“How Did You Do That?!” I Shriek.

Edward strolled through the woods, whistling as he carried a basket of rolls on his arm. He’d been walking for almost two hours, but his feet were still light as he practically skipped through the shadows.

There was a low growl that stopped him in his tracks. He peered through the darkness. “Juno? Is that you?”

The answering snarl that came had Edward groaning. Of course it wasn’t. This happened at least every other time he came to the woods.

Still, he couldn’t stop the shiver of fear he felt travel down his spine when the creature stepped into the light. It looked like a leopard, but it was an odd shade of red, and almost as big as a hippo. 

Edward didn’t move, closing his eyes against what he knew would happen next. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the attack came.

A rush of air and a sharp growl as the creature pounced, a roar, a yowl as the creature was tackled to the ground. Then, a wet slashing sound and a whimper. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Edward asked awkwardly.

A smacking and gulping answered his question. He swallowed, feeling slightly sick. 

“Never mind.”

A few moments passed before the clearing fell silent. 

A sweet voice broke through Edward’s thoughts. “It’s clear now.”

He opened his eyes and grinned at the young woman standing in front of him. “Thanks.”

She shrugged, returning his smile. She reached out a hand and he took it, walking with her to the small, hidden cabin where she lived.

Edward set his basket of rolls on her table. “Here you are, m’lady. The monthly bribe to not eat me or anyone else.”

She laughed. “What did you bring me this time, Edward?”

He pushed it toward her, and she opened it, gasping with delight at the fresh rolls. “My favorite! Thank you!”

She immediately grabbed one and started eating it. 

Edward laughed. “Slow down, Juno! I didn’t think you’d have any room left right now! Did you see the size of that thing?! What was that, by the way?”

Juno swallowed with a gulp. “Red leopard.” She snickered at the look on Edward’s face before she took another bite, speaking with her mouth full. “Creative, I know. And I’ll always make room for your baking. Especially rolls!”

Edward laughed, but didn’t say anything. 

It took Juno a moment before she noticed, but when she did, her brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s wrong? It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“No,” Edward rushed to reassure her. “I’m fine. I just don’t understand why you won’t come back with me. No one would care!”

He ignored the raised eyebrows Juno sent him. “It would be fine, it would! I’d make sure no one bothered us!”

Juno sighed, putting down her roll. “Because, they would care. Your village may not be very smart, since they haven’t figured…this out. And it’s been almost three years. But they would definitely notice if you brought a girl out of the woods and the “monster” disappeared without a trace.”

“They wouldn’t know it’s you!” Edward insisted. “They don’t know that you can shift. They just think you’re the wolf shape. They wouldn’t have to know! Please,” he begged.

Juno looked away. She couldn’t resist that face. 

“So…what?” Edward finally said, hurt. “What are we doing? I can’t live in the woods with you. I’ve only survived this long because of you. I’d be dead in the first week. You won’t come back to town with me.”

Juno closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Edward whispered. 

There was a sharp breath, and then both of them had tears sliding down their cheeks. They cried silently together for several minutes, neither of them wanting to move.

Finally, Edward stood slowly. 

“No,” Juno pleaded. “Don’t go.”

She knew that if he left now, he wouldn’t come back.

“Have you changed your mind?” He asked quietly. When she shook her head, he sighed. “I’m sorry. Please…spare the village. If you’re mad, take it out on me, not them.”

“Just go,” Juno ground out. “I’ll leave them alone.”

Edward walked to the door and opened it, then paused, turning back. “If…”

Juno looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He sighed. “If you change your mind, or come up with another solution, you know where to find me.”

She nodded.

Her plan had backfired on her. What had started as simple fun and games, had turned explosive, and it had just blown up in her face.

She never expected to get hurt in the process.

Every so often, the local baker must bake something and personally deliver it to the monster in the woods, and in exchange the monster leaves the village alone. What no one knows is, the monster actually has a huge crush on the baker and needs an excuse to see them.

YES!!!

hollywood’s obsession with cinematic universes is like trying to tie every subplot in your novel together even when it doesn’t make sense. not every character needs a spin-off, and not every movie needs to be 3 hours long.

"I may or may not have planted a beanstalk in the backyard on accident."

I bit my lip waiting for my husband's response. It's not the most welcome of homecomings after a long day at work.

Jack's eye twitches. "You...what?"

"It was an accident! The trader swore they were peas! You know I've been wanting a garden."

