. The crow boy knelt over the man, stealing his mind and soul before he could take his. He left the man there, mad with sorrow. To forever cry the tears of the convicted, seeing only the horror he never inflicted because of the crow boy.

The crow boy slipped into the night. He would have to stay here. To guard his lands, his father’s lands, from the soulless men, who knew nothing but greed in their hearts.

Fifty Words

I was made to fight, to kill. Never to have a conscience, always to obey. I have served my time like a machine. I will retire from being a soldier for my country, like a machine that has done obeying. I have my recordings to deliver justice for the dead.

Bunny

She laughed as she watched the boy stumble down. His tail flicked in the air, and he hissed between his teeth as she jumped around so easily. He wanted to be as fast as she was, to be able to jump to the playground roof with ease, just as she did. And she wanted him to teach her how to move stealthily, just as he did.

She handed him her paw and lifted the boy kitten out of the ground. She folded her ears to her lips and began biting them.

“Why are we bound to our bodies? The crow boy can fly, but what good does that do when I can always hunt him down?” the Kitten boy said, looking the Bunny in her eyes.

“You know why we are as we are. He made us. We are to differ and shine what is ours,” the Bunny girl said, glancing at the high house where he was, standing guard against his creations.

She knew nothing else than the life in the nursery hidden between the high walls. Even the crow boy could fly high enough to see what was beyond the walls. But the Kitten boy wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know. He wanted to run away from here. It was no wonder; the father was not kind to him. He never did right by him. She had long ago stopped saying that it was his own fault; he never obeyed. She had been so wrong. She had hurt the Kitten boy more with her words. This was her redemption. If he learned all they could do as individuals, then maybe he could escape their father’s wrath.

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

I had fun writing today. I just concentrated on the stories and not on trying to master anything or do something. It was one to see where the stories would lead and what would happen. Now, my cat came to sit on my lap, and I will give him some attention.

Thank you for reading! Have a cuddly, fluffy autumn day full of kittens and puppies and all the spicy hot drinks ❤