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Saturday, March 16, 2019

Master Class Writing Prompt

16 MAR 2019

Two posts today! Stephanie Ayers had a great writing prompt this week so I thought I'd give it a go. Here's my take on the prompt:

Master Class Writing Prompt

A fist slammed onto the wooden table. “Utter madness. I won’t allow it. I will not have you descend into your own dream!”

“He’s right you know. You’ll go mad,” Justin paused, assessing his words. “Well, madder than you already are! The human mind cannot handle being confronted by itself. It’s a proven fact. Zared tried it and you know what happened to him. They had to water him every day or he would scream bloody murder.”

I paced around the conference table. My right arm shot out of its own volition, my fingers danced lightly along the tops of the empty chairs and in the hairs and scalps of the seated as I passed each one. I used to know each one of these masters at the table, but their names escaped me at the moment. I was in desperate states indeed. “What other choice do we have? The Braxen is only targeting me! Me!” I twirled uncontrollably, the taste of the morning light on my lips. I turned to face the windows and opened my mouth to drink in more.

A balding man reached back and grabbed my arm. I stopped mid-gulp. “That’s exactly what it wants! They like brains lightly toasted and slightly swirled. Look at you! I bet your senses are already jumbled up. They must be practically salivating.” He looked around the room, as if he could see the ethereal beings.

Justin shook his head. “You’re not helping, Herb.”

“He’s already delusional,” another gentleman chimed in. He looked suspiciously like a flower. “What could it hurt now? Maybe there’s a chance he comes out of it fully sane and they leave him alone?”

“The chance of him going into his own dreams to confront the Braxen and coming out alive and sane are the same odds of us throwing him into a tornado with knives and a cow and hoping he comes out with a set of nicely dressed ribs ready to cook. It can’t be done.” Herbert stood up and gestured around the room, “Not by me, not by you, and certainly not by him. No offense,” he said, nodding to me. “If he’s lucky he’ll wake remembering how to pee.”

I don’t know if it was fear of what we were contemplating, or the sudden arrival of the Braxen in my thoughts, or the mere mention of urination, but as I nodded back I felt a warm liquid running down my leg…





2 comments:

  1. this is an excellent and out of the box take on the prompt. Is it a WIP or something entirely new? I think it could go many ways. I hope you write more of this.

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    1. Thank you! It's something entirely new, but as with many things I write it could be incorporated into a few other stories I've already written. I do look forward to writing more of this tale.

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