Day 270 Writing Short Stories

Grease

The huge, spiked, monstrous wheel of doom rolled down the dungeon. The goblin engineer greased the wheels now and then. He watched from the shadows as the monstrous thing and its engineer patrolled the area. The goblin wore a nasty grin on his face. It knew he was the baddest mob in the area. It only had to set the wheel of doom loose, and any dungeon crawler would meet their death.

He would have to charge in and kill the goblin engineer and his monstrous machine. He glanced at their stats and compared them to his. It should be doable if other mobs didn’t aggro him. But goblins never came alone. He surveyed his minimap, and watched how close the other red dots were. They might be out of aggro range.

It always felt strange to kill mobs while the other mobs were watching.

Fly

He lifted his leg and gently lowered it down to the level where it almost touched the ground. It floated there on its own. He lifted his other leg and lowered it next to the floating leg, and he was in the air. He just had to jump, and he would be flying. He took a little jump and floated on the field at hip level.

He glanced around, and the morning greenery was still empty of other people.

He had woken up today with the ability to fly. He had stumbled out of bed, and instead of his feet hitting the floor, they had hovered in the air as if there were an invisible layer. He had tested his new ability indoors, but after a while, open fields seemed like a good idea.

He bent his knees and jumped little higher and higher and higher until he flew over the treetops. He could see people walking about underneath him. They had their eyes on their phones, not noticing him.

He chuckled. This flying thing would be fun. It didn’t feel as bad as he had thought. He had always been afraid of heights, but now, as it was his own body doing it, it felt ever so normal.

Vows

She scratched her shaved head, knowing what it meant. She would never be a woman of love. Not in the way she was meant to be. She would now be tied to the monastery, and everyone would know from her shaved head why she was here. She had failed as a wife, as a lover. She had no other choice but to come to the mountains and take her vows.

There were others like her at breakfast. They all sit there in silence. They all looked as if they had let go of the old life in the village. She wanted to ask them if it would get easier. Suppose being here was worth all she had given up. She didn’t dare to ask. The solemn faces told a tale: they didn’t have the same silly thoughts she did. That they didn’t mourn their cheating husbands or the life they thought they would live.

She sighed and turned her attention to the morning porridge. The gray, goo-like mass looked discouraging. She missed her rich breakfast with fruits and spices.

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

The prompts weren’t so exciting today. I think I did an okay job with them, but still, they didn’t spark that flow inside me as a good story does. Still, they were good practice.

My head feels like cotton balls. I started my day an hour later than I usually do. Then my fluffy cat thought my morning mobility time was his cuddle time, so I cuddled him for half an hour. And somehow I ended up on the couch, sleeping with him for another two hours. He’s a sneaky little devil, that one.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a relaxing day!