This week’s #blogbattle word prompt is drop. This is run by Rachael 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!
As I said I would do in a comment to a reader, I have added an option to the menu above to a page that lists all the Winter #blogbattle story.
Here’s my entry for this week:
The phone screen lit up. Another text message. Layla retrained her eyes on her computer screen. The time read eleven o’clock. The sun had set ages ago, her eyes burned, and no words were coming. Her mind felt numb, empty, wooden.
But she didn’t want to go to bed.
She didn’t want to face another sleepless night, tossing and turning, being about to drop off to sleep and another thought of Emily assailing her. Turning over and feeling the empty bed. Remembering.
She opened a fresh document, yawned, and started to type. Anything and everything. At that point she didn’t care what she wrote.
A stream of nonsense flew from her fingers. Line after line of pure rubbish.
But she wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t trying to sleep.
So she didn’t care.
In the almost-night darkness, Winter could just make out the entrance to the Hollow from the top of the birdhouse.
Birch was in there.
And her friends.
She looked down at the patch of ice at her feet. It would take a while to melt, even in the mild summer night air. When it had, she could try landing again and try not to make more ice.
The entire top of the birdhouse was covered in ice, at various stages of melting.
She lifted up and scanned the wood. One spot was almost dry. Not long before she could try again.
The entrance to the Hollow beckoned once more.
It had been two whole seasons now since she left, since she was made to leave. Winter had turned to spring, and spring had turned to summer.
How much longer would it be?
She glanced down again. One spot had dried.
She dropped from the air, thinking of Birch and how much she cared about him.
Her feet touched the wood.
She stomped her foot in frustration. This wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t she do it again?
The light was still on in Layla’s study, the window open a crack. Maybe she might have a suggestion on what Winter was doing wrong?
She opened her wings and flew up to the yellow light.
The first thing Winter heard as she flew through the window was soft snoring.
Layla’s head was resting on the keyboard, the computer screen shining over her.
Winter landed on Layla’s hand. To wake her or not?
This didn’t look like a comfortable position, and Winter did need her advice, and she was only going to drool on the keyboard….
Decision made, Winter flew over to Layla’s ear and tickled it.
It worked every time.
Layla’s eyes flickered open and her head lifted just off the keyboard. “What? What’s going on?”
Winter hovered in front of her face, following it up as Layla sat up straight. “You fell asleep. I thought you’d get a stiff neck so I woke you up.”
Layla rubbed at her eyes. “What’s the time?” She peered at the computer screen. “Midnight,” she groaned.
“Are you going to bed now?” Winter asked. She thought Layla looked like she needed to be there.
Her nose wrinkled. “I probably should but… Wait a minute, what are you doing up at this hour? I thought fairies have a thing about being up and about at midnight?”
Winter was doing her best not to think about it. “It’s just superstition really. I couldn’t sleep. I was trying to not make ice again, but I couldn’t. I saw your light on and thought maybe you could help me.”
Layla yawned, and stretched. “I think maybe we should both go to bed and talk about it in the morning.” She powered down her computer as she spoke. “Things don’t work right when you’re tired anyway.”
“I’m not – “ she yawned, “tired.”She sighed. “Okay, maybe I am.”
A small smile. “Get some sleep Winter, before you drop asleep like I did. Things will seem better in the morning. That’s what my mother used to say.”
Winter fluttered over to the window, Layla following. “Was she right?”
“Most of the time. Mothers usually are.” She held the window catch.
Winter hovered on the threshold. “Mine wasn’t. She said I’d be a great spinner of silks, but I can’t even touch them. I turn them to ice and they shatter.”
“Do you want to be a spinner?”
Want? She’d never thought about it before. It was what her mother was, and so what she should become. “I don’t know. What else could I be?”
Another yawn, half-stifled. “I don’t know. Something else to work on then.” She smiled again. “Good night Winter.”
“Good night.” Winter flew off out into the night as the window closed behind her and the light went out.
What else could she be?