r/writingprompts

r/WritingPrompts Short Story #3: The Shepherds of the Rapture.

On July 28th, 2043 at approximately 12:43 am Pacific Daylight Time, the Lycanthrope War was over. So marked the end of a long and brutal conflict that resulted in the deaths of millions of men, women and children on both sides. The end came after an act of desperation. One final hail mary attempt to what was left of the human race. We did what only super villains in comic book and movies had thought to do. Something that broke so many treaties and pacts that, both old and new, that the plans orchestrators were sure to face some prison time, if not death.

We destroyed the Moon.


It was the source of their power and what caused their grotesque transformations. We made several other attempts to hide the Lycanthropes from the Moon. Blocking it with artificial clouds, isolating and quarantining known werewolves. We'd even constructed a massive solar sail to create and artificial eclipse. Nothing worked and the transformations kept occuring.

Our final solution was on everyone's minds. Just, nobody had the guts to say it. Nobody except for Rear Admiral Brian Abrams. A real tough son of a bitch, old school guy who had flown in the Second Korean War and was no stranger to making drastic decisions. After the artificial eclipse failed, he phoned the President's private line and after just a two minute conversation, hung up and told his chief engineer to prepare for a nuclear attack. The engineer asked the question everyone was thinking.

"What are the targets?"

"Target," he corrected before looking up at the partially exposed on the screen. "The Moon."

In minutes, we had nine thousand nukes hurtling towards the Moon and all that was left to do was to wait three days for them to get there.

The explosion was a spectacle. The sky was as bright as day and everyone needed to shield their eyes in order to look at it. We expected the Moon to split into large chunks, at least, that's what the physicists predicted. Instead it essentially vaporized and we watched as glistening chunks flew in every which direction like a firework had exploded. Then, after but a minute, it was gone and the world was as dark as ever.

Reports flooded in of Lycanthropes returning to their human forms. Everywhere there were people stumbling about with their clothing in tatters in need of food, water, and a lengthy, likely horrifying explanation of what's happened. We celebrated. Hugged each other. Sobbed. We'd done it. We won. Only, we didn't.

On July 28th, 2043 at approximately 12:43 am Pacific Daylight Time, the Lycanthrope War was over. On July 20th, 2043 at approximately 1:37 am Pacific Daylight Time, the Vampiric Wars had begun. We would learn later, far too late, that while the Moon had awakened the Lycanthropes, it had also served as a barrier to the previously unknown population of vampires that lived among us. With it gone, so too was their shackles and they were hungry. Not only that, but now the world was overrun by weak and defenseless humans and reports quickly turned for that of rescue and joy to horror and death.

The new war lasted but a week. That marked the end of the human age. The rapture had come and us? It's shepherds.


r/WritingPrompts Short Story #2: The Plight of the Purest Soul

[WP] You’re a time traveler hired to find incriminating evidence of people and snap a photo. This person is your toughest case yet.

I’ve done it. I have officially found the purest soul ever to exist in the history of mankind. I’ve followed him for nearly a decade. Watched and cataloged his every movement, everything he’s said and have yet to find a single act that could even be considered “questionable” let alone “incriminating.” And, if I didn’t get something soon, then my sorry ass is fucked.

The guy simply can do no wrong. On paper he’s done some bad things. Fought in a war, punched a few people, made out with a hooker on New Year’s Eve. Hell, he even mooned and elected official! The problem is, if anyone else did these things, they’d be ridiculed for life but when he does it, it’s somehow charming. I don’t understand!

Look, I’m the best at what I do, make no mistake about it. I’ve photographed actual saints fucking prostitutes, Buddhist monks snorting coke, and billionaire philanthropists stabbing hobos. Who the fuck do you think took the photo of R Kelly peeing on an under-aged girl? Me, that’s who.

I gotten close though, so very close. I photographed this guy having a one-night stand with a lady. Okay, not too bad, pretty typical. But here’s the thing. She gets pregnant and has the baby without him. The kids a bastard! Classic!

So, I take some photos, follow the mom and son around for a couple years hoping the kid becomes a serial killer or something. But then, sure as shit, mister perfection waltzes in and starts being a father. Not only that, but the mom dies, and this guy then raises the kid all on his own. Fuck! He even makes unplanned pregnancies pure!

