Monster Week Prompt 3

You knew it was coming.  Enjoy!

Twilight hung over the raw battle field, covering the dead bodies in a shroud of darkness as the sun set. A tick haze rolled across the shadowy field, covering the fallen and setting fire to what was left of the trampled grass adding smoke to the ethereal haze. A strange howl rose up, making the ground shudder and the smoke and haze swirl as if it were boiling.

High above the battle ground a lane figure stood watching as the light waned and a new menace entered the field. Bright yellow eyes missed nothing as she gazed at the unfolding scene below. A hot wind flew up, tossing her cloak behind her in billowing waves .

She was not pleased with what she saw below. Nor was she pleased with what was coming out of the deepest depths of Hell. This was just the beginning of a war she tried to prevent between the gods. The price of blood for this battle was already paid and now, those souls would not be able to see the rest they deserved.

“What do you see, mother?” A soft male voice came from behind her as a large hand reached for her shoulder. He stood tall and burly, dressed in armor and carrying a helmet beneath one arm. Only his feet were bare, letting him feel the earth beneath his toes and let his claws dig in deep while he fought.

Another howl broke the silence, shuddering the ground once again as mother and son observed. Looking up at him, she smiled, whiskers twitching at the acrid scent of metal and leather. That smile faded quickly with her reply. “I see a large menace coming to us, my son. We will have to fight again.”

“The men are tired. I don't think they could go another step right now.” His voice sounded concerned for the men under his command.

“I know, Yaneh, I know, but we are left with no choice.” She heaved a heavy sigh and turned to walk back to the encampment. “I have healed all that can. The rest… will have to make do with a potion. Prepare them, son.”

Her words were just as good as any command from a king or emperor to him. Yaneh nodded then followed his mother back to where his men set up their camp. Though his mother was smaller than her, she had about her a strength he could never describe and learned quickly never to question her motives.

He jogged ahead and called out the orders to have all the men assemble before night was fully upon them. It wasn't much time, but he knew they needed to be ready. As soon as his orders were passed along through the ranks, he left to help his mother prepare her potion.

“The men are gathering.” He stated as he came to a stop by her fire pit. “Do you want me to help you?” He grinned slightly at her and tilted his head.

Blue eyes met yellow briefly before the smaller feline nodded. “If you want. You know what to do as much as I.” From a pouch hanging from her belt, she dumped out several musty smelling bags. Together, she and her son picked through them and poured the contents into boiling pot of water over the fire.

The flames danced high, changing colors with each new addition to the pot. As the last ingredient was added, a fox came running up, panting hard from his exhaustion. “Lady Sab'Eth! Lady Sab'Eth! We need you. The enemy is coming up the cliff toward us.” He no sooner got the last words out and he fell into a heap, dead with an arrow through his back.

“Quickly son! Drink the potion then get it to our men as fast as you can.” She flung her arm back to whisk her cloak away from her body then glared into the night. Behind her, she heard the heavy thud of her son's feet hit the ground as he ran back to take care of his contingents.

From out of the darkness, two sets of reflected the fire light. As they moved closer, the faint sound of chains clinked and the vague outline of the huge apes appeared in the flickering light.

A whoosh of wind rushed through, tugging at her cloak s Sab'Eth stood there, glaring at the intruder with her hands down at her sides and the tip of her tail flicking slowly with her contained anger. “So,” she growled, “you decided to surrender? Good. We don't need any more bloodshed on this land.” She sounded as bold as she felt and knew the demon wasn't there to end the war but to end her.

A loud, booming, laughed rumbled through the earth toward her before the baleful glare of a demon entered the ring of light cast by her fire. “What ever gave you that idea? You know as well as I that I'm here for you.” He laughed again.

The giant apes rattled their chains and strained against them to get to her. Sab'Eth smirked then barked a laugh of her own. “You can't have me, Grax. You don't have the balls to try and take me.” She flexed her fingers, showing off the claws she kept sharp and hidden.

