Have you found yourself stuck in the middle of a particularly bad writer's block? Need a dose of inspiration? Or are you simply looking for some creativity to kick-start your newest novel? Then look no further!
Paranormal Prompts aims to bring you...
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Hi and welcome to our latest prompt! This week, we'll be featuring a picture prompt. You are allowed to interpret the prompt in any manner you see fit, be it literal or figurative, provided that there is a clear link between your entry and the prompt. For more guidelines, make sure to check below!
PICTURE PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. You can read the rest of the amazingly written entries in the comments section below!
The water surged up around me so fast, I felt as if I'd been dropped into the deepest part of a lake. Except for the swirling mass of bubbles in the water, all was silent. The light faded from around me, leaving me in the cold darkness.
Two things immediately registered in my brain, and I was unable to explain them. The first was the fact I didn't need to breathe. My lungs didn't burn for more air. It was as if breathing had simply become unnecessary. The second thought running through my mind was a question of where the water had come from as I'd been standing in my attic a moment before, holding a small gem I'd found in a dusty cardboard box.
I forgot my questions and puzzling thoughts when I noticed movement. In front of me, gliding forward with the fluid grace of a sea snake, was a pale green creature. Humanoid for the most part, fins protruded from its scaly skin, and its large eyes were wide and reminded me of a shark. It offered a webbed hand to me, and I instinctively reached out and took hold.
Maintaining its grip on me, the creature began to dive into the depths, pulling me along to whatever waited below.
It feels like drowning... like being submerged beneath the wavering ocean surface as raindrops tapdance above me. I wish I could feel their crisp pebbles crash and pour over my skin, but everything down here is... so calm.
I feel nothing.
I look around, and I wish I could see the colorful flora of marine gardens, or maybe swim alongside a magnificent manta ray whose fins are gliding through the water like graceful wings.
But I cannot.
It is dark.
And there is nothing here.
As they lower my wife's casket into the earth, I light up a cigarette, shielding its burn from an overbearing wind, and take one long, purposeful drag.
"Uncle Leo, I thought you quit that stuff," Jacob says. He is my wife's nine-year-old nephew, with red hair, ruddy cheeks, an Avengers tee, and grass stains on his jeans. "Auntie Monica hates when you do that."
"Yeah," I mumble, bouncing the cigarette between my lips, "well, your Auntie Monica isn't here."
Jacob's mother glares at me, tugging her son's elbows as if to shield him from an overbearing me. She doesn't understand why I'm not crying. She thinks I'm being insensitive. Or maybe, she thinks I never loved her sister at all.
"That stuff'll kill ya," Jacob says, eyes transfixed on the swirling puffs of smoke. Perhaps he too seeks a distraction from today's service.
I smile. "Yeah, kid. That's the idea."
Like drowning...
My lungs are burning.
And I can't wait to drift to sleep, fall into the black, bottomless abyss of the ocean, and welcome Death's dark and cold embrace.
