This week’s #blogbattle word prompt is prophet. 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.
I was really stumped this week until this afternoon. For a heartbreaking few hours I doubted I would be able to think of a story for Winter for the word prophet. But here it is, thought of and written. I am more pleased and relieved than I can say. 🙂
Here’s my entry for this week:
Winter gazed steadily at her. Waiting. When would she make a move? When would something happen?
When would Layla realise that she was in the room?
She fluttered up to look at the cover of the book Layla was reading. Books had stories inside them, trapped inside the black squiggly marks that lined the sheets of paper inside. She wondered what the tale inside this one was. There were some of those squiggly lines on the cover, maybe they held a clue?
She peered up. Layla still hadn’t noticed her.
She lifted herself up level with the top of the book, and cleared her throat.
Layla’s eyes shifted, her head not moving. “Yes, Winter?”
“Are you busy?”
“I am. Why?”
“You don’t look busy.”
“I’m busy reading.”
“Oh. Well, do you need a break? Being busy is apparently tiring and requires breaks every so often.” That was something Layla had said to her before, in more or less those words.
“This sort of busy doesn’t usually. But for you I’ll make an exception. What can I do for you?” She lowered the book.
“What do the squiggles on the front mean?”
“That’s the title,” Layla ran her hand over the front, over the white squiggles, her other hand inside the book, keeping her place, “it’s called The Prophet.”
“Oh. What’s a prophet?”
“Well, it’s a person who predicts the future, or brings an important message to people from a god, or spiritual being.”
“Oh! Like a Messenger!”
Layla frowned. “Is that something you have in the fairy world?”
“Yes. They feel changes in the earth, in the wind and sky, then they tell the Queens of what they feel coming, so we can prepare.” A wave of homesickness washed through her. She missed seeing the Messengers flying through the Hollow, their white capes floating behind them. It was a moment of excitement to see one, and a moment of anxiety. It was impossible to know whether they bore good or bad news until the Queen made her announcement.
“There are fairies who can do that?”
“Oh,yes.” Winter landed on the cover of the book, keeping the ice in, melting the cold in her toes with her love. “There are fairies who can do many different things. Some are born to our callings, others find them as we go through life.”
“Have you ever thought that your ice power might be a calling?”
“No. What possible use is being able to turn things to ice?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you have a think about it? I don’t believe that anything in life happens by mistake. It all means something, it all has a reason. We just have to look hard for some of them.”
“Hm,” she wrinkled her nose. “I hadn’t considered it before, but I’ll think about it.”
She fluttered down to the sofa. “Will you read some of your story to me?”
Layla smiled as she picked up her book. “I’ll fill you in on what’s happened so far first, then we can read the next chapter together, okay?”