Day 339 Writing Short Stories

Needle

The needle pushed through his skin. He grimaced from the pain and took a swig from the cheap whiskey. Again, the needle went in, trying to tie together the rugged edge where he had gotten the tip of a sword flung in.

Who the fuck uses a sword, he thought, not saying it aloud, studying the other agent threatening his wound. She had no emotion in her eyes. Her work was precise and efficient. She had done this before. She had done what they did before. He wanted to be like her.

He was a novice even after serving three tours in the army, but this was not your typical war. This was a strange world where he was recruited. A world of secret orders and sects that hold secrets beyond his comprehension, and they fucking used swords and spells. A word where his guns had no use.

Loss of Sight

It had been a year since the accident. Since a car ran him over, and he almost lost his life. The only thing left of the accident now was his loss of sight. It had become his pain to bear. At the hospital, he had been sure that his life was now over, that there was nothing to look forward to. But then, the world started to show him the shades of gray that he didn’t know existed before he lost his ability to see.

The world had more to it. His hearing caught conversations that weren’t there, conversations other people didn’t seem to hear or notice. They reported empty air to him whenever he asked. Yet, he was sure they were there. They spoke of the shadow world. The world of the fairies, goblins, vampires, and bogeymen. They spoke of magic. He followed those sounds, leading him to this bar he now stood at. The real world swirled around him, ordering their tequilas and beers, but the other world settled at the corners of the bar, talking about the world beyond his.

He took his spot at the bar, ordering a whiskey to be nursed. He ignored the questions he always got from others, pretending not only to be blind, but mute, too. They left him alone. And he listened, and listened. And found his shadow world. Their words spoke of an old bookstore, a store that might lead him further in his quest to be part of the world of the goblins. He was done with his world, the world that took his agency away. A world that saw him as nothing, as a cripple.

Unpopulated Island

A man is left stranded after a shipwreck on an uninhabited island with his ex-wife. I skipped this one. The whole premise annoyed me. And then comes the little voice inside my head, telling me that if something annoys you, you need to do it. There is a lesson to be learned. Not today. Wise little voice inside my head, I’m still tired from the trip, and this is the first day I have to go to work. Sigh, says the little voice.

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

It’s gradually getting back, the writing, I mean, and the routines also. Over a week off and the complete reset to my brain has made my mornings sticky. I completely blew off my rhythm, staying up late and waking up late, and my body is playing catch-up now. But I will get there. This morning was already a lot better than yesterday. Yesterday I didn’t manage to edit my book, and today I did it before writing the prompts.

So many thoughts swirl inside me. Thoughts about climbing and grades, and what to pursue and why the hell to do it when I’m not and never will be a professional climber. Then there are the thoughts about writing and publishing, and all the marketing that needs to be done, the fear that my book won’t be good enough, yet wishing it were. Today, as I was editing my book through the eyes of my beta readers, I started to see the little things I could polish to make it better, but at the same time, I want to leave some emotion, rawness, and ruggedness to it, to make it feel organic. It’s a strange balance to obtain. But I will get there. I have promised myself as much.

Also, thank you! It was so nice to see so many of you back to reading my stories after the break. It means a lot to me.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a day of magic!