Writing prompt #2
Go to Oneword and use their free writing tool to help you warm up your writing voice. You don't have to write for just one minute, but still try to time yourself because it will force you to write.
Picture prompt #2
Happy Thursday, everyone! Here's a picture prompt to help inflame your writing muse. Remember, look at the picture as a whole, and don't focus on one single detail.
The battle pt. 3
Snarling, the she-wolf raced forward, her pack following, snarling and howling as they ran.
The big male growled and called to his pack, "quick, were being attacked, awooo, awooooo!!!!!"
The other pack heard their leaders warning and quickly prepared, pushing the young pups and Elders into the dark den, away from the bloodshed that was soon to come.
"Charge!" growled the leader as he led his pack into battle; the two packs clashed into each other, snarling and howling viciously.
The black she-wolf was like a whirlwind of death, nothing could stop her. She slashed throats open with ease, clawed eyes and stomachs viciously, and wreaked havoc in general.
"Quickly", the leader panted, "Fall back and hit them from the sides, push them down so they trip, hurry!"
Obeying their leader, the valley pack fell back, split into two groups and hit the she-wolf's pack from the sides.
Snarling, the she-wolf felt teeth sink into her back leg; she twisted and sank her teeth into her attacker's back,
SNAP, THUD
The wolf lay dead in the trampled grass.
"Father, you coward, come face me!" she growled; the fighting stopped, all eyes on the she-wolf and her father.
The big male attacked quickly, leaping over the crowd and slamming his daughter into the ground.
The she-wolf slashed at her father’s belly, and was rewarded with a grunt of pain.
Twisting sharply, she threw her father to the ground and lunged at him.
The big male acted quickly. Picking up some tufted up grass and dirt beside him, he threw it at the she-wolf, blinding her temporarily.
Snarling, the she-wolf stepped back and rubbed the grit from her eyes; the male slashed her shoulder clean open.
Pushing him away, the she-wolf ran a little ways backward, and then, eyes gleaming, she charged her father, screaming wildly.
Her father ran towards her as well, howling wildly.
They clashed together, their bodies twisted and turned wildly, teeth, claws, and fur were all that was seen, they sought each others throats, snarling wildly, blood pumping, they pushed and shoved each other back and forth,
In a twisted battle that could never be broken.
Now...... which one won?
You decide.
The Battle pt. 2
Quickly, we must travel swiftly to the valley in which the 'fools' live in.
It was quiet, peaceful valley,
The trees swayed softly in the breeze,
The rain lightened up, the moon came out from behind the dark, depressing clouds,
Lighting up the landscape, giving hope to the animals that lived there.
A pack of six wolves huddled together for warmth,
Telling stories and grooming each other, they completely forgot the weather outside,
They were content, happy.
A five year old male with black fur pushed himself away from his pack and shook himself, thinking,
I feel as if something.... ominous is coming here, but what? I hope that she...
But he shook away the thought, pushing back the thoughts of his only daughter, who he himself had banished all those years ago.
It had started when she was born. Her eyes had been open, a 'bad' sign, the Elders had called it.
When she was a pup, she never liked playing with the other wolf pups; instead she would sit by herself and 'think' as she called it.
But one day, a fire broke out in the camp. The back had to run for their lives as the fire engulfed their entire home, leaving them with
Nothing.
As the leader’s daughter was running out of the camp, she stopped and listened.
A soft whimpering sound came from the den in which all the newborns were born.
She bounded toward the sound, and stuck her head inside, a young pup lay down on its side, whimpering.
She grabbed the young pup and began to drag it away; it squealed and struggled to get away.
"I’m trying to help you!" she growled, and bit down on its scruff, it shuddered violently, and then lay still.
She stared down at its body, which was beginning to grow cold.
"I’m sorry", she whispered, backing out slowly, her head lowered,
"I’m so sorry", and then she turned and ran, only to slam straight into her father, who had come back to find her.
"You killed him" he whispered quietly.
"I didn't mean to, daddy! It was an accident, I swear!" but her cries fell on deaf ears as he looked down at her, snarling,
"GET OUT".
"Daddy, please..."
"GET OUT, damn you!" he growled and pushed her violently away; she fell and landed on hot ashes.
Yelping she sat up and brushed them away, and then ran, ran away from the flames, from the dead pup that she had 'killed', from her father,
Who had pushed her away, forever.
Shuddering, the male wolf shook himself roughly, trying to forget that horrible day, the way she had looked at him, she had needed him, and he pushed her away.
