Hope and despair
Total Drama Island-type flair...
A pink blood nightmare
with a sadistic Build-a-Bear?
pop art post-apocalypse
bring colorful chaos to
[Commentary: think cliche grey dystopia/rainbow utopia conflict]
The landscape looked like it had been colored by a child with the wrong crayons.
your sweet whispers silence
my sour thoughts
as i savor your
that i am no longer alone
in this bitter world
ethereal before entropy
breaks the darkness
into the belly
of the awakening beast
greeted by forgotten language
i am enthralled
beginning first contact
proof of another
in this universe
closing the space
between the known
feeds the darkness
closing in on me
one who mistook
an open entrance
as an invitation
a trap for something
with steel stomachs
and kevlar claws
and a glass heart
that has consumed
my fatal curiosity
to feed on
I have a habit of mentally listing things during strange situations, and this time is no different. What woke me up and has kept me up is a baby's small wail, and for the past five minutes, I've been counting all of the things wrong with this scenario:
1. I live alone and
2. I don't have kids
3. The noise is coming from behind me, but
4. I am facing a wall and
5. still laying in my bed, meaning
6. It's coming from under my bed, and
7. It sounds like it's getting louder, no
8. It's getting closer
9. I've closed my eyes but can still see it
10. The wail is not from a human ba-
A Necrodancer’s Neverending Nightmare
In my world, there are two types of Magick: Pretty and Untouchable.
We all love Pretty Magicians: the wand-wielders, elementals, all those flashy hat-and-rabbit folks.
Then there's my kind. We're the horror movie villains, the Satan-worshippers, the freak shows. If you're looking specifically at my mixed heritage, you might call me a Voodoo queen or plain witch.
My parents had known that I would be born with their same abilities, and tried their best to hide them. I avoided hanging around graveyards and abandoned buildings, ignored roadkill and weakening souls, and concealed the rusty nails and ragdolls. Whenever I did use my powers, I made sure I was alone or, if anything, around small children. Kids tend to tolerate us Uglies better than adults do.
That brings us to my personalized news headline, the thing that got me running from both the feds and feuding family: Teenage Girl, Class-A Necromancer, Saves Drowned Boy.
To be fair, I didn't save the kid. Oh no, he was long gone by the time I went rushing to the riverbank. His parents were attempting CPR on his little frame, but all they had succeeded in was breaking two of his ribs and making things worse. I don't usually trust anyone with keeping my secret, but that day, I was feeling heroic and made the mistake of showing them my power.
If you ask me, I'm more of a Necrodancer than a mancer. It caused quite the scene when I, some punk high schooler, did a little jig around a dead boy's body, pouring salt and gold dust along the way into the shallow stream. I had taken my shoes off to sense the pulse of the earth beneath me, but probably should have taken the freezing water into account. After forming a vaguely-shaped circle around him, I stuck a razor in one palm and clapped my hands together, letting a little of my blood drop onto his paled forehead. I'm not religious, but from the view of the crowd, it must have looked like I was praying.
At this point, someone had taken out their phone and a bystander who I had thought to be an ordinary police officer was approaching. Luckily, the kid was already beginning to move. I opened my eyes to find his also fluttering, and soon enough, he was crouched over, coughing up water.
I had stepped back to let his mom and dad take over when I bumped into someone. That someone had a pair of handcuffs on my wrists in no time, and sure enough, it was the special government agent I had mistaken for a cop.
Let's skip over the ride in the backseat and awkward conversation with my parents, to my meeting at the Pentagon. The nameless generals I had to talk to described "Project Second Chance", an initiative involving me and other scouted Necros reviving fallen soldiers on the battlefield to make drafting new people become obsalete. Each word that came from their dry mouths was a poke at my Magically-exhausted brain, and it became very clear that this plan would just make me another expendable, sold soul for them to exploit.
