Day 295 Writing Short Stories

Toy

The little pink toy bunny hung from the bushes. It looked like the wind had blown it there, but she knew better. She could feel it already in her bones that there was something in the house. Something unwelcome. The owners had called her in. Like with other her clients, they stated before hiring her they didn’t believe in ghosts, but… There was always that but. They couldn’t explain what was going on. The family who had hired her had fled their home, leaving behind everything.

She stepped into the house, using the family key. The floorboard groaned under her weight. The house around her complained. Its walls creaked. Even the house that once was loved, from the look of the family pictures, the children’s paintings on the walls, and the warm, autumn-colored carpets and wallpaper, complained about the intruder, wanting it out.

“I know you are here. You don’t need to hide from me,” she said. She had an urge to correct her former priestly collar that wasn’t there anymore. It had been taken away from her. She had been shunned from the church for what she did, for what she believed in.

There came a sharp laugh, piercing the house.

She shot her glance to the upstairs floor, hearing the running steps that shouldn’t be there. They seemed to echo throughout the house, mocking her.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the living room when you are ready to come out of hiding,” she said. She had seen enough poltergeists not to follow them into their games. It was those childish pranks that kept them here, kept them fueled.

She took her seat on the sofa, leaving the rocking chair that she would have otherwise chosen empty.

It did the trick. Soon, the chair began to rock vigorously. She felt pressure. It was the sort of pressure that went down her spine, telling her to run. She had learned to ignore such feelings. They did no good.

“It is time for you to leave,” she said.

The chair rocked violently. Then it stopped abruptly, and her skin got all prickly. She felt pressure next to her on the sofa.

“I don’t mind you sitting there, but it does no good for you. You will leave this house. This is not for you.”

She felt a warmth on her face, as if something were breathing just beside her.

“Leave,” she stated.

The pressure subsided, but it still lingered there.

She took her cross out and began her liturgy, ending it with, “I command you to leave.”

The rocking chair knocked down, and the front door swung open. The pressure was gone.

She sighed. She got up and walked through the house, cleaning every room, every space. But there were no other spirits lurking around, usually, if there was one, others had followed in. She locked the house behind her. Took the toy bunny with her to deliver the news to the family.

Schoolgirl

A schoolgirl hires a detective to find her mother’s necklace. The detective finds it and a whole lot of trouble with it. I skipped this one.

Scrutinized

A mechanic has been writing short stories for a small magazine for years. One of his stories is nominated for a Pulitzer. The literary world attacks him for his background. I skipped this one, too. The whole premise annoys me. We know prolific, celebrated authors without university degrees. Also, this prompt presumes that being a mechanic lacks something needed to write—a snotty prompt on so many levels.

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

Today’s prompts didn’t seem to resonate with me. I found it hard to write them, and I got annoyed by them even though there’s no reason for it. I didn’t have to get annoyed by the mechanic prompt, but the whole idea felt wrong. Both the idea that the mechanic would be attacked, presuming that the literary world is snotty, and that there is something odd that a mechanic can write stories for a magazine. It has been done, and it will be done from here to eternity. Luckily, I got a spin on the toy one I liked, so I could write even one prompt today.

Now I will hurry to work.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a spooky day!