Grax smirked then released the chains. “Get her,” he commanded the giant apes.

The beasts howled as they leaped at her, digging hand-like paws into the ground and throwing up dirt with each step. Their headlong rush to the smaller feline lady skidded to a stop when their bodies felt nothing except for the slash of searing pain along their hind legs.
They turned quickly and rushed her again only to receive the same treatment.

She wasn't aware of the attack on the camp, only the demon at her own and the pets which were coming after her. Round and round she lead them, slashing at exposed flanks and legs. Many times she tried for the head and missed. They could see her coming.

As she wiped her forehead, she smirked. “Looks like you finally found a pet worthy of taking me on, Grax. Let's see If they can handle another demon.”

The spell she recited jerked her body as the demon's laughed at her attempt. He watched as the apes continued to attack, barely breaking through the spell's field to touch her contorting body. The feline humanoid body reshaped through flashes of brilliant light, turning her from a morph to a panther-like demon with pupiless glowing eyes and a dark aura surrounding her body. Knotted muscles twitched beneath a short pelt of ebony fur as she roared her anger at the attacking apes.

Almost as large as the demonic apes, Sab'Eth rushed at them and slashed with claws sharp enough to slice through metal as if it were butter. She gave as good as she got in the fight with the monstrous apes. She could smell their determination to kill her as commanded. They were her equal in strength, but she had a slight edge; she still had her intellect and could out think both beasts with ease.

Grax kept watch, his eyes narrowing when the cat-woman changed shape. He snarled with how easy she could avoid the worst of the apes' strikes. But they were two against one. He had the advantage. Just to make sure, he tossed in a spell of his own, adding to the speed and strength of his minions. Then, just to add to his own amusement, tossed fireballs into the fray.

She was without backup and now, the advantage shifted over to the demon's side. Dodging fireballs and trying to avoid being tackled by the apes, she twitched and turned, letting her own instincts guide her movements while she considered her targets.

For what seemed like hours, she battled the apes. Her energy was beginning to ebb and her three opponents were limitless. She was starting to show the effects of being out numbered, but she kept fighting on, getting slower and slower, but her strikes more devastating. She'd sooner die than lose a fight to these beasts and Grax.

Over the howls of the apes, a loud roar echoed, startling the demon enough his throw was off, hitting his own minion rather than the panther. The chance gave her an opening. While the ape burned, she went for the throat, swiping with her paw to main it and get out of the way of the acid coursing through its veins.

Again, a roar startled the apes, giving her another opportunity to strike. She was getting too tired to fight, but she took every chance she could. Rest would come later.

“Mother!” The shout sounded more like another roar and the acrid scent of transformation reached her nose in time for her to see the tendrils of dark aether wrap around her son. When he emerged, he looked much like her only larger, stronger, and better protected by the very spirit he held within him. As he leapt into the fray, he roared to her, “Run! I have this.”

Sab'Eth shook her head then dropped to the ground to let him tackle the apes before they could crush her. “No! Tale care of them. I'll get Grax, their leader.”

No sooner said than an army of the demon apes arrived, howling their hunger. Some were dragging their victims. Others were licking their lips and drooling at the prospect of more than just dinner.

Just as the demons arrived, so did the army her son led. They shouted and banged their weapons against their shields then charged. A clash of metal and stone like flesh rang through the mountains as the two armies merged into one battle under the pale moon light.

Over it all, the maddening howl of the beastly apes shook the ground and the roars of the clans answered them back. Only the rising sun, hours from that point, would tell who the victor would be.

Monster Week Writing Prompt 2

Today's prompt features a djinn.  The picture, I swear, comes out of a AD&D monster manual.  That is how familiar it looks to me, but it serves as a very good prompt.  This one isn't as long as the others.  Maybe a page or so in length, so you don't have to skim through as much.  Oh, and before I forget, it is a silly ending.  It wasn't intended to be scary at all.

