Posted in Writing, Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – Warning Label

If we were all forced to wear a warning label, what would yours say?

Handle with care.

Found this online, thought it was interesting.

P.S. Dropping in, moving into a new place not fun.

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Posted in Writing, Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – Gray Eyes

And just like that, the man I’d been kissing moments ago became the most dangerous man on the planet.

His face flashed across the platform’s screen. Somewhere behind me, the train screeched to a halt. Shoulders moved past me but all I could look at was at those gray eyes.

The picture was terrible. His face was blurred, distorted. Anybody who didn’t know him wouldn’t recognize him. I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought.

It been only moments ago, when we said goodbye, that I was looking at those same gray eyes.

“Suspect is charged with arson, theft, murder, kidnapping . . .”

The list just went on and on. Apparently, he was behind the recent Ouji attack where a government building had exploded. The news didn’t say it but it the building had been a research facility. I should know. I used to work there until recently. That was where I first met him.

Terrorist was what the media called him. Yeah, with a rep list like that I would do and yet, was it really him? Was this the same guy who brought me dinner when I worked late? Or gave me a ride because my car wouldn’t start?

He had even helped me buy groceries. It couldn’t be him and yet, how could I not know those gray eyes. They looked like a thunder storm. The way the sky once moved, the way it is portrayed in videos.

“Train to Zanx will depart in five minutes. Train to Zanx . . .”

Had it all been a lie? Was that just one of his many personas? It would make sense. If it was true, everything he ever said and did would be a lie.

My gut twisted. It was a lie. Pressure build behind my eyes. I blinked rapidly. Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted. It didn’t mean anything, not really. I knew it wouldn’t last. That was obvious.

Somewhere close by, heavy footsteps approached. They came to a stop around me.

“Miss Alex Wight. Please come with us.”

I turned to the voice that had spoken. Surrounding me, there were seven individuals in tactical armor. They all point their weapons at me. The woman who had spoken stepped forward. She had cuffs in her hands.

“What is all this for?” I asked.

Most of the platform was empty but there were a few who loitered around waiting for the next train. They kept a wide berth from us.

“You’re charged with aiding a terrorist,” the woman answered, “please come with us.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. And just like that, I was a suspect.

Posted in Writing, Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – D&D Adventure

“There used to be six of us . . . Now I am alone.”

Five pair of various colored eyes turned around and looked at me. Their brows were creased.

“What are you talking about?” the book loving wizard asked. “We’re about to be rich!”

I shook my head and didn’t respond.

“We have just liberated a cultist infected castle,” the beast of a barbarian spoke up. “We deserved to get paid.”

His smaller companion, only four feet in height nodded in agreement. “When you hired us, you said we could keep what we found.”

They were mercenaries after all. I wasn’t surprised not really. Sure, I liked loot too but if this was anything like the other chest, we were probably going to get our faces melted off like the lightning strucked sorcerer.

You would think he learned his lesson but no, he was up there along with the others staring at the red wardrobed.

It leaned against a dark wall. Beside it was a desk with documents spread all across it. The dwarf was there. Shifting through the parchment, trying to find any clues as to where the leaders of the cultists had gone.

“Good luck,” I told them.

“Then you get no loot,” the wizard piped up.

“You guys ready?” the small roguish mercenary asked.

She stepped forward, theives tools in hand. As she did, I walked out of the room. I pressed my back against the wall. There was no way I was going to get caught in the trap.

I heard the wardrobe open and a hiss. Cries of pain and shock echoed from the room. I waited for a few moments before peeking into the room. Acid bubbled and hissed across the ground. My companions laid on the ground, moaning in agony. The smell of burnt flesh wafted through the room.

Whatever the wardrobe held at one point was gone. It now stood as a blob of melted wood. I squatted down by the doorway.

“So,” I said, “who needs healing?”

Groan answered me.