Then, a long, clear, cold howl sounded in his ears and he looked up sharply, his heart skipped three beats at what he saw.
"I’m back, Father!", a mocking voice sounded from the trees in front of him, and the black she-wolf padded from the shadows, growling savagely.
"And this time, you can't push me away!" she laughed bitterly and called to her pack, all twelve of them, who slid quietly out of the shadows to her left and right, growling, eager to do their leaders bidding.
Smiling evilly, the she-wolf looked at her pack, growling.
“My fighters,” she growled,
“Who will you fight for?”
“YOU, MY QUEEN, ONLY YOU!” came the reply from her pack.
“Well then”……
“ATTACK!!!!”
It was quiet, peaceful valley,
The trees swayed softly in the breeze,
The rain lightened up, the moon came out from behind the dark, depressing clouds,
Lighting up the landscape, giving hope to the animals that lived there.
A pack of six wolves huddled together for warmth,
Telling stories and grooming each other, they completely forgot the weather outside,
They were content, happy.
A five year old male with black fur pushed himself away from his pack and shook himself, thinking,
I feel as if something.... ominous is coming here, but what? I hope that she...
But he shook away the thought, pushing back the thoughts of his only daughter, who he himself had banished all those years ago.
It had started when she was born. Her eyes had been open, a 'bad' sign, the Elders had called it.
When she was a pup, she never liked playing with the other wolf pups; instead she would sit by herself and 'think' as she called it.
But one day, a fire broke out in the camp. The back had to run for their lives as the fire engulfed their entire home, leaving them with
Nothing.
As the leader’s daughter was running out of the camp, she stopped and listened.
A soft whimpering sound came from the den in which all the newborns were born.
She bounded toward the sound, and stuck her head inside, a young pup lay down on its side, whimpering.
She grabbed the young pup and began to drag it away; it squealed and struggled to get away.
"I’m trying to help you!" she growled, and bit down on its scruff, it shuddered violently, and then lay still.
She stared down at its body, which was beginning to grow cold.
"I’m sorry", she whispered, backing out slowly, her head lowered,
"I’m so sorry", and then she turned and ran, only to slam straight into her father, who had come back to find her.
"You killed him" he whispered quietly.
"I didn't mean to, daddy! It was an accident, I swear!" but her cries fell on deaf ears as he looked down at her, snarling,
"GET OUT".
"Daddy, please..."
"GET OUT, damn you!" he growled and pushed her violently away; she fell and landed on hot ashes.
Yelping she sat up and brushed them away, and then ran, ran away from the flames, from the dead pup that she had 'killed', from her father,
Who had pushed her away, forever.
Shuddering, the male wolf shook himself roughly, trying to forget that horrible day, the way she had looked at him, she had needed him, and he pushed her away.
Then, a long, clear, cold howl sounded in his ears and he looked up sharply, his heart skipped three beats at what he saw.
"I’m back, Father!", a mocking voice sounded from the trees in front of him, and the black she-wolf padded from the shadows, growling savagely.
"And this time, you can't push me away!" she laughed bitterly and called to her pack, all twelve of them, who slid quietly out of the shadows to her left and right, growling, eager to do their leaders bidding.
Smiling evilly, the she-wolf looked at her pack, growling.
“My fighters,” she growled,
“Who will you fight for?”
“YOU, MY QUEEN, ONLY YOU!” came the reply from her pack.
“Well then”……
“ATTACK!!!!”
(Picture is copyright of Tsumis_awakening on Photobucket.com)The Battle pt. 1
Note: If you find this story listed on another blog or site, it is because it belongs to me. I wrote this story on July 30, 2008 and posted it on Writer's Cafe and another blog (I think), under the username 'ilovewolves1416'.
It was raining,
The air was muggy, the ground slippery and wet,
The trees sway softly, thunder rumbles in the distance,
But suddenly, a shadow pauses behind a tree,
And in the shadows is a large, three year old she-wolf,
She has pitch-black fur, darker than the night, darker than the shadows,
She turns her head and barks; a male wolf slips out from behind a bush and bows low,
“Rise” she growls.
“What is it you desire, my Queen?” he asks softly.
“Is the pack ready?” she says.
He nods.
“Good” she growls.
“Bring them here, and tell them to sharpen their claws and fangs”
The male bows, and then races off to do his leaders bidding.
