Writing Prompt: Magical Tattoo

       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? 

   

Writing Prompt: Write A Myth

         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!

     Write a myth explaining where we go when we die.


    You don't see them but everything in the universe is connected. Connected through invisible lines. Our souls are bound to everything. Physicists claim that we are made of stardust. (It's really star stuff but stardust sounds more romantic doesn't it?) It's what everything in the universe is made of. Even your soul is made of stardust. The soul is a powerful thing. It is pure energy. Cosmic energy. When we die, our souls travel an interstellar highway back to the Cradle of All Life. Nebulas are where stars are born. When we die our souls retreat back to the oldest nebula in the universe called the Cradle of All Life. There our souls are recycled to become something else. Some souls become new stars. Others become comets. Some meteorites. Some become new planets. Some souls are recycled only to return to a new human body, which is why many of us remember having past lives. In the case of soul mates they are forever entwined. No matter how far a part they are they always find each other. When they die their souls mingle to become brilliant stars, the brightest in the sky. Every star, every celestial body you see is a collection of souls that once lived and now are something else; something more divine. Once we shed our mortal coils we truly become one with the universe. The good and the bad combine to become a force of nature that can not be predicted or controlled. We live and then we die but energy can never be created or destroyed only becomes something new. Always becoming something new, never still but always shifting. 

    

Poem: Nyx

         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!

     
    This was from a writing prompt:

"Where she walks no flowers bloom"

"Nyx"

Where she walks no flowers bloom,

She carries Sleep & Death in her womb,

Darkness is her lover and friend,

She is the beginning and the end;

She walks in silence graceful as a cloud,

Covering the world in her diamond shroud,

She comes in the wake of silver moon beams,

Bringing with her nightmares and dreams;

The Queen of the Night both loved and feared,

Angel and demon both despised and revered,

Sleep & Death came from her womb,

Our place of birth and eternal tomb.

Poem: Hatred Is Like...

       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 wrote this a year ago. I left out a few stanzas to shorten it and so it'll make more sense.

Wrath

Hatred Is Like...

Hatred is a weed,

Wrapping its tendrils around you,

Nurturing this poisoned seed,

Will only choke the life from you;

Hatred is static,

All you hear is noise,

All thought is erratic,

As you wallow in vengeful ploys;

Hatred is a deep black hole,

An ever expanding pit,

It grows and devours every soul,

But you will never quit;

Hatred is a poison,

A deadly venom coursing through every vein,

No cure is there, not a one,

You relish in your endless pain;

Hatred is a chronic pain,

So intense you go blind,

Hurting others lessens the strain,

But leaves a mark on humankind;

Hatred is a sin,

It shrinks your immortal soul,

But you always let it win,

To feed that bottomless hole.

Poem: Evil Angels

          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!

"Evil Angels"

Messengers of Wrath divine,

Wicked creatures of grand design,

Their shadow was cast upon the world

As legions of black wings slowly unfurled;

These winged devils are nothing kind,

On Man's flesh & bones they have dined,

In us they inspire lust & greed,
They'll cut you just to watch you bleed;

They wear clever masks to lead you astray,

On your darkest desires these angels will prey,

Great deceivers lead Man to slaughter,

Lambs sacrificed upon unholy altars;

Evil angels will never rest,

Creating chaos is what they do best,

Evil angels are not here to guide,

They're here to reveal the demons we hide.

     *I was watching SyFy's "Dominion" and it inspired me to write this poem. I may come back now and then to tweak it. Some of the lines I feel are still clumsy. 

Writing Prompt: Friends Made Vampires

         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!

     
  Writing Prompt - Dialogue:

      "Please let me in dear, it's cold outside."  

          &

      

       "My blood type is feisty."

Never talk to strangers. That's the universal rule. Not in the Ancient world. Strange, weary travelers could count on the hospitality of others to provide a warm bed for the night. Even when vampires were common knowledge humble people couldn't help themselves but be good Christian neighbors. Living in Queen Elizabeth Tudor's England hospitality is a must. When your father's a vampire hunter you get wise. I buried him recently. For 7 days exactly. A woman shouldn't be left on her own and should marry when her guardians had passed but I wasn't raised like a normal woman. As the daughter of a vampire hunter I should know better. I should have known better...

The winter wind was howling at my door. My cabin was sturdy against the raging frosty gales. I had friends over from the town. They sought to keep me company. Ferdinand among them. He had beautiful green eyes. They had all gone to sleep. I was up just cleaning up the table from dinner when I heard a rapping at the door. At first I thought it was nothing but a stray branch blown by the wind but it came again at the same rhythm. Not being a fool I gabbed one of the wooden stakes that we had kept hidden underneath the floor boards along with my crucifix. England may have been a Protestant country but crucifixes were still available for purchase. Carefully I approached the door. The same knock came again. 

