Writing Challenge 8 - Randomly find someone in your yearbook. Create a story about their life today.

The Girl Who Despised Talent

Mikaela stifled a yawn. This time she managed to not the alarm clock into the wall. She’s been adamant about self-control these past weeks and not seeing a broken device the first thing in the morning was, for her, a success.

As she walked down to the kitchen while stretching her lithe body, waking up the muscles, the phone pinged. It was from Elena, her dance teacher that reminded Mikaela about the dry rehearsal later during the day. Mikaela rolled her eyes at the tone of the message was too caring, too nagging - almost like back at home. It was her great debut, of course she wouldn’t miss the rehearsals. She knew the whole show inside out, not only her part. She’s been practising like a madman, in fact…

Mikaela looked around the kitchen and measured the space around, nodding in approval as she bowed her legs in plié and slowly swung out her hands and legs in a gentle dance. Her ruffled blonde hair covered her head like a halo with thin strands occasionally getting in the way of her ice blue eyes. But her focus was solid, counting the rhythm in her breaths while also humming the melody as her body moved from place to place.

Arabesque, pirouetté, and don’t forget to slow down half a tempo when we move to adagio. It was a sight to behold, a woman in her pink Lilo & Stitch pyjamas dancing gracefully in the kitchen. She ended the dance with a bow. Having not only worked up some sweat but also an appetite she hurried to take a shower and make some breakfast.

It was a dream come to true for Mikaela since she had always loved dancing for as long as she remembered. She recalled that the only trait people memorized about her during middle-school was her dancing, even in high school. In fact, it was more common that she was called “dance-girl” instead of her name. Which wasn’t nice per say, but still a testament to her dedication. She had continued with dancing after high school, entering to an Arts College and during her last year, she was scouted. And now she’s the main star in the coming Swan Lake. It was wonderful.

Then she remembered what others said about her success and sneered. She shrugged off the memories and packed her bags, heading to the local theatre for the rehearsals.

---

“One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four,” counted Elena as the dance group moved in unison to her call. “Paulina, stretch out your neck more. Good, just like that.”

It was midday, the rehearsal has been going on for hours but no one uttered a word of exhaustion. They were professionals, and they were prepared to make it through, come what may. Everything needs to look perfect for the show.

“Alright, that’s it for now. Rest up and eat your lunch. We gather again in thirty minutes,” said Elena at last. It was like the strings were cut from a puppet, the dance crew fell down on the ground, panting and huffing for air. Some crawled to their rucksacks to get out some food, others gulped down their whole water bottles.

Mikaela patted herself dry, as she discussed some details with Elena while chewing on a few slices of apples.

“You know, I think you will get more accepted if you talk with the rest of the crew,” murmured Elena while looking at some notes.

“Been there, done that,” said Mikaela. “But every time I try to motivate them they just say words that triggers me.”

“Well, you are talented,” acknowledged the teacher.

“Stop it,” said Mikaela with a glare. “You know I hate that word.”

“Many take it as a compliment. You’re strange to despise that word,” commented the teacher with a small chuckle.

“It’s so degrading,” muttered the blonde girl. “I spent my life, my blood, sweat and tears for dancing. They say I’m talented? What happened to hard work? Dedicated? Talent is just a fluff word.” She huffed and puffed as to vent out her frustration. “And do you know what Paulina said when I tried to cheer her up and tell her to practice more? ‘It’s really hard, I’m not as talented as you are.’ Bullshit, it’s hard for me too. Just work through the pain.”

The older teacher had to take a step away from Mikaela, the anger that seeped out from the woman was too much.

“Micky,” said Elena softly. The affectionate nickname made Mikaela calm down. “I know how you feel. But still, the star should not only dazzle the watchers, but also the troupe. So go now.”

“I’ve already tried it,” whined Mikaela. “How did you do it?”

Elena smiled wryly and left the main star to solve the problems herself, only leaving one single sentence of advice.

“Just work through the pain.”

---

Hello again, here's the story for this week. It was fun looking in my yearbook and reminiscing about the past. We had quite a handful of personalities in my class so it was really hard to decide who to write a story about. I decided with Mikaela because I remember her having a solo dance performance during our last semester. I've known that she danced a lot, but I've only seen her perform that one time. It was fun to imagine her continuing with her dance, and extrapolating some of her characteristics. 

Thank you for reading!

Inspiration from Reddit 7 - Summoning the Devil

Another Wednesday, another storytime! This one hasn't gone through much revision since it's a recent story I posted on Reddit. And for the first time, I got over 50 points on a story, a new record!

So what did I write about? The prompt was:

"The last time you tried to make a cake, you summoned a demon. This time, you're prepared. You carefully ensure that nothing could possibly go wrong! The cake is done and you're just about to take it away, when the Lord of the Underworld taps you on the shoulder."
-Posted by Xcmd

The funny thing was that I previously had co-written a prompt-story together with a friend of mine, a story for another time, which was similar to this theme. So when I found this prompt I just let my hands type it away. It was one of the easier and shorter prompts I've written, which is confusing since it's given me the biggest audience response.

