Day 282 Writing Short Stories

Dress

There are dresses, then there are DRESSES. Every child knows what it means to get that one dress, one cloth that defines you, that makes you look like the night sky, the summer meadow, the clear blue river.

She clutched her new dress against her chest, watching herself in the mirror. She would wear the forest in her. She would wear herself in her. Her mother had bought it for her, not knowing what it meant. She had said that it made her eyes sparkle. But it meant more than that. It would define her, it would make her heart sing for the forest, make her hair grow wild, and her mind wilder. She could feel the forest around their house come alive in her.

She slipped the dress on and watched her reflection in the mirror. Instead of a girl, there was a woman in the mirror. It was a strong woman. A woman who knew the ways of nature. A woman who healed the world. The woman had the same eyes as she had. Those eyes would never be unkind. They would always see the good in everything. They would always be there for every tree that grew, every animal that took the path of the forest; it would always be there for her family and her people.

A Drift

Long hours at the office have caused a father to drift away from his family. He noticed he hadn’t spoken to his children for a week. He decided to quit his job. I skipped this one.

Fairies

It was one of those moonlit nights, infused with the late-summer warmth. The crickets were playing their tunes, and the susurrus of the leaves gently made the slumber deep. The girl was fully asleep in her bed—the open window to her room welcomed in the sounds of the night. The moonlight cast long shadows on the floor.

The window pushed open, and talon-like fingers wrapped over the railing. A shadow slipped into the room. Then another. They were long, willowy creatures with pointed ears and teeth as sharp as needles. Their ragged hair and greenish dresses made them look like wild children.

They crept closer to the bed.

And he let out a valiant yap. The little poodle rushed under the bed towards the thieving monsters and sank its teeth into the leg of the closet. There came a curse in a language forgotten so long ago that none knew to fear the creatures of the night, stealing their children away.

The creature tried to shake him away from its shin, but it kept its teeth in place.

The other one ignored their friend’s pain and reached for the girl. The poodle let go of the shin and launched at the creature’s talon arm, and sank its teeth in. It let go and made little attacks here and there, as the fairy-like creatures tried to catch it.

Their chirps grew louder and higher, waking the house from its slumber. There were steps—strong, heavy steps coming towards the little girl’s room.

The creatures chirped louder and rushed out of the window. The little poodle stood valiantly on the moon bridge on the floor and puffed its chest. It had defeated the intruders. It was a good boy. It wagged its tail when the mother and father of the child rushed into the room.

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

I was sure that I would only manage to write one of the prompts, but I’m glad that I was able to write the first and the last. Nothing good came out of writing my book today. Instead, I headed to the sofa with the cat and took a nap. My work starts later today, so I can afford a nap. Maybe tomorrow is better writing-wise. Maybe I’m not as tired as I am today.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a day full of nature!