Day 212 Writing Short Stories

Last

The megatons of sea rolled over the land masses — the ancient green hills with their old bones, fossils, and the pressed stones that hold the rich iron veins. As soon as the water had come, it was gone, leaving behind scattered wood and seaweed and all that had ever washed into the sea. There was no life yet on the hills. There once had been, but the tectonic plates were still on the move, and life had a hard time settling over the shaky ground. Yet, that would change. There would be mighty kingdoms settled there where the iron ran deep. There would be more bones on the ground when the kingdoms came. The iron had to be put to use.

Veteran

The marble statue of a man rose over him. The huge bear on the man’s side was to represent the spirit of his courage. It felt silly next to the fallen soldiers’ names. Names of the men he had fought alongside, who had died for the king and country. This was what was afforded to their deaths. People had to remember. It was just that they had already forgotten. The families didn’t. The line of death and war would burrow down the generations. The body remembered when the soul wanted to forget.

He wished that his soul would forget. It didn’t. Every name on the statue. Every flower assigned to them. Every tear shed. Every drink they had shared was carved in his flesh. It remained there, like a sore thorn, picking at the wound. War might leave the land. War might be amended. The bones still remembered the terror, the pain, the frozen men taken too soon to their graves.

He swore here as he had sworn before that there would be no war ever again. Not as long as he lived. And he would make sure the next generations would remember. Wars needed to be remembered, or they came back.

Tourist

He ran through the small closet, hearing the shouting coming from behind him. It had all been bad luck. He had stepped into the wrong alley, and here he was running for his life, his camera flapping against his chest. And all for one lousy kiss. She hadn’t been that exceptional in the first place. But she had been there, and there had been a kiss, and there had been a husband too. Something he knew nothing about.

He grimaced as the shouting turned into a bark. They couldn’t be that mad bastards to send a dog after him.

He searched for a doorway to slip through. There was a small opening into one of the forgotten museums. He pushed in the door and found his head spinning so fast that he lost his footing. When he stopped from falling over, the room he had thought to enter — the small lobby with a teak desk and marble floors — shifted into stone and tapestries.

He found himself staring at a man in full plate armor. He blinked. The knight blinked, and they both screamed together.

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

I’m so, so tired. Yesterday was a busy day, and I didn’t sleep enough. For a couple of days, I have been sleeping under 5 hours per night. That’s not a good thing. I wish I could get home early today so I could take a nap. Despite a tired brain and nightmares I had last night, I am still in a relatively good mood, and I had fun writing today, seeing where the tone I picked would lead me. It didn’t lead to full stories with endings, but it led to small scenes full of mood.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have an inspiring day!