Friday, September 16, 2016

Daily Ten-Minute Writing Prompt

The rules are simple. Set your timer for ten minutes. Begin to write and include the prompt somewhere in your mini story. Optional: Share your writing prompt in the comment section. 
Have fun and write everyday. 

Today's prompt is:

The bird stared at him.


Demorn will go anywhere, sell her blade to the gods themselves in order  to resurrect her dead girlfriend's soul! She has been the exile of dead world since she was thirteen. Reality has been infected, setting up different Universes and wiping the memories of the population throughout past and present. Uncovering a terrifying conspiracy of multi-dimensional demon gods hiding in plain sight, she must risk everything in a desperate quest for something bigger than a bounty if the city Babelzon and everything she loves are to be saved!
Available at 
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A lover of fantasy and science fiction, comics and classic movies, David's life has been drenched in pop culture and storytelling. From the moment David read a Grant Morrison comic at a lonely tennis court as a teen, there was no option but to weave stories of action and reality bending adventure. Everything from Conan the Barbarian tales to Julian May's classic time travel adventure series "Saga of the Exiles" through to PD James murder mystery books have been a powerful influence. 
As a writer, David seeks that sweet spot between fast moving action and character moments inside a vibrant fantasy world.  Follow on Twitter @redlantern2051



2 comments:

  1. As the man awoke, he felt himself embraced by warmth. At first, it was pleasant, and he imagined himself in bed, swaddled in cozy blankets against the chill morning air. But no. This was no bed. He wasn't conserving his own body heat under the covers. The warmth he felt was coming from elsewhere, radiating toward him. Was he outside, then? Had he fallen asleep in his lounge chair again?

    Well, no matter. He was allowed to catch a few winks whenever he had the chance. Farming was a tough business at the best of times, and to his way of thinking, poultry farmers had it worse than most. Those damn birds with their damn chirping and squawking. And didn't they stir up a fuss when a dozen or so of them were culled to fill the next order! It was enough to drive a man to ruin, so if he happened to nod off in the middle of the day, he deserved it.

    As he stirred, the warmth increased, and now he realized that it was radiating up from below. All at once, it became uncomfortable, and he jarred fully awake. His eyes snapped open, and that's when his heart rose up into his chest.

    It was the cob. The big one who always strutted around the yard like he ran the place. The bird stared down at him, and there was malice in its beady little eyes. The man tried to move, but he couldn't, and that's when he understood.

    His arms were tied behind his back, and he was up to his chest in warm water. He was in some kind of tub, and now other birds appeared over the lip, Hundreds. Thousands! A lazy pall of smoke rose up around them, and beyond was the crackle of a fire.

    He began to scream as the birds worked together to lift something dark and heavy, but then the lid was lowered, and the water quickly began to boil.

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