#SwiftFicFriday – Week 16 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 16 Prompt

Welcome to the new and improved word sprint writing prompt series – #SwiftFicFriday!

After some feedback and more consideration, I’m updating the rules to give more people a chance to participate! Instead of 30 minutes or just an hour, I’m opening the prompt up to FOUR hours: 8:30PM-12:30AM on the east coast.

Other things to keep in mind:

– Include social media links/handles/anything you want to promote (Twitter, FB, etc) & word count in the comment with your submission.
– Submission must be between 150-300 words.
– All stories are property of the authors.
Winner will be determined via reader votes over the weekend.

Ready, set, write!

Prompt: Three weeks into #NaNoWriMo. If you’re participating, hang in there! For this week, let’s go back to some music. This is the first song on the playlist for my #NaNoWriMo project:

Happy writing!

2 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 16 Prompt

  1. You think you have nothing to lose. Looking across at her on the 8:13. You dream of stepping up to her, telling her, “I have never been the same since that morning when I first saw you.”

    But again you stay where you sit. Replaying the morning’s failure for the rest of the day, dreading tomorrow’s repeat. As it always repeats.

    Till, at a moment’s notice you are next to her, apologizing in advance. You hope it is the last rain of the summertime. These are your first words to her. They barely register.

    She smiles. “I know what you’re thinking.” Shakes her head, “No, if we went out, I’ll show you that I don’t belong.” She says girls like her don’t go with boys like me. I’m losing my mind at her words. It feels so right.

    Or it would if she let you touch her, caress her. Then she’d understand we belong together. She is kind in her rejection. But it is rejection. She precedes me to the platform as we arrive. And I never again see her on the 8:13. I had lost her. I know you’ll never get it back.

    194 words, @stories2121

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “Tish, what are you doing?”

    Pestle clinked against mortar as she glanced over shoulder. Using the back of her hand she brushed a runaway strand of black hair back. “A woman came to me today. Asked me if I had anything to help with her skin. She has such awful red rashes all over, and a terrible itch. I told her I would see what I can do, so I am making a salve.”

    “Who was this woman?”

    An inkling of quiet alarm set up a ruckus in the recesses of her mind, subconsciously noting Bishop’s guarded presence right behind her now. His eyes bore into her back. Morticia shrugged. “Just a woman. I did not catch her name.”

    “You are making a salve for a complete stranger?”

    “Of course.” She wiped her hands on her apron, turning around to face him. Her lower back bumped up against the table. Bishop’s eyes held distrust. “It is my duty to help those in need.”

    “You are no nurse. No doctor.”

    “No… I am not. But I am known as the town’s herbalist.”

    A deep frown crossed his face. “A dangerous title. You should not hold such a title.” He reached one hand up, running his fingers through her hair. “There is too much…sin in those skills.”

    “There is no sin in helping people,” she replied firmly.

    “There is when the means are due to selling your soul. This…witchcraft plague infesting our world. Tell me you have not signed a pact in blood.” Desperation coated his words and a once gentle touch now gripped her elbow.

    Hesitation marred Morticia’s response. Tense. “I know what you must be thinking but please, don’t believe all the whispers. The holy church must use such lies to ease their simple wrongdoings.”

    ~*~*~*~*~*~

    295 #WiP #Embermyst #NaNoWriMo words
    @DaelynMorgana

    Liked by 1 person

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