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[ArtisticVicu]

@fliptheclown Oh, good. That was my intent.  Sad no one else had the opportunity to put in for the prompt. I was looking forward to the other posts.


 


Since life has picked up on my end, there is a long time limit on this one.


 

Prompt:


Death's Crush


 


Word Limit: 150 to 300 words. No more than 300, no less than 150.


Time Limit: 48 hours from the time of this post.


 


Good luck

​

 

[Obsessed]

@fliptheclown Oh, good. That was my intent.  Sad no one else had the opportunity to put in for the prompt. I was looking forward to the other posts.


 


Since life has picked up on my end, there is a long time limit on this one.


 

Prompt:


Death's Crush


take that as you will


 


Word Limit: 150 to 300 words. No more than 300, no less than 150.


Time Limit: 48 hours from the time of this post.


 


Good luck

​

what do you mean by that prompt?

 

[ArtisticVicu]

*chuckles* Second prompt this has happened to.  @Obsessed It's a simple text prompt. I have given you two words - Death's Crush - and they are meant to be the starting block for your writing. The writing never has to use either of those words and can appear totally unrelated. The important part is that what you write was influenced by those two words.





 





Hope that helped. If not, let me know and I can explain it a different way.





AsharaSahara

 

[That Lass Over There]

*scratches his scruff, staring intently at the desk with a full waste bin in the background*

 

[SepiaInk]

Ange watched with sunken eyes as the soul left that woman’s body. The white smoke whispered to him as it billowed from her mouth and hovered above them, unsure of where to go. Ignoring it, the young man gazed down at the husk it left and slowly let go of the hand, now cold and lifeless, that had clung to his not a moment ago. The heel of his freed hand rose to rub away tears that weren’t there. 


From the corner of his eye, Ange spotted the hem of a cloak the colour of night as it approached him and the body he was kneeling over. When he finally gathered the energy to look up, Death already had the soul, now a swirling white sphere, trapped in its skeletal hands. It spared not a single glance towards the dead body as it leaned closer to inspect its prize, life’s warm light, as unique as the countless others it had harvested. It was endlessly gentle, holding the light like a mother would a newborn child. 


“I lied,” Ange whispered after a while, staring at the woman’s corpse half buried under rubble. “Told her everything was going to be okay. Just like with the others.”


He turned just in time to see Death opening its cloak and letting that soul join the other lights. 


“I can’t do this anymore,” his voice trembled and the tears finally came.


Death leaned over Ange. There was no face under that cloak, only shadow, but the hands that brushed over his cheeks and cupped his face, the bony finger that wiped away the tears and the voiceless whisper that ghosted over him spoke of an undying love.


 “Why won’t you let me go?” 


Death did not answer. Instead, it pulled him into its crushing embrace. 




Word Count: 300 words 


I tried. I honestly tried to write something more poetic/abstract and cohesive, but it came out awful. I can only seem to tell stories or speak honestly through my characters, which is not at all great for prompts with word limits. Any pointers? You all do it so well >_< 

 

[Flip]

@SepiaInk I don't know what you're talking about! That was beautiful, what you wrote! I was quite blown away!

 

[cadence]

Aaah. I've been so inactive. I'm just so tired all the time. ; - ;

 

[SepiaInk]

@fliptheclown Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed it! I am happy with the result, of course. But I can’t help but think about how prompts are all about stepping out of your comfort zone and flexing your creative muscles. Specially the ones with tight word limits; I love them because they force you to think carefully about every word you write and how to get your message across with as little as possible. That’s a great skill that I think anyone would love to hone  And one I believe you guys have in spades, which is why I love reading everyone’s take on the prompts. 

 

[SepiaInk]

@Ambedo Don't worry, I think we all feel like that sometimes  It’ll pass, and perhaps a future prompt will spark your interest enough that you’ll find yourself dying to write it out. 

 

[KiKi Kitsune]

Desmond was in love with the most beautiful woman he had ever met. None could compare to her. She was not only the fairest maiden he had ever laid eyes on, she was also generous and kind. She was strong and fierce. She was the most perfect being that had ever existed, and poor Desmond had fallen head over heels for her.


It had all started with a little gift. Desmond read the little card that was on it. It said her name was Lily. He couldn’t help but think about how pretty it sounded. It was a small gift, but it was a sweet gesture. Desmond had decided to put the gift up where it could be seen and it hadn’t been moved since except for cleaning purposes.


