Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 46

“Okay, you convinced me. When do I start working?”
The man gave Simon a toothy grin and scratched his pointy goatee with an equally pointed fingernail. “We’ll get to that. First, the job’s perks. You will be in charge of your own self and no one can fire you. You get to travel the world. The -”
“I told you, I’m sold. When do I start?”
The man put out his hands and begged for patience. “The drawback is that you don’t have a fixed timetable. You go to work whenever you’re needed. You must always follow the day’s appointments. This is very important. You can’t miss any. Do you want to know what the job is?”
“Do I really get my weight in gold every month?” Simon asked.
“That’s right.”
“And the whole world will know of me.”
“Correct.”
“So, when do I start? Monday?”
“No, as soon as you sign.” The man took a piece of paper out of a pocket and pointed at the right spot with his fingernail. “Sign here.” When Simon took the paper, the man scratched Simon’s finger with the tip of his fingernail. A drop of Simon’s blood landed on the paper. “Never mind that. Just sign the contract, please.”
Simon did as instructed.
“Congratulations, Simon. You are now Hell’s caretaker. Have fun.”

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 45

“You know I’ll tear you to pieces when I find you, right?” Her voice echoed in the vast chamber. “Don’t make me chase you, boy.”
“You can’t hurt me any more,” Tristan said a moment later.
She chuckled. “Big words from someone small like -”
“Look at you.” His voice came from straight ahead.
“I got you now,” she whispered and narrowed her eyes.
Tristan’s head appeared from inside the darkness, then the rest of his body followed.
She gave him a hyena’s grin.
“Look at you,” he repeated. “You’ve spent yourself completely. You’re just a wisp of smoke and a set of eyes. Look where we stand.” He breathed a faint laugh. “You are no more.”

 

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 44

Mike kicked a pebble on the pier and watched it plop down into the sea. “Okay, we’re here. Now what?”

Alex rolled his eyes and sighed as if he had other, better things to do than explain trivial things to the village fool for the tenth time. “Now we wait.” He spoke slowly and intoned each word to make sure the message got through. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet.

Mike fought the urge to introduce his fist to Alex’s face. Instead, he nodded and chewed on his lower lip. Moments later, when the silence became unbearable, he spoke again. “For how long?” Pompous, know-it-all little prick was going to get the beating of a lifetime, if he gave him another stupid or arrogant answer.

“Until something big happens. Now. Shut. Up.”

Mike flexed his fist and tried to picture his friend’s nose as a swollen, three-feet-wide monstrosity across his face. He caught sight of something strange from the corner of his eye. He turned his head to it, and something cold sped from the base of his skull, down his spine, all the way to his limbs. “Big as in… like that perhaps?” He pointed at the shore.

Alex turned and looked. His face turned ashen, and the bulge on his throat went down once and rose slowly. His mouth hung.

“Sea going away big enough for you? Where’s the sea going, Alex? Huh? You messed up. Again.”

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 43

 

Jimmy glanced behind him and gnawed on his lip. The shouting was distant, but getting closer. “Are you going to will the wall go away by staring at it or something? It’s a dead-end. We’re trapped. Come on.”

Ramona reached out, grabbed him, and shushed him. She traced the mortar between the bricks with her finger and closed her eyes.

Jimmy tapped her on the shoulder. “Hate to have to disturb you, weird lady, but they’re coming.” He glanced over his shoulder at the mouth of the alley. By the sound of it, a small riot had broken out not far from them and was headed their way.

He put his hand on her shoulder to shake her, but she slapped his hand without sparing him a look. “If you don’t want to end up encased in the wall, or land in an off-world volcano, or at the bottom of a quicksilver ocean, I suggest you stop interrupting me.”

Jimmy moaned and wrung his hands together, his gaze oscillating between Ramona and the other end of the alley. Weird lady will get me killed, he thought. “Come on, come on. They’re getting -”

“There,” she said. She brought out a small metallic bundle of spheres and a tiny crystal hammer, then clinked a few of the spheres with the hammer. The spheres rang, floated to the wall, and the mortar glowed. “Take my hand and don’t let go.” She cupped his jaw and squeezed. “You don’t want to let go, understand?”

He nodded awkwardly, the way she held on to his face. Really weird lady.

She patted his cheek. “Good boy.”

The bricks vanished, and a bright light engulfed them. Something pulled at Jimmy – not only physically, but mentally – a force unlike anything he had ever felt before. At some point, Ramona’s hand burrowed into his, warm, strong, soft, radiating confidence.

“Trust me,” she said over a harrowing whistling sound, and winked at him.

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 42

Are you bored with promotions yet? Yes? No? Well, here’s another one. The Man Behind The Bar is free worldwide for today only (May 28). You can get a copy here. If you live in the UK, try here, if in Germany go here. Here’s the link for Canada and Australia. Check other regional Amazon shops for your free copies. Oh, and I’d love it if you could leave a review.

Anyway, on to writing prompt 42

Thunder cracked in the distance. “You sure it’s the right grave?” Burt asked. I rattled and slapped the flashlight, and muttered a few curses. “Eleventh from the path,” I said over the whistling wind and the pattering of the rain. The flashlight came to life, and a yellow ribbon cut through the darkness. I pointed the light beam on the tombstone. The rain washed the name away. two New ones replaced it. They were our names.

Originally, the above prompt was bigger (more like a vignette, though probably too small even for it), but since I’ve decided to publish these prompts on Pinterest and had to use background graphics for them for more people to, hopefully, benefit from them, available space became an issue. Anyway, for the readers of this blog, and those interested in the slightly longer version, here’s the original piece.

The flash illuminated Burt’s face staring at me, water running in rivulets on it. “You sure it’s the right one?” Moment’s later, thunder cracked somewhere in the distance.
Roger slapped his flashlight, rattled it, and emitted a few silent curses.
I nodded. Stupid me; he couldn’t see me in this pitch black. “Eleventh headstones from the path,” I said over the whistling wind.
Roger’s flashlight came to life, and a yellow ribbon cut through the darkness. “Finally.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Burt said. “Let the dead rest, my pop used to say.”
“Doesn’t surprise me one bit. You’re as senile and superstitious as he was. In his best days.”
Roger whimpered loud enough for me and Burt to hear. His light beam was shaking. He pointed a finger at the tombstone.
The letters on it faded away, as if dissolved by the water. New letters formed and replaced the old ones.
They were our names.