Last Wednesday I threw out the challenge of writing a quick story, snippet, scene based around my word challenge of WICKED! It is always fun to see where someone's mind goes when a particular word directs them..hence the reason I love Wednesday's Written Word!
My Royal Court never disappoints. Here are the other entries I received:
from Christa:
“Wicked sweet,” he slapped me on the back.
I smiled and popped my skateboard into my hands. He doesn’t know what wicked is. “Yeah, yeah,” I shrugged him off. “I’m headed home.” Once I turned the corner from the skate park, I dropped through the pavement and dirt, pausing to watch a worm inch by as I loosened my hair from its ponytail so it fell to my shoulders, then landed in the den at home.
“Hey honey,” I kissed my husband on the cheek.
He set down his book and smiled up at me. “Good day?”
I shrugged. “It was fine, but I’m glad I’m home.” I plopped into the couch beside his chair. Sure, the beginning of the marriage had been rough, but we’d settled into a nice routine together.
Coming home to the God of the Underworld wasn’t too bad, if you thought about it.
I smiled and popped my skateboard into my hands. He doesn’t know what wicked is. “Yeah, yeah,” I shrugged him off. “I’m headed home.” Once I turned the corner from the skate park, I dropped through the pavement and dirt, pausing to watch a worm inch by as I loosened my hair from its ponytail so it fell to my shoulders, then landed in the den at home.
“Hey honey,” I kissed my husband on the cheek.
He set down his book and smiled up at me. “Good day?”
I shrugged. “It was fine, but I’m glad I’m home.” I plopped into the couch beside his chair. Sure, the beginning of the marriage had been rough, but we’d settled into a nice routine together.
Coming home to the God of the Underworld wasn’t too bad, if you thought about it.
from Riv Re:
I tossed in the final bit of powder into the pot. It made a loud boom, and I checked to make sure that no one heard and was coming in to check on me. The door was still closed and locked. I looked in the pot and it was a golden color. I held a plastic spoon over the pot and it began to sizzle and disintegrate. Smiling I opened up the little package and tossed it in. Another boom. And then the pot drained. I looked in and jumped back as a little cloud of mist rose. I shivered as it began to circle me.
"You call yourself wicked?" a voice hissed at me. I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.
This earned me a cackle from the mist. The hair rose along my spine.
"Sacrifice something for me, and then you will be under my protection," he commanded.
I nodded and rolled my sleeves up. My classmates wouldn't DARE mock me after this.
I picked up the little package with some tongs. I gave it a small squeeze and all of the liquid drained back out, now a silver color. But it was more steel gray than silver.
I held my hand over the pot. As I hesitated, my palm became hot, like the spoon. I gulped.
"Do it now," the voice hissed, right in my ear. The mist had mostly disappeared, but a bit was left, and it seemed to make the voice stronger.
I clenched my teeth together and plunged my hand into the pot. A silent scream escaped my mouth and I fell to the floor, unconscious.
I awoke to find my arm looking the same as before, but stronger, colder and full of dark magic. "Yes," I whispered to myself, smiling despite the lingering pain, "They won't dare make fun of me again."
"You call yourself wicked?" a voice hissed at me. I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.
This earned me a cackle from the mist. The hair rose along my spine.
"Sacrifice something for me, and then you will be under my protection," he commanded.
I nodded and rolled my sleeves up. My classmates wouldn't DARE mock me after this.
I picked up the little package with some tongs. I gave it a small squeeze and all of the liquid drained back out, now a silver color. But it was more steel gray than silver.
I held my hand over the pot. As I hesitated, my palm became hot, like the spoon. I gulped.
"Do it now," the voice hissed, right in my ear. The mist had mostly disappeared, but a bit was left, and it seemed to make the voice stronger.
I clenched my teeth together and plunged my hand into the pot. A silent scream escaped my mouth and I fell to the floor, unconscious.
I awoke to find my arm looking the same as before, but stronger, colder and full of dark magic. "Yes," I whispered to myself, smiling despite the lingering pain, "They won't dare make fun of me again."
from Kirthi:
He was wicked, in the bad way, with tattoos and black leather, and that horrible scar running down the side of his face. I guessed that he must’ve smoked too, and maybe did drugs. What scared me the most, however, was the way he looked at me. It was as if I were a thousand gold bars or as if I were a free, unlimited buffet or something. I didn’t want him to look at me like that, I didn’t want him to look at me at all, but I was afraid. What if he beat me up or stalked me? I knew one thing, that I didn’t like wicked people, that I would never like wicked people, that I never have liked wicked people.
Ironically, we’ve been married for 18 years now, and we’ve been in love for every single one of those years.
Ironically, we’ve been married for 18 years now, and we’ve been in love for every single one of those years.
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Okay now there happens to be an AWESOME contest over at the wonderful Frankie Writes!
GO! CHECK IT OUT! - Oh Tell her The Princess sent you! Now go, scoot, enjoy your Tuesday!
Have a Terrific Tuesday!