The whole purpose of my occupation is to find people doing something shameful but how am I supposed to do that with a guy who feels no shame? And I’ll do my best to not be offensive here, but the guy is sort of, ah - simple minded - so to speak. He doesn’t worry about the things other people do and he is able to feel content no matter his station in life.

It’s admirable, to be sure, but it also means that I am stuck in the 1980’s until I find something. And before you go off on your lecture about how the 80’s was the golden age or some shit, just wait until the 2130’s when things get fucking incredible. I’m talking space colonies, teleportation and, of course, time travel. So, you can take your teased hair and leather pants and shove it straight up your ass!

I apologize, the guy’s driving me insane and absolutely killing my good reputation that I spent years to build up. If I could just catch him doing one bad thing then I can finally go home, hug my wife and kid and maybe consider a different career path. Or, and this is more likely, this dude, Captain Content as I call him. Evidently the kindest, most genuine soul to grace this Earth, will result in my immediate termination

Imagine that, being fired because of a man by the name of Forrest fucking Gump. Unbelievable.

r/WritingPrompts Short Story #1: Blessed be the Waters of the Giving Well

[WP] There is a well in your village that never dries up, never freezes over and always has the clearest water that heals many ailments. One cold winter day, when you accidentally slip on ice and fall in, you find out why.

In the same moment that Kieran realized he was falling, he hit water. Hard. The impact made the air rush out of his lungs and caused a ringing in his ear that was most likely due to a ruptured ear drum. Kieran tried opening his eyes but discovered that the water may very well have been ink. Everything around him was black and he had no idea which direction was up or down. Desperate, he kicked violently, and, to his relief, Kieran broke the surface. He took in two, huge gulps of salty air, then cried out in agony at the pain shooting through his chest. As if things could get any worse, he realized that he must’ve cracked a rib or two when he fell.

Kieran paddled over to the well wall but found the bricks to slick to climb. His eyes darted around in search of anything that could help his ascent but alas, there was nothing. Unable to do much else, Kieran pointed his chin to the heavens and screamed “Help!” knowing full well that he would be frozen solid well before anyone came to his aid.

A feeling of dread washed over him and Kieran, just as any sensible person would do in this situation, begun to sob. His whimpers resonated of the walls and his sorrow quickly evolved to anger. Why had he been so stupid? He knew that it was a terrible idea to go this early in the morning. Especially after the chilly weather they’d been having. But, he was reckless and impatient. So, nagged his father and it turned out, as always, that the stubborn man was right.

But, he decided, that if this was how it was going to end for Kieran Corleau, then it would not be by him crying alone in the dark, waiting for the cold to take him. No, it was going to be on his terms. Kieran mustered whatever courage he had left, inhaled what he figured would be his last breath, and dove beneath the icy surface. Kieran emptied his lungs, allowing himself to sink. To his surprise, he felt his butt rest against the bottom of the well which had to have been no more than ten feet deep.

As Kieran stared up at the tiny light from the opening above. He did his best to ignore the burning in his chest and waited for the resounding peace that comes in the moments before death. At least, that’s how the holy scripture described it. He wondered if he’d lived a decent enough life to earn his place beside the King of Kings.

Sure, he got into his fair share of shenanigans, but he figured he was generally a good enough person to counteract that. Kieran recited his chants each night, confessed his sins to the village shaman, didn’t kill or hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. All things a good-natured person was to do.

As he pondered this along with the fond memories and deep regrets in his short life, he came to the realization that a significant amount of time had passed without him feeling at all like he was dying. Kieran’s lungs had stopped burning, his ribs no longer ached, and he found that his ringing ears had since recovered. Not only that, but he found himself at a rather comfortable temperature in the ice-cold water. When he understood what had gone wrong, Kieran felt like bashing his head against the wall.

