Day 317 Writing Short Stories

Rosary

The room was dead silent. It was the silence of unsaid words and cries that had to be muffled. She watched as a woman fiddled with her rosary, casting her prayers without sound, moving her lips. She guarded her words like they were the devil himself.

The world had turned silent. This morning, the city had screamed with sounds. The car brakes screeching her awake. People yelling their greetings to neighbors. The usual cat-calls of the workers at the Upper Corner of Fifth accompanying her to work.

And now there was this. People huddled inside a dark warehouse. Doors sealed with heavy objects. Windows blocked from light—no one knew what to do.

Her heart was racing as she tried to make sense of the world. The tears of the young girl, not too far from her, told that there was no world. There was just horror.

The army had collapsed in the first hours. The dead, the zombies, overtook the city in a few hours. She was here by chance. She had followed the others here, armed with her wooden bokken, which she used in her kenjutsu practice. It was with her just because she was to head into practice after work. Otherwise, she would be dead. The blood on the wood was turning dark. She clutched her bokken, unable to release her grip.

The woman’s eyes, who fiddled with the rosary, went wide, and she looked like she was about to scream. Instinctively, she lifted her bokken, but it was not she who silenced the woman. The man next to her squeezed his huge palm against the woman’s mouth, pinning her down against the floor.

She looked in horror at the man and the woman. She feared her own response, but the bokken stayed firmly in her grasp.

Synonyms

I skipped this one.

Heartbroken

Wife comes home to find her husband has gone, taking all his possessions with him. Years later, she discovers something that makes her reconsider the whole thing. I skipped this one.

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

I had a slow morning today. I’m reading a book about human metabolism, and it is fascinating. Evolution is weird and magnificent. It is weird how it has optimized energy expenditure during running to a constant, whereas with swimming and walking, speed matters.

I’m feeling a lot better than I did yesterday. More awake. More like myself.

The Rosary scene was a dream turned into a prompt. I dreamed about zombies again last night. I always want to continue those dreams. They make a lot more sense to me than some of the things we deem normal and important aspects of life. But I would disagree with that statement if the zombie apocalypse ever came. Then I would dream of slow, sunny days at the office.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have an excellent day!