Day 191 Writing Short Stories

Spoil

The girl wailed. She had been the worst spoil they had taken from their raid. Even the most perseverant advocate for transom was starting to wear out of the constant wailing. The girl didn’t make the sound because she was scared. If she were, it would have made things a lot simpler. She was demanding this and that. She was constantly complaining about how bored she was.

They were setting up a party to return her home. There was a line of volunteers for the task despite the apparent danger.

Boarding School

The letter had come this morning. He had been accepted to the most privileged boarding school in the country. His parents were ecstatic, wanting the best education there was for their son. As a bonus, he had gotten the full ride. He couldn’t give a damn. He didn’t want to leave his home farm for the big city. The mountains behind his home were high and dangerous and full of adventures. There was nothing like that in the city. There were only the cars, the plastics, the lights, the shops. No trees, no trails, no bears, no crows flying over his head, and no duties before the dawn. He loved waking up early and taking care of the animals. Yet, his parents didn’t want this for him. They said that farms were dying out. That this was his chance to make something of himself. He didn’t want to make something of himself if it meant asphalt and office buildings. He had explained that he could read all the books here —the same books —and understand the world as much as they did in the fancy schools, and be content. But they said that the world didn’t work that way. It didn’t matter how brilliant he was without a paper to prove it. He had snorted and walked out to the mountains.

He had been hiding here for hours already, watching as the clouds gathered over the valley he loved so much. Why would anyone leave this place? This was what life looked like. This was what mattered. He didn’t need to follow the path of schools and cubicles to arrive at the same conclusion. He didn’t want to be some weekend warrior who came here to enjoy nature to feel alive, so that he could handle some soul sucking job with glass windows and computers. He wasn’t going. They should give someone who wants that path the opportunity.

He was no weekend warrior.

To Be Wed

They had never met before. The marriage was arranged. She was told that their marriage would be a perfect union for both families. The merger would bring stability, and they would own the markets. She was a product. She had known that a long time ago. There was no other choice. Her mother had been like her. Her older sisters were like that. The situation might be different if they had ever had a brother. Then none of them would have had to marry as they did.

She would see him as soon as he got down the stairs. They were there, waiting for her arrival. There were butterflies in her stomach. The worst kind. She would see the one she would be tied to for the rest of her life. She could never walk out of a contract like this. She let the maids dress her, do her hair, and put on her makeup. She glanced at herself in the mirror. This was the most beautiful she had looked. The maids knew their magic. It was such a shame that all she wanted was to tear everything off and run away.

She didn’t.

There was a knock on her door. Her mother was let in, with a deep frown on her face. Her mother judged her from head to toe, demanding corrections where none were needed. The maids did as they were told. Tightening the dress around her. Pinching her cheeks. Pulling the hair back. She was too used to it to cry, to complain, to give angry glances at her mother.

—

I got bored with this one. The prompt says that there should be instant dislike between the two to be wed. Maybe now, as I don’t write this one, she can escape, or she stays forever in a limbo where her mother torments her with her expectations —who knows if stories have such power.

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

Today’s prompts were hard to write. I wrote the first sentence, then went to doomscroll YouTube Shorts and found myself doing it after 30 minutes. I feel stupid for doing so. I could try to justify the action, but there’s no justification. Just a desire to disconnect, and that’s never a good thing.

I hope you have a good one and feel fully present! Thank you for reading ❤