Writing Exercises

Prompt Me #5

Thank you to Faith Rivens over at Aliasfaithrivens for another inspiring writing prompt. (If you’ve not done so already, please check out her blog.) This time it’s a dialogue prompt, so without further ado:

“There’s a cloud above your head.”

“I know. It’s been ten days now. I don’t know how to get it to stop.”

“Who’d you annoy this time, Tarne?” Sedar asks, his bemused look adding to his wrinkles and making his face look like a land map of Altarva.

“The ex wife, the stupid, old battleaxe.” The cloud explodes in a torrent of rain. “She said I was being belligerent and cursed me with this blasted thing. It seems every time I say a bad word against her, it pisses down on me. I’ve tried every cast I can think of. She’ll rue the day she cursed me, the old witch.”

The rain cloud cracks with thunder and another downpour soaks his already sodden jacket. Sedar wasn’t a stranger to Tarne’s behaviour. Gren, Tarnes ex-wife, was a reasonable, mild tempered witch, but Tarne could be a chore at times; Jealous and possessive even though the pair have been separated for going on twelve months. She must have had her reasons.

Sedar chuckles to himself. “Have you tried a dual cast? An anti-hex is simple enough, but the curse seems to be linked to your psyche. An anti- hex teamed with a mind purge cast perhaps?”

“And forget the last twenty four hours? I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction,” Tarne growls.

“Suit yourself, but I hope you are not prone to a cold,” Sedar says, leading him inside. “No slurs on Gren whilst you’re in my house if you don’t mind. I’m carpeted throughout.”

Inside, the smell of boiled herbs permeates every room. Even Tarne relaxes at the lulling aroma of lavender and camomile soup. Sedar trained as an apothecary during his youth, but once the High War begun in his early twenties, he became a key part of the resistance. His casting ability has not been matched much to Tarne’s annoyance.

“I know you are not here about this palava,” Sedar says, waving a withered hand at the cloud. “So, what is it you do want, Tarne?”

Tarne positions the Ram’s skull back in its place on Sedar’s mantel. “To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure that you can help, but I reckon you’ve seen your fair share of the dark occult in you time, old man. Have you any idea what this is?” He pulls a black, velvet pouch from his pocket.

Black velvet is never used by the light occult. It is said to be a bad omen and its presence puts Sedar instantly on edge. Tarne would know this, surely? The thought of black velvet in his house isn’t an easy one, but Sedar remains silent, holding his breath as Tarne tips out the contents.

Sedar stumbles backward, throwing his frail arms in the air. “Get that out of my house,” he hisses at Tarne. “How dare you! How dare you!”

Tarne smirks, twirling the small vial of red in his fingers. “Okay, okay, old man, I’m going. You’ve just told me everything I needed to know. So, this is what I think it is, huh?”

Sedar grasps at Tarne’s jacket with shaking hands. “You ignorant fool. You have no idea what this means.” He shoves Tarne toward the door. “Get out I say! The High Order will be hearing of this.”

“Ah, see, now you’ve put me in a predicament, old man” Tarne says. Using his strength, he forces Sedar back into the kitchen. “The High Order can not find out about this.”

Sedar feels the knife slice into his abdomen, but that isn’t what holds his attention. Even as he bleeds out, all he can sense is the darkness seeping from Tarne’s eyes. It has already begun.


I am taking a seven day blog hiatus, so any comments will be answered next week. Posts have been scheduled as usual.

If you would like to offer prompts for future posts, please check out the original post and leave a comment: Prompt Me

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman.

Please request permission from the prompt creator for use of the prompt in this post.

Writing Exercises

Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes #9

So, here we are at the penultimate week of the ‘Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes’ writing exercise challenge. Where has the time gone?

Today’s prompt is number nine on my Narrative Prompts post, and is a visual prompt. Visual prompts allow for total creative freedom, and I love how they stir different ideas in different people.

Prompt Nine:

How did it come to this? Just nine weeks ago, I was revising for my exams with hopes of getting into art college, and now I’m stood on a cliff in the arsehole of nowhere, wondering how  quickly I’d die once I smash into the rocks below. I’m hoping the answer is ‘very quickly’, instantly would be even better.

The wind is strong, unsteadying, and it’s almost as if mother nature is tugging me on. ‘You can do it, Lorell,’ she whispers to me. ‘Just one little step.’

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die. I’m not depressed or suicidal in the usual sense. I could runaway, start a new life with a new name and identity, but she’d know. She’d know I wasn’t dead, and she’d never give up hunting me. And as long as she hunts me, people I love will die.

I hate her. Even her name burns like acid as it leaves my lips- Ulrike. I scream it into the wind. I want the heavens to know who is responsible for my death. She has driven me to this, and as my breath leaves my body I want the wind to carry her name to her, to wake her from her dreams, or turn them into nightmares.