---

“Unbelievable,” screamed Leo as he threw his hands up in the air. The cake floated for a brief moment before it fell towards the ground with an ever-increasing velocity, only to be saved by the hands of the devils.

“Afraid you did it again,” said Lucifer as he put the cake with great care on the kitchen table. “Are you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?”

“I didn’t even use the same ingredients!” howled Leo and grabbed his phone to read the recipe. “Last time was a fancy cheesecake with lots of strange stuff but this time, it was just a simple pound cake. Only flour, butter, eggs and sugar!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” quipped the devil and spread out his arms. “I’m here, right?”

“You must be doing this on purpose,” accused the boy, pointing at the horned person with a trembling finger. “You must want my soul!”

The devil rolled his eyes. “Please, there are so many easier ways to take your soul. I’m all for elaborate plans, but the payoff must be worth it.” He scanned Leo up and down with his eyes. “And you are certainly not worth much.”

It stung. Leo lost his words for a moment but then retaliated with vigour. “And you aren’t that big of a deal if some simple ingredients can summon you from Hell.”

“You sure you didn’t add anything more than those four ingredients to your pound cake?” asked Lucifer, changing the subject with haste. “Maybe a few...daring words?”

“Nope, I just hummed on a song I…” Leo froze in the middle of his explanation.

The devil raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It was never the cake’s fault…” said Leo slowly as he realised what the source of the summoning was. “It wasn’t the cake. I make good cakes!”

“Well, I don’t know how you learned that...song, but can you please not summon me again, unless you know, you want to do the soul-trading thing,” said the devil with a dry tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” apologized Leo. “How long until you can return to the Underworld?”

The devil glanced at his watch. “Maybe in twenty, probably thirty minutes.” He then sighed. “What am I going to do?”

Leo pointed at the cake and shrugged. The devil smiled.

“Well,” said Lucifer. “You do make good cake.”

Writing Exercise 6 - The Element of Wonder

Apply a sense of wonder to something small and ordinary. Describe it using those cool point-of-view tools that evoke wonder in the reader.

Writing Excuses 11.06: The Element of Wonder [Link]

It's been a long time since I've posted one of the exercises from Writing Excuses, probably because I like the prompts better since they entail a story behind it, while many of the exercises I've done are descriptions or improving a character's personality. They are usually shorter than a prompt-story and most of all, I thought that they might be boring.

But what the hell, that's just me (probably).

The exercise for today was to describe something ordinary and it...extraordinary, due to point of view. It could be zooming in like a camera and show dynamic angles or maybe just a change in thought perspective. They were really hard to write. It's easy to evoke wonder in a fantasy-setting with dragons, magic and what-not. But an ordinary item?

I'm not sure how it worked out, but here are three items I described!

➖➖➖

[Item 1]

The transparent, green, plastic seal, covering the frail white tube of ink. You can see the inner workings of the oblong writing tool, except for the lower part that is covered in a darker shade of teal, made of another heavier type of plastic material. The tip is contracted, waiting to be unleashed on a paper or a notebook. No design, or logotype showing, only the clear green plastic and a darker shade on the bottom.

You can hold it easily in one hand. Applying the wrong force breaks it. A delicate tool after all. But use it the right way and you will convey concepts, feelings and new worlds.

[Item 2]

The thing that struck me first was the daunting thickness. Each page so thin, but adding them all together made formed it into the size of a brick. Although a pleasant looking one. The cover in shades of white, red and black forming stylized letters written, an image of an army preparing for battle. It asks to be picked up, promising you a new story, a new world, a new culture. It promises you an adventure.

[Item 3]

I always wonder if staring down a trash bin can represent staring down into the abyss. The things we don’t like or have any use of, those are the things that should be at the bottom of a trash can. But it can only hold so much. The garbage piles on, increases and floods out. If you watch from above, it feels like these nasty things reach closer to you, inching forward, approaching you. Is that what it feels like to stare into the abyss? The things that you don’t want to feel, or think about, those things coming closer to you, to your mind, to your soul?

I had to try. The thought tickled my mind, I stared down into the orange trash can. It was empty of waste, only a plastic husk. I dropped down some gum, some skins from a fruit and a few napkins. The bottom of the orange husk was now filled. And it felt like the pile of waste got closer to me. A tingle down my spine. I had to empty the trash can.

➖➖➖

Thank you for reading!

And I'm back! Writing Challenge 7 - A Story Set in a Ghost Town

Hello everyone, 
It's been a hectic month and a half and now I'm finally back to posting regularly on this blog.
NaNoWriMo was really fun but the number of words to write was much more than I could handle. I estimated that I could put in three hours of writing each day and that I could churn out the daily quota, but the plan didn't work out like planned.

