Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Write about a character who feels very out of place at an event.
This event could be anything, but it is important that the character who is placed there is incongruent to the setting.
Writings
It’s been three days since she’s been home.
Bell has been dreading this moment. The moment she would have to go back home. If she can even call it that anymore.
Home is where you feel safe. Where the people you trust live. But she can’t trust her mother. Not after lying and manipulating her about so many aspects of her life.
But it isn’t fair to her sister or her father (Hai is still her father, even if not biologically). So she’s going back for dinner, and depending on how well that goes, spending her first evening back with them.
She’s been able to hide out at Cross’ house. His parents love her and even before being knowing that she was their son’s soulmate, they always offered her their guest room.
The last three days were a breeze. It’s so easy with Cross. Roman even stopped and spent one of the nights too since his parents were going through one of their many fights. Both her and Cross knew what his home life was like. Not peaceful. So naturally, he asked to stay at Cross’. It felt nice for it to be just the three of them since that’s how it started.
All good things must come to an end.
The clouds gather in the sky, reflecting her emotions. That might be her powers doing that. Or maybe the weather is in tune with Bell.
“You sure you want to do this? I can come in with you?” Cross offers. He’s dropping her off, nicely walking her to the door.
Shaking her head, she says, “No, it’s something I need to do myself, but thanks. I really appreciate you and your parents letting me stay.” It warms her heart that he wants to be more there for her than he’s already been. But she needs to stop avoiding and face the truth.
“Anytime. Literally. My parents are ecstatic that we’re soulmates. Like over the moon.” Telling his parents was so much easier than her revealing it to her mom. They opened their arms and welcomed her in, though making it clear they always loved her even before knowing this.
“Ok, I guess I should go in,” she hesitates, stalling because of the uncomfortableness awaiting her inside.
“Good luck,” he says, and kisses her on the cheek.
It makes her feel a little bit better.
OoOoO
Sitting at the table, she has so many memories at brings up mixed emotions.
She remembers playing games at this very table. Laughing at her dad’s jokes. Hear about Greta’s college days. Enjoying her mom’s cooking. Right here.
But she’s still angry at her mom. Sad for her dad. Angry again at her mom. And the Arlo guy that biologically is her father.
“Bell, I am so glad that you joined us for dinner,” her mom says, attempting to break the ice. She wears a nervous, wavering smile on her face.
“I thought I avoided it enough. I just needed some time to process it away from here. I’m processing it still.” Bell fidgets with her fingers underneath the table, a habit she picked up on from her mother unfortunately.
Her dad, who is next to her, gives her an understanding look. One that says a lot more than words. “We get that. You deserve that time,” her dad says.
Bell glances at her sister, and she can see that Greta is uneasy. Guilt wells up in her for just leaving her sister in this mess, even though she was the one who encouraged her to leave. “I think we need to talk about it though.”
“Yes. We do,” her mom says simply.
Their food is forgotten by now. Bell doesn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Her dad inserts a bit of unknown information to her, “While you were away, your mom told me everything. From what she did to you and Cross to me and everything in between.”
His eyes are sad. Bell doesn’t think she ever saw that in him before. It breaks her heart.
“Do you believe her?” She can’t help but ask him. Because she doesn’t know how easily she trusts anything coming from her again.
Sighing, he takes a glimpse at Wren but quickly shifts his attention back to Bell. “I am choosing to right now.”
That’s enough for her. At least at this moment.
She can believe what her mom says (maybe), but it doesn’t mean she forgives her.
“What do you want to know, Bell,” her mom questions, not beating around the bush. Much more like her mom before all these massive reveals. In some weird way, it comforts Bell. But only for a second.
Her mind is jumbled. A million questions plague her and the desire for answers is strong. But she’s scared. How much more can she take?
“I want to know why you did all of this. Why manipulate dad? Why not tell him about Arlo? Why lie about me, to me? What does it have to do erasing my memory of Cross being my soulmate? I want all of it answered,” her tone surprisingly stays strong even though she doesn’t feel like that on the inside. She’s shaking like a leaf inside.
