Day 137 Writing Short Stories

Blue

In the swirling darkness, the smallest blue light shone. The trees shielded the light from the night sky. It was only for the spectators. The night folk, the dead people, and for the lost, soon to be lost.

He had taken a wrong turn in the forest and felt the panic rise as he was sure he wouldn’t get out of there before nightfall. He leaned against the tree, trying to decipher from the bark and moss which direction was south and which was north.

Then he saw it — the little blue light in the distance.

“Hey, wait up,” he shouted after it as it moved farther away from where he stood. He ran after the light.

The light took him past the creek he had stepped over twice. He felt a shiver run through him, and as he turned around to see where he had come from, there was no forest, no water, just darkness.

But there in the blue light, he saw the shapes and the forms that welcomed him in. Their eyes were full of sorrow, and their ragged clothes bore the marks of different centuries. They looked at him expectantly, as if he could lead them over the creek back where they had come from.

“Sit,” they said in unison. “All we have is your story, your life. Please tell.”

He sat down and took part in the circle. The blue light shone in the middle, feeding on every word he spoke. He would never return.

Thousand Cranes

She folded the paper in half. She smoothed the edges in a single, swift movement. This would be her thousandth crane, and once she was finished, her wish would come through. It was an impossible wish, but it was all she wanted. She did the last fold and wished her father to be alive again, so that her mother wouldn’t cry, so that she would hear his voice again, so that he could swoop her in his lap and say that the world would be okay.

A Visitor

The neighbor peeked out, hearing the hollow footsteps in the night. She watched as a dark man with a long overcoat walked into the building. She rushed from her window to the door, pressing her ear against it. The man walked to her floor. She listened to the man stop at the door in front of her. Not making a sound, she slowly turned to peek out through the peephole. The stranger stood in front of Miss Mary’s door. She had always known Mary wasn’t a decent girl. She had said as much to her husband and the other ladies in the building.

The man knocked on Mary’s door.

She pushed her eye closer to the peephole. And then the man turned sharply, looking straight into her eyes. She staggered backward, fighting for breath, and fell to her knees, clutching her chest. The death came in waves with a heavy ache.

Miss Mary opened her door.

She sighed and opened the door for the man.

“Grandfather,” she said, even when the man looked younger than she did.

“Mary,” he greeted, taking off his woolen overcoat and handing it to her.

“Why have you come?” she asked.

“It’s time you joined the family. Aunt Maggie has died, and you have to take her spot,” he spoke without emotion, without care for what he was asking from her.

Mary had feared this day to come, that she would have to give up her mortal life and be part of the family and its affairs of death. She could already sense her power coming back. She could feel the neighbor’s body drawing its last breaths and her soul seeking her.

Her grandfather never arrived without death. She would never arrive without death ever again. She would never love again, she would never feel again. There would only be her duty.

“Must I?” she asked carefully.

“It is told.”

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

I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to write anything today, but gladly I was wrong. But it seems I don’t have any afterwards, just a wish today to slip away. I guess the wrist is weighing me down more now, as the weather is better and all my friends are out climbing. The thought makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. I keep feeling every pain and hearing every pop as a sign that the wrist hasn’t healed. I still have a week to go until I see the doctor again. I suddenly feel unmotivated about everything, even writing and keeping up with my running. It has felt so lonely to do so. I have barely seen my friends during this time, and everything has become a tad pointless. But every feeling will pass. This one will do too.

Thank you for reading! I wish you a day full of wonder and all the motivation to do what you want ❤