Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Write a story that takes place on a desolate moorland.
You can write in any genre; don't feel bound by thriller and crime!
Writings
In the desolate moorlands is where we found love. We would hike the hills and watch the sunset. We would drag our sleds through the snow and race down as if our lives depended on it. We would race my horses through the valley just to prove that my favorite horse Jane was faster than Chase, his favorite. In the hot summer we would splash around in the creek, soaking each other. And the best part if it being desolate: no could tell us what to do.
High on the breeze, patchwork like a frieze;
green, brown and red, transmuting.
The landscape always shifting,
But on the wind, now something feels different.
Angrier moods, absolute, resistant;
bluster in my wings, pungent and greased.
Icky to my feathers, smoke upwards puffing,
But like a hydrant as I go, swooping, flushing.
Little wizard they named me;
as I soared above the moors.
In a
fierce streaking rufous
low over heather
glider flushy clumping
tail chase.
If I am the magician, then
the moor is my domain;
Shadowy and small, alongside Arthur,
All too frail and in refrain.
I woke up and felt dizzy.
I blinked open my eyes. I was met with a cold sky staring back down at me, devoid of any sun and streaked with gray. My lungs felt thick with dense, foggy air when I inhaled.
I sat up, and the world spun. I rubbed my head. I tried to remember where I was, how I had gotten here, the last moment before I fell asleep. I tried to remember anything. But it was as if my mind had been wiped clean with an old dish towel, rendering it blurry and wet.
I glanced around. I seemed to be in some sort of desolate moorland. Rolling hills and fields stretched out in front of me— or at least, what were likely once fields. Now the ground was the color of smoke, and hard and dusty to the touch. A few blackened bushes were scattered throughout the moorlands, and in the distance I could see the silhouettes of scraggly dead trees. A murky river snaked somewhere out near the horizon.
“Greetings.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Who’s there?” I demanded, whirling around. I wasn’t very brave, but I could pretend to be.
“Relax, child,” said the voice. “I’m here to help you.”
Slowly, I looked up. Hovering in midair above me was a being, a beautiful demon. She was wearing many long black shawls that were layered and tattered, like a prophet’s, and face was pale and gaunt. Long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her wings were wide and midnight-blue, ending at a sharp points on either side of her slender frame like a bat’s.
And then there were her eyes. Those eyes were dark and murky, deep and mysterious as the moorlands, as if she were hiding the all the secrets of my soul within them.
“W-who are you?” I demanded, sounding braver than I felt.
“I,” she said, alighting herself in front of me, “am your guardian angel.”
I stumbled. “My what?”
She chuckled. Her murky eyes sparkled when she did. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of… of course I don’t believe you! I’m dreaming. I must be. I mean, guardian angels don’t exist.”
She spread out her wings to their full length, and I suddenly realized how little power I had here. Even if I was dreaming.
She walked towards me and laid a hand on my shoulder. Her skin was warm against my thin T-shirt. It was comforting, but I still had my suspicions. “Let’s see, child,” she said thoughtfully. “What can I do to make you believe me?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t guardian angels supposed to, you know, know things? About their charges? They always do in the storybooks, anyway.”
She nodded. “Alright, let’s see. Your name is Echo Martinez. You have three sisters and two fathers. Your favorite color is sapphire. You love apple tarts. You excel at English, but are awful at mathematics— you failed geometry last year. You’re a poetry writer, but are too afraid to show anyone your work. And secretly, you are very much in love with the boy you grew up with, but you don’t want to tell him how you feel because you don’t want to ruin your friendship.”
Dreaming. I was definitely dreaming. Or dead.
“Am I dead?” I asked.
I thought she would laugh at this, or at least smile with that playful glimmer in her eye. I hoped to the gods she would. But she didn’t. She just stared at me with those piercing eyes of hers and said, very blatantly, “Yes, Echo. You are dead.”
“Am I… I am dead?”
“Yes, child. You are dead.”
I rubbed the sides of my arms with my hands. I ran my fingers through my short-cropped blonde hair with the fading streaks of purple in it. I opened and closed my jaw. “I don’t really feel dead,” I told her. “Are you sure I’m dead?”
“Well,” she said plainly, “Considering you are currently here in the Fields of the Unjudged Souls, and I was told by the Council of Deities to come and take you to your Judgement, so that the Fates may determine where exactly you’re going to reside in the afterlife, then yes. Yes, I’d say you’re quite dead.”
“Oh.” I glanced around. “So I can’t just… chill here for the rest of eternity?”
There was that playful smile again. She stretched her bat-like wings and extended a hand. “Come along, child.”
