Posted in Writer's Prompts

Monthly Writer’s Prompts: MerMay

This month we’ll focus on all creatures to be found in the ocean. Mermaids, krakens, shell people, anything oceanic works for this theme. Most of these art challenge themes are focused or intended for visual artists. My intention is to turn them into exercises and challenges for writers as well. The original challenge comes to us from mermay.com, though this article on Brush Warriors sums it up nicely.

As this is an exercise for writers there are only four prompts listed below, one for each week. You can make them as short or as long as you like.

Week One: What is a Mermaid? Try writing this out in a bestiary format or a creature profile. Are they friendly? Valuable? A pest species? What are mermaids to your universe? A bestiary is usually written through the opinion of the researcher so this is an excellent one to practice character voice with.

Or try it as a reporter. Give a journalist’s account of an event in which a mermaid was sighted. Include first-hand accounts, official government statements and speculation from the locals. Is your reporter fairly and accurately representing the facts? Perhaps they might have an agenda.

Week Two: The Midnight Zone. What kind of Mer creature lives in a place of perpetual darkness? Is it peaceful? Is it a predator or prey species? Is it driven by a need to feed? Is food scarce down there? Or maybe they are happily living their lives until underwater research teams invade their privacy. 

While darkness is used in many fear driven plotlines, darkness itself doesn’t have to be scary. Maybe it’s the light that inspires fear. Have a try at writing a scene in which the darkness provides comfort, or the light lets them see all too clearly the danger ahead.

Week Three: Oceanic Chimera. Do an image search for “sea animal”. Create a story of your character’s first encounter with a composite of the first three animals in the results. An Octurphin (octopus, dolphin, turtle) doesn’t sound too intimidating, but what if your character was silly enough to bring one on board? Is it a creature to slay or do they wind up the best of friends?

As an additional element, what kind of ship would you expect to see in your genre of fantasy? Is the ship itself magical? Sentient? Does it require a magical skillset to operate? Try to work the ship your character is on as a key feature to the plot.

Week Four: The Shoreline. What aquatic people might also spend time on land? Give us a race that is coastal and aquatic. What does it take to breathe underwater? Is it a natural part of their species’ biology? A spell? Enchanted gadgets? A potion maybe? How does your terrestrial character intend to navigate the watery depths, or why does your aquatic character want to spend time on land?

Are other societies aware of the aquatic people? Are they accepted or feared? Do the locals think of them as mythical? Does this suit the aquatic people? Or to venture down another line of thought, what does your aquatic civilization think of the locals?

I would love to see what you do with these prompts! If you publish them please tag me on social media so I know where to look. You can find me on X/Twitter or email me at cmwellsmore@gmail.com

Posted in Writer's Prompts

Weekly Short: The Storm Relic

Week No 3 of the April Shower Monthly Writer’s Prompt: The Storm Goddess is Angry

503 Words

He stood frozen in place, his feet unwilling to move even an inch more. He was closer to his goal than he’d ever been, yet the task in front of him threatened to render the last six weeks a waste.

Did he remember the words? Would it let him back out? The rock gave him as many answers as the merchant had. Same facial expression too. Find a way in, take the relic, get out alive. Very simple on the surface, yet his brothers had argued relentlessly about it, to the point the three of them had separated. He wondered if his brothers were also facing rock walls.

The merchant had warned him to be as silent as possible. The creature that guarded the relics was known to be fierce. He was not a wizard known for his battle tactics. Get in, get the relic, get out alice. He made the sign of luck over his chest and in a nervous hush, spoke the words of entry.

The silence was broken by a chipping sound as the crack formed down the surface. The rock slid open with a sound that set his teeth on edge and he gingerly went inside.

The darkness was complete. It took him some time to find the side of the cavern, which was surprisingly dry. He shuffled slowly, trying to make as little sound in this echo chamber as he could. The darkness eased the further he went. THe lighter it became, the higher the humidity rose. The air grew heavy around him. By the time the tunnel emerged into the cave his clothing was soaked through.

The room was cool despite the many torches and candles. It was also thankfully empty. The wizard went straight to work despite the many oddities littering every surface. Get in, get out, quickly. Speed was key.

The relic he was looking for was small, but somewhat easy to find amongst the many crystals. The coin-sized wooden pegs stood planted in a shallow tray near the window. Innocuous things, it was hard to believe the power they contained. He felt the pulse of energy emanating from them and slowly reached for one.

