Red Lettering

Stories will not be written easily. A story without a heart is dead, and the only place it will get a heart is from the author.

Writing Prompt: 11-28-2014


Origin“Watching Our Time Burn Away,” by Kiara Rose in collaboration with Sarah Anne Loreth. I do not know either of these, so please use caution if you decide to look either or both of them up.

Feeling inspired? Write something from this prompt! I would absolutely love to see it. You can leave a response in the comments or move the prompt to your blog and leave a link in the comments.

Of course, if you’re doing NaNo and haven’t met your goal for today, write your NaNo novel instead of this. NaNoWriMo is definitely more important.

[I really look forward to being able to read anything you write from this prompt, and I expect to enjoy it very much and for my readers to also enjoy it. That said, please keep everything as clean as it gets because otherwise I will delete the comment or link to your blog.”Only what is good for building up…” If in doubt, ask. My contact information is on the About page.]


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9 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: 11-28-2014

  1. I found her sitting at the edge of the destruction. Flames and smoke danced around her, and she watched it all with fascination.
    “Agent 87!” I barked, and she stood, slowly turning.
    She did not salute, and I didn’t ask any questions. There was no use playing any games, I knew she did it, and she was proud to see it.
    “Impressive, isn’t it Captain?” Agent 87 smirked. She snapped her fingers and a small tongue of flame appeared.
    “Perhaps my best one yet. Are you surprised?”
    I kept my hands behind my back, hiding the ice crystals forming around my fingers. Though I didn’t try to hide the chill in my words.
    “Hardly. I’ve suspected you for quite some time. This latest stunt clears all doubt. Will you come quietly?” It was no use asking. But as Captain, I had to follow my own protocol.
    Agent 87 clenched her fists. Fountains of flame erupted above them.
    “What do you think?” She cried.
    I clenched my own fists, and felt the power building up. So be it.

  2. Ruth knelt in the remains of her home. The rubble still burned too hot to look for the remains of her family. Perhaps it would be better if she didn’t look. She knew what she’d find. She stood. There was no reason to stay.
    A crunch emanated from the nearby trees.
    Ruth tensed, ready to fight.
    Blake stepped from the trees. How had he survived? He’d been in the house.
    Ruth ran to him and hugged him. “Did anyone else make it?”
    He clung to her and sobbed.
    Ruth knew then, they were the only two. She released Blake. “You got any weapons?”
    “A pocket knife.”
    Ruth touched the hunting knife at her belt. “I’ve got a knife.”
    Blake wiped his eyes, which streaked dirt across his face. “What will we do? We can’t hunt. All the guns burned, and they took everything in the cellar.”
    Ruth took a deep breath and pushed down her grief. She had to focus. “Those-those butchers had guns.” Hate coursed through her. “We had whisky in the cellar. Those guys will be drunk. We can go in and slit their throats before they sober up.”
    Blake stared.
    Ruth stormed past him. “They went this way.”

    • It was very interesting in this to see the different characters – even in such a brief snippet, we could see how Ruth would automatically dash off to kill the people who had done this, and Blake would be less likely to do that. Good job.

  3. Everything is burning.
    Flames and screams intertwined together so tight that I couldn’t separate one from the other. Buildings fell—crushing people and destroying the once beautiful town. My town.
    My lungs burned as I sprinted down the street—calling names, but not hearing my own. Mom. Cal. Scarlett…where were they?
    “Where are you?” I screamed. I didn’t recognize my own voice as I shouted above the blaze. “Answer me!”
    I continued running down my street where my home began to fall apart. Bricks and siding fell in sickening bangs. I pushed myself to go closer, but the flames kept me at bay—an explosion caving in the remainder of the only place I had ever lived. The blast left me on my knees with no energy to get up.
    “I give,” I whispered. “I’ll burn with everyone else. I don’t care, take me.” I titled my head the sky. “Stop sparing my life if you have no plans for me.”

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