Writing Experiment Day #1
See rules and word list at this post. If you want to play along, comment with a link to yours below (please don’t paste the entirety of yours; links only).
Carolyn stared at her prey, the soon-to-be victim nodding along to music blaring in his headphones, waiting at the bus stop in the cold drizzle. The streetlamp was busting, thanks to her, but her prey was still light up by passing headlights.
“This isn’t that busy a street,” she thought. “It wasn’t for me.”
She stuck hard at the alley; a single passing light could maim her. Only twenty feet away from this or so very delicious man, whose soul just begged to be reaved, but she could not leap. “Patience,” she whispered to herself.
The man suddenly turned around in mild panic. He didn’t see her, of course, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Then he dismissed the feeling and went back to playing with his phone and waiting.
Traffic let up, fewer cars passed. Carolyn took the moment of darkness — lit only by the stars, moon, and ambient city light — and snatched her prey. He screamed, as you’d expect. He flailed, as you’d expect. And she drunk in his terror, as he drunk in hers.
As she started her monologue, telling Rick why he was to die tonight, he pressed a button on his phone. It lit up, shining in her face, melting it from existence. The rest of body turned to smoke and mist, and Rick ran down the street, away, grabbing the first bus that stopped without looking at where it was going.
Carolyn started to form again, the smoke turning into the shape of a woman. She looked down at the fatal gunshot wound in her left breast, the one left by Rick when he mugged her. She gritted her teeth and stalked away. “Just a minor setback. I have all night.”
A Smoke Mistress is yet another ghost ritual, one that allows a female murder victim to come back for one night to exact revenge, putting the killer in the the victim’s position. It must be cast at twilight, and the Mistress has until just before dawn. Sunlight and direct light will dispel the ghostly form into smoke, taking moments to reform once the light is removed or the smoke drifts away.
There is no documented version of this for a male victim, and attempts to use this ritual for a man results in the caster’s slow death over the next few days.
This was awkward because of both crepuscular & night. I wanted to make sure that both were given due, not just collapsed into one idea.
You’ll noticed that I didn’t necessarily use the words in the piece itself. I don’t want this to be “find a way to work in a word” but “be inspired and pay due to a word.”