Arms crossed, the green genie frowned at the quivering man before him. 10,000 years and he gets the same reaction every time. They all get scared of the big, muscle-bound, man made of smoke without bothering to introduce themselves or give him an excuse to scare them. It was all the same and he could guess what the next thing would be, a “request” for wishes.

“Oh great and powerful genie, I have searched far and wide...” The man's voice faded from his mind as the djinn looked down on him.

Genie. He was not a genie. No one could get it right. Genies are weak compared the djinn. All the magical demigods considered them fledglings of the magical world and the djinn thought no less. Seriously, he could be doing something else besides listening to the same old litany for the millionth time in as many years. It wasn't the life he wanted, but he was stuck with it.

Realizing he needed to give a reply to his “master” he looked down at the man, lifted a brow ever so slowly, then moved in close enough to touch his nose to man's. His intense stare made the man cower and back away from him before the djinn decided to straighten up and return to scowling at this pitiful insect of a master.

“Out with your demands, human.” His voice boomed and thunder rolled to emphasize his displeasure. Just then, as the silence filled the area only to be broken by the squeak of a very frightened human, he got an idea.

“I... I... I wish to be rich.” The man's voice quivered uncontrollably. “Yeah, I wanna be rich. And famous!” He raised his hand to point out the addition to the first wish.

“That's two wishes, human,” he snarled through his growing smile. The evil just glimmered in his eyes. “Make this last one count.”

The human blinked up at the djinn before protesting. “N-no, that's one wish. Just one. I get two more.”

Arching a brow high, he leaned in close to the human and smelled something foul. He must have scared this human into filling his shorts. Lovely. “There are no exceptions, /human/,” he said, growling under his breath at him. “Rich and famous are two different requests. Should have rephrased that.”

“But! But!” The stammered before relenting with a heavy sigh.

“What is your last request.” He just knew what the last wish would be and he was going to give it a different interpretation.

Puffing out his chest, the human grinned, thinking he'd have this genie right where he wanted him. “I want to be what every woman needs, genie.”

A snap of his fingers and the djinn made the wishes come true, but the first two, he canceled. They were no longer needed now that the human was laying on the ground as a long, thin pad.

Writing Prompt

This was a writing prompt in a Facebook group I recently joined called Elements of Genre Writing.  Today’s prompt was for tragedy and we were given a picture for the prompt.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening. Nothing exciting, just dinner, maybe a movie, and some alone with her special guy. He had promised her that there would a surprise for her after dinner. Just thinking about what it could be had her on pins and needles waiting for six o’clock when he’d arrive in his beat up old Jeep to pick her up for their date.

That was all it was supposed to be. No more, no less. Katie didn’t expect the limo to take her and Joe to the restaurant, nor did she expect to be taken to one of the most lavish places in town that had a waiting list almost a year long. It was more than she ever dreamed.

Joe gave her bouquet of red and white roses at the door and treated her like a queen. Nothing could have been more perfect. Nothing, until he knelt beside her at the table when their desserts were delivered then opened a small box to reveal a glittering ring. Her answer was only a tearful nod as she covered her face with her hands.

Just as the ring was slipped onto her finger, the nightmare began with the rapid fire of automatic weapons and the shattering of glass. Those closest to the windows didn’t stand a chance. But they were the lucky ones. The rest of the diners were rounded up and forced into a truck to endure a one way trip someplace outside of town.

Why they were kidnapped, Katie didn’t know, nor did she understand why. No one else knew why they were taken away from their normal lives, either. All they knew was they were being taken somewhere far from their homes.

When the doors finally opened, gun fire filled the small compartment making an escape futile at best. No one escaped unscathed. Joe took several bullets trying to protect her and died in her arms. Katie cried, in pain from the hits she took when Joe’s body slipped from her arms to the floor of the truck.

The last thing she saw before the last bullet ripped the life from her body was the sneer of her captor after he took off the black ski mask and aimed the gun at her and the rest of the living.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening.

I hope you enjoy the free write for this prompt.  Critique all you want, I enjoy what others think of my rough work.