The she-wolf smiles, her teeth flash in the dark,
“Soon”, she hisses, a flash of lighting lights up her body, her eyes shine with rage and hunger, her gums reveal sharp, deadly snow-white fangs dripping with hate,
“Soon those fools in the valley will pay with their lives for what they did to me”
She raises her muzzle to the dark sky and howls,
A howl of pain, of vengeance, of death soon to come.
Picture prompt #1
"Traitor!", snarled the Kalov, the deputy and senior Fighter for the BlackBlood wolf clan. "I did nothing wrong!", protested Halvok, who was slowly being pushed back towards the deep blue lakes waters. "If anyone's the traitor, it's you, Kalov!"..........and blah, blah blah. If you like you can use this sentence to help start a story, I don't mind.
My writing equipment
Author note: Hello, everyone! Today I just wanted to give you some insight as to how I write my stories and where I get the inspiration and tools do it!
1. Resources for creative writers --- Perfect site for quick, one sentence writing prompts. These prompts are mostly fiction based, but if you need inspiration or a quick story starter, here is the place to go!
2. Writertopia word count --- If you haven't already seen it, I have a "write 500 words a day" badge posted on my blog sidebar. This free online tool helps me easily count the num. of words I have in a story or poem so that I can reach my goal of 500 words easily.
3. Creativity Portal --- Excellent writing site that contains writing prompts, picture prompts, and informational articles about journaling and other ways to improve your writing.
4. Writing Excuses (podcast) --- I LOVE THIS PODCAST!!!! An excellent podcast that gives you helpful insight and tips on how to improve your writing and how to get rid of bad habits in your writing.
5. AbiWord --- Excellent word processer to use. I like the ease and flexibility of this processer, and since I cannot use Microsoft word anymore (technical difficulties), I have been using AbiWord to help save my stories and poems.
6.Enso --- A very unique type of software. Basically, you can highlight a word you wish to define or spell and Enso will automatically look up the word online with just one push of a button. Make sure to watch the Enso demo here to help clear up any questions you have.
And that's all, people! See you next week for more gore-filled stories, poems, and resources by moi.
-T.S
Crushed
My skull compresses against my brain, it hemmorages and splits like a banana peel. It drips out my ears like lukewarm oatmeal,
I feel no pain.
My bones are ground together, they snap like twigs in a fire, hot marrow and spum drip my mauled, broken skin.
My chest is being squeezed together like two hands holding each other.
SNAP,
A sharp sharpnel of rib breaks off,
Directly aimed at my heart.
My eyes leak down my cheeks,
tears?
My head is forced into my mouth,
Jaw and liquid brain connect, teeth bite sharply into the bone and.........
Author Note: Kinda creepy, ain't it? I wrote this poem/short story (whichever way you want to look at it) in the 9th grade and forgot about it since. Now in the 10th, I stumbled upon it in one of my old writing journals and thought you guys would enjoy reading it.
-T.S
....And just a dash of cyanide.....
Note: In the year 2026, hard to get poisons, such as cyanide, are now legally prescribed by doctors to treat a number of illnesses, such as AIDS or cancer. It has also been reported that cyanide is now safe to be placed in food and drink, but only in small doses. Anything above 5 milligrams, and well......
July 10, 2026, (4:30 PM)
Dear Diary,
Ever since the day my daughter, Trina, was diagnosed with ADD, my life, my perfect and happy life, came to a shattered halt. I couldn't imagine my sweet daughter, my straight-A daughter, being crippled by this disease that not only ruined my life, but her own.
At first I tried to handle it. I took Trina to therapy, gave her the correct dosage of medication, and made sure she didn't set the house on fire or attack guests when they came to visit. Everything was fine, for a while, but then Trina started to sap the life out me. I could no longer go out to dinner or socialize with my friends anymore, as I had to look after Trina.
Trina, Trina, Trina. My whole fucking life revolved around Trina.
But not anymore. Today is Trina's birthday, and I'm gonna put an end to this mess. I'm going to get my life back, even if it involves Trina dying. Now let me see... where did I put that cake recipe.....
Cake recipe for Trina's Bday:
- 1/2 c. butter
- 1 c. sugar
- 1 tsp. vanilla
- 2 eggs
- 1 1/4 c. flour
- 1 tsp. baking powder
- 1 tsp. cyanide
***
July 11, 2026, (6:30 AM)
Dear Diary,
I watched her die. At first, a mild headache began to set in, and she told me it was difficult to breathe. The next thing I knew, she was running past me, to the bathroom, where she choked up all the previous afternoon's cake, pie, and ice cream. Then she began to convulse, her head bashing the cool tile floor, blood and tile shards splattering the walls and my chest. Her teeth shredded her tongue into a mushy, pink soup in her mouth, which ran down her cheeks, stained her hair; I watched in silence.