He had just arrived in that area, but it seemed that Lily was also a fairly new resident. Even so, he was a bit too shy to talk to her. She didn’t seem to mind much. Lily sent him more gifts, similar to the first. When Desmond looked closer at them, he realised they all looked handmade. With every little gift, his crush on Lily grew.


As time passed, Desmond and Lily actually interacted along with the gifts that she kept sending him. Desmond kept each of them. He handled each of them with the utmost care. Seeing how he treated her gifts, Lily began to love Desmond too.


People created their own names for the couple over the years. Only a few really stuck for a long time.


Despite that, no one can forget the tale of the truest and longest lasting love.


That of Life who sends gifts to Death, and Death who keeps them for eternity.

Words: 288





Am I still in time? I hope I am >.<

 

[KiKi Kitsune]

Desmond was in love with the most beautiful woman he had ever met. None could compare to her. She was not only the fairest maiden he had ever laid eyes on, she was also generous and kind. She was strong and fierce. She was the most perfect being that had ever existed, and poor Desmond had fallen head over heels for her.


It had all started with a little gift. Desmond read the little card that was on it. It said her name was Lily. He couldn’t help but think about how pretty it sounded. It was a small gift, but it was a sweet gesture. Desmond had decided to put the gift up where it could be seen and it hadn’t been moved since except for cleaning purposes.


He had just arrived in that area, but it seemed that Lily was also a fairly new resident. Even so, he was a bit too shy to talk to her. She didn’t seem to mind much. Lily sent him more gifts, similar to the first. When Desmond looked closer at them, he realised they all looked handmade. With every little gift, his crush on Lily grew.


As time passed, Desmond and Lily actually interacted along with the gifts that she kept sending him. Desmond kept each of them. He handled each of them with the utmost care. Seeing how he treated her gifts, Lily began to love Desmond too.


People created their own names for the couple over the years. Only a few really stuck for a long time.


Despite that, no one can forget the tale of the truest and longest lasting love.


That of Life who sends gifts to Death, and Death who keeps them for eternity.


Words: 288


Am I still in time? I hope I am >.<

 

[ArtisticVicu]

@KiKi Kitsune You're within the time limit. People still have just under three hours if they want to participate.





 





@SepiaInk I really like your story, even if you were aiming for poetic/abstract. Cohesive you didn't really have an issue with and telling stories within a word limit takes practice. The thing with poetic/abstract writing is that it is a challenging style to learn if you do not have a knack for it. Now, it could just be you're missing a key and have a knack but just don't know it. However, if you don't have a knack for poetics and abstract writing, you can learn but it takes time and patience. To be able to write poetically, you have to be able to put your perspective from being universal to individual. A good place to play with this is to pick a sense to focus on and expand upon it. For example:





 





Basic:





He watched as the rain came down on the train window and sighed. The train lurched forward as it drew out of the station, taking him away from the only place he had ever called home.





 





Fancy:





It didn't rain often but, when it did, it always seemed as if the sky was mourning. There was a lurch, a thudding, and he watched as the only place he had ever called home began to fall away.





 





Uber Fancy:





The crisp autumn air cooled the glass as the rain showed the imperfection of the window, a gray sky mimicking his downtrodden heart. His breath escaped in a sigh, clinging to the glass like the rain did only to disappear. The train lurched under him and he watched as the station began to move outside the window. The smaller the station became, the larger his sorrow became.





 





0-0 Or something like that. I am not the best teacher, let alone tutor, so hopefully this helps. A lot of times, when dealing with a number crunch, the best thing to do is figure out what you want to say and say it.





 





Uber Short:





He left home behind as the clouds mourned with him.

 

[SepiaInk]

@asharasahara Wow, thanks for the advice and the effort you put into it. Much appreciated :-) I’ll be sure to keep all of that in mind. 

 

[Killigrew]

Watch out for uber fancy.


Unless the situation REALLY calls for it (or its a poem), usually just saying it straight is the best way.


"Poor Faulkner. Does he think big emotions come from big words?"

 

[gel]

@SepiaInk i want to read more of your story.... that was so good!

 

[ArtisticVicu]

@KiKi Kitsune and @SepiaInk, it was a tough decision. You two both wrote very excellent pieces in two separate styles. They each hold their own merit. And, sadly, I have to choose one.





 

Our winner is:


@KiKi Kitsune




​

Kiki Kitsune, yours wasn't overly clear on who the characters were in relation to death till about two thirds of the way in. I really like how you interpreted the prompt.