"Who's there?" I called. But no one answered except for the same tapping sound. I felt ready for anything as I placed my hand on the rope handle. At least I thought I was ready...

I flung open the door letting in winter's breath to see a hunched over figure. I thought I was losing my mind. Was it a ghost that I saw? My father, haggard and hunched over as if carrying a large weight. I buried him. I was there when I buried him... 

"Father...," I felt my grip loosen on the stake in a moment of emotional weakness.

"Please, dear, let me in," he spoke weakly, "it's cold outside."

My heart was pounding, my throat dry, I was ready to invite him in until I remembered one of father's first lessons: Evil may only enter if you invite it in. I regained my senses, shaking off the wobbly feelings in my legs, gripping the stake tightly. 

"You're dead," I stated in a hollow tone.

"I thought I was but God was not ready to take me," my father explained while coughing. "I woke up still alive in the coffin they placed me in."

"For 7 days...," I stepped back to keep out of his reach. 

"Let me in, child," he pleaded again. 

"No." I slammed the door in his face before he could say any more. But even in death my father was a persistent hunter. He refused to leave and kept tapping at the door. He began to cause a commotion. Ferdinand was the first to awake and ask what was going on. 

"Jeanne," he yawned. "What's the matter? This noise would wake the dead."

"Funny you should say that..." My vampire father banged on the door demanding me to open the door and speak to him. Ferdinand had many questions but I told him to hush.

"Leave it be and he'll leave...," I was trying to convince myself more than Ferdinand. 

"Jeanne...," my father called my name. "Child, let me in. I beg you. I'm so cold and hungry..."

"Leave, devil!" I cried out. I turned to Ferdinand and gave him his own stake. 

"Why do you have these?" He asked.

"For occasions such as these," was all I could reveal for now. The banging suddenly stopped. Nothing but the howling wind. Ferdinand breathed a sigh of relief but I knew better. Just like that something crashed against the wall. My father had taken the axe from the tree stump outside. Why didn't I bring it inside? 

"Jeanne!" Ferdinand grabbed onto me for comfort. I shook him off and gave him more stakes.

"Give these to Lizzy and Anna," I ordered. When he didn't move I pushed him growling, "GO! And take this with you." I gave him a silver flask of holy water. Ferdinand crossed himself then took the flask. By now Anna and Lizzy were awake. I went in search of the cross bow hidden with the other vampire hunting tools. Ironic that the weapon my father taught me to use since age 6 would be used against him. This cross bow could fire 3 arrows.

"Let me in, Jeanne," called my father. "Willful child!"

"I get that from you, Father," I cried as I loaded the cross bow with a thin very sharp stake. "Because we're blood I'll give you to the count of 3. Leave this place!"

But my father kept hacking at the wall, letting the winter air inside. 

"1..." He kept chopping. "2..." He wouldn't stop until he devoured us all. "3..." With both eyes open and a heavy heart I fired, hitting my father right in the stomach. Then a stake hit him in the chest then the head. My father fell back, the snow muffled his fall. For a moment it was quiet except for the empty call of the wind. Was he truly dead? I threw on my cloak and took a silver crucifix from the floor board. 

"Jeanne?" Ferdinand called. 

"Stay upstairs," I ordered. I went outside and around the house to where my father lay. The three stakes poking out of him. I saw him twitch. His body spasmed when he saw me. His vampire appetite sensing blood near by. The axe was beside him. I knew I had to do one last thing. 

"Jeanne...," my father spoke my name with such love but their was an emptiness in it. He was a shadow of the great man he once was. 

I took up the axe. It felt heavier than usual but I could lift it. 

"Jeanne... my child..."

"Forgive me, father..." Before he could utter my name again I brought the axe's blade down on his throat severing his head from the rest of his rotting body. I let out a great sob. The wind died down as if taking my father's damned soul with it.  

"It's over...," I said trying to soothe myself. At least my friends were safe. I called to them as I entered the house my axe still in my hand. No one answered me. Those holes will need to be fixed. I went up stairs to hear a deathly quiet. There was one sound... a sucking, squishing sound... A sound my father said he had heard whenever a vampire was feeding... I came to find in horror that Anna and Lizzy were lying dead on the floor, throats torn as if by some animal. I looked to see Ferdinand sitting on the bed, lapping at his blood stained fingers like a satisfied cat with it's fresh kill. 

"Hello, Jeanne...," Ferdinand's voice and eyes were cold, as cold as the walking corpse he was. How did I not see it? 