Her mom takes a deep breath, like she does when she is going to say a lot. Which she better be.
“I do love your father. You don’t have to believe me, but I do. I was insecure about our love and that’s why I used my powers on Hai. Arlo was never supposed to happen. But I wanted to raise my children in a peaceful home. Singular,” she starts out. Bell doesn’t interrupt and tries to stay quiet. She doesn’t love the reasoning, but she should hear her out.
Wincing at her own actions, her mom continues, “And I was scared of being too deep in my lie. So I thought it would be best for you and for me if Hai was your dad. Arlo said that whatever I decided he would agree with. When I saw my baby girl find her soulmate, I panicked. Everything in me screamed about how soulmates were messy and you would be better off without one. So I made it like you didn’t have one. That was a horrible decision I made that I regret. Not that that changes anything. I have hurt you and Cross, Hai, Greta, and Arlo by manipulating you all and keeping these secrets for so long. I truly am sorry.”
Bell has never felt so strange at this table before. It’s like her whole life was just told to her. For the first time.
While her mom could be using her mind powers to make her believe her story, Bell’s pretty sure she’s telling the truth this time. There wouldn’t be a reason to confess all this when her mom had the power to make it all go away.
She hadn’t realized how quiet it was until her mother speaks.
“What do you need from me?”
The question strikes her at her very core. Up until now, she feels like she lost a lot of control of her life. But now, her mom is asking her.
What does she need? What does she want?
Bell has no idea.
Finnian
I suppose it’s alright, no, not alright—normal’s the right word—for me to feel…disconnected at a local high society gathering such as this.
The many aristocrats are dressed in their finest clothing: lords and their ladies, dukes and duchesses. I think the Dean of Magickal Affairs is here too. I’m nowhere near the center of attention. Just a minor lord’s son with hardly any money to keep him going. It’s fine. I prefer the company of animals than to people anyways.
More predictable.
I sip on my water a bit, hoping for something—anything really—to go wrong so that I may make a quick escape. Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin quickly, splashing some water on my vest before cursing as the cold water seeped through my layers of clothing.
“I beg your par—“ I freeze. Ah, my night just had to get worse.
The bronze haired man gave me a charming smile. “I’m sorry there, Finnian, just wanted to chat a few.” He reached into his vest pocket and handed me his handkerchief. “Here you are.”
I don’t take it from his hands, but instead stare at him with a blank glare. His hands slowly lower and he stuffs his handkerchief back into his pocket.
“Why would I want to talk to you, Augustine?” I hiss.
Augustine gives me a sad smile, somehow giving himself the look of an innocent. The party around us carries on, oblivious to the rising cloud of hate above me. “Come on, Finnian, it’s been years.”
“Whether days, months, years, or decades, I will never forgive you,” I turn away from him and head towards the only doors that aren’t blocked by people. He doesn’t stop me, so I continue on, silently proud of myself for handling the situation perfectly.
A hand pulls me back when I finally make it outside, though, pulling me towards a hidden corner. The hand pushes me against the wall and holds me there. Now, as a man who doesn’t usually find himself in the presence of weights and athletic activities, I really have no way to defend myself handling someone such as Augustine. So I did the best decision and loosened my body in surrender.
Augustine’s face was red, he looked skittish, as if he was regretting doing this. He would regret it if people found us in this position; there would be rumors. I wouldn’t have to deal with it as much because, as I said before, I’m not a well known face in London. Augustine, on the other hand, is quite the opposite.
“Let go of me,” I reach for his hand to take it off my still drying chest. Augustine grabs it though and pins it to the wall, causing him to lean forward. Our foreheads touching.
Now this is borderline scandalous for him.
“Finnian,” his breath his warm against my face, fogging my glasses, smelling like orange and cream—cheesecake, maybe? “I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes and turn my head, disconnecting the warming feeling of my skin. “You could have done that years ago. It’s too late now.” I tug my wrist against his grip. “Now let me go before someone see us.”