 





SepiaInk, as I said, these are both in their own right winners. You're is heartfelt and heart wrenching. I love it! Unfortunately - or fortunately - happy, fluff won.





 





Both of you keep writing!! I want more for the both of you!





 





SepiaInk, good luck in the next prompt. Kiki Kitsune, good luck choosing.

 

[That Lass Over There]

Wahhhh~ I didn't make it in time to submit, I was lost in a light novel T.T

 

[KiKi Kitsune]

I just realised that it seems to have double posted again, for which I apologise. 


@asharasahara *^* thank you for choosing me! I'm actually really surprised since Sepia had an amazing piece, as per usual.


Here is something that I hope allows for many different ideas to show:

 
​

Promt: Bloody Mary for the fairy. 
​

Word Count:  450 max, no minimum.
​

Time Limit: (I know I'm busy soo...) 48 hours
​

 
​

I'm looking forward to seeing what you wonderful people produce!
​

 
​

 

[gel]

i am glad there are other people on this forum who are busy, too haha. not that I've even submitted anything past one post... >3>

 

[Sullivanity]

Cynthia sighed, her small wings fluttering wildly against the cold wind. This job definitely never got any easier. It wasn't that it was physically straining; her various charms and magical equipment made sure that she never got tired, and that her strength was many, many times her size. No, when you spend those years in training, no matter what they say, no matter who the guest speaker is that week, nothing can prepare you for what it means to visit thousands of children every night. To get a firsthand look into their lives and know that you're forbidden from ever actually making a difference. 


"But Cynthia darling, you are making a difference. Just imagine their precious little faces when they wake up to find a coin!" Said the echo of the director's voice. Cynthia had learned along time ago that talking about her problem wasn't going to fix anything. And If she "really, really wanted to do something about it", she would have to apply for Fairy Godmotherhood. But Cynthia knew that she wasn't going to get a spot there anytime soon. If, by chance, a Godmother did step down, a common house sprite like her would never be nominated. No, instead it would be a greater woodland sylph or one of the undines from the crystal sea. Being a Tooth Fairy was her best chance to help someone in the human world. 


She he tried to stop her mind from wandering to the kid she had just visited. Kimberly Clark, age 7, 14510 Hazelnut Dr. When Cynthia first saw her assignment, she was relived. She was getting a nice, suburban county in Wisconsin. She didn't know if she could deal with another ghetto or third-world country. Kimberly's house was the 893rd Cynthia was supposed to visit that night. She fluttered in through the window, which had luckily been left a crack open. She floated down to the bed, and she saw Kimberly trembling through her fluffy pink blankets. Acting fast, Cynthia tossed some bright blue dust at her face. As she did, it's shimmer illuminated the fringes of a purplish bruise around her eye. Cynthia didn't want to check to see if Kimberly was awake, she was afraid of what she might see. Acting fast, the fairy scuttled underneath the rainbow pillow and drug out a bright white object. Cynthia marveled at it's pure immaculate sheen, before dropping it in horror. The root was still intact. Just as she began to recollect her thoughts, Cynthia heard footsteps accompanied by shouting and arguing. She bolted out of the room with the tooth before the doorknob could even be turned. She didn't leave a coin.


The fairy cringed at the fresh memory, and descended into an alleyway. Reciting some chant, she grew in size dramatically as she took the appearance of an adult human woman. Cynthia left the alleyway, and immediately went into a nearby pub. The inside was hazy, with a few men smoking and playing pool and a man passed out in a booth being the only other patrons. Cynthia sat down at a barstool, and let out another, longer sigh. She was going to have to explain why she allowed a child to wake up without a coin underneath her pillow. Again. The barkeeper took notice.


"Long day at work?"


"You could say that."


"Can I get you anything?"


"Yea. A Bloody Mary." 

Cynthia sighed, her small wings fluttering wildly against the cold wind. This job definitely never got any easier. It wasn't that it was physically straining; her various charms and magical equipment made sure that she never got tired, and that her strength was many, many times her size. No, when you spend those years in training, no matter what they say, no matter who the guest speaker is that week, nothing can prepare you for what it means to visit thousands of children every night. To get a firsthand look into their lives and know that you're forbidden from ever actually making a difference. 


