It’s that time of year again. The National Novel Writing Month forums launched yesterday and with it the word prompts. They’re great practice for me. They test how quickly I can write and let me just say that if I continue this way, I’ll be in great shape come November! ^_^ Thanks be to Write or Die for helping me keep track of this!

Thunderstruck, that’s what she was. Completely and utterly thunderstruck. She had never counted on meeting the man of her dreams, nor had she ever thought of seeing him across a crowded room that was filled with junk in a the basement of a bar where she had never thought that she would ever be caught dead in. But there he was. Tall, dark and handsome, the stereotypical cliche with the only problem being that he was chained up to the wall.
“Hang on,” she told him determinedly as she picked up an axe which was leaning against a wall of miscellaneous weaponry. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
The sound of her voice seemed to bring the man out of his stupor and he looked at her through blood-shot eyes which were rimmed in black bruises. “Who are you?” he croaked out.
“Jamie,” she answered with a small smile as she raised the axe above her head. “You ready?”
He didn’t nod, but appeared to pass out so Jamie swung the axe and broke through the rope which was holding him to the ceiling. His body instantly fell to the floor, and Jamie fell beside it. “Hey now,” she said worriedly as she untied his hands. “Don’t pass out on me.”
When his hands were free she checked his pulse and found that it was sputtering and before she could even count ten steady beats, it stopped completely. Panic shot through her. She was not about to find the man of her dreams only to lose him moments later.
“Don’t die on me,” she told him determinedly as she moved him onto his back and proceeded to begin CPR. “You are not going to die on me.”
Jamie began the compressions, counting very slowly and very carefully as she could despite the growing panic in her chest. She was so worried that she was doing it wrong, that she was going to hurt him more but alternating between the compressions and the breaths of life seemed to do the trick and before long he was breathing on his own again which left Jamie with a new problem.
“How the hell am I supposed to get you out of here,” she asked herself. The guy was passed out, breathing, but basically useless unless he got up. Jamie was pretty strong, but she knew that there was no way that she would be able to get him up the stairs on her own without causing him serious harm.
As if answering her rhetorical question, thundering feet signalled someone’s discovery of the bar. Jamie picked up the axe not entirely sure if it was a demon or an angel who was coming to rescue her and frankly she really didn’t care. Since the whole world went to hell in a hand basket with the armies of Lucifer and Michael fighting for the fate of humanity on Earth itself Jamie had had to learn to take care of herself and those around her.
Her skills with a blade and gun had served her well in the post apocalyptic world and she was determined not to die once she found the man who had left her thunderstruck.
The clattering feet made it to the concrete floor, and Jamie remained parched on the balls of her feet, crouched down, beside the body of the man, ready to spring up at any moment. The sounds of shuffling bodies came closer and when she was sure that they were practically right on top of her she sprung up– and screamed.
The girls before her screamed back and it took a couple moments for them to realize that not only were they not in any danger, but that they knew each other quite well.
“Sarah,” Jamie breathed in surprise. “Cassie, what are you girls doing here?”
“We knew that you were chasing some demon spawn and we came to help,” Cassie replied holding out her gun.
“Is that him?” Sarah asked, pointing to the the man.
Jamie looked at her fallen rescuee. “Oh no,” she replied with a smirk. “He’s all mine.”

She had a deep rooted fear of facing evil. Not the evil that was generally in the world; gang members, people who steal, bully, etc. No. Allison Winters had a fear of facing the evil of her imagination; the monsters under the bed the dangers of the forest. She was one of those people who grew up on the old Grimm tales and believed them to be the gospel truth even though everyone told her the contrary. “Well,” Allison thought to herself as she faced down her first and hopefully not her last monster in the back alley of a slummy part of town. “I was right, and everyone was wrong.”

After spending years of bringing together bits of data and correlating them, Allison realized that all the tales had similar roots and more than that, they seemed to crop up in unsolved mysteries throughout the ages. There were far too many examples of the supernatural to immediately discount them and Allison had tracked them down, till she had come face to face with one. And it was coming face to face with one that was probably going to get her killed.

“You should have left well enough alone little girl,” the monster sneered in disgust as Allison approached it with a silver blade, something that according to legend would kill the legendary werewolf– though the wolf-man before her wasn’t the mindless beast of ancient lore. No, it was a thinking, calculating creature who could communicate telepathically with her. “I told you not to follow me,” he added.

And Allison had to admit that in the form of a man, a very handsome man, she had been warned off him. “I’m dangerous” he told her. “I’m no good.” he had warned. “You should leave me alone.” If Allison had been thinking clearly she would have left well enough alone but she had a sneaking suspicion that the man was trying to hide something, a deep rooted feeling that there was more to him then met the eye and so she had followed him down the ally on the night of the full moon, and watched as he had transformed before her very eyes.

“You did,” she said at last raising the blade high. “But I’m a very bad listener.”

And you know, looking back on these two prompts I see that I have supernatural on the brain… which isn’t good considering I’m writing a regency romance for this year’s NaNo…

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Filed under national novel writing month, write or die, writing prompt

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