Jack runs over to the window and sees the beanstalk. It had only been an hour since I planted it, but it was already nearly as tall as the house.

I wring my hands. "I'm sorry! What do we do?"

Jack sighs. "I'll chop it down. Let me put my stuff down first."

I let out a breath of relief. "Thanks."

30 minutes later, the beanstalk is gone. Jack comes back inside, sweating. "If you have any more seeds, I can plant them for you, since I already need to shower."

I hand over the remaining seeds and kiss him on the cheek. "I love you. I'll start on dinner."

Several minutes later, I'm chopping vegetables when the door slams open and Jack comes back inside with wide eyes.

"Okay, I know those were strawberries, but look at them now." He points out the back door, to where a gigantic strawberry vine is slowly but surely poking out of the ground.

I drop the carrot I'm holding in shock.

Jack is fuming. "That trader better watch out, because the next time I see him, I'm giving him a piece of my mind!"

"Wait, try these," I say, handing him some more seeds. "Those ones came from my friend Ella. They should be apple trees. Normal ones."

Jack stomps outside and comes back in 10 minutes later. "They're growing like weeds! Good weeds, I suppose, but they're already starting to flower. It must not be the seeds."

"Maybe it's the dirt," I suggest. "Made anyone mad enough to curse our garden lately?"

Jack turns red.

I put down my knife and raise an eyebrow at him.

He blushes harder. "I may or may not have told Gothel that I couldn't fix her tower. She didn't like that, but I didn't think she would curse our garden!"

I shrug and resume chopping. "We'll make the best of it then. Super sized fruit will go a lot longer. Maybe we can sell some of it too!"

Writing Prompt #2742

"You know I love you."

"Of course."

"And I don't want to do anything to worry you."

"That's a really bad start to this conversation."

“I don’t get it.”

I sigh. “I know. Me either.”

My boyfriend scratches his head in confusion. “You’re telling me that you are the biological daughter of Death. That Death actually…did the deed with someone? That just seems so wrong.”

I nod in agreement. “I don’t even know who it was. My money is on one of the old gods. But it could have been a mortal.”

Jake wrinkles his nose. “You don’t think it was a ghost, do you?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really how it works. So, no. Anyway, I kinda gave up asking several years ago. He’s my dad, he loves me, and he’ll tell me literally anything except who my mom is. Besides, am I really missing that much?”

Jake crosses his arms. “Yes! I love my mom! You should ask again. You need a good excuse though…”

“Don’t be silly!” I reach over and smack him lightly. “I’m not going to bug my dad just to satisfy your curiosity on a subject that he has made it clear he doesn’t want to discuss! Grow up!”

“Ow,” Jake mutters, glaring playfully and rubbing his arm. His eyes light up. “Ooh, say you need to know for your medical records! Or a genealogy assignment for school!”

“He-” I stop. Actually, he might believe the medical one. I look away, refusing to play the game. “No.”

“Come on!”

I shake my head. 

“Please,” Jake pleads, giving me his puppy dog eyes. 

I lose the staring contest and groan, going inside the house to see if I can get an answer this time.

Ten minutes later, I come back outside.

Jake is practically bouncing with excitement. “Well? What did he say?”

When I stay quiet, he deflates a bit. “Didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked,” I say quietly. 

Jake is breathless. “And?”

I look up at him, an unreadable expression on my face.

“My mother is Queen Elizabeth II.”

You are the child of Death. Everyone always assumes that you were adopted, but you are in fact Death's biological child, although they are unwilling to tell how exactly this happened.

She doesn't even bat an eye.

My face must look horrified. "Did you- Did you see anything?"

"Hmm, what? Oh, that. Yes, I saw." She goes back to washing dishes.

I can hardly believe it. "Aren't you shocked? Or, or scared? Or mad?"

She shrugs. "Honey, you've done this before. Now, I won't lie, the first time was a bit of a shock!" She laughs beautifully.

"First time? There have been multiple times you've seen me?!"

"Oh, yes! The first time, I woke up in the middle of the night and you had shifted during a nightmare. I almost screamed, but I didn't want to wake you."

"Aren't you confused though?" My brow furrows.

She shakes her head. "I googled it years ago! And anyway, I know that I love you, no matter what you look like. As long as you do laundry every once in a while and put the plates in the dishwasher, we'll be okay."

She fixes me with a stern look, and I nod quickly. "Deal!"