He was in the Giving Well. The well’s whose waters bring strength to the weak and vitality to the weary. Any damage or harm done unto him in here would be quickly relieved by these magical waters. His initial excitement that he had survived was almost immediately tarnished by the realization that he could be down here for an eternity. The well was much too dark for anyone to see him and the opening too far away for his cries to be heard. Even if someone, somehow figured out he was down here, how were they to pull him up? Kieran resurface and soon felt the tears return to his eyes.

But, before he could utter a sob, Kieran heard was sounded like rumbling in the distance. It was faint at first, but with each passing moment it grew louder until it was almost deafening. Kieran then turned just in time to be met by a wall of water that pushed him back below the surface and pinned him against the well’s bottom. Several seconds passed until the stream of water subsided and Kieran returned to the surface in a daze.

“Hello!” he cried out. Thinking that the water had come from someone above, but no one answered. Kieran heard the sound of dripping water behind him and turned to see a gaping hole in the side of the well he had not noticed before. It was close enough to the surface that Kieran could grab the edge and pull himself up with little effort. He then saw that hole was actually a long tunnel. Had he found a way out of the well? There was no way to know except to push further. Kieran took one final look behind him before charging into the darkness.

He only had to walk a few feet before a light appeared. This one was warm in color and grew with every step he took. Kieran found that the light came from yet another tunnel that travelled upwards. He peered up the tunnel and saw that the passage was lined with hand and foothold. He hoisted himself up and started climbing for what felt like a half hour. The light brightened with every inch until it was almost blinding. At the same time, he could hear noises coming from above him. They at first sounded like metal on metal, then he heard what sounded like someone speaking.

Was he nearing his village? Perhaps he’d gone far enough to reach the nearby city of Gloren. There was but one way to find out. He quickened his pace until the passage widened and was able to Kieran pull himself up and over the edge. He laid on his back, his chest heaving from the agonizing climb. The room was a dome of sorts, with six, rectangular windows that all led to an opening at the very top which let in the blinding orange light. Everything was wet to the touch, and Kieran’s nose crinkled at a pungent aroma that lingered.

He struggled to his feet and made for what looked like a doorway on the opposite side of the room. When Kieran walked through the door, the very first thing he noticed was the ground had turned from a gritty stone to something that was smooth and white as snow. Kieran’s eyes adjusted slightly to the brightness, he saw that he was standing on a ledge high above the ground, maybe a few hundred feet or so. On the other three sides, the white ground gradually sloped upward until it was near vertical.

Kieran was about to call out when he heard a loud bang which was then followed by voices.

“Oh, thank Jesus, there isn’t a line.” One said in an accent Kieran had never heard before.

“When does that every happen? I’ll meet you outside.” Replied another, perhaps he was the one named Jesus.

“Yah, sounds good.” Just then, a looming figure appeared to Kieran’s left. His eyes were still adjusting to the brightness, so he couldn’t make out exact details. But he knew that whatever this thing was, it was big. With each step, everything around him shook and it was soon, so loud, that Kieran had to cover his ears with his hands.

He heard a pop and then a rustle from above and when he looked up, Kieran’s jaw fell agape. In front of him was penis, hundreds of feet in length held by hands twice that in size. Kieran’s eye’s drifted upward to see, looking down on him, a man’s face. He then saw the penis quiver and just as he realized what was about to happen he was hit by a stream of yellow urine that sent him flying backwards down the tunnel.

Kieran screamed as he fell until he slammed against the tunnel floor. He was then whisked down the tunnel and out into the well once again. Once the urine had ceased, Kieran floated aimlessly, to injured to move and eventually passed out.

When he came to, he saw his father’s face above him, tears cascading down his face.

“My boy!” Bellowed his father before pulling Kieran into his chest. “You’re saved! Oh, thank the gods above and below you’re alive.”

Kieran blinked and saw over his father’s shoulder that almost the entire village had assembled.

“I thought I lost you,” his father whimpered as the village shaman place her hand on his shoulder.

“The holy waters of the Giving Well had preserved you long enough that we could rescue you.” The shaman then turned to the crowd. “Blessed be the King of Kings!” The villagers repeated this chant, as did Kieran’s father.

“Blessed be the waters of the Giving Well! Amen!” She shouted with the villagers echoing immediately after.

“Blessed be the waters of the Giving Well,” whispered Kieran.