Writing Challenge - Day 1
To all who are reading this,
Today whilst updating my information on Google+ a friend brought my attention to a writing challenge, guaranteed to get your imagination flowing, and the writing too.
The challenge is to write between flash fiction on a subject, already given. There are different themes for each day and I will be taking part. This is the ELEMENTAL challenge, encompassing 15 themes for 15 days.
I hope you enjoy these short works of fiction! Maybe you will be encouraged to try your hand at these challenges. If you have any questions about my works or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... here's the first story.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
ELEMENTAL WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 1. - FIRE
Alistair had lived through much disaster over the centuries. He had witnessed his wife and two young children succumb to the horrors of the plague. The friends he once had had signed up to slaughter each other in vicious and unnecessary wars. Yet, it was the figure before him that moved him to the verge of tears. “Alistair…” It was the most futile of whispers, followed by a great splutter that brought him back to Earth. He took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Don’t speak my angel. Conserve your strength.” Strength… she had none to speak of. The process had not worked. She was… Alistair pushed the word from his mind, and focused on her form. The colour had drained from her face; she was as white as the snow she was laid upon. The plain peasant’s shift she wore was tattered and streaked with dirt and blood. In life, she had been beautiful. She had the longest hair he had ever seen, and eyes that searched for his non-existent soul. He had observed her for weeks, verging on months, all from the shadows of the woods. It was the first week of November when he had truly noticed her. She was shivering, fingers blue, as she pulled her drunken sot of a brother from the village tavern. She tried to keep him upright as she muttered about ‘shame’ and ‘parents’. Alistair had revealed himself as the brother landed face first into a snowdrift. Swooping to her rescue, he helped haul the young man to his feet and towards their tiny cabin. As the lout slumped against the door, the beauteous maiden brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stared at the wooden panelling as she spoke. “Thank you sir.” By the time she looked back up, Alistair was concealed once more. To look at the pain he had put her through made him feel sick. He was a monster. An aberration. She was shaking, the bones protruding through her now mottled skin. Her joints were stiff, and the small pointed fangs that had started to grow were abnormal, cracked lengths. A tear slid along his sharp features. He brushed it roughly away with a knuckle. “Alistair…” “Olivia,” he whispered. Her life was slowly fading. The blood stains around her lips had become the most vivid of reds. “End it… please… before I…” she wheezed. Her body convulsed unexpectedly, blood and spittle flying from her lips as a great cough rattled her bones. Her eyes grew wide for one instant, and she grasped wildly with a stiff hand. It slammed atop Alistair’s, to his great surprise. His heart broke. He felt his companions life energy slip away. Several slow agonising minutes passed in which Alistair tore into the flesh at his wrist, and squeezed his blood onto Olivia’s lips. Secretly, he knew it would fail, but he held onto the slim ray of hope that continued to tantalise him. He roared his pain as her corpse failed to rise. He buried his hands in his trouser pockets, tears slowly falling. He fingered the box of matches, his thoughts a mess. Upholding the promise he had made, he finally removed the box. A long match between his shaking fingers, he struck it against the side. A small flame flickered to life. “Olivia, I love you,” he said softly. He dropped the match. The flames ate at the body of his failed companion. Rocking back on his heels, he watched, until only her embers glowed brightly, a symbol of the life and spirit she had once encompassed. Pulling the cloak about him, Alistair turned his back on what remained of Olivia, and set off across the mountains. A vampire’s existence was a lonely one, and it was about time he realised that.THE END
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2013)
Currently reading: Shadow Heir by Richelle Mead.
Today whilst updating my information on Google+ a friend brought my attention to a writing challenge, guaranteed to get your imagination flowing, and the writing too.
The challenge is to write between flash fiction on a subject, already given. There are different themes for each day and I will be taking part. This is the ELEMENTAL challenge, encompassing 15 themes for 15 days.
I hope you enjoy these short works of fiction! Maybe you will be encouraged to try your hand at these challenges. If you have any questions about my works or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... here's the first story.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
ELEMENTAL WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 1. - FIRE
Alistair had lived through much disaster over the centuries. He had witnessed his wife and two young children succumb to the horrors of the plague. The friends he once had had signed up to slaughter each other in vicious and unnecessary wars. Yet, it was the figure before him that moved him to the verge of tears. “Alistair…” It was the most futile of whispers, followed by a great splutter that brought him back to Earth. He took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Don’t speak my angel. Conserve your strength.” Strength… she had none to speak of. The process had not worked. She was… Alistair pushed the word from his mind, and focused on her form. The colour had drained from her face; she was as white as the snow she was laid upon. The plain peasant’s shift she wore was tattered and streaked with dirt and blood. In life, she had been beautiful. She had the longest hair he had ever seen, and eyes that searched for his non-existent soul. He had observed her for weeks, verging on months, all from the shadows of the woods. It was the first week of November when he had truly noticed her. She was shivering, fingers blue, as she pulled her drunken sot of a brother from the village tavern. She tried to keep him upright as she muttered about ‘shame’ and ‘parents’. Alistair had revealed himself as the brother landed face first into a snowdrift. Swooping to her rescue, he helped haul the young man to his feet and towards their tiny cabin. As the lout slumped against the door, the beauteous maiden brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stared at the wooden panelling as she spoke. “Thank you sir.” By the time she looked back up, Alistair was concealed once more. To look at the pain he had put her through made him feel sick. He was a monster. An aberration. She was shaking, the bones protruding through her now mottled skin. Her joints were stiff, and the small pointed fangs that had started to grow were abnormal, cracked lengths. A tear slid along his sharp features. He brushed it roughly away with a knuckle. “Alistair…” “Olivia,” he whispered. Her life was slowly fading. The blood stains around her lips had become the most vivid of reds. “End it… please… before I…” she wheezed. Her body convulsed unexpectedly, blood and spittle flying from her lips as a great cough rattled her bones. Her eyes grew wide for one instant, and she grasped wildly with a stiff hand. It slammed atop Alistair’s, to his great surprise. His heart broke. He felt his companions life energy slip away. Several slow agonising minutes passed in which Alistair tore into the flesh at his wrist, and squeezed his blood onto Olivia’s lips. Secretly, he knew it would fail, but he held onto the slim ray of hope that continued to tantalise him. He roared his pain as her corpse failed to rise. He buried his hands in his trouser pockets, tears slowly falling. He fingered the box of matches, his thoughts a mess. Upholding the promise he had made, he finally removed the box. A long match between his shaking fingers, he struck it against the side. A small flame flickered to life. “Olivia, I love you,” he said softly. He dropped the match. The flames ate at the body of his failed companion. Rocking back on his heels, he watched, until only her embers glowed brightly, a symbol of the life and spirit she had once encompassed. Pulling the cloak about him, Alistair turned his back on what remained of Olivia, and set off across the mountains. A vampire’s existence was a lonely one, and it was about time he realised that.THE END© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2013)
Currently reading: Shadow Heir by Richelle Mead.
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