Augustine does the exact opposite. Glad to see that he hasn’t changed at all since university.
“Finnian!” His voice cracks and that has me turning to him. “I-I want to try again. At least let me be your friend. I’ll be fine as such.”
I dart my eyes away. “I don’t believe you,” I tug against his hold even harder now, but he’s still tight on, “God! Leave me be will you Augustine?!”
His eyes blank out. I flinch as his grip tightens even more. “A-Augustine? Hey!”
“No one would miss you.”
I freeze in my struggle. “What?” I breath.
“No one would remember you if you were to suddenly disappear,” he continues, face going closer and closer to mine, “Your father’s near death, your mother is already dead, you have no other siblings, no money, no friends, nothing. It’ll be like you never existed,” he smiled, “No one would see you but me.”
His sudden shift into this mood scares me. “What the hell are you saying?” I thrash in his grip, all my instincts on. “Let. Me. GO!”
I grunt and kick at his legs as his breath turns shaky. “I’m so sorry, Finnian, but I really can’t live without you.”
Then he lets go of my wrists and I fall to the ground. I quickly shuffle to my feet to run, but a foot kicks me in the back and forces me back down. Augustine’s hand pulls my head off the ground by my hair and brings a cloth to my face.
“HELP ME! MHH—“
My body jerks as the awful, clinical scent floods my nose. After mere seconds, my eyes droop and my body turns to dough, my movements sluggish.
“It’s alright, Finnian. I’ll take good care of you.” Augustine lifts up my weak, limp body and cradles me in his large arms. His blue eyes look bright between my half-closed lids. Alive and hopeful.
“No…leave…me…alone.” I close my eyes and groan.
“It’s alright,” he repeats. I feel my body shake as he starts walking to somewhere. “You’ll always be alright with me.”
(Random story cause yn? I love obsessed stories likes this because—mental issues!
Thanks for reading and have a great day!)
I feel a Ping of Embarrassment, As a choir of Crickets fill the room.
My face is Radiating heat, My cheeks Are cherry, My palms sweaty, I sink down in my seat, Wishing to disappear.
The awkwardness Weighs heavy In the air, and the Silence stretches on, Mocking my discomfort.
My tongue, A traitor, Betrays me, Turning the Conversation Into a Ghost town.
Weeks ago, on a winter day with clouds of grey and frost, Rowan had proposed to Aubrey under the stars for all the courts to see. Now she stands under the same stars, draped in pure white.
She was a different girl when she said yes. She believed in fairytales and happily ever afters. She believed that every girl would get her prince. She believed, that love was her only way to find true happiness.
That girl died while saving her prince charming.
Aubrey watches from her throne of gold and roses as her husband galavants with woman from other courts, laughing and giddy, completely oblivious of what it took to get him back. He sways around an older woman, and she blushes when he turns away. Her prince dances as though all his problems remain in the past.
Aubrey can’t help but feel out of place. Like this wedding is for a girl that’s her no more.
The white dress made of feathers and silks, her golden hair curled like a doll, they are all dress up. Delicately planned to conceal what happened to Atlantias golden child.
“Princess Aubrey?” An all too familiar voice calls from behind. She swiftly stands from her throne, careful not to get her dress stuck on the thorns.
“May I help you?” Aubrey asks the old reporter. Her white hair is curled and twisted into a flower, matching the pattern of her pink dress. She almost looks like a kind grandmother. Except for those sharp, predatory teeth.
“Yes” the reporter answers with a small bow. “The commoners are dying to know how the princess broke Prince Rowan’s curse of stone.”
Several heads turn, looking at the new princess with questioning eyes.
Aubrey puts on a tight smile, raking her head for the simplest answer. Before she would have gushed about her journey with the reporter, eager to sound like the hero of a story. Now, though, the truth may ruin the image everyone has of Aubrey Sinnler, the perfect princess.
“Well” Aubrey says, weaving together a story as she speaks. “It was true loves kiss that broke his stone curse.”
Several people melt like sugar around her, too love sick to consider how her story could ever hold any truth.
