So in honor of Camp NaNoWriMo, actually, I have decided that to help me both improve my writing, and increase the amount of writing I do every day, I will work on at least 1000 words everyday. I have made this promise to myself to write at least one short story of some sort with at least a thousand words in it everyday, from prompts online and pictures that I find inspiring, and ideas that pop up in my head through out the days. And here on Tablo (along with a few other sites) is where I will be uploading this self-made, self-promised challenge. 

I, Anthony, will do everything in my power to write at least 1k words everyday for at least one year. Starting today, April 7th of 2016, I will write at least one prompt a day before midnight. I will be uploading it here, at least once a day. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be written. I don't have to like it, but it has to come out.

Thank you all for any and all support shown! Please have fun reading!

Prompt 01 - March 2016 - Fantasy

His ears pricked as he felt the wind change direction, blowing into his face. The young worgen took in a deep breath, scenting the air around him as if he were on the hunt. He crouched down, his paws digging into the soft earth beneath him, claws lightly scraping against the mud. The worgen knew that he probably wasn’t alone. In fact, he could probably place his sister somewhere nearby, if he tried to hunt her down. She was probably somewhere off downwind of him, letting him have his own little moment. He couldn’t help but appreciate her care, but at the same time, the young worgen wished, desperately, that they would all trust him.

His sniffed the wind again, scenting something new this time. A rabbit, by the smell of it. Something fun to chase, and not too easy to catch. Just because he was blind didn’t mean that the thrill of the hunt avoided him. He was still a wolf at heart. His blood still pumped with ferocity, anxious to be let free.

The young worgen crouched down further, his hands gripping the thick blades of grass around him. He could feel the slight slope of the hill beneath him. He could almost tell how far it went down, but he wasn’t quite far enough down yet. Still, he knew that it was enough for him. Holding his breath, letting the grass go, he pushed himself away from his spot, towards where he scented the rabbit. He could feel the little bunny’s feet pounding against the earth as he landed, somewhere close. He turned, grasping at the area he thought it was, letting out a fit of laugher as he felt the small furry creature escape his grasp, barely.

Falling to the ground, the worgen rolled over onto his back, a grin plastered to his muzzle. He panted slightly, the exhilaration still pumping through him. He could almost feel his excitement bursting from his chest, but maybe that was just his heart beating in his chest. Either way, the short chase had left him feeling alive. Sitting up as he felt footsteps on the ground coming towards him, he looked in the direction that they seemed to be coming from. His blue eyes glazed over, unable to see anything, still seemed to watch wherever he looked, ever vigilant, his other senses straining as he attempted to learn who, or what, was coming towards him. Briefly, he wondered if it could at all be a giant rabbit, coming to take revenge on him for chasing the smaller one. But he shook his head at the absurd idea.

A familiar scent flowed over him, however, as the footsteps got closer. Relaxing, the young worgen fell back to the ground. He felt his sister’s paw grabbing at his tunic, tugging at it as if her worry were spilling out all over him, not knowing where he’d run off to in the short time that he was out of her sight. He let out a sigh, a hand raising to touch her gently, searching for her face, to pat her, to tell her he was fine, that he was okay, that he was happy.

Not for the first time, the young worgen wished that, at the very least, he could hear. He didn’t mind being blind, it didn’t hinder him nearly as much as people thought it would – he had his nose, and could scent his way around perfectly find. He had his paws and hands, and he could feel his way around perfectly fine. But the deafness… that was what got to him, late at night, feeling the beat of his heart, and the ebb and swell of his blood. He could feel everything that he wanted, but he couldn’t hear. For once, he wished that he could hear the laughter of his family. Hear the gentle gurgle of a river. Hear the soft curl of the wind blowing.

Honestly? He couldn’t even tell you his name. He had never heard it in his life. He was unable to see it written out.

With a sigh, the young worgen sat up at the gentle urgings of his sister. He could sense the worry and agitation flowing off of her, freely. Perhaps she had fallen asleep while watching him, and his disappearance had disturbed her greater than he could figure. Maybe she had been talking with a friend in passing and looked away for a moment. But honestly, he didn’t think he’d gone that far. His head turned, glancing in the direction of where the rabbit had gone, wishing with a dull, throbbing ache in his chest, that he could be as free as the rabbit had been. Able to run away from whatever it pleased, and be free. He could almost feel the rabbit’s curious nature, deep within himself. He wanted nothing so badly before, and he knew that nothing he wanted could ever compare.

