Writing Prompt Response

Writing prompt: In 500 words, There’s an island where all lost things end up.  Today, you wake up, cold and wet, on the beach of that island.

I always knew something was wrong with me. From the moment I started to cry as a baby, to the moment I laid down to sleep last night.
The voices of my parents never quite matched the rumblings of murmurs I had heard in my nine months of watery incubation. Between being born, and going to the hospital nursery, I had somehow ended up with the wrong family.
I’d been lost my entire childhood. I was lost during the trying adolescent years when I started to realize I looked nothing like my brothers.
Some people say it was “adoption”, irregardless, I call it lost.
Especially when I opened my eyes an hour ago to find myself in a place cluttered in lonely socks and other miscellanious items.
All your life, you wonder where mismatched socks, bobby pins, hair ties, buttons, shoes, slippers, and family pets end up. Well, wonder no more – they still exist, stranded on a surreal island in the middle of nowhere.
After blinking several times, relentlessly pinching my arm, and roughly smacking myself across the face once or twice, I decided to spend my time a bit more productively and find out where the heck I was, and if I was the only one here.
“Have you seen Joe?” I heard a voice ask.
“Shelley? Shelley where did you go?” Another cried from somewhere behind me.
It was certainly an odd sight, the endless piles of things scattered about everywhere.
A dog ran past my legs, bumping into me as he went. He was shaggy and gray, with a floppy ear hanging down, and the other perked, listening. Barking this way and that as he threw his head side to side, looking for something.
I knew a great deal about what that was like. The anxious pounding of the heart, as you plow through a crowd of people trying to find something—
The voices caught my attention again as someone else called out for Frank.
Curiosity piqued, I hurried in the direction of the voice.
For being an island of lost things, you will immediately understand the irony which ensued, as I /never/ found the sources which belonged to the voices I heard.
I pursued them until I felt my sanity begin to drain from me. The oddest part of all was the magical sort of “poof” sound that happened right after their cries cheered up.
Cheered up. That was the best way to put it. Almost as though they had been found again, and no longer needed to be here.
Some people try to “find” love, others try to “find” God. In a way, everyone feels just as lost as I do. At least, in one way or another. Unfortunately, I had never known the cheer I’ve just described to you. Nobody has ever made me as happy as the voices that have come and gone in the last two hours.
I wonder how people end up here anyway. In fact, as I stand on this strange island now, I still want to know how on earth *I* got here….. I wasn’t /really/ lost, I was just trying to get from 52nd street to Broadway, and stopped to ask for directions.

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Writing Prompt Response

This is my response to the monthly writing prompt in a group I am apart of, and help admin, called Den Of Quills.
Den of Quills can be found online in three different locations!
Website: http://www.denofquills.com/
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Twitter: https://twitter.com/denofquills

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Prompt: Write an indefinite amount of words to form either a scene or story that includes the following sentence: “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. And I want to forget you exist!”

As they waited in awkward silence for the train to arrive, Felicia wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
It had been a beautiful summer, until last week. Last week had changed the tides completely in their relationship. It would never be the same. She knew it. She knew it with everything in her.
Turning to Dax, Felicia’s eyes glossed over with tears, “Will this be the final goodbye?”
Dax’s jaw was firm, he shifted it a few times as though the moment were difficult for him as well.
While the train pulled into the station, steam catching on the bottom of her skirt and gently swirling it for a moment, Felicia felt her heart break for the third time in a week.
Passengers unloaded and reloaded, as they remained silent.
Boarding Felicia, Dax was sullen, stern even.
As he passed her the last piece of luggage, he set his jaw again.
Her heart raced, knowing this was the end.
Firmly, without missing a beat, Dax said, “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you, and I want to forget you exist.” With that, he turned abruptly, and walked swiftly away.
Felicia felt her hand draw to her mouth in response to her disbelief.
As she silently cried, before the whimpers were able to escape her throat, she realized just how severe one little lie could be.

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Den of Quills is currently in line for publishing our first Anthology project called, Den Of Thieves, as well as beginning our next Anthology project.  Several new Authors will be featured for the first time in this book!  Promotions and information on our projects to come!