This Week in Prompts

Bad title is bad.  Yeah, I know, I suck.  :P

I've had plenty of time to write this week and all I did was sit and stare at the computer screen filling out more applications and sending in my resume to every job opening I thought I could qualify for.  So, when it came to the evening, I'm too tired from staring at the screen to want to think about writing anything, not even the prompts which came up in the #writemotivation G+ group.

A few questions that were posted I gave an answer to.  Others, I read and got a good giggle out of them.

The best news of the week came yesterday when the second round of first page/query critiques came out.  Naturally, I sent in the first page of Society of Night and Lies.  What I got back was better than anticipated.  I was expecting it to be ripped apart with questions asking why a cat was talking and drinking in a bar.

Sure, there were questions but more of when the hook was coming not about anthromorphs.  The one who critiqued mine did make a suggestion, which a beta had also mentioned, was to trim off the first sentences.  Which, yes, I do agree with.  Those first few are fluff and not really needed.  Something else also stood out clear as crystal to me, if Sabrina is trying to keep from being pulled back into a seedy underground society she used to be an assassin for, shouldn't there be more mystery, especially surrounding her?  More suspense as she tries to figure out how her old 'boss' found her and managed to locate her only living relative?

Yeah, I thought the same thing.

More trimming and spacing out information and more with the keeping things to herself so she can follow her own agenda, which is stay free of the Claw and Fang.

Didn't I mention writing prompts?

May 28th:  "What's that smell?"

"What's that smell?"  Mom shouted when she entered the room.  Her hand waved in front of her face with she used the other to pull her over-sized t-shirt up over her nose to help block the noxious fumes.  "Did someone die in here? "  Her hacking and gagging was only partially faked.  She was really sickened by the stench that filled the room.

In the chair just in front of where mom stood, her son, a rambunctious eight-year-old boy was trying to hide from the smell behind his spindly legs and his tablet on which he was playing a game.  "Pee-ew!  That's really, really bad.  Dad's tryin' ta kill us, mommy!"  He was laughing while pretending to be grossed out by the death-like aroma.

The scent was fading.  Apparently not fast enough because mom grabbed the bottle of air and fabric refresher and sprayed it around the room; making sure every inch of the floor was touched by the mist as well as the cats' tree and the furniture.  Even then, that fetid scent lingered behind the floral and cinnamon of the spray.

"Colin," mom said sharply as she gave the boy an equally stern look.  "What have I told you about constantly joking about bodily functions?"

Colin quickly stopped, but he didn't stop waving his hands to keep the fine mist from making it to his tablet or his nose.  He was too young to realize that such an attempt was futile.

While the cats were miffed at having their precious tree with the four tiers of cups and curved platforms for them to sprawl in was lacking their special scents, they were more than happy to receive the petting and chin tickles from the man of the house.  He had just ambled in from the bathroom; laughing at his son's ruckus and the defensive stance that his spouse had taken.

"It wasn't me, this time."  He looked as innocent as Satan on a rampage.  "I was in the bathroom the whole time."

"It wasn't me, either, mommy."  Colin piped in with a big mischievous smile on his face.  "I wouldn't put it past either of you, boys."  Then look from one to another as if she were a detective out of an old movie, she asked, "If you two didn't do it, who did?"

Just then, another whiff of fetid wretchedness drifted toward them.  They looked at each other.  Neither of them had done it that time.   Then they watched as the tom cat leaped off the cat tree and ran from the room. Only one left was the half-grown female and she was grooming her hind leg.  Somehow, that little innocent cat had made a stench worthy of a full grown man after eating all day at a bean festival.

May 29th:  "It's not that the women are stupid..." (corrected for the grammar)

"It's not that the women are stupid..." stated the old trapper, "but most of 'em ain't got the sense to tell th' difference b'tween a worm and a piece o' rope.  Ya cain't teach 'em nuthin' without havin' ta 'splain it 'bout thirty fo'ty times a'for they catch on."

