Day 267 Writing Short Stories

Yarn

The warm glow of the lantern shone next to him, keeping the night away and casting long shadows around him. The trees stretched far and wide around his cabin. The stars and the moon played around in the sky, making their nightly travel joyous. There was a gentle drift of snow, making the night magical.

He had taken his spot on the porch, his loom between his legs. The yarn he was weaving could only be made when the moon was silver, the snow cold, and the night as long as it was. It was yarn made out of the winter lights that would soon make their way across the sky. He waited for that moment to come.

The yard would weave a gown, and that gown would shield the bearer from any harm.

To Impress A Girl

A boy breaks his arm while trying to impress a girl. I skipped this one.

Old Woman

She tied her hand around the feeble woman who had been wailing like a banshee at the end of the street. She had seen Mrs. Dent walking down the street enough times to know where she lived. She was in a hurry to meet her brother, but the pitiful wail and the lost expression on the woman’s face had taken precedence.

Mrs. Dent’s claws were buried deep in her forearm. She tried not to shake the woman free. The woman let out her cries even when she tried to convince Mrs. Dent that they were heading home, that all was well. Not that it was well. There was this looming feeling inside her that she would end up inside Mrs. Dent’s home, and her day off plans would vanish with a whoosh.

Mrs. Dent’s home was the oldest one on the street. Its berry bushes had grown wild. Birds were nesting inside the shrubs, letting out nasty cawing sounds as if to warn her not to approach. The yard was unkempt. The neighborhood trash was tangled in the long grass.

This was the first time she really looked at the house. It was horrible, and she hated only noticing it now. There was a twist in her stomach as she swallowed.

The door to the house was open. Mrs. Dent had stopped her wailing. Her back was straighter, and the expression was harsh and sharp. She dragged her into the house as if she were a hostage and not a savior.

When they stepped in, the house moaned. It seemed to claw into her bones, into her mind and soul. It moaned and groaned in pleasure. The door spanned closed behind her on its own.

She spun around, but Mrs. Dent held her in her grasp. “No, dear. This is how it is. I have my youth, and you have this house.”

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

Oh, oh, oh, oh! The plot is getting there. Necropolis needs its own Robin Hood. Ethel Dedbearer is the right woman for that task. She was supposed to be a villain, but I had a hard time writing her as one. She resisted all my attempts to make her a villain. Oh, she isn’t a good person, far from it. She is an idealist with little regard for reality, thus carrying a great potential for evil. But she is not a bad person like Kitty Worthwrite is. She is nasty because she is greedy, self-centered, and has no other ideals than obtaining power. There’s a villain. Not that she is as straightforward as that. But now I think I have the stage set. It’s just that again I’m writing too many actors in my book. I tried with this one to cut down the cast as it alienates readers, but I can’t help that Necropolis is a multi-person realm, where every actor has a major role to play. We need to hear Kitty and her perspective, too. And holy space cow, I love writing Kitty. I loved writing about her in Penny For Your Soul, too.

Anyway, as I wasted my time with everything else, I had to hurry with today’s prompts. I feel like both of them were too short. I could have given them a better ending. But I’m still happy that I managed to write despite doing irrelevant things. Now I have to hurry work! See you tomorrow! Thank you for reading ❤ And if you can be Robin Hood, then let me know, I will join your merry band of fellows.