I kept my right to remain silent until the very end. I didn't want them to pry me for details regarding my Magick, and I really didn't want them prying for information about my family. I stayed quiet as they assumed that I would love dancing around shot-up, mangled corpses. That it would also be nice for me to "reconnect" with a culture they despised. That I wouldn't question the ethics or safety of any of this.
"If you agree to be recruited, the handcuffs can come off." Yet another old white dude talking to me. "We would greatly appreciate your abilities on our team."
"No." One word and an awkward silence. I narrowed my eyes at his graying hair.
"Take her away-"
"No!" The same word, louder.
And with the fall of my chair and the pull of a door, I was out of there.
Wondering what happened to the handcuffs? I rarely rely on them, but that day I had seeked help from a spirit; specifically, a random Russian spy who had been killed in that same interrogation room.
I knew that my parents knew what was going on through even Facebook's news sources, so I didn't go home. I didn't even text anyone from school, not wanting to deal with their impressions of my Magick from, say, The Skeleton Key or The Serpent and the Rainbow. I already don't have many acquaintances here, having just moved to DC from what was current destination, Austin. There, my childhood best friend Jackie was waiting, and I knew she would be the only one to understand everything.
Why? Because when my powers were outed back there and we were forced to move out to escape the ignorant, Pretty Wizard locals, she was the only one who didn't insult or threaten me at school.
Longer story short: What began as a simple runaway became a national manhunt, and after hitchhiking with some Warlocks (another type of Untouchable), I was found on the Louisiana border.
But not by the feds or local sheriffs.
They call themselves Les Filles de (Marie) Laveau, and I knew they were legit Voodoo practitioners because their leader is my older cousin, Zelie Alarie.
"Brigitte, is that you? It is! Yes, we've heard what happened, and are glad you've come back here to continue the family business!"
The 'family business' referred to Les Filles's hold on the city of New Orleans, their questionable methods of giving special offerings to the spirits that controlled the land.
Of course, I didn't want to join them either. I didn't want to raise an army of the undead, but I also didn't want to gurantee eternal suffering to oblivious tourists. Zelie and my Southern side of the family are the ones I avoid at family reunions because of how they claim that the other side has "tainted" my Necromancer blood, and this case was no different.
They're all powerful Magicians, but they weren't able to make a doll or drag me into a salt circle, because I could run faster than them. I was across the street before they could unroll the thick sleeves of their black cloaks and grab my hair or take out gold vials.
What? Dancing means stamina and flexibility, and my traumatic years of ballet and PE have prepared me for these kinds of situations.
"Wait, Brig! Please!" Zelie nearly tripped on her cloak a few times as she chased after me. "It's not safe for you out there!"
I should have just stayed with the demon sugar babies, I thought back to the college-aged Warlock couple, Will and Wyatt. They were really nice and willing to keep quiet about me but, as usual, I made a point that I didn't want to bother them for long.
"It's not safe here eith-" I started to yell back, but suddenly, something was constricting my throat.
Since my eyes need to adjust to see them, I had completely forgotten about the fifty ghosts all around us near the square. It felt like forever before I could breathe in the night air again, when my cousin caught up and gestured for the tormented soul to stop.
"That's enough, Jimmy."
The translucent spirit, a man with sad eyes and a glowing gash down his neck, stepped back.
I only heard Zelie's heels click in a crescendo on the cracked pavement, my back turned on her. "Look at me, Brigitte," she said.
Growing up around other Magicians has made me aware of their tricks. This one, which required eye contact between the Mage and victim, I dubbed "Medusa". For Necromancers, it could mean the stop of a hearbeat or possession from a nearby spirit.
I heard her sigh and the other Filles mumble to themselves. Then, a thin hand reaching out to move my hair behind my ear. Trick #2, Sample Collection. Hair can be used for Voodoo, Alchemy, and a number of other DNA-based Magicks. With the swipe of my head, I ducked out from under her arm and kept my eyes on her sleeves.