“Well, I will leave you to your prince” the reporter says, her grin too sharp to be sweet.
Rowan strides towards her, glowing like the sun he was always told he is.
“Aubrey” Rowan says, placing his warm hand on hers. She wants to retract it. “You look as beautiful as the forbidden fruit.”
Her heart skips a beat, but not from excitement. He can’t know, she reassures herself. Because if he knows just how forbidden she really is, he may never look at her the way he does now.
“Care to dance?” Rowan asks, hope glimmering in his eyes.
Aubrey looks around, at the scrutinizing and loving faces of the people she betrayed. “I feel a little light headed, you ought to find someone else for the night.”
He frowns, but places a kiss on the back of her hand and leaves.
Sitting back down, Aubrey tries closing her eyes and willing away all the noise.
They love her, she tells herself. But will they love her when they find out her kiss turned the Prince to stone? Or will they stop loving her when they learn the price of what it took to turn him back. The curse she has now bestowed on the royal bloodline.
Everything smells of sugar and sweet, and the sounds of angels fill the room. But this is Aubrey’s hell.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I tugged at the hem of the shorts Anna had put me in. It was a miracle my underwear wasn’t showing. “You look amazing. You’ve barely gotten out since the beginning of term. I’m gonna get you a drink.” Before I could grab her arm she slipped through the ascending crowd leaving me alone in a sea of drunk college kids. It was true that I hadn’t gotten out much, but I’m not the type to go out. I’m the type with a bright future based on my gpa and internships. Muscling my way past drunks, I burst through the crowd. I leaned into the cool wall and took the first deep breath I’d had since we stepped inside the frat house. “Hey sweetheart, come take a seat. You look like you need a break!” A drunk guy waved and patted his lap. I scoffed about to tell him to go find some water when a voice chuckled from behind me, “don’t waste your breath.” I turned to find a guy still staring at his phone. He was tall and looked like a dark take on a frat boy. A rumpled dark gray button down rolled up past his elbows displaying a tattoo sleeve down his right arm and rather than tacky board shorts he had on black jeans that looked as though they’d been pressed… “Why not?” He glanced up, “any sort of engagement he’ll take as encouragement. Unless that’s what you want?” “I don’t…” I sighed, “I just want to disappear.” “Then definitely don’t engage and you should have worn more clothes.” “Believe me if it were my choice I’d be covered head to toe.” He locked his phone shoving it in his pocket. “You’re clothes aren’t your choice?” “My clothes aren’t even mine at the moment.” He laughed and straightened, “I’m Korbin.” “I’m Imogen, but people call me—“ “Emma!” Anna pushed through a line of people and shoved a glass in my hand. “Oh good, Korbin found you.” “You two know each other?” Korbin smiled giving Anna a single armed hug. “I’ve told you about my roommate Emma.” Anna took a deep drink. “Now that I think about it, those shorts do look familiar.” I glanced down and felt the blush creep up my neck. “She looks great right?” Anna kept drinking and Korbin smirked “she looks like the perfect frat party attendee.” The blush crept higher and I took a sip from the cup Anna gave me. “Jesus, what is this?” “It’s extremely cheap vodka.” I laughed or coughed, I’m not sure which. “I’m not drinking this.” Anna smiled dropping her empty cup at our feet, “good more for me.” She grabbed my cup downing it over the next few seconds. “So Emma and I are gonna go dance. Korbin, you’re welcome to watch but no touchy touchy. She’s the most goody two shoes girl you’ve ever interacted with.” “I doubt that.” I glanced at him to find him staring. I wanted to ask him what he meant but Anna was already pulling me into the bouncing crowd. She moved with everyone around her and led me along with her. I couldn’t help but glance at Korbin, who was already back on his phone. “Don’t go for him. He’s not the relationship type.” “And I am? I’ve never even slept with anyone.” “Wait… you’re a virgin?!” A couple guys glanced our way and I pinched Anna’s hand. “Seriously?” She gaped at me. “Yes.” “We’ll we really need to fix that but Korbin would definitely break your heart.” “Maybe casual would be good?” “Not until you’re sure you could handle casual.” I glanced again at Korbin, but he was gone.
