Day 183 Writing Short Stories

Horns

The portal to Hell didn’t work. She had been trying to push through it the whole day, thinking that whatever had been blocking the entry would pass. But even on her last attempt, the gates didn’t budge. She rubbed her little horns, trying to think.

She could do a summoning to find out what gives. But as a demon, she knew, there would be a price, a heavy one, and there were no favors even amongst demons. In the best case, she would have to forgo a soul gained or work in the pits for a week or so, but if the bastard was a nasty one, they were after blood — her blood — and growing back a limb or two took time and patience.

Of course, she could always not return and spend a few eternities on the mortal coil, collecting more souls and creating bad blood between the humans. Or she could take a vacation.

She tested the dark, carved iron gates again, chanting the incantation that would let her pass. The doors stayed shut.

Vacation it was then. She pushed her horns in and brushed her body to make her appear human-like with minor enchantments. She turned herself impeccable, stunning with a mischievous smile. She was going to have fun, and she knew where she would start. A little war between countries always cheered up her mood, and she could watch from the beach as the cities burned. Good smoking city did wonders for her complexion.

Tarot Cards

The neon sign flickered over the store window. The black curtains made it hard to see in, but the sign said the place was open, welcoming her to step in. This was her first time seeing a fortune teller. She had always thought of them as mumble-jumble, but lately nothing had made sense in her life.

She took hold of the cold door handle and yanked it open, welcomed by a blast of hot air and a heavy dose of incense scent. She coughed and pushed past the bitter smell, stepping in. The room was as she had always pictured a fortune teller’s parlor to be. Thick velvet fabrics hung loosely over the arched foyer. There was a green velvet couch to sit on while waiting. And the wallpaper patterns snaked over the room with its Gothic ornamental design. Everything was dark and mysterious.

The bell over the door chimed as the door closed behind her. And with no time, an old woman with dark, beautiful eyes that seemed to strip her naked stepped past the velvet curtains.

The woman turned and, without a word said between them, she followed her behind the curtains to a scant space with a table. The tarot cards were already set in the middle of the table next to the huge lit candles. The small space was warm, so she had to take off her overcoat.

The woman welcomed her to sit down with a thick accent.

“Pick.” The woman pushed the cards toward her.

She chose seven cards one by one, and watched the fortuneteller lay them on the table, sucking her teeth every time a card was revealed.

“Bad luck follows you around,” the woman said.

All she could do was nod.

“I see, for a while now.”

She nodded again.

“It’s not random. Someone has put a curse on you.”

She gasped and then shook her head. “I don’t believe in curses.”

“You wouldn’t, but it is still there.”

“I thought—”

“You thought wrong. The omens are bad. See the tower.” She pointed her crooked finger at the card. “There will be a change, but it’s up to you, if you are the master of it or not.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

The woman smiled. “Easy,” she said. “Return the curse to the sender, but first, you have to find them out. I can help you with the return part. You have a week until the curse consumes you. Return to me in that time, and we might be able to save you.”

Accidental Pepper-spray

I don’t have time for this one. An employee accidentally pepper-sprays their boss.

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 I was happily surprised at what I managed to write. However, I made few alterations to the prompts. The tarot card one was more about the customer falling in love with a handsome male tarot card reader. I didn’t want to write such a prompt, so I made it about a curse.

Lately, I have been wondering about the benefits and the downsides of writing these prompts. I was ready to give up trying to write all the prompts in the book every day (except Wednesdays, when I have to leave so early for work) for the past couple of weeks. The task felt too enormous, and my mind didn’t seem to work, but I pushed through it because I had made a commitment. I know that writing these prompts has made me a better writer. They make me play and test my writing, and, most of all, have fun and force me out of my comfort zone. But they are a strain too. It is a lot of work to write the prompts every day, write my book, go to work, and hone my climbing. There are days I feel so tired that I cannot function, yet I can’t give up. There have been a few lapses. You know that as well, and I try to forgive myself for not always being able to write the prompts as I had planned. But it is not easy to forgive yourself, especially as I am a perfectionist. So, writing these prompts has become this bittersweet thing I want to do. I love creating every day, but the toll is sometimes a lot to handle. I know that they will make me a better writer, and a year is a small price to pay for that, especially as I have fun most of the time. I just wish I knew what to do with the days when it feels like my mind is not working.

Now I will enjoy a cuddle with my cat before I have to head to work.

Have a good one! Thank you for reading ❤