She resumes washing the dishes, then pauses. "You might still want to be careful of when you're in this...form. The neighbors would probably call the cops on you."

you are a shapeshifting monster who has been blending in with society for years. Today you accidently shifted back in front of your significant other.

The little girl watched as the kind man held her brother. 

A single tear ran down his cheek, and she felt one on her own face.

Even the kind man was crying.

The little girl looked out the window of his shop and surveyed the scene. The blood, the cars, the flashing lights of cop cars, ambulances, and firetrucks alike. 

Behind her, her brother sobbed, “I’m sorry, Ella.”

Ella cried into her hands silently, wishing she could make a sound, touch him. She felt a tug, deep inside her, but she fought it.

A paramedic was tending to her brother, wrapping his wounds and scolding him for putting himself in danger.

“Ella was in trouble,” he said stubbornly.

The kind man held his good hand. “Is the girl going to be okay?”

The paramedic stayed quiet.

Ella ignored the tugging, sobbing silently, screaming into the soundless void.

He spoke again. “Did they catch the man who hit her?”

Ella watched as the paramedic shook his head slowly, and her brother screamed in anger. 

More people came in and out of the shop. Police officers wanting to question her brother and the kind man, medics checking on him, and finally, their parents made it through the backed up traffic and yellow tape, bursting in to hug their son tearfully.

“It wasn’t your fault,” they whispered over and over again.

Ella agreed with them, trying to join their hug.

This time she couldn’t fight the tugging. She was pulled away from her family.

Forever.

Writing Prompt #2822

"Kid, sit down." The man held a hand on the injured teen's shoulder. "You almost died twenty minutes ago. Take a breath."

"But someone has to go out there and save her! It's my fault she—"

"It's nobody's damn fault but the bastard who did this. You're not responsible for everyone else. The sooner you learn that, the better."

I groan as the well-meaning hero handcuffs me. For the third time this week.

“I’m telling you, all she wanted to do was say goodbye!”

The hero scoffs, tossing her hair. “Uh huh. Then would you care to explain why there was someone who was supposed to be dead marching down Main Street, terrorizing the locals?”

I try to rub my forehead, forgetting about the handcuffs, wincing with pain when they pinch my skin. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know things would get this out of hand. I’m just trying to help! You’ve got to stop arresting me for that!”

The hero gets a serious look in her eyes. “Okay, let’s get a few things straight. First, I’m not arresting you. I’m detaining you, for the main purpose of protecting you from some very angry locals. Second, I know you’re trying to help, which is the main reason you haven’t been actually arrested yet. Third, I want to help you! We’ve been over this before!”

I roll my eyes, wincing at the ache behind them. Raising the dead comes with a price.

The hero sighs and starts digging around in her backpack. “You forgot aspirin again, didn’t you?” She helps me swallow it before she continues talking. “If you would just talk to me before you go rushing off next time. I could have told you that in this particular case, the woman you raised was arrested twice in the last five years of her life. I would have told you it wasn’t a good idea, that she might try to seek revenge.”

I shrug, as well as I can with my hands behind my back. “The dead can be unpredictable. At least Shelly got to say goodbye to her sister. They’re twins, you know.”

“You’ve got to leave,” the hero whispers. She doesn’t meet my eyes. “It’s too hard here. You keep raising people that turn on you. Everyone else - and I mean everyone - wants to stop you for good. Take away your powers. You know that you can’t stay here anymore. I’m the only one who backed you this time.”

I stare for a minute. “Wha- leave? Like…for good? I’d need to- to pack…”

She wordlessly pulls a second backpack from inside hers. I’d never understood how she fit so much inside that thing. I recognize it as my own backpack, and it looks full.

“I just needed you to listen to me,” she says quietly, unlocking the cuffs. 

I rub the feeling back into my wrists as she hands me my backpack. I peek inside.

“There’s water, food, aspirin, a few changes of clothes, and some money in there.” The hero says, zipping up her own backpack. “I stuck a few other things in there too. There should be a map somewhere. Your best bet is probably the river town a few days from here. Good luck.”

I stare at her as she starts to walk away. I find my voice. “Wait.”

She turns.

“Won’t they be mad at you for letting me go? Again?”

She nods without a sound.

“Thank you,” I whisper, still shocked at her kindness.

She starts to walk away again, saying over her shoulder, “You’re welcome.”

“Wait.”

She pauses.

“Aren’t you coming?”

