So, we had a wonderful writing club meeting yesterday and everyone was given 30 Days of Diverse Writing Prompts for the #IWriteInColor campaign. You can join us in that campaign and get your free kickstart brochure when you subscribe to the newsletter. You can do that here!
I had an off week last week and my prompt was really icky, but this week is better. It was...
The smell of fear filled the room, but I was prepared for that.
So you can take the prompt and start the story, end the story or let it just inspire you to free write for 20 minutes or more. I didn't make it that long, because I got interrupted. But it made me think of a character from a previous short story I wrote, Lavender. She's got a mechanical heart and she's an assassin in the near future.
Enjoy!
If I ran hard, like I had been for the last twenty minutes the motor that replaced my heart would whir and run hot. If I was sleeping you couldn't hear it at all, but I wasn't sleeping. I was trying my hardest not to be seen or heard. The rafters of the building were old. The wood warped and dipped at irregular angles and if I moved too much it creaked and let a shower of dust rain down on the floor below.
I had to still myself. I closed my eyes. Quiet. Quiet.
My heart churned until slowly, very slowly it began to purr into relative silence and just in time too.
Bricktop, the muscle of the group drug in a wriggling, bloody mess of a boy. His face was a swollen mess and his arm hung at the wrong angle from his body. The smell of fear filled the room, but I was prepared for that. Hayworth was a big boy. He'd live, but I hated to see him in that kind of pain.
I let my fingers stroke each of my guns for comfort, two at the hips, one on my side, and another for emergencies tucked into the custom space on my right boot. Now, if I could only get a clear shot.
I had an off week last week and my prompt was really icky, but this week is better. It was...
The smell of fear filled the room, but I was prepared for that.
So you can take the prompt and start the story, end the story or let it just inspire you to free write for 20 minutes or more. I didn't make it that long, because I got interrupted. But it made me think of a character from a previous short story I wrote, Lavender. She's got a mechanical heart and she's an assassin in the near future.
Enjoy!
If I ran hard, like I had been for the last twenty minutes the motor that replaced my heart would whir and run hot. If I was sleeping you couldn't hear it at all, but I wasn't sleeping. I was trying my hardest not to be seen or heard. The rafters of the building were old. The wood warped and dipped at irregular angles and if I moved too much it creaked and let a shower of dust rain down on the floor below.
I had to still myself. I closed my eyes. Quiet. Quiet.
My heart churned until slowly, very slowly it began to purr into relative silence and just in time too.
Bricktop, the muscle of the group drug in a wriggling, bloody mess of a boy. His face was a swollen mess and his arm hung at the wrong angle from his body. The smell of fear filled the room, but I was prepared for that. Hayworth was a big boy. He'd live, but I hated to see him in that kind of pain.
I let my fingers stroke each of my guns for comfort, two at the hips, one on my side, and another for emergencies tucked into the custom space on my right boot. Now, if I could only get a clear shot.
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