Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Writing Prompt 42

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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.

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Inspirational prompt 39

I stepped out of the shop and scanned around me for anyone watching. The barrel of the gun felt warm through the leather holster. Across the street, a little girl with a huge swirling rainbow-coloured lollipop – couldn’t have been older than maybe six or seven, the lollipop almost half the size of her head – broke free from her mother’s grip. She halted, turned, and looked at me.

A voice growled in my ears. “I too create corpses, mortal. You’re next.”

The girl giggled and stuck her tongue out at me.

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Inspirational Prompt 38

Today’s prompt:

Two dogs, with envelopes in their mouths, padded by her side. The boy in the stained green hood pointed at them. “You must choose one and do as instructed. Failure to do so will be catastrophic. For you. And if you think the Boss is joking, look what happened to me when I refused to do as as I was told,” he said and lowered his hood.

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Inspirational Prompt 37

Story prompt 37

Naya pushed herself out of bed on an aching elbow. Last night’s events were a blur, but today’s hangover, with its dried mouth and throbbing headache, was very real. A note rested on the floor next to a round violet flask.

Dear child, please stop dreaming or imagining things. We talked about this. It drains us to reshape the world back to what it was. Quaff the potion in the flask (yes, dear, the whole thing. I know it smells, but it’s the only way). But not before you bring back your brother. Please? Otherwise your father will have to intervene and he may have to destroy this world too.

Love M.

Posted on by Chris Sarantopoulos

Inspirational prompt 35

Let’s see what paths this takes you 🙂 Lots of things to play with here. Characters, setting, backstory, conflict. Take your pick.

———

“Go on, open the umbrella, Richard. Now’s a good a time as any.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
“I said, no.”
“open the umbrella, or I’ll smack you in the head with it, you old geezer.”
Henry puffed and huffed and rolled his eyes. “Who you’re calling old, you, you, you overripe prune? Your senility makes you forget I’m the youngest. Four moon turns. Y-O-U-N-G-E-S-T. Youngest.
“You’re older than me. Four moon turns OLDER! Father mixed us up at first, remember? I’m the youngest.”
Richard harrumphed and turned his back, one leg over the other, foot bouncing up and down irritably.
Henry rolled his eyes and kept drumming his thigh with his fingers.
“Open the umbrella.”
“Huh-uh.”
“You stubborn old fool. He’ll die with everyone else in less than five minutes. What difference does it make if we claim him now? Open the damn umbrella.”
“Oh, no. I’m not getting the blame again for another early reset.”