Freedom. Oh, he wondered what it would be like.

Letting his sister lead him away, the young worgen let his mind wander. He dreamt as he walked – he was tall and fit, strong and able-bodied. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He could see. He could hear! Warmth was at his fingertips, and he could do something useful. He could give something back to the world, rather than sit in it and exist. He dreamed as he walked that he could heal. Anything that he came across. Wounds from fighting, wounds from falling. Sicknesses, ailments, defects. It didn’t matter what it was. In his mind, his dream, he could do anything.

So deep, so focused was he that he didn’t feel the warmth in his hands. He didn’t sense his sister’s gaze, the look on her face. He couldn’t. But as she tugged him faster along, knocking his mind back into reality, he lost all his concentration on his dream. He felt, for just a moment, the almost familiar warmth, before everything faded as she jostled him home.  

Though he didn’t catch his sister’s gaze, the young worgen could almost feel the eyes of others on him, creatures maybe, other people perhaps. He could feel his fur prickle, and a warmth deep down inside of him, longing to be free. For just a moment, a small, brief period, he could feel the power within him. He could feel, for just a fleeting time, the taste of freedom.

END

Horror Prompt 01 - Mature, Violence/Gore - April 6th 2016

Hesitantly, the man pulled on his pajamas. If he were absolutely honest with himself, he would love to be avoiding sleep and all things to do with it. But his wife had told him that he was being an idiot. And a self-conscious part of him had to agree. It was just a dream, after all… What could it possibly do, other than scare him?

Well… It was a nightmare, really. But was there a difference. It felt so… real. So incredibly real. Every night, always recurring, the same dream, the same nightmare. Over and over again it happened. For at least a month now. He couldn’t escape it. All the details were overly vivid, and it wasn’t just the sight; the smell of blood, the taste of bile, the warmth of the bodies leaving as his hands still touched them… He shuddered at the thought, instead choosing to go over the doors in the house mentally, running over them to make sure he had locked all of them properly. Even now with all the lights on and the room bright, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder towards the bedroom door expectantly.

“Honey?” his wife’s voice broke through his paranoid thoughts, her gaze watching him as he stopped getting dressed in his obsessive thoughts directed towards the locking of doors. “Geoffrey?” With a start, he blinked at her, before nodding.

“Sorry, dear. I’m coming,” he said, offering her a small, distracted smile. With a shake of his head to clear his mind, the man pulled his pajamas on, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed.

This was always how it started – he saw the intruder as if looking over his shoulder. It was a man, he could tell right away, it was always a man, but the rest of the details of the being escaped him in the darkness. The nightmare always started in the kitchen, the darkness engulfing the pair of them. Geoff couldn’t tell how the man had broken into his house, but watched as he navigated the kitchen with a perfect calm. It never took the usual moment for his eyes to adjust to the near darkness, but he could tell that the intruder moved with practiced ease, as if he knew exactly where to go for the things he needed. The intruder never even turned on the light.

Geoffrey could almost feel the texture of the knife in his hand as the intruder chose a kitchen knife that he always used to chop the veggies. Gripping it tightly in his right hand, the intruder turned and exited the kitchen, following the hallway. In the pitch black darkness, the intruder kept his fingers gently brushing against the wall as he walked until they at last found a door. He watched in silence as the intruder’s hand gripped the doorknob and pulled.

Geoff’s heart plummeted to his stomach as the door squeaked open. He knew what was next. It was always the intruder’s first action, the thing that brought his terror and rage out into the open. The intruder stepped into his son’s room, his footsteps nearly silent on the plush carpet. As the intruder made his way over to the bed, Geoff could make out his son’s innocent face in the moonlight that streamed in gently through the open window. The serene scene didn’t match the erratic beating of his heart, the terror of what was coming. His son’s sleeping face was pressed against his pillows, untidy dark hair sprawled across the pillow. He looked so much like his mother…

A peak of his batman pajamas showed as the boy shifted in his sleep, mumbling. The intruder paused, holding completely still as the boy settled back into a deeper sleep. Geoff could feel the satisfaction coming off of him in waves, he could almost feel the smirk on his face. Geoffrey could feel the hot prick of tears at the corners of his eyes as he begun what he knew was a futile struggle against the intruder.