He had no idea why the merchant wanted it, less information the better. All he was concerned with was the keystone in the merchant’s possession. One keystone for one rainstick. He gently lifted one of the pegs, deafened by the shrieking that rose around him.

It began to rain in the cavern. The wizard quickly enclosed the peg in a box he had prepared for it. The rain stopped, the shrieking however intensified and was approaching swiftly. He had little time.

He put his head out the window and shuddered as he took in the drop. Trees and vines covered the rock wall down to the valley below. The first 20 feet were a freefall. 

He could hear the rain spirit approaching. Making the sign of luck again he leapt from the window, hoping fervently this would be worth it.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: The Day the River Died

Week No 2 of the April Shower Monthly Writer’s Prompt: And then there was the flood

294 Words

She watched as he stood there, holding the other girl’s hand. She hated how beautiful the girl was. He had said he loved her once. He still might.

The heatwave had dried her small river, making it impossible for her to move or speak. The young water spirit watched as her lover arrived daily to search for her, powerless to reach him. Then his searches grew weekly. Then monthly. It had taken a few months for her to realize he wasn’t coming back.

Sorrow had gripped her. She longed to search for him, worried the forest had taken him. After almost a year, the rain returned.

Her limbs slid out of the riverbed easily, the euphoria of movement  lifting her to the surface. She almost forgot her lover, until she saw his pendant on the ground.

The river girl raced through the woods, saturating the ground as she went. She sought to start at his village. Someone would know where he went.

They were kissing when she arrived. Her sorrow turned to rage and she went straight to him. His eyes widened when he saw her, not with joy but with fear.

“I loved you”. She saw his fear mirrored in her eyes and hated her all the more.

Both the betrayer and his new love looked down when they felt the water arrive at their shoes. The river girl laughed as they ran, there was nowhere to go. She let what was left of her dissolve into the ground below, coaxing the ground water to swell up.

The flood never rose to a dangerous point, at least not for most. In the house at the far edge of town the villager found two bodies, the only casualties of the night the river died.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Fiction: Pixie Problems #1

Cyndi tried not to let out a scream as she stubbed her toe, again. Any stray sound would unravel the whole plan. Get in, get out, take as much as you can carry…quietly.

Cara was struggling with that last part. Every rock, every brush of slime on the walls sent her muttering under her breath. So far the pixies still seemed oblivious to their trespassing.

The cave wound downwards in a gentle slope, which Cyndi’s knees were grateful for. The darkness was absolute, but both women had trained themselves to operate without vision. Or mostly.

A tiny cough made Cyndi spin on her heel. Cara had tried her best to muffle it, but it still echoed in the vast tunnel.

“It’s the damp.” was all Cara could manage before releasing a cough that managed to reverberate off all walls. Both women froze, holding their breath and waiting for the sound of hundreds of wings beating.

Cara dropped her bag and began searching through it as quietly as she could. Cyndi kept her eye on the darkness above them, as though that would help her to hear.

“I can feel the cough coming back. There are lozenges here. I’m gonna risk a light for a sec.”

Before Cyndi could reach out and smack her friend, Cara had her torch lit, its beam radiating throughout the tunnel. They froze as the sight of hundreds of pixies, no taller than a hand came into view. Iridescent wings reflected the light on the huddled mass. Each slept upside down and intertwined with the roots that hung from above. They were like adorable dolls, just with fangs and a taste for adrenaline.

Adrenaline like what was coursing through Cyndi. She swatted at Cara, who turned off the torch. Both began to shuffle, though in opposite directions. They had come too far, or so Cara though. Cyndi was thinking of her Aunt, who had opened a nest of pixies and could no longer see the color purple. They were capable of much worse. Cyndie didn’t think the treasure horde was worth the risk. Cara had gone on ahead.

Cyndi sighed, then stubbed her toe. Hard. She tried to bite off the growl with no success. She saw the outline of Cara frantically waving at her as the glowing eyes of the pixies opened one by one. The cavern was illuminated and the women could see just how huge this colony was. Then the light descended.

The swarm encircled them, biting and spitting as they darted out of reach. Cara pulled a can from her bag and began to spray a putrid cloud around them, which set them shrieking and made them recede a short distance.

“That’s disgusting. Get the bats.”

They each  held a wand with a splayed end, the gemstone center pulsed as they brought it down on the pixies. The swarm returned as they swatted. Each one they hit was rendered unconscious, but still their numbers refused to thin.

