My, how time flies! (no apologies for the cheesy opening. cheese is life.) It’s already time for the first of my baby name prompts, and the best part? It’s chosen by you! Since my baby name book is split in the middle, I don’t have female and male names mixed, so I thought I’d let you decide which one gets chosen!
(Right, let’s try sth new..) Choose next week’s writing prompt for me, please? 🙂
— Sarina Langer (@sarinalanger) October 27, 2016
Thank you to everyone who got involved and voted ❤ Since the Twitter poll worked so well I’ll continue to pick the bi-weekly prompts this way 🙂 Expect to see them pop up in the week before the prompt. So no poll this week, since the next prompt won’t be out for another two weeks 🙂
Oh, and one other thing: I’ll try to keep these short. I know you don’t always have a lot of time to read them, and I’ll be busy myself with NaNo and editing, so I think shorter prompts do both of us a favour 🙂
As always, if the prompt speaks to you feel free to borrow it! If you do, please link back here so I can be nosy and read your interpretation ^-^
(m.; oath, pledge)
You failed her. You swore an oath to her, and you failed her.
His breaths came in ragged, uneven intervals, but he refused to accept what he knew. He was dying, but he couldn’t be. Not yet. He’d promised Alfre he’d be there, that he’d protect her. Instead he was leaning against a tree, fifteen minutes away from the town, bleeding out.
He’d known he shouldn’t have left her side. He’d known he should have talked her out of it.
“This animosity has lasted too long, Arlen. Are we not proof that our two people can live peacefully with one another? It’s my duty as Elder of my clan to approach them first. Please, Arlen. I have to try.” And fool that he was he had agreed.
He wanted this war – which had long since fizzled out into random but rare cruelties against each other – to be over as badly as she did. His parents would never allow him to marry an elf. No one in his village would accept it, or her.
Alfre’s people were excellent archers and talented mages, but his people had always been warriors. Both sides had done unspeakable things to the other, and no one could even remember why.
He had agreed for Alfre to meet with his village’s mayor and the council, to discuss peace, under the condition that he’d be there to protect her. All his life he had been taught that elves were vicious, and shot humans on sight, yet it was the very humans who had warned him and indoctrinated him that he was worried about now. Alfre’s people had accepted him, after some initial uncertainties and suspicion. Some still didn’t trust him now, but he could walk amongst them and not fear an arrow to his head. Alfre couldn’t do the same amongst his people, his family.
Alfre had insisted on meeting the council and the mayor alone. How had she convinced him again? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.
He had followed a little later as agreed, but before he could reach the village an arrow had pinned him against the very tree he leaned against now. Short moments later another arrow had buried itself deep within his gut. Arlen knew he hadn’t been shot by an elf – an elf wouldn’t have missed his vital organs – but someone wanted him dead. Or perhaps they only wanted him to miss the meeting?
Alfre was alone and unprotected in the village. As a sign of good will she had left her staff behind; he had been meant to be her only protection. Now he couldn’t even stand without bleeding out.
Arlen reached into his pocket, and pulled out the bitter herbs he always carried with him. He quickly chewed the lot, and prayed for a miracle. They wouldn’t save him, but they would keep him alive for long enough to get a warning to Alfre.
He had to get her out of there, or the people he had loved and trusted his whole life would slaughter her.
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All writing belongs to the author, Sarina Langer