"I know you do not trust us," Zelie's voice became calm, almost hypnotic. I made sure to watch out for Trick #3, Mind Control. "but you have to recognize that we are the lesser of the two evils here. Do you think the leaders of this country care about us, want anything to do with our 'taboo' Magick? We are connected by our blood, while they only lust for it. You have no one else to go to, so now is the time to come back to your roots."
I dared to glance up again, instead meeting the eyes of the other Filles. Most looked like us: coily black hair, dark skin, brown eyes that could turn from warm and welcoming to cold obsidian in seconds. And whether we liked it or not, we could all squint and see our own kaleidoscope souls and monochrome ghosts filling the air around us.
"Fine." I finally nodded to her. "I'll spend the night, but you can't make me stay her forever. This is where I'm from, but it isn't where I belong."
But where do I really belong? Back home in DC with mom and dad, or back in Austin with Jackie and her own family? Maybe things won't be that bad here...
I'm still figuring out how to deal with my identity and how my powers are now known to both of my worlds, but at the moment, I have something I'm sure of:
My cousin/cult leader just winked at the lights illuminating the street, and they all winked back at her.
"What?" She saw my widened eyes. "This city comes alive at night. Come on, let's go before it gets hungry again."
Oh yeah, I almost forgot that they enchanted all of New Orleans and gave it a taste for human flesh. I guess it could be worse though. Right?
Fantasy/Sci-fi Prompt Ideas because I’m Too Lazy to Finish Them Myself
Note to self: Something inspirational but okay for a 13 year old to read. I want fiction though. No horror (I suck at writing horror and will leave myself paranoid for days because I’m that easy to scare lol). I can do Sci-fi, fantasy, etc.
You live in a world of superheros (and villains...). It should be cool and all, but even the "good" guys are extremely elitist and discriminate against "Civils" (people like yourself, who were born without powers). In pure spite, you prove them wrong by applying and getting into one of the top hero organizations, but what now? Will your oddly-specific talents and party tricks be enough to fight evil?
Bonus: You actually do have a power- Intimidation, the ability to make others think you have a power. This paradox is what got you onto the team in the first place and kept your city's criminals on their toes.
Virtual Reality has become the norm and people have gotten used to escapism with outlandish avatars and networks of online-only friends. It's all fun and games until some users get infected with a virus, one that in turn also affects people in real life. Think a zombie apocalypse combined with a video game setting. How do you survive?
Bonus: Will those programming skills of yours help you cure the bots/zombies and restore order in both worlds, or will you seek guidance from a questionable hacker?
3. Skeptical Chemist/Skeptic Alchemist
Science and Magic. Polar opposites or two sides of the same coin? Think of a world where these sides are actual divided kingdoms at war (or on the brink of it), and a historic breakthrough (the Industrial Revolution? Renaissance?) has changed the tides. You are the calalyst: you have discovered a new element/the Philosopher's Stone, and both sides want it for either its nuclear or divine properties. Which side are you handing it over to? Or perhaps you should hide it away from everyone...
Bonus: This strange rock causes a lot of other issues as you escape pursuing doctors and sorcerors. You accidentally gave an object sentience (Science calls it AI, Magic says mimic). You summoned something otherworldly (alien or Old God?) and made a rogue copy of yourself (clone or homunculus?).
Rules for any prompt:
- Unconventional MC: Make them diverse (race, sexuality, age), add that flavor many stories don't have. You could make them the side character, the antagonist, etc? Morally grey/chaotic motives is fun! Talk about their random, unrelated habits and hobbies!!
- Break tropes: Relationships don't work out well in the end? Parents actually stay alive/don't disappear? No stereotypical token characters! Comic relief doesn't die!!
Immume to the mocking of mirrors
Dissuaded by the sunlight and stakes
Pressured to await invitation
Fed by fresh blood
A Gamer, When Asked to Join The Military:
"I shoot pixels, not people."
"Kid, you've been using our AR. There is no difference."