The other men sitting near by nodded and sipped at their tankards; keeping their voices low while the drunken badger talked loudly so everyone in the tavern could hear him.  They had their own opinions about women but none of them dared speak them aloud.  They learned their lessons long ago.

One of the many patrons of the Jade Moon could have tried to quiet the badger down, or done something to keep him quiet.  But, no, they kept drinking.  Perhaps they were taking some perverse pleasure in knowing that sooner or later, the badger would be shown why you don't speak against women in that particular tavern.

As if to ruin their fun, one of the bartender came over to their group.  As big as what the gray wolf looked, he moved quickly and quietly.  "Sir, you're being too loud.  Would you please talk quieter, you're disturbing the other patrons."  He was polite and looked professional in his tunic and apron, but he sounded like he really did not want the badger to be quiet.

Bleary-eyed from the mead he had drunk, the badger waved his hand as if he trying to push him away.  "I ain't being loud, sir."  Strangely, he didn't slur his words, but he definitely was not sober.  "I am being perfectly quiet.  Ain't that right boys."  He eyed his companions and gave them a gap-toothed grin as he raised his mug up in the air.  "More mead, sir.  Me'n the boys here are thirsty."

The wolf looked over the group as the more sober, and wiser, shook their heads.  Some muttering and others keeping their voices down as they sipped from their own cups.  He shrugged and left the group alone.  He had a feeling they were waiting for the badger to say too much at just the right moment.  For just in case, he took his time preparing the new tankard for the soon-to-be victim.

They didn't have long to wait.  The only female bartender in the tavern came down the stairs, dressed in her leathers and sturdy boots for her shift.  The dark colors were in contrast to her pale gray fur and long blonde hair.  She had no idea that trouble would be thrust her way.

Standing to see where the bartender was, the badger spied the wolf femme as she sauntered over to the bar then lean on it while speaking to a brown furred wolf standing guard by the till while serving drinks to the other patrons.  "See boys!"  He shouted almost gleefully as he pointed with his empty tankard at the wolf femme.  "That's what I mean.  Women ain't got no sense.  She ain't s'posed ta be dressin' like a man.  She should be wearin' dresses and keepin' in th' home ta mind the kids."

In that moment, the tavern went silent.  Only a few soft coughs were heard and quickly hushed.  Outside, the wind could be heard blowing through the eaves and branches tapping on the walls.  It was quiet enough that the mice peeked out of their holes to see if it was safe to venture out to find food.  It felt as though everyone was holding their breath.

Sharp ears swiveled toward the badger and his companions then, slowly, the she-wolf turned to face them.  Her eyes were dark and her jaw set tight.  Each step seemed filled with purpose as she strode over to the badger's table.

Quickly, the group surrounding the badger scattered, leaving a wide path for her to approach.  As soon as she arrived at his table, she slapped her hands down on the surface then leaned in to get nose to nose with the trapper.  Her blue eyes were like eyes, showing nothing of the anger that filled her gut from the insult he had made.  "What did you say?"  Her growl was low and her jaw barely moved, but her lips curled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth.  "Did you imply that I am to be nothing more than a maid and brood mare?"

The pride the old badger felt melted away as survival instincts cleared away the alcohol from his system.  He leaned back when she moved closer and his knees suddenly felt like jelly.  "Um... yes... ma'am...?"  Immediately, he knew that was a bad answer.

Before anyone could react, he badger was in the air, being slung about while punch after punch landed on his face.  He struggled to get away only to be held captive until the beating ended. He couldn't tell up from down or where to block to stop the pounding he was taking from a woman; a woman who was smaller than he was.

Somehow, amid all the furious hitting and struggling, they ended up near the door.  One of the patrons opened it to allow her to toss the trapper out.  Before giving him the boot, she whispered into the badger's ear, "No one says Frea is a brood mare.  Ever.  Learn to respect the ladies, old man."  In her voice a threat could be felt.  A threat that would ensure he'd never insult her or another woman again.