"But Cynthia darling, you are making a difference. Just imagine their precious little faces when they wake up to find a coin!" Said the echo of the director's voice. Cynthia had learned along time ago that talking about her problem wasn't going to fix anything. And If she "really, really wanted to do something about it", she would have to apply for Fairy Godmotherhood. But Cynthia knew that she wasn't going to get a spot there anytime soon. If, by chance, a Godmother did step down, a common house sprite like her would never be nominated. No, instead it would be a greater woodland sylph or one of the undines from the crystal sea. Being a Tooth Fairy was her best chance to help someone in the human world. 


She he tried to stop her mind from wandering to the kid she had just visited. Kimberly Clark, age 7, 14510 Hazelnut Dr. When Cynthia first saw her assignment, she was relived. She was getting a nice, suburban county in Wisconsin. She didn't know if she could deal with another ghetto or third-world country. Kimberly's house was the 893rd Cynthia was supposed to visit that night. She fluttered in through the window, which had luckily been left a crack open. She floated down to the bed, and she saw Kimberly trembling through her fluffy pink blankets. Acting fast, Cynthia tossed some bright blue dust at her face. As she did, it's shimmer illuminated the fringes of a purplish bruise around her eye. Cynthia didn't want to check to see if Kimberly was awake, she was afraid of what she might see. Acting fast, the fairy scuttled underneath the rainbow pillow and drug out a bright white object. Cynthia marveled at it's pure immaculate sheen, before dropping it in horror. The root was still intact. Just as she began to recollect her thoughts, Cynthia heard footsteps accompanied by shouting and arguing. She bolted out of the room with the tooth before the doorknob could even be turned. She didn't leave a coin.


The fairy cringed at the fresh memory, and descended into an alleyway. Reciting some chant, she grew in size dramatically as she took the appearance of an adult human woman. Cynthia left the alleyway, and immediately went into a nearby pub. The inside was hazy, with a few men smoking and playing pool and a man passed out in a booth being the only other patrons. Cynthia sat down at a barstool, and let out another, longer sigh. She was going to have to explain why she allowed a child to wake up without a coin underneath her pillow. Again. The barkeeper took notice.


"Long day at work?"


"You could say that."


"Can I get you anything?"


"Yea. A Bloody Mary." 

I got really into it, so I ended up going over the word count. Sorry. 

 

[ArtisticVicu]

It was said that all myths and legends start out as truths. Not all keep their connection to where they start. Bloody Mary is no different.





 





There are so many different renditions, so many different experiences, that many don't think that it is more than a child's game played to scare each other.





 





They would be wrong.





 





The truth is, Mary had been a young girl, not the youngest but also not the oldest out of her seven siblings. But she did live in a family that believed in fantasy and it is said that Mary was sacrificed to bring in the blessing of the fae. Or, more specifically, a fairy. No one knows if it worked or not. Rumor has it that the reason she's called Bloody Mary is due to the fairy gifting Mary with a brief moment of life at the cost of her mind and Mary killed her entire family before taking herself out. They say if the ritual is properly done, you can still hear the girl's ungodly laughter ringing through the wind to this day.

 

[gel]

July looked at Mary, then nodded towards the woman in a skeleton mask holding sticks of dynamite. “The skull guy. Beat 'er 'til she's bloody, Mary.” She turned to Forthe. “Forthe--” she gestured to person with the wings. “Fairy.”


Mary connected her fist with Skull Guy's jaw as her first move, then turned on her toes and ripped off the mask. She belched a fat bubble of smoke onto her newly revealed face. “I'm gonna pound you 'til your bones turn red,” Mary grinned as Skull Guy swiped for her, knocking her to the ground; the large silver buttons down her back clattered against the pavement.


Forthe revved up his long chain, unleashing it at Fairy. Fairy lunged out of the way and spat a heavy charge of glitter into Forthe's eyes.


“HAHAHAHAHA!” July cackled. Skull Guy was crumpled on the ground while Mary continued to throw fists. “I love how you take me so literally,” July cried, wiping away a tear.


Something heavy plowed into the side of July's head.


Forthe was in a blackened heap. Fairy swung one end of Forthe's chain from side to side.


“No!” July pouted. “Screw this! Mary!” She ran.


Fairy shouted, bewildered; Mary rushed away with the unconscious Forthe.


“I can't fuckin' stand it sometimes, y'know?” July raged later. Mary followed her, still carting Forthe. “Why can't fighting ever just be fun, like it's cracked up to be? I don't want to see you two hurt. You're not supposed to get hurt.”