Almost 2 hours later I’d been looking for Anna for almost 15 minutes. I’d lost count after drink number 6 and at this point I didn’t care how trashed she was so long as she was safe. I’d paced back and forth in front of the stairs 5 times trying to get the courage to go upstairs. Ultimately I just sighed and sat down on the second step dropping my head in my hands. “She’s fine.” I looked up to find Korbin squatting in front of me with a glass of water. “What?” “Anna is fine. Probably better than fine though I wasn’t going to interrupt to ask.” He handed me the water. “Thanks… she’s okay? But where is she? I’ve looked everywhere except…” He raised his brows and I felt the blush creep back in. “Well I guess I should start walking back to my dorm.” “Let me grab a sweater.” “What? You’re not coming.” “You’re not walking in the dark by yourself so either I am in fact coming, or you’re staying.” I sighed and looked around for someone I knew but to no avail. “Fine.” He smirks and steps past me running upstairs disappearing before popping right back out with a black hoodie in hand. He reaches the bottom step and tosses the hoodie at me. “I thought it was for you.” “You’ll freeze in that crop top, just put it on.” I rolled my eyes but pulled the hoodie on as we stepped outside. “So you’re a virgin?” I froze on the bottom step of the house. “Really? We haven’t even gotten 10 feet.” He laughed, “would you rather I wait and make the whole walk awkward?” I continued walking, “I’d rather not discuss it at all. Though particularly with some guy I just met.” “It just never happened for you? What did you do on your prom night?” “I went home and fell asleep as shocking as that is.” “Alright so it just never happened then?” “No I was a little busy with school, extracurriculars, and volunteer work.” “How’d that work out for you?” I looked over at him expecting a judgmental or critical expression, but he was genuinely asking. “My education here is free so it worked out really really well.” “And you don’t feel like you missed anything?” I thought about it for a minute. High school had been… extreme. “I missed a lot, but I don’t think physical romance is the first thing I would note on that comprehensive list.” “And what would be?” I took a deep breath, “Fun. I don’t think I’ve ever felt carefree enough to just have fun.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something. “You dance?” “I… what?” “You dance? I can tell you do, but it’s rude not to ask.” A classical song starts playing and I can’t help but smile. “I haven’t heard this in years, but do you even know how to dance to this?” He smirked holding out his hand, “try me.” I took his hand and he immediately spun me around. We kept moving towards my dorm and he lead the way sending me out and pulling me back in. I laughed and stepped up on a bench letting him lift me back down as the song faded. “Fun?” He whispered. “Very fun.” He laughed stepping away from me. “You’re far too charming for someone who doesn’t do serious.” “Who said I don’t do serious?” “Anna said you’re strictly casual.” “Are you saying I’m seriously casual?” I laughed, “I don’t think that’s a thing.” “Anna isn’t wrong, but she’s not right either. I am strictly casual, but I don’t disappear.” “Doesn’t make much sense, but I don’t have much experience.” My dorm was within view, I wished it wasn’t. “I’d be happy to show you.” “You don’t even know me…” “I know you’re smart, you can actually dance, you’re funny, and extremely determined. If you wanted to explore something physical, at least I won’t get in the way of your plans.” We stopped just outside my dorm. “You’re serious?” “I don’t do serious, remember?” He smirked and moved in close. “I’ll think about it.” I crossed my arms maintaining space and watched him nod stepping back. “You want your sweatshirt back?” “No I’ll get it back next time.” “Next time?” “Yeah, next time.” He turned and walked back the way we came. I went inside realizing I’d lost my breath. This was a terrible idea.
For as long as I could remember, I’d been taught not to associate myself with the wizards. They were mysterious and odd; a cult of sorts. Their spells were strange and mystical, complicated myriads of words and incantations.
But everything changed when I was sent to the big school of wizardry to finish my training. I was shocked when my teacher Freya told me the news, it was a direct contradiction to everything I knew.