Out into the windy night the badger flew, his rump well above his head as he soared face first into the cobblestone road.  He laid there in the street, groaning from the beating he just took.  All that noticed him were the city guards and they shook their heads and tisksed softly.  They needed no explanation.

May 30th:  "Hush, little one, it's going to be fine..."

"Hush, little one, it's going to be fine..."  The words echoed softly through Ashlin's mind while she held the single flower in her hands and held it to her nose.  Her sniffles couldn't be masked by the only token she had to lay upon the grave of her deceased mother.

She had been gone for only a year, and it seemed like yesterday that her mother spoke those words to her and brushed away the tears that crept down her cheeks.  She didn't look ill, and yet, she was so frail and weak.  The last few days of her life were spent in bed while her body deteriorated from the fever and coughing.

Ashlin never left her mother's side during her illness.  She helped feed her and clean up the messes the coughing made.  She kept her company when she should have been outside playing with the other children in their village.  In her heart she hoped her mother would get better if someone stayed with her and took care of her every need.

As much as she tried, she could not help her mother get well.  None of the medicines worked and the closest healer was too far away to get them in time even though they tried their hardest.  All the healer could do was help ease her mother into death so she didn't have any pain to fight with or coughing to disturb her path into oblivion.

Father was there in those last moments, grasping his wife's hand while Ashlin held the other; both grieving for the one person who made them a family as she passed away.  That couldn't have been more perfect with sunshine and warm spring breezes to chase butterflies and wisps through the dandelion fluff.  It was a perfect day, just as it was now on the anniversary of her mother's death.

Only a year older, she couldn't grasp death fully, but she knew it made her heart break into a million tiny pieces that she had struggled to put together since.  Even her father felt the same way and decided the only way to move on in their lives was to move away and make a fresh start.    It wasn't an easy one to make and it felt like they were losing her again because of it.

"Come, Ashlin."  Her father called to her from the wagon.  He had already returned to the seat and was waiting for her.  Everything they owned was packed in the back beneath a heavy tarp.  "It's time to go."

She spared him only a quick glance before resting the flower beside the simple tombstone.  "Good-bye, mommy.  I miss you," she whispered then ran to the wagon, crying because she could not take the grief any longer.

As the horses started their slow plod down the worn path, a soft voice whispered on the wind as it blew past Ashlin's ears, "Hush, little one, it's going to be fine..."

Writing Prompt for #writemotivation Google+ Group

I couldn't let this one go unnoticed or undone.  It just may appear in my book Society of Night and Lies.  It's a very good set up for an escape scene.

Daily Writing Prompt May 24:Partial First Sentence "With her feet on the window sill..."

With her feet on the sill, she grasped the sash and pulled with all her might to open the huge window.  It gave way, but only grudgingly with a creak then a sudden motion upward which nearly knocked her off balance.  Hanging on for dear life, Sabrina looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming in only to hear the pounding footsteps of her captors.

"Shit!"  She muttered then looked down at the street far below.  She had to be at least three stories up and the only soft landing was the half filled trash bin.  "Double shit!"  She didn't relish getting herself smothered in stuff that no stray animal would want to touch let alone walk near.

She then looked at the building across the alley.  The window directly across from her was broken, leaving just a few shards of glass still caught in the pane.  It would be a painful leap but better than getting covered in smelly trash.  After taking a deep breath, she set her resolved and didn't try to think about the distance she would have to cross.  Either way, she was trash if she stayed there and this could be her only chance to escape Dean's clutches.

Crouching low, she closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer.  Sabrina wasn't a religious feline, but even she knew this was going to be a leap of faith as well as a leap for her life.  "One.  Two.  Three!" She counted aloud to herself and launched with all her might to get to the window so enticingly close.

Her captors burst through the door just as she jumped, each of the yelling and getting in each other's way as they scrambled to try to stop her, only to miss the hairs on the tip of her tail as she went sailing through the air to uncertain freedom.