As the intruder raised the kitchen blade, Geoff tried to scream, to yell, to warn his boy. In his mind, he could almost hear the sound, but the only noise that could be heard in the room was the grunt of the man as he forced the blade down through the air. In the flash of moonlight that reflected off the blade just before it sunk into the unsuspecting chest of the boy, Geoff saw the glazed green eyes of the intruder. The next, and only thing, Geoff saw after that was blood. So, so much of it. He heard his son gurgle, blood foaming from his mouth as it opened in a scream. The intruder’s free hand shot out to stifle the noise, blood oozing between his fingers. Geoff watched helplessly, screaming inside of his head as the boy’s eyes widened and his body thrashed around on the bed. With a sickening squelch, the intruder pulled the knife free, pressing his hand harder against the child’s renewed screams. Another thud, and the knife had buried itself into his soft body again. And again. And again.

Geoff was unable to look away. Tears poured freely from his face, hot and stinging, dropping onto the bed as he continued to struggle to turn away, to scream, to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

His stomach churned sickeningly as the intruder finally turned from the still, silent body of his ten-year-old son. Still sobbing, Geoff watched weakly as the intruder, the murderer continued down the hall, this time leaving a trail of blood from his fingers against the wall. The next room that he came across was pink and flowery, and Geoffrey began his vain struggle once more. He saw, laying on the bed with his older child, the family dog, and inside of him a hope flared – lit in his chest like a wildfire. The intruder, however, saw the mutt as well. Silent steps brought him to the canine at the foot of the frilly bed, and then the knife jerked. The only thing the old dog was able to do was look up curiously at the intruder before the knife sunk up to its hilt in the eye. The old boy never even yelped.

Turning his attention to the teenage girl in the bed, the intruder found her awake and staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Almost before Geoff could process what was happening, the intruder show out a hand towards his daughter, grabbing her by the hair even as she screamed. Her high pitched voice bounced across the room, making Geoff shudder at the sound. Before the extinguished flame of hope that someone would hear them could reignite, though, the intruder’s blade sliced across the girl’s throat, ending her high pitched scream in a gurgled choke. Blood spurted bright red against her light pink walls. Geoffrey could feel his heart hammering and throat raw, even as no sound penetrated through his mind. Hot tears still poured down his front.

Footsteps brought the intruder back from seeming to savor his latest kill. Someone was in the hall. Moving quickly, the intruder threw away all pretense of silence. The man dashed from the dying girl, following the sound of the footsteps as they picked up in speed. They were running to the master bedroom. Geoff would see his wife sprinting for her life, her only hope to get the door between herself and the murderer and hope the lock would hold until help came. Geoffrey tried to yell again, hearing her scream. The murderer, covered and dripping in blood seemed to roar after her, his voice faintly familiar. Once more the woman screamed, as the intruder caught up with her. She tried to slam the bedroom door in his face, his foot, his body, anything to slow him down, to keep him away. Instead, the intruder flung the door wide, hitting his wife in the face. She stumbled back, fumbling with the phone she was struggling to keep clutched in her hand.

Geoff could hear it ringing.

The intruder slashed at her hand, slicing her arm. With a yelp, she dropped the phone. He was on her at once.

The murderer picked her flailing form up from the ground, screaming, kicking, punching, biting. With a heavy grunt, he threw her bodily onto the bed. Geoff could only watch in horror as the intruder pushed her down and climbed on top of her, dragging the knife along her neck as she struggled still against him. The man was bigger than her, though, stronger, able to easily overpower whatever she might do. She opened her mouth to scream again, and at last the knife found its final sheath.

With his scream, everything around Geoffrey went black.

The man woke with a yell, sitting straight up in bed. He could feel his tears still spreading hot across his face. He could still smell the blood that overpowered everything else from his nightmare. He could still feel the warm, wet, stickiness of the blood on his hands. He could still feel his heart hammering against his ribs, blood pounding in his ears. With a choked sob, Geoff turned to his wife, his hand moving to her shoulder wanting to pull her closer. He stopped as he saw the red on his hands. He could still feel the press of the handle of his knife in his hand…

Behind him, Geoffrey heard the static muffled voice speaking from the phone on the floor.

“Please, stay calm, sir! Don’t provoke the intruder. A unit is on the way.”