Day 204 Writing Short Stories

Ship

The harbor was never this full. She had been watching the ships sailing into the dock all week. They were like little letters of hope that the world was changing, that the war that was still raging over the kingdom would soon be forgotten. But the one hope she was looking for had yet to arrive. Among all the soldiers returning with their mended wounds and high spirits, her father was not among them. She had looked for them. She had felt a little twinge of pain in her chest every day, that he would never come back home, and mend the broken heart of her mother.

Brothers

The chest full of gold had surfaced one day. It stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by dead bodies. Two brothers. The living room once belonged to their father. Now it belonged to the dead bodies. A few days ago, there were no bodies. There were fully animated brothers who had hearts full of wishes and hopes. What went wrong was the gold. Their father’s buried treasure. If it had never surfaced, then the old insecurities and animosities with the brothers had just festered like an open wound on their relationship, but death would have been avoided. Now, there were signs of violence in the living room. The blood, the broken furniture, the scattered pictures of their father and their childhood, and the knives and the hammers, rendered back to objects without intention.

Such was the fate of the brothers. Such was the way they had called her forward. She sat there on the couch, immersed in the dead bodies, feeling the hate still oozing out of their bodies. She was in a trancelike state as she fed on the emotions the brothers had had. If they hadn’t called upon her with their hate, then the row might not have escalated into a bloodshed, but they had called her forth with their strong hate and idea of righteousness. Oh, how she loved feeding on such weak souls. How she cherished their weak character. How strong they tasted on her lips as she sucked in their souls, devoured them out of existence.

When the last ounce of them was done, she stood up, holding her belly. It pushed out as if she were pregnant. It was the true gift of life. The energy and fullness. She stepped over the oldest brother and then the youngest, and before disappearing into the world, she blew a kiss at them, taking them for their sacrifice, leaving the gold behind.

Poem

Not everything what is worth is made of gold
Not everyone stepped aside will be lost
Not everyone who grows old lose their might
The harshness of cold will not daunt the strong
The strength of their soul will kindle hope
Light will banish the darkness
And the might will be repaired
The justice will rein

—

This prompt was about writing a story about a poem you know by heart. For me, it’s the poem from Lord of the Rings, but the Finnish version of it, I can recite by heart:

Ei kaikki kiiltävä kultaa lie,
vaeltaja ei eksy jokainen,
ei vahvalta vanhuus voimia vie,
syviin juuriin ei ulotu pakkanen.
Tuli tuhkasta jälleen pilkahtaa,
valo varjoista syttyvä on;
terä miekan murtunut yhteen saa,
ja kruunataan kruunuton.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

So instead of writing the story, I wrote a version of the poem, trying to keep the original meaning while adding a slight twist.

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

I had to leave the ship story short. I need to hurry to work. I will most likely be late.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a day full of hope and virtue!