Writing Prompt – Nameless Gods

The prompt was to write a story that included gods.

She checked her watch again. 8:15

He said he’d be there.

Punctuality wasn’t necessarily part of his breeding. Neither was keeping promises.

Her heart raced, with a heavy heartbeat as the nervous twisting of her stomach started to cave to her fears.

He didn’t mean it. He never meant it. All of this was just a lie.

She was a mortal, and he—

He was above her in every way. They could never, and would never be.

After another glance at her watch, she decided to head home.

Slipping her hands into her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the chill, she slowly walked back down the sidewalk the way she had come.

~*~

“That’s it, watch.” The smooth voice whispered into his ear.

The curls in her long brown hair blew sweetly, gently, bouncing a touch with each step she took. It was agonizing to see her this way. Her beautiful plum colored coat, gently running with the shapes of her mortal body, her cute plum hat cocked sweetly to the side to frame her face.

He watched her cry, walking away from where he would have been waiting for her. His insides burst in rage. But he held it back, he had to be strong. His father was watching. Always watching.

“We must keep the checks and balances between our kind and theirs. You know what the punishment is for dabbling with humans.” The last word was a sneer. “They are beneath us! Lowly, disgusting creatures. Fighting among themselves to achieve futile dreams of Greatness.”

He closed his eyes and gently shook his head. He knew otherwise. Not all mankind were corrupt. He had found Purity, Innocence, Honesty. Love. And he was never going to see her again.

She was nothing like the endless scores of goddesses longing to be at his feet.

She was something more. Something to be conquered, not succumb to. New, free– and off limits.

“Come away from the window, brother. Come and drink, be merry! For today, you have proven worthy to Father, and we will all celebrate. You shall be King.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Why? Because we’re not humans? Would you rather spend your time with them?” He pointed down at the earth.

“Yes.” He shouted, lightning cracking across the room. The anger pulsing through his celestial body threatened to create chaos and madness if his brother did not stop taunting.

A dark snicker escaped behind curled lips, “Oh my dear, dear brother. Do not do this. You should not do this. Neither of us want to turn the tides of the day.” He moved slowly towards the younger immortal, “As it is, you should be thanking me for today.”

“And why is that?”

“Because, little one, it is I who saved your Fate.”

“What do you mean?” Fear quickened his breath, as the anger continued to burn inside of him.

Sauntering to the window, looking down over the world below them, the elder brother let a whimsic hiss escape his teeth, “I am the one, who turned you in.”

“You did what?!” The violent assault of his thoughts yanked his brother by the shirt collar, holding him up against the glass.

“Now, now, come brother dear, we both knew it was for the best.”

He could be so smug. What burned more was that he was powerless to do anything against his brother. The younger god, the immortal god, gods who would never die. Banishment, not death, was their greatest fear. Though he would face neither if he rebelled against the Immortals, dying and coming back here at the end of a life of mortal days did not bode well with him either.

There was no hope in loving a mortal.

There was no hope in escaping this chaotic world of Celestial order.

There was only to live, and to continue to live. Ageless, loveless, and ultimately- friendless. After all of eternity, and more to come, there was a great deal of dirt to be had on one another. And there would be no end to the misery of being a god.

Record Timing: 211 words in 5 minutes

Written during a word race, “Write as many words as you can in 5 minutes”

The cries across the battlefield were drowned out by the artillery.

As Greg found himself facing down death, he wondered what it would be like to die.

Suddenly, her face appeared. Smooth, white skin almost like porcelain. Bright blue eyes that reminded him of the sky. Long copper curls that danced wildly in the wind the day he asked her to marry him.

And in that moment, he realized, he did not want to die. These games Politicians played with other countries– they were not for him. They were not for any of his battle buddies lining the field as cold, dead corpses.

Backing away from the scope on his sniper rifle, he made the final decision.

He was going to run.

Dropping back from the front, where everyone else was dead anyway, he sprinted as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The trees just ahead were good cover until he could figure out what to do next.

Another explosion sounded in the distance as bombs were dropped from enemy planes.

This was it. Do or die.

And right now the will to live long enough to be court marshaled was enough, just as long as he could taste her beautiful lips, and hold her body close once more.