Day 356 Writing Short Stories

Dante

I have traveled Hell, and back, I have seen what Dante wrote about. I have seen the circles, the torments, the injustice, the pettiness, the jealousy, all there trapped inside their cages, burned and poked for their crimes.

I say to Hell with them all. I feel no pity, no empathy. Not even when I know I will end up in the lower circles when my body gives up. It’s a lie, an empty promise of eternal happiness for all the goodness and patience lived here on the mortal coil. Morals twisted into obedience through fear. If I’m to do good, let me have a good heart. And if that’s impossible, then let me have one that fights for what I want and need.

I won’t waste my travels on you. I do them for me, and me alone.

Injustice

The knife in her hand felt real. She had sharpened its blade, smoothing it over with time and precision. Now it could slice half a hair. The knife was all she could do to change things. She couldn’t take back what had happened. That was too far gone. She was too far gone. The tears were about to come. She hated when the tears came. They brought with them the pain, the loss, the image of her when alive, and the image of her as her skin had turned blue and waxy.

The knife couldn’t bring her back, but it could change the future. The king would go. The might would always fall. It was up to persons like her to see it through. The ones with nothing to lose, and all the love taken out. The king and his decisions had taken Maria away from her. She would never hear her laugh, see her make her skirt swirl, feel her skin against her. The king and his laws were to blame.

She pushed the knife into her black leather boot. The blade slid into its place as it belonged there. It knew its purpose. So did she. She wrapped her fingers around the rugged edges of the castle stones. She hauled herself up the wall. One stone, one move at a time, she made her way up in the darkness, her black clothes shielding her from the prying eyes.

Lastly, she dragged herself up, dropping down to the upper floors. Air had to flow, and she flowed in with it.

She listened to the sounds of the castle. It was alive. Something so big never slept. It didn’t know how to sleep. Neither did she.

She made her way down the halls, knowing exactly where the king slept with his mistresses. The guards at the door had fallen asleep. They had grown careless and fat. So they did, when they thought they could get away with murder and a lot more. The king and his line had been a king far too long.

She sneaked past them into the chamber. The king lay naked on the bed. The wide-eyed girl sat there at her, watching her slip in. She shook her head. The girl stared at her, her eyes big and innocent. How could such eyes exist? She had never known innocence. Since she could crawl, there had always been reality, the need to fight, to growl, for clenched fists. It was there even now. The curled-up animal, so timid, so stiff inside her, ready to bounce.

And then the scream came. Innocence always came with screams. And she bounced with all the might she could do, and pushed the blade into the king until she was stopped, and she was no more.

Mother’s Day

Two kids plant an adorable, loving Mother’s Day for their hardworking mom. I skipped this one.

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

I guess I have to start thinking about what I will do after these prompts run their course. In 10 days, I will have gone through all 366 prompts in the book. I can’t believe I made it this far. Feels so odd. Lately, I feel like I have been running through emotions with the writing. Some of the prompts have sparked something new and made me excited, but lately, there have been too many that I’ve just half-assed. I feel bad about that. Okay, I have been tired a lot lately. If there is something to summarize this whole writing journey, it is that I’m tired and a lot. I’m not sure if it has something to do with my schedule, habits, or the fact that a few years ago I got thyroiditis. It has taken me a long time to recover from my immune system crashing, but I think I have to be honest with myself, and a lot of my tiredness is down to the amount of training and climbing I’m doing. It’s too easy to get trapped in climbing. It’s an obsession. I’m just so close to breaking into a new grade, 7B+, and it feels so amazing. But it has come with a cost. And there is the fact that I do so much. I write every single day because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t feel like myself, and I’d feel like the day was wasted. So it’s no wonder I feel exhausted more than occasionally. Not so much when I’m outdoors in the woods. I have to drag my computer there with me.

But back to the subject of knowing what to do after the prompts end. I still want to write my blog every day. Writing it and being in contact with you have given my year great meaning. It has made it, and it has become an important part of what I do, what I want to do, and who I am. But I want to do more than just go through emotions. I want my posts to have meaning, and I love how they have let me create, explore, learn, and get my little movie-like stories inside my head that live on. So somewhere there lies the truth about what I need to do. I just haven’t figured out what it exactly looks like. I have ten days to think this through.

And by the way, thank you. Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting on my post. You have encouraged me to keep going on. Seeing that you have read my posts has been important to me, and it makes me smile and feel all cuddly inside. Thank you for being an important part of the journey.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have an adventurous day!