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! Welcome to our brand new picture prompt. We want thank everyone who has been participating in our prompts thus far! We're always so amazed at the remarkable entries we receive and the wonderful support you as a community have for our prompts.
Remember that our prompts are meant to inspire you in your writing and that you are allowed to interpret it however you want, provided that there is a clear link between your entry and the prompt provided. For more guidelines, please refer to them below.
PICTURE PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. To read the rest of the entries submitted to us, check out the comments section below!
Most of the visitors to the blood bank were startled by the labels on the jars of blood. The terror began when they realized it wasn't a blood bank at all but a restaurant for vampires. Some of the customers wanted their meal warm and fresh rather than from cold storage. The door locks snapped into place, securing the only way out. Dinner was served.
I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask to stick out like a sore thumb everywhere I went. All I want is one chance to pretend like I am just another normal girl- to be able to go out with a man who won't fumble if I refuse a drink, and be able to look people in the eye and talk of sweet nothings without having to hold back on my laughter- but I know that these wishes will likely go unfulfilled.
From afar, I watch lovely couples sit at the café and a pang of envy hits me. I walk in anyway. The smells inside are overwhelming as are the sounds, but I have learnt to overlook them. I smell the aroma of various drinks as I try hard to hold my eyes back from straying too far while making sure that I don't give my craving away to all that behold me. I sit in a shady corner of the place- somewhere I will likely go unnoticed, but it seems I am mistaken. A man takes his seat opposite me, seemingly unaware that his presence is not entirely welcome. He is of lean build, but intimidating enough to seldom go unnoticed. His eyes gleam as he takes in my appearance. For a while, neither of us speak a word. He orders no drink, and neither do I. We gauge each other, our eyes measuring every single movement. There are some smiles- a few teasing, and a few charming.
We talk for a while after that. He seems pleasant enough, and his smiles are as hidden as mine if not more. As the hour flies, he stands up and invites me over to his place for dinner, leaving me confused, but excited.
That night, I find myself at his place, impeccably dressed for the occasion, for I have no intention of letting the opportunity slip past my fingers. As he leads the way, an irresistible aroma hits me once more, and before I know it, my lips have parted, my eyes hooking onto the glass jars filled with crimson liquids, each with a distinct metallic scent. Me eyes meet his, and as our lips give way to reveal the glint of two sharp fangs, he pours the blood into exquesite glasses.
"Almost done lass, and your laughter can be heard once again." The mortician stands before a marbled stone slab as he towered upon a corpse dressed in a magnificent shade of burgundy. His 'friend' was fragile and smaller than any of his clients, he frowned.
"Children should be loved. They aren't puppets, they are people too." He murmured, carrying the girl and laying her in a coffin. Basked in glistening gold silk, one of grandeur. A royal rest.
But not for long.
Death couldn't bear children dying at a young age, their chance to live taken away. So he sought to give them a second one, as he looks up to stare at an array of wooden boxes, he grinned.
He needs three things; a vessel, a soul, and lots of blood.
Proceeding to connect different wires to the children's heads. He glanced at the shelves containing transparent jars filled with crimson fluid. Blood, preserved and arranged according to their types, as this project was not to be played with. It should be polished to perfection, so nothing could go wrong. Resurrection is lethal to the living and dead, after all.
He poured the contents of the jar inside an advanced machine, flicking the power on. Probing at how the blood rushed through their veins, adding color to their flesh and livening up their visage. He cheered, they were nearly finished.
He grabbed his scythe, slowly woven the tip over their chest. He eyed the growing glow of light, their soul, as he did the same for the others. They look much livelier now. Full of life.
"Wake up, children. Time for breakfast."
There were side effects. Their organs weren't fully healed yet so they had to consume blood for the time being until they were ready to stand on their own two feet. Like living breathing humans, and not some isolated walking zombies.
He opened the leftover jars, dripping candy cane straws as the children began to open their colored eyes. Death giggled, serving their drinks when he heard the first laugh.