After a while she stopped moving. Her blood-stained body lay on the tile floor, the heavy stench of death beginning to waft in the air. Now I had to get rid of the body.
***
It took a while, but I did it. I buried Trina under the porch in the backyard, dug the grave real deep, and then splashed a gallon of bleach on top of her grave. Then I went back inside and cleaned up the blood in the bathroom and in the kitchen, then took a long, scalding shower. I washed my soiled clothes and then burned them in the fireplace to hide any evidence; I poured the rest of the cyanide in the gutter.
I was so nervous. So scared of being caught. But deep inside was the slightest feeling of....excitement. You know how they say killing someone changes a person? Well, it does, believe you me,
It truly does.
....Now all I have to do is make sure no one gets wind of my sinful deed.
June 13, 2026
Dear Diary,
It's been 2 days since I've killed Trina. People are beginning to ask questions that I can't answer. Wherever I go, people give me dirty looks. Trina's teachers and doctors are calling, asking why Trina isn't showing up. Shit, I'm losing control......I don't know what to do know, I don't even know where to start....
June 15, 2026
Dear Diary,
The police are here!
Shit, I thought I had more time! How did they find out? Was it one of the neighbors? Or was it just n
Oh, God, I'm sorry, Trina. I should have gotten help, but I didn't and now look,
Look at me!!!!
What to do, what to do......the shotgun. Under the bed. Yes, that's it,hahaha! I'll finish it now......right now.
I'm sorry, Trina! Soon, baby, we'll be together! We'll be togeth-...........................
---
June 16, 2026
New York Times front page:
Local women kills daughter and then commits suicide shortly after.
**A local women by the name of Helen was found dead in her bedroom on June 15, 2026. Reports confirmed that Helen was the mother of a young girl named Trina, who had attention deficit disorder, or ADD. Neighbors and relatives all agree that Helen was having problems taking care of her child, yet refused help from doctors, friends, and from the community.
Trina was found buried underneath the back porch of her home two days after her mother's death. Autopsy report confirms that she was poisoned with cyanide, which appeared to be ingested orally.
Trina was only 7 years old.
**New York Times -- June 16, 2026**
Writing prompt #1
- Write a story or poem about the northern lights,
OR,
- Write a story or poem about destroying something you thought was indestructible
Remember, don't just follow what the writing prompt says. Delve deeper into what it asks and write something. Even if its crap, save it for revision or when you have writer's block and can't come up with anything.
-T.S
Lorn
Lorn,
Alone, abandoned,
Free.
Desolate, a wasteland, the epicenter of Hell.
Cold, cynical, repulsive,
Death like a gray flame in the mist.
How I died
Drowning isn't as bad as people think. In fact, once you let the water fill up your lungs and envelop your brain, you go into a state of meditation, of absolute tranquility that you want to stay in forever; you do, of course.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Keri and I died on October 17, 2021.
I had decided to skip 4th period that day to get some fresh air and calm my nerves before continuing the the ever monotonous school day schedule that I was forced to use for the next two years until my graduation.
Once the bell had rang, I slipped out the double door entrance and made my way to the old, splintered bridge that I crossed everyday to walk to school; I don't ride the bus. The bridge was in need of serious repair. Chipped, peeling bluish-gray paint flecks floated away on the cool, October breeze. Jagged pieces of wood poked and clung to the flesh if you rested against the support beam that held the bridge firmly in place. Wooden boards riddled with termites creaked and squealed whenever stepped upon.
And then there was the river.
Ah, yes, the cold, rushing river that was never safe to swim in, never safe to even stick your burning toe in,
That damned river.
As it happens, the bridge had been losing a good deal of pegs that held the creaky boards underfoot together. Battered by the elements and crushed underneath the heel of many a student, the boards had become rotten and snapped easily when too much weight sat upon them. But they had under my feet,
Until now.
So there I was, leaning against the guard rail, idly watching the leaves twist a twirl in the breeze, when suddenly a loud groan issued from one of boards underneath. Before I had a chance to scream, the boards gave a loud
SNAP!
And down I fell,
Without a sound,
Into the murky, surging river that carried me to my doom.