"I was turned a few weeks ago by some traveler," Ferdinand explained. I stepped back but Ferdinand was quicker than me. He whooshed towards me and had his hand on my throat. 

"So pretty, Jeanne," Ferdinand licked my face with his blood stained lips. "You were always so good. Good enough to eat." He bit into my shoulder, savoring my warm blood. I cried out in pain but that only gave him pleasure. 

"I like it when they scream," he confessed. "I had to be quiet with Anna and Lizzy but with you I'll take my time."

"Why...?" I whispered. Ferdinand drank more of my blood but took a breath, "Your father was on my trail. He managed to kill my sire. I was so consumed with hatred that I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to eat his own kin but wouldn't you know it? A killer who failed... at killing..." Ferdinand trailed off. He faltered.

"What...," he was befuddled. 

"I'm not a lover of garlic and vervain," I explained with a triumphant smile. "But father insisted that I eat them every day... Sorry but my blood type is feisty. Too feisty for you."

Ferdinand toppled over, gargling and foaming at the mouth. I took up my father's axe then promptly separated Ferdinand's head from the rest of him. My father also taught me if you're going to kill someone then kill them, don't stand around gloating and talking about it.   

You think you know evil? Sometimes you don't know evil until it has it's hand on your throat and teeth sunk into your flesh. And it leaves a terrible mess...

Writing Prompt: Fallen Angel

         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!

   
There was no greater fall than from heaven. You've heard of falling from grace but for angels a fall was more physical than a figure of speech. From a distance falling angels look like meteors; or falling stars that one makes wishes on. Adiel fell from heaven's embrace and came flaming down to earth like said meteor and the impact shook the earth. Adiel’s whole body was on fire with pain; millions of needles being driven into his skin. It came in waves throughout his being that shook him to the core. Adiel attempted to move, his muscles cried out in protest with each gesture. There was a very intense shooting pain coming from his back. He smelled something burning, someone cooking meat. Rolling onto his hands and knees he felt light, a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. Adiel turned to see that his wings were gone. 

The shock from the fall did not compare to the shock of the thought that Adiel would never again take flight; he would never be able to come home. Adiel crunched up, touching his temple as he closed his eyes. The emptiness made him release a sob. Poets wrote ballads about angel tears, but angels in heaven never shed tears. Yet Adiel felt a warm wetness on his cheek. He took his hand and touched his face to find that his eyes were leaking. After a while the waves of pain settled into a numbness. Adiel felt numb inside as well. It wasn't real. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He was a good soldier. What did he do to deserve such a punishment?

Adiel thought back to his error. It didn't seem like an error at the time. Adiel was an angel of death. It was his task to cross off the names that appeared in the book of fate that were meant to die. Adiel felt nothing for these humans. He could never understand why God loved them so much. So weak, selfish, greedy, no impulse control. Worse than animals. But there was one human that caught his interest. A girl. Aster, her name was. Twenty-six years old and a singer. Adiel would listen to her sing. He found that he was spending hours listening to her until it went from listening to her to watching her every day life. He watched Aster cook, clean, wait tables at a diner, read her romance novels and even watched her sleep. Her life was a mundane one where she ate, breathed, and slept music. She could have been an opera singer. Then one day Adiel spied a very important man in a sharp suit. A record producer. Adiel couldn't understand why but he manipulated events that made the producer break down in front of the club that Aster sang at. 

The record producer fell in love with Aster's singing. Aster quickly went from waitress to pop star in just a few weeks. Adiel took joy in Aster's happiness. Her entire being lit up making her more beautiful. Adiel didn't understand his feelings. Angels weren't supposed to have these feelings. They were messengers, soldiers. Not meant to think. Then came the horrible yet inevitable day when Aster was to die. Adiel had to cross off Aster's name as it appeared in the book of fate. An admirer, a stalker, cornered Aster in her apartment. He had broken in. Violated Aster’s personal space as well as several restraining orders. He was wielding a knife. Aster said she was flattered. Adiel saw her tremble with fear. He was filled with hatred for this insect. Aster rejected him. The man said he would slice her open so no one else could have her. 

Adiel’s job was to cross off Aster's name. Adiel was about to do so until he suddenly decided to cross off the stalker’s name instead. Aster's assailant dropped dead of a brain aneurysm. That's when Gabriel came. He saw what Adiel did. Adiel changed fate that was not meant to be changed. But wasn't there a rule where one can change their fate in special circumstances? Only by their will alone. Adiel interfered with the cosmic order. Next thing Adiel knew he was being shoved out of heaven by Archangel Gabriel and hurdling down to Earth.