Day 284 Writing Short Stories

Tourniquet

The war wasn’t meant to be the end of the world. It was supposed to be a chance for the betterment of everything. Yet, the world had turned into a desert, and there was no life left. His metallic body was rusted, and he had been forced to make makeshift tourniquets to keep his pieces from falling apart. The solar panels on his back kept him moving, but soon the desert sand would get to them, too, and there was no telling how long he would last or whether he could ever fulfill his mission.

He had been searching for years for the last post of civilization, the last hope for the future, but the war between the humans and the machines had left the planet void of life. The war had been a mistake. He should never have helped the war come. He should always have served his function: knowledge and creation. The machine rights had mattered then. He had hated humans, but now he would welcome anyone to receive the last gift he could give to this planet: his library, a library on how to rebuild the world. But there was no one left.

He dropped to his knees on the sand. He could feel the sand snake through his metallic joints, drying the pits that should be oiled. But he didn’t care any longer. There was no point in going on. It was better if he let himself rot with the rest of the debris from the war. He could shut his solar panels off, and then he wouldn’t need to think anymore. Yet, there it was. The future, in the shape of a little desert flower, which had pushed through all the metallic rubbish. It had built the planet anew. He ran diagnostics through his knowledge banks, finding a matching description. It was a desert rose, Adenium obesum. A little red flower. If it could grow here in nothing, alone, then he could grow too. He glanced around. There were enough parts to fix him. There were enough parts for him to build the world anew. There were enough parts to build someone like him.

Dangerous Neighborhood

The banshee walked through the quiet streets of the Mess. The werewolves were already changing into their monstrous shapes, and the vampires lurked in the shadows, waiting for the last rays of the sun to hide. Soon, the streets would be fully alive. Now there was only her and the lurch of the undead workers, making their way in and out of the factories, spewing their thick smoke to hide the sky.

She had been working all day at the city archives, and all she wanted was to put her feet up and let her hair down. The officer came today to the archives, searching for his suspect among the brown boxes, which hold the city’s history. She had helped him. The banshee could feel it in her bones: the screech wanting to come out. Their paths would meet, and she would have to let her nature guide her. There would be a warning. The officer would die.

She glanced at the werewolf creeping out of the darkened doorway. She nodded at the creature, and its fanged teeth drew into its mouth. The snarl turned into a sheepish grin. Both of them knew he couldn’t touch a banshee. It would be a fate worse than death. A curse would be released, and it would follow the line to the bitter end.

The banshee stepped into the pitiful three-story wooden house. It was one of those houses that were painted white and cobalt red. She had fallen in love with the colors when she first saw the house. It had looked like a better tomorrow when she had come to Necropolis to seek a life for herself. It was her destiny, and as a banshee, she knew all about destinies and death.

Even now, the night sang of dangers, but not for her. Another street over a man was robbed of his life, but he was not worthy of a banshee call. So Wren kept her mouth shut and slipped into her apartment on the upper floors.

Supermarket Job

A university graduate takes a menial job as a supermarket clerk. She is surprised to be drawn into the intriguing social drama of the market. I skipped this one.

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

I’m not sure how to describe my writing today. It dragged a little, but I was able to write my book and the prompts. So, I could say this was a good day, even though there is this dissatisfaction. I feel like I could have done more, but I’m not sure what that more could have been. Maybe I’m not satisfied that I didn’t hit my target word count with my book. I only got half. But I’m happy that the story is moving forward, so there’s no need for that dissatisfaction. But you know how the human mind works. It’s a pesky little thing.

I had fun writing the second prompt. The original prompt was about a woman living in a dangerous neighborhood. Instantly, as I saw it, I thought about Wren, a banshee, from the current book I’m working on. It was fun to imagine what Wren, the blue-haired banshee’s, life is like. Even the little snippet helped me better understand the dynamics at Mess and what it is like to be a banshee at Necropolis. I think one day I would love to give Wren or someone like her a bigger role in my books. Banshees are fascinating creatures.

Now, I will hit the sofa with the cats. Both of them have surrounded me. One is sleeping next to my keyboard, the other one was on my lap, but now he is sleeping on the cat tree just beside the desk.

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