Writing Prompt

Inner struggle in ,ind and heart and soul. A anger fire possesssed at the injustice of authority. To set a match that would light a fire in the hearts of men. To destroy a corruption for a better future. Outer calm , emotions linger like tea brewing in hot water steam slowly rising ....

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙽𝙴:

The teens in the beat up Silverado beside her truck beat on their windshield and laughed at her, they knew she wasn’t from this side of the tracks. Anyone would. She adjusted her hat and looked up at the place where the rearview mirror would be. She took it off long ago, after everything happened in her hometown. With doing this, she vowed to never look back, never searchi...

“I hope you don’t imagine,” he began soberly to the men seated before him, “that you will be able to save yourselves.”

The armored men remained silent; if they had no helmets one might have thought they were exchanging glances. The whirring of the helicopter’s blade could be heard droning in the backgroud— pulsating. The helicopter itself, on the inside, was spacious with steel walls and...

“What are you doing here?” Alaster asked Davian.

“You know me. Just stopping by to see how my favorite brother and father were doing.” Davian said.

“Our father is dead! All thanks to you and your little servant!”

Ok. No one called me a servant. I wasn’t one. I was a killer, sure. Not a servant or a slave. I struggled against the prince’s grip, but he was too strong.

“Let her go. She had not...

He’s weary. Everything in his life, he’s devoted to the cause. Anger, frustration, indignation define him. He can’t move forward unless his goal is accomplished, and his goal can’t be accomplished until the state is crushed.

He’s been married three times, and his children don’t speak to him. His clothes are dirty and don’t fit him properly. His arrest record prevents him from getting most jobs, s...

I walk alone too much, and I really shouldn’t considering the reputation I’ve dragged with my name. Calypso Alston: the tragic poet and the person responsible for the uproar of the century; the one and only revolutionary. Though I don’t have much time to write poetry anymore, I am very passionate about the subject and I have taken the time to teach my nephew the ways of words when we find ourselve...

I'm tired. That girl is obsessed with me. She's barely looking at me and she's watching someone else's every move but she's obsessed with me and won't leave me a my girlfriend alone. She told me so, because she's a telepath and reads other people's thoughts.

The path to revolution is not an easy one, but I'm fighting evil. And that evil is... my own self-obsessive projections, and my girlfriend's...

She stood facing the battle field, staring down a massive army, her sword in her hand. She was perched on the back of her dragon, scales glowing saffron and crimson and gold and silver. Her black hair blew in the wind, brushing her cheek. At her side, the sword in her hand glowed scarlet red and fiery orange in the light of the rising sun.

She knew this battle would be hard, and that it would co...

The tri-horn cap I normally favor seems to sit more heavily on my head than usual. I resist the urge to fiddle with it, forcing my hands to clench together in my lap, reverting my focus to the report my admiral was rattling off before me.

"..and the troops are, overall, in well enough spirits, but we think it would be useful for morale if you were to perhaps do a few laps and talk to some of the ...

Arthur of the royal Queen Lamire’s guard, pulled the dagger from the old man's chest, dripping blood. It hit the floor with a thud as his hands trembled. It was his first time taking a man's life. But this wasn’t any ordinary man.

Vego Vespucci was the world's most well-known painter, and masses came to see his work. He traveled from the nearby village to share his enthusiasm for painting. In hi...