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April 2020 writing prompt 1 - Mist and Mask
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Just a little frightening tale...The Dark and Her Disciples
It had been days since they had seen the sun, a thick dark mist having descended across the land. Marnie walked hastily along the lane, the streetlamps only just lighting her way. She knew Ana would be frantic. She had been gone for far longer than she had planned.
“Where have you been?” Ana asked, desperately wrapping Marnie in an embrace.
“I had to find another shop. Ours was out.” Marnie explained.
“This is so like people. You can feel the panic in the air.” Ana complained, pulling back the curtains to the rain spotted panes. “God, I can’t even see across the road.”
“She’s at it again,” Marnie whispered, depressingly.
“You don’t believe that ‘black witch’ garbage, do you?” Ana prodded.
“You’re the one who told me the story, Ana. You said you saw her.” Marnie accused.
“I don’t know what I saw. It was dark and we were frightened.” Ana defended. But she knew what she had seen was real. Years before she had met and fell in love with Marnie, she had had that strange encounter in the woods.
All that were with her that day, denied seeing anything, and now she was no different than they were. It was easier to ignore the truth than admit to something so evil holding sway over them.
It was a dare, really. Walk through the woods when the mist was thick, and fear ran hot through the village. She was young, and fear seemed a distant foe at that age. Besides, there were three of them.
The village had been just over the rise as they returned from their trek, empowered by having beaten the dare. There was a rustle in the clearing just at the edge of the wood, and a shadow moved eerily along its border. Whatever it was it was tracing their steps.
Ahead was the fork, where the clearing met the woods trail, and the three hastened their pace with the knowing. Nearly at a run, Ana had stopped to look back.
A dark figure, a woman, swept her arms about her as she turned to face Ana. Even from that distance, Ana could see that this was no mortal. Mist descended from her fingertips, rolling away from her thickly as she raised her face to freeze Ana in place.
But there was no face, only a black mask that screamed evil and melted Ana’s resolve to run. Had it not been for her friends, returning to pull her away, she may not have been able.
Ana shuddered and Marnie laid her hand on her arm. “You’re cold as ice.”
“It’s nothing.” Ana decided, turning away from the window. But she knew. Marnie had gone to start supper, and put the goods away she had managed to buy. Ana spread her blouse and looked down between her breasts, the dark blemish she had worn since that day, throbbing. Each time the mist appeared, the diamond-shaped spot would grow.
She flattened her top with her palms as Marnie swung through the parlor to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Hungry?”
Ana smiled with resolve. “Of course.” But looking back through the window she saw the witch, summoned by her memories. Turning away, Ana followed her lover into the kitchen, unaware of the wispy billow of mist that trailed behind her.
Ooh, an ominous beginning indeed... That's great. Could become a whole novel.
I took this to a different perspective. Welcome to Medieval France. I decided to take aspects of the Middle Age and bring it forward with a little bit of modernity. Daughter of a Scoundrel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You there! Stop!" a shout was heard into the dusty streets of Carcassonne, France. Eleanor turned to see a young girl, dressed in a black dress, her face covered by a mask run from a shopkeeper who was flailing his arms in the air. "Stop thief!" he ran after the girl who was carrying a satchel, clearly filled with something from the shop.
He quickly became out of breath and stopped, with his hands on his knees. He looked at Eleanor, "She got away with most of the bread!" So he was a baker, interesting. "S'il Vous plaît! You are young la fille! You could catch her, please Mademoiselle,"
Eleanor nodded, "I will try, monsieur," she took off in the direction of the mysterious maiden.
"Merci!" the baker called after her.
Eleanor was quick on her feet and she eventually found the girl, ducking into the forest. Eleanor followed quickly and quietly. Undetected by the girl in front of her, she made her way through the forest and- crack! A stick broke under her foot and she tried to hide, but misjudged her footing and came tumbling down. Right into the path behind the girl. The maiden turned quickly, her dress flowing out as she spun around to face Eleanor, "Qui est là!?" she demanded.
"Désolée!" Eleanor apologized, standing up and brushing off her dress. Papa was going to be very disappointed, her dress was ruined, again.
"How long have you been following me, girl!?" the maiden clutched the burlap sack to her chest.
"The baker, you stole the bread!" Eleanor cried out, "You could be punished if you get caught."
A smug smile was visible on the dark-haired girl, "They haven't caught me yet, chère."
Eleanor shook her head disapprovingly, "How dare you steal from a poor old man, are you cinglé!?"
