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Hello everyone and welcome to our brand new prompt! We know that during these uncertain times, you could use a fun distraction. This week, we're featuring a word prompt. Remember that all our prompts can be interpreted in any manner you see fit and you can even use them to kickstart that new story you've always wanted to write! For more information, check out the guidelines below.
WORD PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. To read the rest of the amazing entries, check them out in the comments section below!
You stared into the long-cold coals of the fireplace. You hadn't been the same for months. It had been like the world lost all color when she died. Your cheeks were wet. They always were, nowadays. You didn't care enough to pat them dry.
"What are you crying about?" You twisted in your seat to see her. Leaning against the wall without a care in the world. But something was wrong. She was sharper. Colder. Harder. Darker.
"Oh my god." You took a step forward, reaching out as if to check if she was real, not wanting to know if she wasn't. "Is it-?" She scowled at you. She never scowled at you. Craning her neck to see over your shoulder, she examined the pictures of the two of you on the mantel.
"I suppose she was rather fond of you." You cocked your head to the side.
"Y-you. You were rather fond of me. You loved me, I loved you." And now, she started to look angry.
"No." Her skin stretched and split, turning black and blood-red. She grew to be twice your height, easily. Powerful wings shot out to either side of her, and horns spiraled a good foot above her head.
When Death picked up the stone and gave it to him, he didn't think it would work.
He got the worst looking, simplest item out of the brothers. But of course, he could not complain. They would see. They would see soon enough and recognize him as the man who cheated Death. Who humiliated him. Who needed a powerful wand? Who needed a silly cloak? Those were for cowards. He would show them.
As he went home, he sat down on his couch and admired the stone. It felt rough and smooth at the same time, but strangely....ominous.
He ignored the feeling, and turned the stone three times.
A flicker. A beam of light. And suddenly she was there. His betrothed. His only love. Her light hair tucked behind her ear. Her skirt wrinkled. The same skirt she wore when she died.
But her face was distant. Cold. She was no longer the smiling, laughing person she once was. He didn't care. He wanted her. He needed her.
He poured all his feelings to her. He talked to her, but her face would always be sad. She would respond, but through an invisible veil. She was here, but she did not belong. Her loneliness seeped through, surrounding her.
He hated to see her like this. He tried, driven to insanity by anger and longing. He wanted her back. But it was evident she did not belong here.
And so, with a heavy heart, he looked at her one more time. "I'll see you soon, my love."
The funeral had been short, like most things. Short and sweet, his mother had told her, just like his life.
It had been sunny, the day they buried him.
With a small rose tucked into the pocket over his heart, he was handsome, even in death, handsome for eternity.
She settled in her dining room, pouring herself a glass of wine, then another. She had everything she needed placed out in front of her, she was prepared.
She smiled when the doorbell rang.
"Came crawling back to me, I see," she said, once she opened the door.
His face was coated with a thin layer of dirt, his clothes filthy. There was a trickle of blood down his chin, red shining against his lips. "What did you do?"
She heard his teeth click into place, they looked better than she thought. Better than anything she could have ever imagined.
"I was finally free-" his voice shook and she could no longer contain her smile nor her joy.
"It worked really well," she said, proud. "We'll be together, forever."
"What am I?" he asked, pleading with her as he tried to enter but found that he couldn't.
She grinned. "Death has never looked better."
"Let me in," he hissed.
"Will you put your fangs away before I do?" She wanted it to go perfectly.
She watched him retract them and she stepped aside, smiling, "Now, won't you please come in."
He attacked the instant he was able to pass through the doorway and she shrieked, dropping her glass. It shattered by her feet as he bared his fangs and his eyes went dark. "I'm going to kill you for what you've done!"
She made it to the table before he could reach her, grabbing the wooden stake and using it before he could tear into her. She was splattered in red, spitting blood and wiping her eyes free of him as she huffed and dropped the stake back on the table.
She had wanted this one to work, she wanted it to be perfect. Instead, she retreated into her kitchen for her mop, she'd just have to try it again.
