Day 350 Writing Short Stories

Arch

The blackened sandstones arched over her head. The light coming from inside stretched to her shoes, trying to pull her in. She took a step in, and the heavy door behind her swung shut, echoing inside the huge hall lit by candles.

She watched the arched windows with the mosaic glass. Inside the little panels were knights and dragons painted, depicting the old wars that took over the country a hundred years ago. She was here to tell the king and the queen that those times were back. The peasants had seen dragons at the outskirts of the kingdom, and she had confirmed the sightings.

No one would believe her that the dragons and their masters were back. But soon there would be no need to believe; soon there would be enough deaths to convince of what had been witnessed.

Self-Made Man

This was about a self-made man telling how he made his life. I couldn’t find the story I wanted to tell here. All I could find was him preaching how he did it all despite everything, and I didn’t want to tell such a story. There are outliers in the world who have done everything on their own, but studies have found that people overestimate their own contributions and downplay the key roles others and institutions have played in their lives.

Song

The streets were filled with dark shadows, stretching from building to building. The shadows were alive, creatures moving there. Creatures that shouldn’t exist. She sat there on the roof, looking down at them, having let them loose. They sought her revenge for her. Soon, there would be powerful men and women dead in their beds. They would pay the price for what they had done to her family. They would have their hearts ripped out.

She smiled. Finally, there would be the release she had sought for so long. Finally, she didn’t have to replay her parents’ deaths before her eyes.

The shadows moved up, crawling up the building’s walls. She could hear the screams coming from those houses; her monsters had already arrived at. Sweet screams.

— This was writing a story while listening to a song, and writing it for the duration of the song. I listened to Lissie’s interpretation of Mother by Dazing.

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

Wonders what a good night’s sleep can do to a person. I went to bed early and gave myself time to read a good book, filling my head with vivid images and stories. Silly buggers, I need to start going to bed early. Also, this morning my exercise didn’t last long. I just did a twenty-minute mobility video.

I’m reading The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher, and as always, her book is excellent. Her ability to tell stories is divine. She can pull a reader in, and reading her stories feels like I’m there. Also, it was fun to read stories about superstitions I grew up with. Stories told to me as a child. Another book I’m reading is The Mad Sisters of Esi by Tashan Mehta. It has been wonderful thus far. It reminds me of Tove Jansson for some reason.

Both of the books make me want to write stories that spark imagination. Stories that are written in their own right. I’m tired of editing my scifi book and staying in its world. I want something else. I don’t know what, but there is this shadow of a story inside my head, needing to come out. A story like the Detectorists TV show. A book about human lives. Book about existing. Book with heart.

I’m heading out soon to climb.

If you have Mother’s Day where you live, have a great Mother’s Day.

My Mother’s Day was canceled. My mother lives so far away that my sister is taking her to a concert. I will call her soon. But my husband’s mother lives nearby. She phoned us a week ago and said the day is canceled. She is going to a painting course as their house is being remodeled.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have an excellent day!