Day 283 Writing Short Stories

Mask

The room spun around her. She was sure this was a dream. The violins played around her, and the dark, epoch room spun faster. She had her hands around a man wearing a mask that hid half of his face. Around them all, the dancers wore masks that sparkled in the candlelit room.

She untangled her hand from the man and felt her face; she wore a mask just like the others wore. She wore a black, sparkling dress, reminding her of a starry sky—a dress she had never seen before.

The man drew her hand back to him and whispered, “It’s not time to wake up yet. You still have to dream us, to let us through.”

Vegetarian Fox

A rooster meets a vegetarian fox. Hmm… I get where this prompt comes from, and there is a fantastical way to look at the prompt and make it work, but I don’t particularly like what the story proposes. I’m against pet owners feeding their pets vegetarian diets when the animal is a carnivore. It is animal cruelty, and I don’t want to play with this prompt. It is a very human-centric and moralistic way to look at things. My cat wouldn’t be helping me write these prompts if I had forced my beliefs on them. She is 16 years old and still looks strong and healthy.

Sorry, but the rooster gets eaten.

Marriage Counselor

She shifted her weight uncomfortably. She had seen her fair share of couples in her line of work as a marriage counselor, but the new couple took the cake by far. It wasn’t so much the pale complexion or the Gothic-Victorian-era clothing they wore. She had had goths as clients. No, it wasn’t that. She could put her finger on why she felt uncomfortable with her new clients. All her instincts told her to end the session short.

“She always insists on sleeping with me,” the man said with a lisp.

“You used to like it when I climbed into bed with you,” she hissed.

“It’s the cold feet, you know,” the man ignored his wife, looking straight at her.

She was about to jump in and make them reflect on what had been said, but then the man tilted his head, and there was a strange flutter in her chest. She could feel her cheeks get all hot and red.

“Oh, you had to go and do that to win an argument,” the wife gushed out.

The warmth spread around her body. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man.

The wife snapped her fingers. It was like dropping into cold water at the end of a deep pool, and she had to fight her way to the surface.

She shook her head, searching for words to say. There was only a stammer.

“See what you did!! You broke her.” The wife crossed her arms and looked away to the window behind the marriage counselor.

“Did not!” the man let out.

“Excuse me,” she said. It sounded weak and pathetic.

Both of them looked at her once, and she wanted to hide. Their eyes gleamed.

“See what you made us do,” the wife said as she stood over her.

She barely heard the words or remembered what had happened. She was curled on the floor, and there was a throbbing pain in her neck.

The husband wiped his bloody lips and snarled. “It’s not like I wanted to come here in the first place. There’s no point in talking to the cattle. They wouldn’t understand. Now she might.” He lowered down and pushed his hand on her lips. She could feel the thick blood, full of iron, pouring into her mouth.

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

My morning was a lot better, even when there was a great pull to go to the sofa and sleep the morning away. The darn cats are like that. They are good at convincing me that I should sleep the whole day with them. This time it was my queen, my lovely furry daughter. She was attached to me straight away when I opened my eyes. She followed me around the house as I did my morning routines, and now she is napping on my desk. She looks ever so cute.

I wrote my book today. It went well. Better than I thought when I opened the file. I fretted I wouldn’t get anything written, but words flowed out. I think it was down to the YouTube video I watched yesterday. It was about writing and self-indulgence. It got me thinking about my prose and characters, and I noticed that I’m too comfortable with my writing. I should push my characters and stories more into the gray area, rather than stay where it is easy. Great books make us think, and that means flawed characters, flawed opinions, flawed situations. I put too much of my morals into my characters. I’m not saying that I shouldn’t do that at all, but I should expand the morals my characters have and push against my own boundaries to make the story have the impact it deserves. Skilled writers play against their own comfort, and I think some of that is missing from our current writing. Not everything should be created through consensus or self-indulgence. It will stunt creativity and thought, and nothing new will arise.

I finally decided where to get my cover art and who to ask to be my next editor. I have been stalling making decisions for too long. I’m not sure why. Everything has felt too overwhelming lately. There is so much I have to do as a self-publishing author, and sometimes it feels too much. Especially when you know you are not doing enough to get your book to an audience. I still haven’t gotten my marketing where it should be. I’m not doing the right things. Marketing is still too big a bogeyman for me. I know it shouldn’t be, but it is. It feels like the rules are shifting all the time, and there’s just too big a jungle out there, which means I haven’t really thought through my audience or narrowed down my marketing, which is the first principle of marketing. Sigh. But that is a matter for another day. For now, I’m glad I could make some decisions and not have them constantly nagging me.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a great day!