((A/N: that's pronounced like 'single' and it made me giggle. :3))
The ravenette smiled, "If only you fools knew what my family has gone through!" she suddenly went cold, "Come, I shall show you." Without waiting for a response, the girl turned and walked down the path.
Eleanor followed close behind, curious to what the girl would show her. But the silence made her uncomfortable. So she spoke up, "What's your name?"
The girl rolled her eyes, "Abrielle, yours my dear?"
Eleanor smiled, "Eleanor."
Brielle nodded curtly and came to a stop at a willow tree, its branches acting like a curtain. She sighed sadly and moved it to the side. What Eleanor saw was heartbreaking. She looked from the top of the hill down yonder. A small village was built, the women scrambled to do household chores. The men worked like animals to farm, fish, hunt, and keep their families fed. The children, thin as they were, were playing with a ball and stick. They seemed happy, unaware of the harsh times around them.
Eleanor was mortified, the buildings were made of rotting wood and earth. The only heat source was a small fire in the center of the village. A small boy struggling to keep it lit. "Oh mon dieu ma chérie..."
Eleanor looked over and saw a tear escape from Brielle's violet eyes. "Now you know."
Eleanor pulled her into a comforting embrace and wiped away the tears. "I'm so sorry." she sighed sadly "Je suis vraiment désolé..."
Eleanor held the girl and she cried, for her family, who did everything to make ends meet, while the rest of the world feasted and lived their lives happily. Brielle cried for her father, who was killed for being a thief. And she cried for the girl who held her, for being so kind to her when Brielle was so cold to her from the start.
((A/N: I think I'll end this here, I'm pretty awkward with trying to find words. Enjoy, I guess? :3))
I like the different perspective you wrote with! It doesn't assume that the person in the picture is evil just because of the way they look.
Aly~ "Aly in Wonderland" wrote: "I took this to a different perspective. Welcome to Medieval France. I decided to take aspects of the Middle Age and bring it forward with a little bit of modernity. Daughter of a Scoundrel
~~~~~~..."
What an imaginative story - I liked how you turned it around.
Kaje wrote: "What an imaginative story - I liked how you turned it around"Why thank you! That means a lot! :)
This is my attempt at a horror/thriller theme. I don't do these a lot, so I don't know how it's gonna turn out, but here goes!___________________________________________
Lost
She wakes in the peak of the night, the full moon reaching down and illuminating her small room. Sitting up, she looks around and swings her legs over the bed, unease sitting low in her stomach. Shivering a little, she walks out of her room and slips on the shoes she left in the hallway for tomorrow. She then opens the back door of her home, trying not to wake her sleeping family. Something is drawing her out, something cold and dark. She doesn't know what it is, but she's determined to find out. She steps out, uncertain, but carries on, a fog creeping around at the edges of her vision. She shivers again, drawing her night gown tighter around her as if that would help. She should've brought a coat.
After some time of sneaking about, she reaches the woods at the edge of her village, the thing in the back of her mind urging her closer. She hesitates, remembering the stories and rumours from her childhood that were supposedly meant to scare the little ones into sleeping early. She never really stopped believing them. Still, she goes on, fog thicker now. Her heartbeat is quick and loud in her ears, every breath too loud for the ominous silence surrounding her. Her shoes are soaked, night gown almost certainly ruined. The thing in her mind doesn't care though, almost dragging her along now, eager to reach wherever she was heading. She gasps as she almost trips on a root, but she isn't stopping now. She's too far in. An owl hoots from a ways away, but the sound is quickly swallowed up by the fog. She can feel it press down on her, also making her move faster. Soon, she's running, feet beating an even rhythm against the ground, breaths short.
She stops.
Before her stands a towering pillar of black stone, strange symbols scrawled on the broken cobblestone around it. She can feel the thing breathe a sigh of relief and satisfaction, stroking an oily tendril of something along her mind. Then it's gone, her head clear once more. She whips around where she stands, not making sense of how she got there. One moment she was out the door, the next, here. She covers her mouth with a trembling hand. She tries to think of happy thoughts to thrust away the darkness around her.
Her lovers face, warm and bright as she laughs, eyes crinkling.
Her warm embrace, comforting her when storms raged and howled, a beacon in the hurricane of darkness.