Some wizards were evil, so I’d been told, and I couldn’t help but feel like an innocent soul being sent to the guillotine. There was some mission or other that was mentioned, I honestly don’t remember what the supervisor told me.
Normally I tend to black out at these meetings, imagining I was somewhere else. Now as the storm cloud carried me swiftly away I wished I had payed more attention.
A young female witch traveling alone was an easy target for sorcerers and beings, (that like to drain us of our powers) so Freya had prepared a lovely storm cloud to bear me safely there.
It was a nice ride, though every once in a while I’d get a slight tingle from the electricity. It’s a known fact that witches can’t be electrocuted, and that’s what makes this way of travel so convenient.
The school was big and dark and ominous; everything I’d imagined it to be. I rode a lightning bolt down to the rods on the roof, and from there made my way down to ground level.
I’d been enrolled the previous week, as is customary for new students. I scrunched my nose up disgustedly as I glimpsed the big emblem on the door: a wizard cap with three wands in a shape of a triangle in front of it.
From my research I knew that these wands signified the board of powerful wizards in charge of the school and surrounding areas. Thankfully I was rooming alone, and wouldn’t have to share my space with any irritating wizard girls.
I listened to the sounds of my shoes clicking on the floor, wishing I could fly around the big building rather than walk. I heard voices, but saw none of the students.
As I walked along on my way to registration, I felt more alone than I ever had. Realization hit me and I had a sudden urge to run into the nearest closet and hide there for the next month….
Tiberius shifted on his stool. The damn thing was sending splinters into his skin – even through his toga. He’d thought he’d been terribly smart, opting for his finest garment, but no. Everyone else in the bar was wearing tunics – which made sense now because he was dripping with sweat – and looked like they’d rolled through the streets before arriving.
The stench of nutmeg was heavy in the air, the incense wafting through the bar thick enough he could feel it against his skin. He tapped a long finger against the sticky tabletop. Tried counting to ten. Then to twenty. When he reached a hundred, only then did he reach for the pockets on his belt and retrieve the letter.
Pinching it gently between two fingers, Tiberius hardly dared to breathe.
This was it, he told himself, he was going to give it to Aurius. He’d drafted and re-drafted, edited and re-edited this poem countless times. It wasn’t going to get any better.
Unless …
Surely one last look wouldn’t hurt? Just to check he hadn’t misspelled anything?
Tiberius worried his lip between his teeth, glancing around at his fellow bar-members. They were all absorbed in their clay cups, clapping each other on the back for a day’s hard labour.
No one’s watching you, he told himself sternly, just open the damn letter.
He did. The paper parted with a satisfying rustle, as familiar to Tiberius as his own name. Immediately, his eyes set to scanning his words and …
Oh … Gods.
It was awful. It was tawdry. It was laughable. Tiberius felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, re-reading his heartfelt declarations of affection for his best friend. He could already see Aurius reading it and bursting out laughing, clapping him on the back and telling him he made a better joker than poet.
There was no way he could give this to Aurius.
Tiberius slipped off his stool so abruptly he knocked it over. Cursing under his breath – and not daring to check if the bar’s patrons were watching – he quickly righted it and made for the exit.
Only his way was blocked by a broad set of shoulders and a stunning smile.
‘There you are,’ Aurius chuckled, ‘I’ve been looking all over for you! Come, let me buy you a drink.’
‘I c-can’t stay,’ Tiberius peeled away from the light that was his friend and to the darkness of the alley, ‘I’ve just remembered I have …’ He trailed off, stomach sinking as he saw Aurius’ gaze had centred on the sheafs of papyrus in his trembling hands.
‘What’s that?’ Aurius looked like a cat ready to pounce. ‘Is that for me?’
‘No!’ Tiberius flapped his arms behind his back, not caring that he’d raised his voice. ‘Erm, sorry, it’s nothing. Just a stupid poem.’
Aurius’s grin grew ever wider. ‘I love your poems – you make all the best rhymes.’