There were three types of people in this war. The Laden, the Empties, and the Naturals. It was a rule drummed into our heads right before we were tossed out onto this desolate land. We were the Naturals. The ones meant to bring order back into this world. And yet here were the Laden breaking every law known to man. Shooting fire from their hands. Healing wounds that should have killed them. Even ignoring gravity. Such madness could not be tolerated. And yet the Empties were acceptable. As former Laden they could steal the gifts. Identify the enemy. Even use the gifts against them. But these Empties could also create a fourth type of person. Something I didn’t know until I was face down in the moor, my blood mixing with the mud. “Lee. Lee!” A dirty face came into view. And a sudden explosion made a halo over her cropped curls. But it was her eyes that drew me in. So dark it felt like I could drown in them. The earth shook beneath us and she turned to the boy causing them. A right monster he was. With each scream the ground cracked beneath us. I couldn’t move. Even if I could, I had no bullets left. No charge in my stunner. And no strength in my body. But that didn’t stop the Empty. She rushed the boy, dodging the earth that tried to consume her. In a single touch she had the boy on the ground. She looked back to me and hesitated. It was something I’d never seen her do. But usually she had strict rules from our superiors. The ground trembled as another fireball landed ahead. My peers screamed. But I couldn’t see them over the hill. There was only the stench of burning flesh. And cold. Perhaps I would be joining them soon. But then I felt hands on my face. The Empty was back. Rock shot up to shield us as more shrapnel flew over the hill. But the Empty wasn’t fazed. She looked me in the eye and said, “I’m gonna get into trouble for this. But it’s the least I could do after you helped me.” A scene flashed through of the other soldiers beating her on the outskirts of camp. She hadn’t made a sound. She hadn’t fought back. Simply gritted her teeth and took the beating. But she wasn’t the enemy. In fact she was one of our greatest assets. What other Empty could steal powers from multiple Laden at once? Of course I had to put a stop to it. It was my duty to see that we won this war. That we made sure the Laden wouldn’t force the Naturals into extinction. Even the Empties agreed with us. I blinked at the girl (for she couldn’t have been much older than I). A warmth began to seep into the cheek she touched. It chased the cold away and began to spread. It didn’t feel like the healing gift. No this made me want to sink into the moor and caress the rock within. I was one with it, absorbing its strength. From the corner of my eye I saw another fire ball. I moved to shield her. And the rock answered my call, surrounding us. I looked around. “I thought Naturals couldn’t use the gifts. That it would tear them apart.” She shook her head. “There are some who can withstand it. You guys have taken to calling them the Elites.” Ah, so that was what I’d overheard the commander talking about on the radio. I’d thought they were just exceptional soldiers. But if they had gifts… My lips quirked up. “It seems like I’m more useful than I thought.” “I don’t think I’ll ever understand that mindset.” I waved her off and stood. “Come, Empty. It’s time to put this power to good use.” “It’s Zinnia.” She said standing. “The least you can do is remember it.” “Zinnia.” The name danced across my tongue. I would remember that. In fact I wasn’t likely to forget anything about her. She had made me Elite. And I in turn would honor that sacrifice with my life.
Ding! A cheerful sound. One of promise for new adventure. Inhaling deeply the scent of unexplored worlds… That weren’t there.
Mother Earth was renowned for being a incessant smoker, continually releasing pungent earthy notes skywards. The sharpness would be unbearable if fresh rain didn’t sprinkle its lightness. Opening your eyes you looked around bewildered. There were no neatly stacked shelves. Instead a sea of lavender, heather, dull straw and forest shadows swished roughly in the swirling storm.
Whirling around you reached out in desperation for a door that wasn’t there. You had always wished for an immersive story. Now was your opportunity. Smiling broadly you started to carefully to pick your way across the rough moorland. Climbing a small hillock you felt Jack Frost’s frigid touch ghosting over your exposed skin. Ruffling your flailing locks leaving you feeling uneasy.
Spinning. Scanning. Surveying. An unforgiving expanse. In whatever direction you looked, the same desolate landscape sprawled out. Pick a direction and walk straight as the crow flies. It so happened to your right a towering form could be made out. Pummelled by distraught tears, begging you to leave.
Unheeding to their plea you marched onwards. Boots squelching through a boggy patch. Gathering unsightly splotches of rich brown, scrunching your eyebrows together in annoyance. A wild whispering sprung up, rushing around you so fast you were left feeling dizzy.
Rolling across the moorland a thick blanket unfolded. Tossed from the heavens in attempt to quell the rising evil. Yet there was nothing that could be done. A wistful sigh blew away all attempts of salvation.
Your skin began to tingle. Your gut began to ache. Your brain screamed “Run!” Alas you stayed. From the fading worn tendrils a voice emerged, “We’ve been expecting you.”
Terror gripped your stomach, twisting violently displacing gastric juices with foul consequences. Unbridled spirits of wild horses galloped across your chest. Leaving your bones quaking.
Blink. A tall lithe man, dressed in leggings and tunic he held a quiet confidence. It seemed as though he embodied the untameable lands.