The way her mouth curved whenever they were alone, as if they were the only beings in the world
She smiles a little, lost in the memories. Suddenly, a shadowy figure snaps her out of her reverie. It curls around the black pillar, moving like ink on paper. Frozen in fear, she can only watch as the figure takes the shape of a woman, gauzy black dress whispering against her pale legs. By now, the sun is peering over the horizon, but it does nothing to lessen the darkness radiating from the woman. She tries to run, only to find herself stuck as the woman steps closer. She opens her mouth to scream to no avail. A thick plume of shadow shoves itself down her throat and she chokes, eyes watering. Who knew shadows could burn? Then again, that isn't the thing I should be worrying about, she thinks as the woman takes another step. Struggling to breathe, she fails to notice more shadows creeping up to her. Too late. They latch on, binding her and lifting her up until she's suspended mid-air. Tears are now spilling onto her cheeks hot and fast. How did this happen? Why?! Her mind races, but comes up with no answer or solution to her predicament, and the woman is in front of her. Watching. Or at least it seems like she is, but a mask made of the same thing as the pillar covers her features. What is your name my girl?
She jerks. The woman spoke. In her mind. Yes, yes, let's not waste time on such silly things as explaining. It won't do you any good anyways. Elaine. "W-why not?" she blurts, figuring the woman found out her name from her thoughts. The woman tilts her head, and she can only imagine that the woman is smiling. Why? Because you'll be dead of course. With that, she ripped off her mask.
She can't turn away from the sight. Where the woman's face is supposed to be, a vast emptiness lies instead. Pulling her in, closer, closer. She tries - she really does- to free herself, but she's too weak, and it's too strong. She realizes it isn't empty at all, but rather filled with what looks like tar, rippling as she draws nearer. She feels it touch her scalp and sobs. It isn't scalding, the opposite in fact, freezing. Freezing her head. She panicks, Oh help me gods, I'm going to drown! Her eyes shoot to the woman's dress, the black material shimmering in the emerging daylight. As the sun hits it though, she realizes it isn't black, rather the darkest shade of red that she's ever laid eyes on. Blood. the woman says, answering her unspoken question. It's blood.
Those words echo around her mind, and she is lost.
Lost to the darkness at last.
Helena wrote: "Very cool! Will you be continuing it?"Kaje wrote: "Ooh, an ominous beginning indeed... That's great. Could become a whole novel."
Thank you so much for the kind comments.
Brooke
Aly~ "Aly in Wonderland" wrote: "I took this to a different perspective. Welcome to Medieval France. I decided to take aspects of the Middle Age and bring it forward with a little bit of modernity. Daughter of a Scoundrel
~~~~~~..."
Very interesting take on the image, I enjoyed reading it.
Brooke
Helena wrote: "This is my attempt at a horror/thriller theme. I don't do these a lot, so I don't know how it's gonna turn out, but here goes!___________________________________________
Lost
Very dark, wow. I loved the ending, as horrifying as it was.
Brooke
She wakes in the p..."
Helena wrote: "This is my attempt at a horror/thriller theme. I don't do these a lot, so I don't know how it's gonna turn out, but here goes!___________________________________________
Lost
She wakes in the p..."
Very evocative and eerie, and such a chill at the ending. Well done.
Brooklyn wrote: "Aly~ "Aly in Wonderland" wrote: "I took this to a different perspective. Welcome to Medieval France. I decided to take aspects of the Middle Age and bring it forward with a little bit of modernity...."Thank you! I enjoyed yours as well!
Kaje wrote: "Helena wrote: "This is my attempt at a horror/thriller theme. I don't do these a lot, so I don't know how it's gonna turn out, but here goes!___________________________________________
Lost
She..."
Thank you!
(As I skate in 19 minutes away from the deadline, here's another installment of Kayla!)Kayla had the crown. That had to be a start. She’d managed to find the dress, and now the crown. As it turned out she was in Avalon, not England (which she figured was actually sort of a part of England, so close enough). That meant she had to deal with magic.
“Put that back!” yelled the knight who had been guarding the crown, the one who had been chasing for about two miles or so(turns out it’s harder to run in a dress than in armor.
“I don’t think so,” said Kayla, feeling the crown surge with power.
Basher2004 wrote: "(As I skate in 19 minutes away from the deadline, here's another installment of Kayla!)Kayla had the crown. That had to be a start. She’d managed to find the dress, and now the crown. As it turne..."
Fun :) It's good to see more of her.
And you can always write for an older prompt too so no real deadlines...
Give us your fiction for this picture - any length, from haiku to drabble to short story. Just keep it YA-friendly and with some LGBTQ content.
Fiction
Brooklyn: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Aly ~ On Hiatus : https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Helena: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Basher2004: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...