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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Hello everyone and welcome to our newest prompt! This week we'll be featuring a word prompt. Remember that you do not need to include the actual wording of the prompt in your entry, but are free to do so if you choose. You can interpret the prompt as literally or as figuratively as you like, provided that there is a clear link between your entry and the prompt. For more guidelines, make sure to read them below the prompt!
WORD PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. You can read the rest of our wonderful entries in the comments section below!
It is in the darkness of the cell where she stood, staring off into emptiness. The moon hides tonight.
She can hear footsteps, echoing in her head, a melody, a synchronised replay of a tune as it walks back and forth, repeatedly.
She isn't sure whether she is surprised or not when he appears in front suddenly. He stands before her, she can feel his presence, barely make out the outline of his shape.
He moves as if in a dance, reaching his hands to her. She grips onto them, allows him to pull her up. He holds her hands until he doesn't. He circles her, predatorily.
She twists around, as if it is her turn. She cannot catch up, for the fae are too quick for mortals. He writhes away into the shadows when she reaches for him. It is a game of tag they play.
She's frustrated, forcing words out through gritted teeth. "It's a game to you isn't it?" She can hear him smile without needing to see it. "Perhaps it is. I am fae after all."
He attacks her before she can sense it, fingers clutching her face. His face is close, she can see him now in the darkness. "Go on. Yell at me. Shout at me."
She knows he can feel the trembles, how she fears what he can do. Her voice dies. "You cannot." She can hear the smugness in his tone.
She tries to wrench herself from him, she can't move. He trails fingers down her cheeks. "You can be powerful, Jove."
She shakes her head, knows where he is going. "You will die if not." She hisses. "Why do you care? What makes you different from the rest?" He lets go, resuming his dance, brings her hand to his lips.
"I don't know." He is gripping her cheeks again. "But you make me care."
"Let me make you strong, Jove. Strong enough for revenge, for both you and me." She finds herself agreeing to it, he is the drug she cannot live without.
"Follow me into the darkness, Jove."
He tilts her head, presses their lips together. She closes her eyes; she doesn't think this time, doesn't question this time.
All she could see was darkness. Encasing her with the mind of loneliness. No moon, no light, simple darkness out where all of them were.
Girls around her sobbed. Their mind unable to wrap around what was happening. Theirs hearts to soft to handle it.
She moved to the girl on her right, Akela, whom had began to shake with trepidation and fear. She wrapped her arms around the little brunette, ignoring the hisses of warning that came from the dark figures in front of her.
She glared at the one who tried to come close. He shrunk away at those cold gray eyes, hard as steel. Her raven black hair whipped around her in the unseen wind.
Whispers silenced as something - or someone stepped forward. A powerful aura had the shadows around her in their knees.
She shushed the girl beside her, holding her closer every time a cry racked her body. The wind picked up, a howling growing stronger at every gust.
The presence strengthened. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. Goosebumps rose up on her skin in excitement and fear.
She looked up just in time, her eyes flashing.
A finger was pointed at her, barely noticeable under the starless night. A deep voice rang out, unknown emotions slipping into his tone.
I am still having a hard time trying to believe that this is, in fact, reality. When the call came, I had been frightened out of my wits. I thought I'd failed. It had taken significant efforts and losses on my part. A very costly task, yet it continues to cost me by taunting me with the fear of being exposed.
The call came after so many days. He must be a fool, then. A useful fool. I arm myself with a pair of poison-laced daggers and set out to silence the one thorn in my side. I carry a small torch with me. It is something that comes with who I am, and what I do. Soon, I reach my destination. It is time to finish what I started all those days ago.
I look once more at the address that I have written down and look around for what must be the second or third time. There is no sign of light here. No sign of life either. Just tall buildings looming over the unlit paths. I fumble for my torch, and it lights up what seems to be a small opening on the ornate doors of a fairly old looking building.
Despite all rationality, I push the door further. The hinges creak, protesting movement. I flash my torch across the stairs that wind out. Even as the torch dies out without reason, the last beams of light fall upon a face that has haunted me for all these days. Shrouded by the shadows, he is but a silhouette, but the features are unmistakable.
Forcing a smile upon my face, I walk up the stairs until I run into a solid presence. His hand reaches out to steady me. He has always seemed like a medieval gentleman- someone who does not belong here- and I will remedy that now.
My eyes still adjusting to the darkness, I sense him towering over me, and even as he bends closer, a cold shiver runs through me. His hands travel so close to the daggers- dangerously close. I feel it cold against my skin as he slides it out, and even as he drives it straight through me, even as I feel the poison eating away at me, killing me from within, I hear him whisper, "You WILL follow me."