The cavern turned warm as a sudden wind came up from below. The shrieking increased and the pixies flew so fast they almost carried Cyndi away with them. Hundreds of wings clicked and the glowing eyes disappeared up the tunnel, leaving the women in the darkness again. Darkness that was getting warmer.

“Cara, I”m leaving. As should you. Now.” Cyndi turned and strode off after the pixies. Cara protested but the bobbing torchlight caught up eventually. Which was good, as Cyndi had no idea how she would have told Cara’s husband she’d been eaten by a dragon.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: The Captain’s Lamp

Week No 1 of the April Shower Monthly Writer’s Prompt: The Squall Passed Quickly

174 Words

The captain was at a loss. The smug looking face in the flame was right, though it galled him to say it. They were lost. The squall had seemed harmless at first. But now he was three men down, no direction and no vision through the spray. He needed the djinn.

“What do you want, I won’t let you out.” The captain would go down with the ship before he released this monster.

“Just a small request. When you return home, I want you to place my lamp on your mantle. No closets for me.” 

The captain wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was given no time to think. The lamp began to shut orders, which his remaining crew quickly followed. In almost no time the mist began to calm and thin. They made land with no further incident. 

Later, as the captain left the inn he snickered as the sound of the lamp’s shouts faded away. The djinn could sit on the mantle there and wait for the next fool.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: The Little Doll’s Quest

Week 4 of the Magical March Monthly Writers Prompt: On the Eve of the Full Moon

157 Words

She sat motionless, gazing out of the window at the deepening dusk. Excitement coursed through her as she strained her porcelain eyes, scanning the horizon. Her kid had long since fallen asleep. She’d be back before she woke up.

Cracks formed along the delicate doll’s legs as the moon rose yellow and bright. She smiled at the familiar ripple of pain that cascaded down her, as the shell burst and her true self was revealed. Still no bigger than the little girl’s forearm, the doll, now made of flesh, strode over to the sleeping child and kissed her gently.

She had no trouble accepting the pull within her, so as quietly as she could, she opened the window and jumped, a tuft of soft grass breaking her fall. Up and away she ran, toward the rising orb and the dark forest. Tonight she would meet with the others. She would find a way to heal the child.


Notes: While I like the cute visuals this one gives off for me I’m not sure in which direction to take it.

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: The Guardian Spirit’s Retirement

Week 3 of the Magical March Monthly Writers Prompt: The Forest Retreat

312 Words

It was nice. It really was everything she could have asked for. And she was bored out of her mind. Retirement was supposed to bring peace. All she had wanted throughout the last brat’s life ws to finally be released. She still wasn’t sure it was worth it.

The hollow was all hers. Her reward for centuries of diligent service. Born bound to a human, it was her job to guard one person of each generation that issued from the Original Ancestor. She had done her job faithfully, keeping the family safe from the Forest Folk’s reach.

Some generations were hard. Not all of her bonded one’s descendants were worthy of the name. Many times she thought her ward would kill themselves before begetting an heir. Other times, she found herself wishing they would do just that.

Even the good ones of late seemed to harbor a selfishness that went against everything her bonded soul stood for. The latest brat having been the worst, it really came as no surprise when the stupid man chose to cut off the possibility of children before he had any. It had still hurt her though.

She’d hung around afterwards, watching him destroy himself through indulgence. Any aid the guardian might have offered couldn’t reach him now. It was a relief when the One Eyed god called her to finally retire.

That was almost fifty years ago. She had walked every inch of the hollow, investigated its many occupants, made friends and foes, and all the while he waited.

A new soul. Soon, the One Eyed said she’d be bound again when a new soul line appeared. Her patience was wearing thin. She scanned every meteor shower, wistfully watching new souls come to earth. 

She was done waiting. Approved or no, she was finding a way out of this paradise prison.

Notes: I want to somehow tie this to the Starfall short piece from last month. It would make an interesting addition to the mythos of this urban fantasy universe I’m building.

Posted in Writer's Prompts

Monthly Artist Prompt: April Showers

I found this one suggested on Brush Warriors, however had a bit of trouble finding an origin point for it. From my (albeit small) amount of searching, I found this post from 2014 which had it as part of an Art With Heart series. The earliest form I could find for an artist was found at deviant art on the page of kesleyleah.

