fiction

This is my first ever writing prompt I responded to on Reddit. I had seen the sub a few days before; while mindlessly browsing writing subreddits to get involved in, this had come up. The idea that while humans were the most pacifistic species, they could also be the deadliest.

This post in particular had gained a lot of traction in the sub, and it seemed like a great fit for me to try. So applied myself I did.

Apparently I did real good on this one over the others, and got several comments on this. Pleased was an understatement. Not bad for my first try.

Done in approximately March 13, 2016.

Note: My writing for Reddit writing prompts is different for brevity. While this is a good example of my writing, I often omit backstory and several details to create a concise post. Please look at my other works if you’re looking for my more regular style of writing.

Original Post

OP

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“Father.”

“Yes, brood?”

“Why do we not attack the humans? Are they not reprehensible?”

The multi-legged creature looked at its miniature copy of itself clinging to the mushroom tree.

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This was the first WritingPrompts I had done in 2018 on Reddit. It seemed fairly easy enough; overdramatize a mundane, everyday situation. I took the situation of my broken Jeep to task, transforming it into this story. Let’s see if you can spot how many technical references I make to a 42RE transmission.

Done in April 17, 2018.

Note: My writing for Reddit writing prompts is different for brevity. While this is a good example of my writing, I often omit backstory and several details to create a concise post. Please look at my other works if you’re looking for my more regular style of writing.

Original Post

OP

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Despite a week passing, Heather still couldn’t forget the words said to her at Elizabeth’s doorstep. She kept a wide berth away from McCally at all times just to be on the safe side. This was mostly in public; Heather never knew what the woman could do to her, so it was better to stay safe than sorry.

Pipp was still being lively as ever. He hadn’t grown a whole lot and would probably be in trouble if he got into a scuffle with a cat. However a small change start to set in. Pipp seemed more calculating and reactive to those around him. It was like he was thinking a lot, able to mirror off the moods of the people around him. He could tell if they were happy, sad or frustrated and react accordingly.

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West Hills. Why did it have to be West Hills?

Heather trudged down the dirt and gravel path that led out of the main section of Ellowwood. A twenty-pound bag of wheat was in her arms, having been tasked to deliver it to an elderly couple out on the west side of town.

And not just west town, West Hills. Outside the town charter, maybe half a mile towards the heavy forest and where the island ended. Where more weird stuff lived, causing her imagination to freak out about what she could randomly encounter. It didn’t matter if it was late afternoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; the area still carried the same kind of connotations to it.

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Heather stood at the outside of the blacksmith’s shop, her thoughts a total mess. She had elected to wait outside, letting Janus return the rope they had borrowed. The last thing she wanted to do was to explain to someone what had happened. And she knew that the friendly blacksmith would ask her questions of what she actually did with the rope.

The door creaked open, Janus coming out down the steps.

“Did he take it?”

Janus nodded. He looked a bit somber himself, as if the joy had been wiped from his face. That look alone made Heather’s heart ache, hanging her head as she shuffled along behind him.

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Heather could hear Janus making his way down the hole. She waited pensively, feeling quite alone. How far had Janus gone in? Would he be all right? What was making the glow?

She wished he could’ve taken a lantern with him. Heather didn’t doubt that he had a source of light to go by, but it would’ve put her mind in ease. Her mind was overthinking what could happen or lie in wait.

She paced back and forth a little, listening the best she could. After a moment she looked up back at the hole.

“How are you doing? Are you all right?”

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“What do we do now?” Heather asked softly. The question was mostly to herself.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted to come out here.” Janus’ voice had a bit of scolding in his voice.

Heather’s cheeks flushed. “Just…thinking out loud to myself, I suppose.”

She straightened her posture a bit and went forward, coming to the edge of the well. It had aged, covered with a bit of moss and lichens. The mouth was six feet across, cobblestone cemented together. Heather gripped the mouth, looking over.

The well went down a ways, but she could make out a puddle reflecting light out on the bottom. The walls also seemed to narrow but didn’t match up with the dirt that was barely visible.

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Heather leaned forward, spine tingling a little. “You mean like…I don’t know. Ghosts? Spirits?” Her hands wrapped around her knees.

Elizabeth had a faint twinkle in her eyes as she smiled a little. “Well, they could be called that. They certainly act like spirits, but look very real. More like nightmarish figures.”

With the silence afterwards, Elizabeth knew she had all the youngsters’ attention and it was time to spin her tale. With a deep breath she began.

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Heather gave a little grunt of effort as she shrugged into the clothes Tau’mi had given her. They fit almost perfect but were a little roomy; after all, Tau’mi was a bit more robust than a skinny stick and bones girl like her.

Heather had just finished, looking herself over. Despite being generic working clothes, she could clearly tell that Tau’mi had a higher standard of living than her. Heather couldn’t remember the last time she had a clean apron, or when her dress filled out like this with multiple starched petticoats. It made her feel important, warm and a bit comfortable.

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It was a rainy afternoon. The sky was gray with rainclouds, visibly swirling form high windows. Despite the warm weather that had graced Ellowwood late into the harvest, this had changed in the past few days. It was a signal that colder weather was approaching, and dubbed by local farmers as “The Storm of Reckoning”.

Despite having seen the weather earlier, Heather had not expected rain to approach so quickly, much less any. People were hardly about, windows shut and cleaning their yards of loose items. Within minutes of strong winds, the downpour had started.

And she was caught in the middle of it.

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