Day 319 Writing Short Stories

Spell

I’m good at casting spells. I have always been. The words come naturally to me, and I’m not afraid to sacrifice a little blood and sweat here and there to make them work as they should.

So it was only natural for me to pursue getting better at them. To make them my bread and butter. I have the little shop that keeps me afloat. People come to me with their little needs. They come here as a joke, and some leave as believers.

But I never tell them I cast actual spells. If the word gets around that I’m selling spells for normies, they will come at me. And for now, I have been able to avoid the Council.

A Moment

I close my eyes and let the music dance around me, every note a fairy of its own kind. Their flutter is as light as it can be, as fast as needed, rising and falling with the pressure. I let them sweep me into a dance of forgiveness and forgetfulness. It’s a wonderful dance, a dance I have needed more than I knew.

In Debt

Fuck this shit, he thought, as he slid down the fire escape. A moment ago, his door had burst open, and two serious-looking men with dogs had busted in. He didn’t linger there to wait and ask what they wanted from him.

He had thought he still had a few weeks to pay up the loan he had taken from Tommy. But he had miscalculated the weeks, and now he was in deep shit. He hadn’t gotten his dimensional machine working, which he had been planning as a way to pay back the money to Tommy. He had been so close.

He dived in from the first open door. It was the back door of an Asian restaurant. He pushed through the kitchen, accompanied by yells. He ignored the proprietor shouting in his face and hurried out the front door.

The machine was back at home. He hoped Tommy’s goons didn’t break it. Most probably, they would, and he would have to start again. There was no other way to get the money. He had been so sure that his calculations worked. He still was. He just needed those two weeks.

Erik would hide him until then and get him the machine. He had done a solid for Erik. He had gotten Erik out of a hole with the university. He had tampered with Erik’s research so that his stolen data wouldn’t be found. The man owed him his career.

He would stay with him until he could fix the machine and get the money. It was a solid plan. With multidimensional travelling, he was sure that money was just up there for the taking.

He got the first taxi he could find and gave the man Erik’s address.

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

I have gotten lazy with my writing lately. I was about to skip most of the prompts because I just couldn’t be bothered with them, and then I was like what the heck are you doing. You write these to learn, so no skipping today. I’m glad I did. I think I got the ideas down, and all of them have the potential to become bigger stories. Okay, they are lousy short stories with no ending, but I’m happy there is an idea of a story, nevertheless.

Lately, my brain has been my worst enemy. It is full of fears, doubts, and demands. So many demands and wishes about how things should be, riddled with thoughts of how things aren’t: how I am lacking.

I’m taking things too seriously again, getting hung up on details and ideas about how everything should be. It is never a good thing when I get that way. I’m usually my worst enemy; trying to force life to look a certain way never amounts to anything good. I’m not sure why such a mood has sneaked back inside me. But I need to cast a spell to get rid of it. Such a mood is the enemy of curiosity, learning, and play, of all things that make a life worth living.

I cast you out, parasitic thought, leeching on my joy, my mood, my creativity, my curiosity. Life goes as it goes, and all I can do is dance with it.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a joyous day!