I was quite excited at the idea of using this theme as a prompt for writers. Weather often features as a plot point, either descriptive or a catalyst, but what if we were to use it as the main feature of the story?

Week 1

The Squall Passed Quickly: A story of seafarers sent adrift in a storm. Was the storm natural or conjured? Who survived? Is the storm truly over?

As an extension of the theme: Is rain good or bad to your character? Do they have memories in which rain is a feature? What is the relation to rain for a forest spirit? A troll? A sorceress trying very hard to make it home? How does it impact your character’s actions or moon?

Quick Exercise: Pick three of the following and write a piece of no more than 100 words.

  • The rain stick
  • The water fairy
  • The magical umbrella
  • The weather gauge
  • The rainboots
  • The lost dragon
  • The grateful garden
  • The most morose gnome
  • The leak in the roof
  • Not that kind of magic

Week 2

And then there was the flood: Did they know it was coming? Can they get to high ground? Is it ending or is this a new way of life?

On Writing Visual Descriptions: Go overboard with the visual description on purpose. Use all the adjectives you can and leave no detail out. Read through it again a little later and cross out any part that doesn’t give you an impression of what the character is thinking or doing. Re-write it only with the details remaining, then compare the first with the second draft.

Week 3

The storm goddess is angry: is she withholding all the rain? Nonstop rain? Is she wrecking the countryside? Why is she angry and what will it take to appease her?

Snowball Plotline: Write a plot using one sentence each for the beginning, middle and end.

  • Ex: Harriet was on a quest to recover her grandmother’s amulet. Along the way she learns a dark family secret. Will she choose power or love?

Now expand each sentence into three:

  • Harriet never knew her grandmother. Her family’s power was tied to the amulet the old woman fled with. If she wanted her birthright, she would have to find her grandmother.
  • Along the way she meets people who knew/know her grandmother. The woman had made many enemies and hidden a secret from the family for years. A few people follow her, hoping to settle scores.
  • She led the mage straight to her grandmother’s lair. The mage places the grandmother in danger. She must choose between saving her grandmother or reclaiming the pendant.

This may be enough for some pantsers (it is for this pantser anyways) but you can choose to snowball it again and write another three sentences for each of the nine above. Continue until you reach a point where you feel confident writing the scene, knowing what’s going to happen.

Week 4

Weather Spell Gone Wrong: They did everything right. They followed all the instructions to the letter. So what went wrong? How does the spell take a very very wrong turn?

As an extension of the theme: Life giving rain on a dried out land…are the farmers happy? What about those in the lowlands? How much rain is too much? What kind of plot points or situations can you think of that would halt your character in their tracks, and what do they do about it?

Posted in Writer's Prompts

Weekly Short: The Ogre’s Offer

Week 2 of the Magical March Monthly Writers Prompt: The Hero Is Tired

137 Words

The knocking at the door caused her to clench her teeth so hard no more than hissing emerged as a response. She had just sat down. Twelve long days chasing and despatching an ogre, not even one minute’s rest.

She threw open the door and stood dumbfounded. Battered and wrapped in a series of bandages was the ogre. Her subconscious reached for her sword.

“I would like to hire you.” She nearly dropped her sword. Her mind raced between the realization that it was still alive, and that it could talk.

“I want you to kill the town mayor. My people are attacked by hired thugs regularly and I want it to stop.”

There was a weighted silence. She let out the breath she’d been holding and resigned herself to the next ten minutes.

“Come on in.”

Posted in Super Short Stories

Weekly Short: Servant of the Dark Magician’s League

Week 1 of the Magical March Monthly Writers Prompt: The Almighty and Powerful One

158 Words

She sighed heavy enough for him to hear. Still he ignored her. She resisted the urge to hit him and settled for nudging him with her broom until he moved his feet. It was probably good she was forbidden to speak to him. She’d have been fired in moments.

She began laying the fire as the rest of his ridiculous band of underachievers began filing in. The Dark Magician’s League. Even the name felt like an attempt at a joke. Spend enough time with them and you’d realize the joke was the men themselves.

The broody super dark nerd lord reminded her daily that he kept her soul nearby. It was the only thing that kept her compliant. Four long years of fetching his every wish and learning far more than intended her to know. For example, she’d long ago stopped searching for her soul. She was simply going to take his.


Notes: I think I want to explore the Dark Magician’s League further, and definitely through this woman’s eyes.