I close my eyes, and rise onto the balls of my feet. This is it. As soon as my body dies, the magic dies with it. Ulrike will sense it. The tie she ensured we had will die with me, and she will only have half the power, and be half a Caster.

“Don’t do it, child.”

Wait? What? Did I just hear that?

“Miss Cecelia?” I whisper. It’s been many a year since I heard her voice, but I’ll never forget it. The soft tones and American twang is etched into my memory from childhood. It is as if the wind carries her voice to me. The same wind that moments ago was encouraging me to my death.

“Even at half her power, Ulrike will be the strongest Caster in Ye’Sande. You will have died for nothing, Lorell.” Her voice is calming, soothing.

“Not nothing. My friends will be safe. I can’t watch anyone else die because of me.”

“Tilly’s death was not your fault. I know she was important to you, and if you want to keep the others safe, then you need to stop Ulrike. Only you have the means to do it. Avenge those you have lost, and save those you have left.”

“Ulrike will kill me first,” I say, sighing.

“Maybe, but is it not better to die fighting than running?”

I look to the rocks one more time, and take a step away from the edge. “Will you help me?”

“Yes, my child, but don’t forget that technically I’m dead.”


Next week is the last week of my Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes writing exercises. If you would like to get involved with my next writing exercise adventure, check out the link: Prompt Me

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman

Writing Exercises

Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes #5

Week five of ‘Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes’ is an image from my list of ten prompts in my Narrative Prompts post. There is something hauntingly inspiring about this image, hence why I’ve been looking forward to this writing exercise.

Prompt Five:

I remember the day they came for us. I was eight years old, but I knew the importance. The air lay heavy with relief; a feeling I have never fully experienced again and doubt ever will. The sun was dying, we were dying, and angels came from above to save us.

I remember standing on the levi-pad with Mum, and my big sister, Fern, and the tingly, static feeling that spread over my skin as they boarded us. Some kids were crying; the huge hexagonal ship covering the sky for miles was intimidating, but no more so than looking up at the dying ember that was our sun. We left with the clothes on our backs, and thankfully, an angel let me take Lenny Bear, the stuffed bear Dad gave me before he died.

The angels, or aliens as the other humans called them, could have been mistaken for albino humans with their pale skin and white hair, but there was one distinct difference: their eyes. Mum thought they were freaky, but I found the gold sheen of their irises entrancing, beautiful even.

The living conditions were cramped. There was a crew of seventy angels on our ship, and approximately one thousand humans. In total, sixteen ships came to rescue us. That meant that only sixteen thousand humans had survived the death of Earth. The angels bunked us up with three other families. Mum, Fern, and I shared one bed, and their was barely enough food to go around, but we never once complained; we we’re too grateful.

The trip took the best part of four weeks. Mum said that an angel told her that we had to bypass four galaxies before we finally made it back to their home planet; the planet they called Haydra. Haydra was beautiful; an unspoilt Earth with a healthy sun that I could have only ever dreamt of.

***

I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and buried Fern on the same day. We fight on the side of the Haydran’s; the people who took us in when we we’re dying, who shared their planet with us, and who should have left us on Earth to die with our sun. Fern was killed by the human who started the mutiny, Vale. Vale saw the Haydran’s kindness as their weakness, and threw the salvation they gave us back in their faces.

I will protect my angels until my last breath, even if I have to kill every God forsaken, ungrateful human to do so.


All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman

Writing and Me

777 Challenge: A Little Weekend Fun

The 777 Challenge is a bit of fun to support and promote our fellow bloggers and showcase a snippet of our work in progress.

The rules of this challenge are to go to the seventh line on the seventh page of your work in progress, and share the next seven sentences. Then, tag seven of your favourite author blogs (I’m most definitely classing poets in this).

I was tagged by the lovely J.A. Allen over at Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins. Please check out and follow her blog for wonderful writing tips, musings, and advice. I’ve not yet read a blog post that hasn’t guided, helped or inspired me on my writing journey. I’m happy to have J.A. Allen as a member of my blog family!

Here is my 777 excerpt:

Adam laces his fingers in my hair and fans it out, so the sunlight filters through, streaking his face in strips of shadow and amber light. “You’re beautiful,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I lean in closer to reply, but the door to the stairs bursts open and Yana rushes out.

“You two might want to see this,” she says, her Swedish accent stronger due to anxiety. Her slender hands are clenched to disguise their shaking. “The British government has just broadcast.”

I could tag seven bloggers, but I have decided to limit myself to four bloggers from my blogging family/ community with whom I have great communication, and whose opinions I greatly value. If you do not wish to participate I won’t be offended 😉

Each one of these bloggers are fantastic editions to any blogging family/ community with informative, creative, and just downright brilliant blogs! Head over and check them out… you won’t be disappointed. I do enjoy spreading the blog love.