***
Dark, cold, stinging water slapped me in the face burned my skin. Clumps of sucking mud and mulch slid down my screaming throat, filling my lungs, making me hurl, making it impossible to breathe. Rocks dug into my back and sides, leaving bloody, gaping slashes to leak their stench into the air.
I let it win, I let the river kill me. Why, I'm not sure, but it gave me a choice. It said, whispered,
Do you want to live or die?
I know it sounds crazy, but that's what I heard. In my mind. Like telepathy. And I replied right back,
I choose to die.
Don't ask me why; I just don't know.
And then I let the water in.
I let it rush down my throat and up my nose,
I let it fill up my lungs and kill my brain cells,
I let it in.
Then the darkness came too. That darkness that people see when they close their eyes, when they are trapped inside an ever-shrinking room with no escape, when they know that the sword has pierced their heart, but still try to keep their eyes open, their hearts beating,
That Darkness. I let it in.
And then I died.
****
So that's my story. And here I am, sitting in this room, waiting for the unknown, the inevitable. A few other people have come as well. And old women, with a face that looks like a soggy mop and skin that matches the pile of dirty clothes that lay hidden under my bed. Twins, boy and girl, both of their faces are half-melted, all the hair on their bodies signed off, imprints of seat belts, like a sash the Miss America models wear, welded to their chests like a badge; The girl has a shrapnel of twisted metal, (I think it was the bumper to an SUV), sticking out of her belly.......I try not to stare. The elevator then slides open and a man in black, his face a shroud, is standing silently there, a clipboard tucked underneath one arm.
"Callie and Michael?" the man whispers monotonously, ominously; the twins stand and walk toward the elevator. A they enter, the man in black smiles, holds one finger up, and says "Going up?" and then the elevator slides closed, and that was the last I saw of the disfigured duo again.
And the same happens again to the old lady, and a few other torn and broken souls that walk into the waiting room, waiting for judgment, waiting for.....destiny.
And now, it's my turn.
The elevator door slides open with a hum, and inside is the man in black, clipboard under arm. He cocks his finger at me; I stand and enter the elevator.
Standing beside him, a sudden thought flashes into my mind. My religion, the New religion, says that drownage, accidental or not, is a sin, and will surely cost you the salvation of heaven, and all that bull crap; I chuckle at the thought. Foolish me.
A shadow casts over me. I look up and see the man in black, his face nearly inches away my mine, his warm breath washes over my face.
He draws closer, his lips next to my ear and whispers two words, two words that wipe that smug grin of a saved man who has found out that he has been betrayed smile off my face.
"Going down?"
And, with a sickening twist in my stomach, I realized that no matter how you live, or how many times you go to church, or how famous and wealthy you are, that you can never, ever, escape your destiny.
And the elevator door closes, and I feel the space around me begin to sink, and I hear myself scream and claw at the closed door, begging, pleading to let out, to be set free. I did nothing wrong. I was a good girl, you hear me, you slimy bastard?!? I was a good fucking girl!!!!!!!!!!!
And the man in black smiles, turns, and says to me,
"Not in this life, you aren't".
And the elevator door opens, and that's when I truly begin to scream.
Welcome
1. I am introverted. Introversion is not being anti-social, bipolar, or insane. Being an introvert mainly means that you need to 'recharge' yourself after being around groups of people. You also like to think before you speak, and are concerned with your own personal and mental life; you like to think about your feelings and other things deeply.
The reason why I'm introverted is because I have slight overbite from falling off a swing-set when I was very young and my parents couldn't afford braces until now. Ever since that day, I've been teased, bullied, ridiculed, and taunted continuously all through my school life; 10th grade isn't so bad now, but I still have to deal with a certain number of idiots who just can't seem to remember my name; I basically have a hard time trusting people because I'm afraid they'll hurt me, which is true because I have tried to open myself up to people, but in about two or three days they'll gang up and make fun of me so I just shut up and concentrate on my studies; I'm too mature for my age.
2. This blog has stories,poems,etc.... that mainly focus around fantasy/horror/action genres. I've always loved reading these types of genres and when I first started writing at age 12, I was hooked. I wanted to be just like Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King, and, heck, James Patterson when I grew up and became a writer (freelance), and that's my goal,
Become a freelance writer.
3. I'll update my blog 2-3 times a week with either a poem or short story. After I update,I'll post a one word/sentence writing prompt to help inspire you to write. I'll also post articles about writing/prompts for you to enjoy.
So, that's about it. Please subscribe,comment, and share for fresh, entertaining stories, poems, and articles by moi.
-T.S (Alexia)
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