Erin Ritch

Author, Mom, Founder of No Wyverns Publishing

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Tag: latenightwritingprompt

Late Night Writing Prompt…”The Man in the Moon”

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Image credit trasroid

I wrote a story about the moon. About all the ways it watched the living and the dead. It told the tale of an ever-changing world, morphing night after night in its transformation from darkness to full light. The things it must have seen from a perch so high in the sky, even beyond the sky, to a place between earth and the heavens. An ether where the souls of the dead look through the mist for once last glance back.

I wrote a story about the moon. About its pale reflections in the still summer waters or its silent watch through the barren winter trees. While hidden in the sunlight it catches all glimpses of life, even those who think they are too insignificant to be seen. There was not a place it had not seen, not a deed gone unnoticed in its lazy sojourn across the sky.

I wrote a story about the moon. About how it was here before you and I and forever after. Living a lifetime as it grows from sliver to silver over and over again. It’s story about how the moon binds us, from the earth, to your last glance from the ether, and beyond.

Complete the Story…”The Gray Man’s Street”

Now that Myth is locked in and launches in LESS THAN A WEEK (*breathe*), I’m allowing myself some time to actually watch TV and not feel guilty about it. I used to follow many, many shows but now it seems the only ones I make time for is Game of Thrones or Big Brother. (I feel this sentence sums me up very well.)

Then I learned about a Netflix series called Stranger Things. It quickly became my latest obsession, it reminds me of The X-Files and Twin Peaks with all sorts of paranormal goodness. And it’s set in the 80’s?? You have me hooked, Netflix. Hooked. I may only be three episodes in, but I love the story and style of the show in general.

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It got me inspired to try one of the story prompts from Complete The Story, a gift from my husband for my birthday, intended for moments precisely like this where I want to write a quick, easy story. I wanted to write a story that happens in the world (or world similar to) that of Stranger Things.

 

 

 

Erin Scribble

 

 

This is a really fun book, there are literally (tee hee) story prompts for every situation you can think of, with only a single page commitment.Unless you’re like myself, that is, and quickly spilled over into three additional pieces of paper.

 

 

 

 

 

So I hope you enjoy…and if you love the paranormal and haven’t watched Stranger Things yet…go watch it!

 

THE GRAY MAN’S STREET

(Words in bold are taken from Complete the Story)

They were safe, for the time being. But it was no time to let their guard down. Slowly, Samuel opened the car door, trying his best not to make a sound. He looked both ways down the street. All he could see was darkness with occasional pools of light beneath the bleary street lights. He returned inside and locked the door, checking it twice.

“Did you see it?” Melanie whispered. A small trickle of blood traveled down the side of her face. She had experienced the worst of the impact, her light frame tossed like a rag doll as they spun across the street.

Samuel wiped his hair out of his face. He became aware of the condensation building on the windshield. He hoped it wouldn’t draw attention.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “I don’t know what direction it took off in. It was so…fast.”

“Let’s keep going! Please!” Melanie begged.

“Shh!” Samuel snapped. “We can’t! The engine, I’m not sure it will start. I’m not willing to risk-“

“I see it!” Melanie squealed, sobbing into her hands.

A figure appeared at the end of the dim headlights, crawling on its belly towards the car. It was the creature that hit their car, a flash of gray that forced them into a spiral. They had injured it, too. Samuel knew from the cry it made at impact. He fumbled with the keys and tried the ignition. It ticked but failed to spark to life.

“C’mon…” Samuel urged, pumping the limp accelerator.

The figure crawled closer. It wasn’t an animal. It wasn’t a man. But it had eyes and it met Samuel’s gaze without flinching. And without fear.

“Get it in the back seat,” Samuel shouted, unbuckling Melanie’s seatbelt  and helping her over the seat. “Stay down!”

“What are you going to do? Shouldn’t we run?” she sobbed.

Samuel tore through the contents of the glove box, watching as the creature bumped against the headlights. He saw a glimpse of slimy gray skin, stained red with blood. Dark eyes drew up to meet Samuel’s gaze as it thumped atop the hood of the car.

“Back!” Samuel shouted, pointing his father’s flashlight in the creature’s eyes. It howled and dropped to the side, scratching and fumbling with the locked door. Samuel held onto the door. “No!”

Then there was nothing. The air was so quiet that Samuel could hear the far off bark of his dog, probably watching for him from the living room window. Melanie tried to muffle her sobs from the floor of the backseat. Samuel carefully lifted his fingers from the door, one at a time. In a breath, the door was ripped from the vehicle and thrown into the woods.

Samuel!”

“This song is the best! The absolute best, turn it up!”

Todd nodded and increased the volume of the car radio. He accelerated, trying to keep up with the beat of the music. Tiffany hummed with the music, settling back into her seat. She watched the twilight treetops flash by, a blur in her sleepy state.

“Is that Samuel’s dad’s car?” Todd shouted as he turned down the music. He pointed to the vehicle ahead of them, overturned on the side of the road.

“Oh my gosh…” Tiffany gasped, sitting up. “It totally is! And I bet you Melanie is with him, too.”

“Should we stop or something?” Todd asked with a shrug.

“Are you crazy? That’s all on them.”

“But maybe we should help-“

“Just let the Gray Man do its thing,” Tiffany yawned, settling back into her seat. “And turn the music back up!”

Springtime

Springtime

The sound of flip flops in the water. The rush of wind as it passes me by. The call of the night, brisk and cool through the open window, whispering my name. Random thoughts that strung together make perfect sense. Sweat that exhilarates, like steam bursting from an engine run wild. A tiny heartbeat fluttering against my fingertip.  A happy laugh that echoes and echoes until there are no more mountains to spring from. Sweet rain that washes the mind clean. Thunder that rattles the wind chimes. A smile before sleep. And an indigo sky tucked behind the treeline, quiet silhouettes that watch over the night.

“The Moth”

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Image credit Brandon Towne

Some call me the butterfly of the night. But I am nothing like them. I had to knit myself in the darkness, the damp morning hours slowing my progress. I have to hide from the dawn, my bright coat attracting every predator in the revealing sunlight. But unlike my cousins, I know secrets. I gather them while I flutter against the glass, watching and listening as I tumble towards the light.

The Strangest Storm

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Image credit Tech Haven

One night, the rain came in the strangest way, they say. In a whisper and then in a shout, it covered the ground with water black as that night itself. The rain coaxed the plants above the soil, leaving them to float aimlessly atop the rivers of water, like corpses with nowhere to go. With faces pressed against the steamy glass, all you could do is watch the rain dump from the sky, transforming passerbys into blurry figures that scattered from the storm.