This blog is for me that others may read. I spend at least an hour on each prompt then go back and edit it then post it. If I come back to it I come back to it but if I don't then oh well. I have so many stories in my head and get depressed if I don't write something so this is more therapy for me. Enjoy!
I've had a long stint of writer's block. I'm returning to the saddle with simple writing prompts to help me get back on track so I can get on with my novella.
You wake up on the floor of your living room with a strange symbol tattooed on your arm.
My head was pounding as if someone took a hammer and nail to my skull. Or maybe I was hit by a bus after... what did I do after the bar last night? What day was it? I opened my eyes. Everything before me was one bright blob. After a while my vision adjusted and I saw the familiar brown and burgundy palette in the living room of my apartment. I guess I never made it to the couch. My back ached, stiff from my passing out on the floor. I tried to sit up but the room began to spin. I felt sick. I needed to lie back down for a minute. The shades were open letting in the sunlight. Either from the morning or afternoon I didn't know. I shielded my eyes from the harsh light and that's when I noticed it... Something was tattooed on my arm.
"What the hell...," I groaned. I rolled over finally able to stomach the idea of standing. I somehow made it to the bathroom, my stomach churning as I went like a raging sea. I splashed some cold water on my face. The shock made me more aware of my surroundings. Unfortunately the minty green palette I had chosen for my bathroom was not helping my nausea. I only had 3 drinks last night. Then there was that girl... Usually I don't seek out women for relationships but they're fun to have casual sex with. Though there have been a few women who tried to get me into a lesbian relationship. No thanks. The woman was tall and curvy in all the right places. Long blond hair with a nice tan. Exactly my type. For guys I liked leather. 5 o'clock shadows and some nice ab muscles. But this woman seemed... different.
I took another look at my arm. The one with the strange tattoo on it to be sure I wasn't imagining it. Some hangover hallucination. Sure enough there it was. Being a student of symbology (a very underrated field in academics), I recognized the symbol as the Leviathan Cross. An alchemical symbol that was parent to all metals. The infinity sign was an actual serpent though. Artistic thought? What the hell was it doing on my arm?
At that point my stomach had had enough. I felt the contents of last night returning, a bulge inching up my throat at a fast pace. I ran for the toilet then spewed all the alcohol and chicken fries from last night. I'm not a huge drinker. My room mate's the partier. She's a pro. Naomi's also training to be a nurse. Lucky me I needed one right about now. Naomi walked in just in time to catch me lying next to the toilet, holding onto the white porcelain as if it were a life saver and I was adrift at sea. Oh no the sea... I hurled once more just as Naomi came in to see what was the matter.
"Jesus!" Naomi wasn't used to seeing me hunched over a toilet. She instinctively held my black hair back as I had done for her many times. "Did you catch a stomach virus or something?"
I leaned over the toilet bowl, holding my throbbing head in my hand then groaned in short incomplete sentences, "Bar... hot blond..."
"Girl?"
I nodded. Naomi shook her head. A ringing started in my head that would not quit. It went from loud to soft.
"I'll get you some ginger," she said as she made her way to the kitchen. "I can't believe you partied without me!" I heard the cabinets close and shut, the room spinning when she came back with a glass of water, ginger and some honey for flavor. "I've been begging you to let me get you drunk and you go out and do it without me?"
"I only had three drinks...," I moaned. The drink was awful even with the honey.
"Of what? Long Island Ice Teas? And what's that tattoo? You said you would never get a tattoo ever!"
I looked at the Leviathan Cross on my right forearm.
"Obviously I wasn't sober," I retorted.
"You need to stay away from the blond girls," Naomi warned, "even blond guys are trouble."
"You're blond..." I joked. Naomi and I were better friends than hook ups. We only hooked up once when I was looking for a place. At first I didn't think it was a good idea moving in with a girl I just had sex with but Naomi was kinda like me. We see sex as an adventure. That was all 5 years ago. We haven't really had sex since actually.
"I'm the exception," Naomi crossed her arms. My cell phone rang. Naomi looked at the Caller ID and smiled impishly.
"Oh it's your boyfriend," she spoke coyly. "Peter Cavanaugh."
"Give it to me," I commanded. "And I told you he isn't my boyfriend." He wasn't my type. Too bookish though he did have an attractive physique. A swimmer's body. We worked in the same department and were a Teacher's Aide. Naomi handed me the phone with her coy smile.
"Hey, Petey," I croaked.
"You sound awful," Peter voiced concern.
"She was partying all night!" Naomi called as she exited the bathroom. I threw a decorative green flower soap at her in retaliation. She only laughed as it missed her.
"I think I went over board," I excused myself.
"That happens," Peter chuckled. "You should have seen me during mid terms..."
Later that day some weird stuff began happening to me. The ringing in my ears wouldn't stop. It slowly went from a singing noise to a low hum then it stopped... I lived right on campus and usually I liked to walk but the bus seemed a better option. Yet as soon as I got on the bus the hum returned and my new tattoo began to burn as if I was being branded... I could feel someone watching me. I looked around but didn't see anyone suspicious. I mostly kept to myself. I bit my lip to suppress my cries. I didn't want to cause a scene. Then I couldn't take it anymore. I ran off the bus and sat on the bench.
I'll call in sick, I figured. I don't do it often so I'll get a pass. I'll just email the professor's new syllabus. I would hate not to meet him. A new symbolist was coming to the University of Whitehall. The searing pain intensified when I heard a silvery voice from behind me, "Are you alright?" The voice sent my intestines quivering. I turned around to see a tall very handsome man, dark hair, bright blue eyes watching me with interest. Probably early 40s.
"A stomach ache," I lied.
"College," the man chuckled. "That was my excuse sometimes too. I'm Alastor MorningWay. I'm the new symbology professor..."
"You...," I guess I was going to meet the new professor after all. MorningWay looked at my right forearm with great intensity. The burn became unbearable as I began to hear a hissing noise. It seemed to be coming from my tattoo. The infinity snake seemed... to be moving? Without a formal excuse I ran back to my apartment. As I got further and further away from MorningWay the hissing and heat began to abate. I made it back to my apartment, slamming the door behind me I leaned against it then sank to the floor. I felt on solid ground once more. What the hell just happened?
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