This week’s #blogbattle word prompt is cosmic. This is run by Racheal Ritchey over on her blog Writing Rachael Ritchey. I encourage you to check out her blog, and this challenge.
1. 1000 words max
2. fictional tale (or true if you really want)
3. PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly! (this week will be difficult, I know. That’s a somewhat violent word! Remember, use your imagination. 🙂 )
4. Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
5. Go for the entertainment value!
6. Use the hashtag #BlogBattle, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this post, and/or include a link to this post in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
7. Have fun!
This one was tricky. An eleventh hour story if ever I wrote one!
Here’s my entry for this week:
The cosmic skies above blanketed the Earth, the stars shimmered over Winter, over Layla, over their blankets, the table, the steaming hot cocoa in Layla’s hand.
A chilly April night. Clear skies. Perfect constellations.
Winter sat on Layla’s blanket, a small one pulled around her. Layla had knitted it out of blue wool. To match her eyes and dress.
“We believe that each star is a whole other world,” she told Layla. “Each point of light is the magic that shines from the world.”
Layla thought about it. Each star another world. Well, Winter was almost right. Each star did hold the potential for life on the planets orbiting it. And in some ways, the burning of a sun was a kind of magic.
She didn’t tell Winter the science behind stars. She didn’t want to spoil her view of them. “So you believe in endless worlds?”
“Not endless. Just as many as you can see. Nothing can be endless”
“Do we look the same? To the other people on those worlds?”
“Are we a shining dot of light to them, do you mean?”
“Yes. We do.”
“Can you get to them somehow?”
“There are stories.” Winter shifted as if she were uncomfortable. “Tales that say there were fairies who once made the trip. Saw different worlds, exciting places, did amazing things.”
Layla imagined Winter’s blue eyes were shining, full of the admiration in her voice for the heroes of those tales. “They tell a lot of stories, don’t they? In the Hollow?
“They do. We do. We did. “ She sniffed, and her head drooped. Crying.
“Hey.” Layla scooped her up in her hands, and held her so that she was looking at her. “Don’t cry. You’ll go home. You’ll see.”
Winter shook her head. “They’ll never let me. I’ll never master this power inside.”
“Yes you will.” The words were determined, the feeling inside even more so. “Tomorrow we’ll start. I’ve been thinking. And I think I’ve got a few techniques you can try. And meanwhile, you can tell me some of these stories of yours, about the stars and fairies travelling between worlds.”
Winter sniffed again and did her best to dry her eyes. “You really mean it?”
“Yes, I do. Now, stories.” She set her down again, this time facing her. “I want to hear all the excitement.”
Winter started talking, and as she did, she seemed to forget her tears and pain, lost in wonderful worlds of adventure.