Day 306 Writing Short Stories

Ominous

I sit here on the brink of doom. The world has never looked more ominous than it does now. I fear that insanity has taken over, and there will be death by greed and ideology. I have lost all hope. Hope for the future, hope for sanity. There is just this march of hungry ghosts that consume this world, my world. Their echoes resonate inside me. I’m the product of my time. I try to fight, but I relapse into the insanity of the hungry ghosts. I need you more than I have done before. Please whisper the words that heal this world.

Second Person Point of View

You were never meant to be the way you are. Your mother said you were made for greatness, yet you knew she was lying. You never amounted to anything but working a menial job. A soul-sucking call-center job that is gradually killing you.

You have started to dream of things. Things that you have never done before. Dark dreams. You are scared that you are losing your mind. That you are crazy like your mother was. You dare not ask for help. You fear that they will take you to a loony farm like they took your mother away.

You dream every night of things that come out of the telephone lines. They say nasty things to people, making them insane. They make the world mad, and you keep fighting them. You keep thinking of them as real. The dark monsters seeping out of your phone with claws and teeth that are made to chew your soul.

You wake up screaming every night. Then you will have to go to work and answer the endless questions of the mindless clients, and you think you can hear the echo of the monsters in their words.

Horoscope

She had been looking at her hands all day. They used to paint well. Really well. They could create art without her thinking, but now, now they mocked her. Her fingers ached. They were twisted and disjointed.

Yet, art, creativity, and the need to create remained. She took her brush in her hand and started making swirls on the paper. She used to paint delicate things. Things that needed precision. Now there was only movement and emotion.

It fueled her, making her create things she never dreamed of. And she found herself to be happy.

—
This was about reading a horoscope and writing based on the prediction. Sagittarius had: trying new art forms.

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

I’m moody today. I feel this echo inside me, whispering that change is needed. That we and I will lose ourselves to the ghosts, and that is no way to live. There used to be art. There used to be creating. Now there is just consumption. I fear we are sacrificing our futures, our children, our countries under those lies. Now more than ever, as the bombs are flying. And they fly for money.

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