Mary frowned. For July, they were still in a fairy tale. Mary Mack was still the same Mary July had known in their tale. Only thing different was now she had her father's head in her stomach, pipe and all.


A lot had happened since things went wrong. Forthe had sprung to life, previously chained at the bottom of the sea; Mary had devoured her father's head as some sort of power-granting quest (she could now breathe fire, and a power like that was necessary in this new world); and July had simply gained the ability to speak when the elephants who had raised her were taken.


Eventually, July would confess, they would go back to life as it was. “But maybe we'll keep the fighting,” July would laugh, as she enjoyed watching her enemies suffer. It only became unbearable when someone she liked got hurt, and she would interrupt the fight in her debilitating manner and they would flee, stop the game, turn everything off.


Mary wondered if, eventually, July would start to realize that the people they were fighting had been like they were, too. Were still like them. They just wanted a different world.


Yay, an entry =D exactly 450 words.

 

[Killigrew]

Raised up by golden curls, the girl's neck lay exposed. Her breath came in gasps. Cold shivers and goosebumps trembled across her pale skin.


They cut her throat and her life spilled into the bin. There it curled in golden moonshine.


Down in the room below, a grinning bartender tilted the tap. The liquid filled the cup til it was all scarlet.


"There you have it! A Bloody Mary for the fairy!"

 

[SepiaInk]

“Knock, knock.” 


Sam lifted her head from the bathroom floor and squinted at the door, as if confident she'd able to see right through it if she just looked hard enough. But, really, there was no need. Only one person in that entire house would start a conversation with a ‘knock, knock’ joke. Rolling her eyes, Sam dropped her head back down and resumed staring at the void in the ceiling. Even that was getting boring though. 


“Who’s there?” she muttered after a while, the promise of any kind of stimuli too tempting. 


“A fairy.” 


“Fairy who?"


For a moment, all Sam heard were the muffled giggles of her younger cousin.


"You have to guess.” 


Smiling, the teen decided to play along. “Tooth fairy?” 


This time the little girl didn’t bother holding back her laugher. “No.” 


“Hum…” Sam hummed. Her smile shifted to a smirk as she pretended to think, arm draped across her face. "I got nothing.” 


“I’m the make-everything-better fairy!” Lily revealed with all the triumph a six year old could muster. "I’m here to make you feel better."


That smile dropped like a rock. 


There was a hesitant pause from Lily, no doubt expecting some sort of reply from her older cousin. Her childish voice came out softer when she pushed on. “Mommy says you have a tummy ache and that’s why you’re sad.” 


Sam snorted at her aunt’s choice of words. “Not sad. Angry,” she corrected, glaring through her arm, hand clenching into a fist.  


“… Why?” 


Where to start, Sam thought.


She was angry because she had to lock herself in the bathroom, threaten to rot away in there and essentially blackmail her parents into doing their frigging job and drive to this house to explain to her what she had been forced to learn through medical books and the internet. Because she was told, to her face, that she should be happy that from now on she’d lose copious amounts of blood and experience pain every month, only to be told the very next second that discussing it openly with other people was somehow indecent or disgusting. Because aunt’s bathroom smelled like meds and didn’t even have a bathtub. Most of all, she was angry because she felt betrayed by her own body. 


Also, she was but naked and couldn't remember why or when she took off her clothes. The cold tiles did feel nice on her skin though. 


Silly Lily wouldn’t understand any of that, obviously. 


“Doesn’t matter. Won’t change anything,” Sam remarked instead. Unsmiling, she added, "I’ll always believe in fairies.”  


“Yes, or else they’ll die,” the little girl replied, sounding oddly solemn. "Like Tinker Bell."


Lowering her arm, Sam grinned. “Exactly.” 




Word Count: 450


Hopefully writing about the same character isn’t cheating *laughs nervously*  

 

[Abendrot]

"Bloody Mary"


"Bloody Mary"


"Bloody Mary"


The lights flickered on, and lo and behold, the Tooth Fairy's favorite stress reliever materialized on the sink's edge, this time complete with both a stick of celery and a lemon wedge. "Fucking finally!" the Tooth Fairy nearly shouted. Perpetual crabbiness was an unfortunate side effect of having to wrestle teeth from underneath children's pillows seven nights a week. Oh but don't worry, your next holiday is only 60 years away! she thought ruefully. With a huff, the Fairy swiped her well-deserved cocktail from her bathroom counter and began walking to her bedroom, all the while wondering how in the multiverse she was going to endure her boss's wrath the next morning.