Still managed to crunch out the first draft of a longer story which was a big milestone for me. I've never finished a  story longer than maybe 5000 words before, this one was more than ten times the amount! Still not done though, since I will need to revise it for a few months.

That was a brief update on what I've been doing, writing in solitude (most of the time). Here's a new short story!

---

Old and New

I walked into the bar and was met with the same view as outside the building. A place devoid of people. The lights were on, the tables were set. Hell, even music was playing from the speakers. It was like every single person that lived here suddenly disappeared.

Ah well, not that it mattered to me right now. I went behind the counter and rummaged around for refreshment and found some beer to my delight. As I downed a whole bottle and let out a satisfying burp I noticed something in my peripheral vision. I turned around and gazed around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. It must have been my imagination due to how hungry I was, I mean there couldn’t poss-

“There’s food in the pantry to the left if you like.”

The voice came from behind. It was more of a hiss and the tone gave me goosebumps. I jumped back with a scream and threw the empty beer can towards the direction of the voice.

“How rude, I was just trying to help!” said the hissing voice with a hint of annoyance.

I took a better look and saw a man in his fifties. He was wearing a bowler hat, a fine suit with a vest and a pair of leather shoes. Oh, and he was all white and transparent.

I gave out another scream and in response, the older man smacked me with the back of his hand.

“Calm down, or else I will give you something to really scream about,” threatened the old man.

I was stunned. Mostly due to the smack but also because of the confusing situation, I had trouble gathering my thoughts but I managed to utter one sentence.

“I didn’t know that ghosts could touch people.”

“And I didn’t know that a man could scream like that,” retorted the older man. “Were you perhaps a castrato when you were young?”

“A what?” I asked, uncertain what he meant.

“Just a joke,” said the older man with laughter. He drifted towards a table and motioned towards me to come closer as he summoned a few more beers.

“I’m known as Leroy McGinnis around here,” he introduced himself. “What about you?”

“Adam,” I responded. “Adam Wilpur.”

“So Adam, how come that you’re here?” inquired Leroy. “Did you get lost?”

“No, I’m an explorer and…”

I began to recount my story. We were a group of friends who liked to explore horror places and we found some gossip about a town where no humans were allowed. After some digging, we found the place barely thirty miles from our city so we decided to take a trip during our next weekend. When we got closer to the destination a huge mist appeared out of nowhere. We had to leave our car behind to continue our exploration but something happened. Screams. Panic. I just dashed towards the sounds but I couldn’t find anyone. I just ran straight until I was tired. Then I ran some more. It felt like I was lost for hours in the mist and then it cleared up, I saw this town and ran to the closest building.

Leroy listened to my story without interruption. His brows furrowed when I mentioned the huge mist but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, Adam I have two news for you,” said the old man. “A good one and a bad one, which do you want first?”

I gulped. I recognized this scene from the horror movies. Telling first the good news and then on the bad news the demon or ghost attacks the human and the protagonist dies a horrible death. Ah well, let’s just get it over…

“The bad one please,” I said and braced myself, shutting my eyes.

“You, Adam Wilpur, are dead,” said Leroy McGinnis.

“Please end it quickly,” I said as tears started to flow down my cheeks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” asked the old man.

“I know you want to eat me, please just make it quick. Don’t torture me first if possible,” I responded still with my eyes closed.

A loud smack was heard and my head was pounding.

“Stop that nonsense, you are already dead and I’m no cannibal,” said Leroy. He looked me in the eyes as his own frame deflated a bit, maybe he was tired. “This town is a place for ghosts. For wandering spirits that still walk the earth. There are ghosts that miss the simple enjoyments they had as humans and this town is the result of their work. No humans can enter. Only ghosts.”

I looked at the old man while rubbing my pounding head. “I’m...dead?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Huh…” I had trouble grasping the situation, but hang on… “So what’s the good news?”

“The good news is that your friends are probably still alive since they haven’t entered the town.”

“Oh...that’s, yeah that’s good news.” I thought that there might have been a twist. That I might still be alive, might be the first human that managed to enter a ghost town or something, well that was not the case.

“Wait,” I said. An idea sprang up. “So, I’m a ghost now. Am I locked in this town or can I go wherever I want?”

“You are free to leave,” said Leroy. “But this town will always welcome you if you ever wish to return.”

“Oh boy, oh boy!” I said with a bit much glee. “I guess it’s time to have some fun. I’ve always wanted to scare the bejeebus out of people!”

“You’re taking it quite...well,” remarked Leroy with surprise.

“Well, people usually have a bucket list, but I have an afterlife-list, made it just for fun but man did it come in handy now...let’s see who should I haunt first? Peter? No, Carl? Hmm...what about…”

As the new ghost rambled loudly about his next target the older ghost shrugged and downed the last remaining bottle of beer.

---

I was unsure if I wanted to write a horror story or not, but somehow it didn't feel right when I wrote it. I changed it mid-way through and it felt better immediately better. Maybe I just prefer to write a more light-hearted piece.

Hope you enjoyed it, and see you next time!

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