Blink. Before you stood a beautiful woman, with auburn hair that glittered even in the dull light.
Blink. A small straggly child now stared at you with cold coal eyes.
“Follow us,” they spoke as one, perfectly harmonising. Unable to ignore their melodic request your feet carried you onwards. Always forward towards the single lonely tree. The tree that held your fate.
As one the murmuring ceased. Turning to your companions, who had seemingly fallen silent. A clinging silence that encased your core. You were alone in a land so unpredictable. Staring at your feet hoping for inspiration your eyes landed upon a tiny figure.
No more than three feet high, though you didn’t judge. Who knew they could have a disability. “Good sir, can you help me?”
“Me?” He pointed to his scrawny chest, eyes wandering around in bewilderment.
“Yes? You’re the only one here?” Confusion danced out of your lips
Suddenly his hearty laugh sprung out, “Oh! So I am! How may I help you on this dull dreary day?”
You noticed his jollity failed to reach his eyes. Suspicion snuck up your back as you cautiously asked, “To get me off this moor would be quite helpful, if that’s no trouble?”
Beckoning with a pudgy hand he skipped off, leaving you to stumble after on unpracticed legs. Jolting and jerking over potted, scarred and tainted ground. Directly under the stretching boughs of the ancient birch he froze. Casting his gaze upwards he sprinted away into the fading light. His words floating behind him, “This is the only way out!”
How was a tree meant to help? Perhaps that question was asked too late. Loving arms reached down, taking you in a tender embrace. Your feeble mind never comprehending the gravity of the situation. Inexplicably, with practiced ease the muscles tightened. Coiling around stealing your air. Never asking, just taking.
Gasping. Thrashing. Gurgling. Your fight was futile. Your fight was stupid. Soon stars exploded across your vision. Guiding you faithfully into the perpetual darkness of the night planes. One final rasping sigh and you released your grip on the world of the living.
A stinging slap across your cheek. Pain bloomed in a Fibonacci sequence; unfurling the petals of a blood red rose. Peeling open your eyes drowning with fear, you stared at your tormentor.
“I said focus on me! Don’t leave me for some intangible place!” Broad hands tugged sharply at the knots binding your limbs to a wooden table. Suddenly, a sharp creaking groan of something being turned. Muffled screams burst forth as your limbs were hauled in opposite directions. Sharp popping filled your ears as your joints finally gave way.
Blinding white light seared across your mind, if this was love then death best be sweet. An inner dialogue screamed and berated your foolish incompetence to simply listen to your friends warning.
Looming above you his pale sneering lips wobbled with pleasure. Dead soulless eyes of hell intently studied your heart. Slowly, he revealed a rusty nail. You never saw the nail’s romantic partner, before the sweet clanging kiss of lips. Pointed tip buried itself into your eye. Crisp crunch, a soft pop, a whole world of pain. Liquid ran gently from the perforated capsule. Your mind tracked the movement as it rounded your delicate shell.
“Please,” a feeble word, slipping unheard from your lips. Pleading with your imagination to carry you away back to the windswept moors.
Mercifully, the final savage thwack came quickly. You barely registered the impacted before the whispering voices of the forsaken came to bring you home.
There once was a woman named Jackie Wright, who was surfing the web and looked up this place called deserted place in Moorland because she figured it would be quite interesting to go to a place like this to do some research on what she might find. So she decided after thinking about it she’s going to go check the place out and pack her bags so that way she could beat traffic out there while driving.
Jackie, knew that in this place it’s always dark after the sun goes down every year and there’s so many dangerous creatures lurking in the dark at nighttime such as vampires, werewolves, and witches. She also met this guy who was clearly hitchhiking through the woods by himself his name is Ryan and he was afraid that someone or something was going to attack him.
I think that he should have called for help and let someone know that he was stranded out there. Luckily he ran into someone who can help him get back to where he came from. They both decided to do the rest of the trip and call it a day.
There once was a woman named Jackie Wright, who was surfing the web and looked up this place called deserted place in Moorland because she figured it would be quite interesting to go to a place like this to do some research on what she might find. So she decided after thinking about it she’s going to go check the place out and pack her bags so that way she could beat traffic out there while driving.
Jackie, knew that in this place it’s always dark after the sun goes down every year and there’s so many dangerous creatures lurking in the dark at nighttime such as vampires, werewolves, and witches. She also met this guy who was clearly hitchhiking through the woods by himself his name is Ryan and he was afraid that someone or something was going to attack him.
I think that he should have called for help and let someone know that he was stranded out there. Luckily he ran into someone who can help him get back to where he came from. They both decided to do the rest of the trip and call it a day.
Similar writing prompts
STORY STARTER
"If I survive, can I go home?"
Write a story in any genre containing this piece of speech.