Tiberius dropped his gaze to the floor, painfully aware the paper he clutched rhymed the words ‘lips’ and ‘hips’.
‘Not this one, I’m afraid,’ he heard himself say, ‘it’s not ready yet.’
‘Alright,’ Aurius relented, ‘but the second you’re finished, I want to be the first to hear it, understood?’
Tiberius nodded numbly. ‘U-understood.’
‘Excellent,’ Aurius extended an open palm towards him, ‘now are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay for just one drink?’
Tiberius felt his stomach pool with warmth – the effect of Aurius turning the full extent of his heavy-lidded gaze on him.
‘I suppose …’ he shoved the papyrus back in his pocket, careless of the way it crumpled, ‘since you asked so nicely …’
Aurius laughed softly.
‘Alright,’ Tiberius smiled slowly, ‘just one drink.’
Dug stood out like a flame in a firework factory in his football helmet, oversized shoulder pads and red and white school jersey number 29. Not a piece of meat on his bones compared to the other boys, and truth be told, if he flexed his bicep might turn down, but he had a crush on a girl and wouldn’t be stopped. She always wore strawberry lip gloss and her red cheerleading uniform on game days. She talked to him in class while working, and that made him feel like he had a shot. Her name was Whitney Fairfield and she had a type, or so he thought. Athletes. And she was what he figured a fine girl was, though both of them were 16.
“Line up! Line up!” shouted Coach Green wearing sunglasses and cap on to protect from the afternoon sun. The boys high tailed it from the bench to the white line in the field. “Alright, as many of you know, I coach varsity, and as you also know, our team has had some set backs recently. Due to a little incident with the bus crash injuries, we’ve been granted a chance to replenish our numbers three games into the season by the N.A.S.S.P.’s good graces. So let’s get out there and see what you got.”
He called for the boys to form an offense and defense. They put Dug as a running back on the offensive line, which he knew deep inside was the worst place for him, but why question the other boys? After all, he had a good view of the cheerleaders as the guys lined up. Dug took his place behind the quarterback.
The cheerleaders practiced a routine in the distance, and while he waited for the ball to be passed to the quarterback, he saw her. Dancing in her uniform in a gentle sway with the other girls as they shouted, “Let’s go bulldogs! Let’s go bulldogs!”
Caught up in the moment, he imagined taking her to the movies and going out to dinner at a nice restaurant, her in a form fitting blue dress, red hair braided down her back, her signature look. He let the vision go on and on in his head until suddenly he found himself back on the field, football in hand, the boys on his side trying to protect him as the quarterback yelled, “Run, Dug!”
He took off and tried to evade the midfield fray that was right in front of him, and not really understanding his situation. A senior who missed his chance in the initial try out got around his defender and ran at Dug with full force and his freight train build. He didn’t just slam Dug, he sent him flying, helmet sliding off his head as his arm bent the wrong way with a crack.
A cry was heard on the field that no other person there would soon forget. It was the sound of a soul crushed, of pain and torment on both the physical and spiritual level.
Dug took it all in stride after his wound had been treated. He waited three months until his arm worked again and tried his hand at basketball. He’d never know that the reason she talked to him in class was she was waiting for him to make the first move.
I entered into the church for youth group. I was already feeling pretty nervous and shy. I mean I was the new kid. Youth leaders welcomed me warmly. Some of the kids set a quick hello welcome to youth group.
But pretty soon they were all in their own world. So I just sat there quietly. Feeling like an outcast. Like I don’t fit in. Asking myself why did I decide to come here? I felt like I didn’t belong.
I was so glad when his group was finally over. And my parents came to pick me up.
Similar writing prompts
STORY STARTER
“How did you get in here? How did you get past security?”
“I couldn’t possibly tell you...”
Write a story in which this dialogue takes place. You could start with it to explain how the character got into such a secure place, or to explore what happens now that they are there.
STORY STARTER
Write a story through the observations of a bus driver.
Think about how you can drive an interesting narrative by what they notice about the places and people that they encounter.