You’re a necromancer, but only ever use your magic for good, like letting the dead and living alike get closure, or raising fallen enemies to hand them over to the proper authorities. Only problem is that heroes usually think that you’re one of the bad guys.

She sighed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood, Sara. You look tense.”

She growled - growled! - at me. “Look, we only have 5 more minutes before this thing explodes. Or…whatever it’s going to do. I’d rather not find out. Pass me that paper.”

I pantomimed zipping my lips, and sat back, watching her frantically scribble on the paper, trying to figure out the right code to shut off the machine.

3 minutes went by. I couldn’t help myself. “Need help yet?”

Sara was practically shaking with nerves. “I can’t figure it out! I’ve tried everything!”

I leaned forward and gently took the paper out of her hands. She tried to snatch it back and I tossed it in the trash.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Fine! You try then!” She glanced at the timer.

A minute and a half.

I grinned as I leaned around her and pressed a few buttons. The timer started counting down faster.

I winced. “Whoops.”

Sara groaned and slumped down with her head in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and pressed a few more buttons, making the machine stop counting completely. She slowly looked up. “Wha- How? I mean, thank you, but…”

I gave her a mock bow. “If you had listened to me before, I could have told you that I had two codes to try. Got one out of the genius’ brother and the other out of the maker himself. Didn’t know which was the right one, but I was about 75% sure one of them would work.”

Sara blushed sheepishly. “I- sorry. I should have listened to you.”

I shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, you were only off by one number.”

She hugged me. “Thanks. Now what do we do?”

I grinned mischievously, and grabbed a bat from the corner of the garage.

Writing Prompt #2782

"Would you stop trying to help?" She snapped. "You're getting in the way. I just need to do things my way right now."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll just...sit here and be eye candy. That's all I'm good for."

My father stares at me. “I…could ask the same thing.”

I wave off my soldiers around the room. “It’s okay. This is my father. Stand down”

He watches as they sheath their weapons, returning to their posts along the walls. His eyes travel the room, taking in all the Fae who are watching the exchange.

I clear my throat. “Attention, please. My receiving hours are over for today. Apologies to those of you who did not get an audience. I will open my courts tomorrow as well to make up for it.”

The throne room empties slowly, mostly without grumbling. A few Fae cast anxious glances at my father, glaringly human in the midst of so much magic.

“I- I-” he stammers. “You are… queen? Of all these…things?”

I gesture for him to sit. “I will explain. But you must listen and not interrupt.”

He nods, and I begin my tale.

“Twenty years ago, I was playing in the front garden on Mama’s birthday. I knew you wished to be alone, even at 4 years old. While you were talking to her grave in the clearing, I was stolen by a group of radicals, traitors to the Fae crown. 

“It was a civil war.

“It was almost two years before the resistance was tamped out and I was rescued by the crown. The previous queen was old. Her husband had died in the war, leaving her running the war with only her 8 year old son to help. 

“About 10 years ago, she crowned him King of the Fae. We struck up a friendship, which turned to courtship. We were joined - married - about five years ago. The old queen died shortly after. 

“So here I am, Queen of the Fae.” I smiled kindly at my father. “If you had come a few days earlier, you could have met my husband. He’s away right now, helping in one of the Eastern provinces.”

My father looks hurt. “They didn’t let you come home?”

I shake my head. “Father, you were so hurt after Mama died. You never really seemed to care much about me. I knew you loved me, but I assumed you would have thought I was dead and left it alone a long time ago. Besides, once I came to live with the old queen and prince, I loved it here. And once we began courting, they made me fully Fae. I can never live normally among humans.”

My father looks away uncomfortably. “I…never meant to make you feel that way.”

My voice is soft. “I know. It’s okay, Father. You’ve found me now! I’m alive. I’m happy. What more could you want? You can go home and live your life.”

My father steps forward. “I want you to come home with me! You can’t truly be happy! Look at this place, these people! They stole you from me. Now I can steal you back.”

I take a step backwards. “I am happy, Father. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, although you can’t stay permanently. But I will be staying. These are my people, and if you threaten them, me, or my family, I will not hesitate to take action against you.”

He does not fight me. My father agrees to stay for a little while, wanting to meet my husband. 

Two weeks later, after a few strained dinners between my father and husband, I woke in the middle of the night to see my father standing over our bed with a knife.

He did not leave the palace after all.

His daughter was stolen by the Fae. Two decades of fruitless searching later, his time for vengeance has come. He kicks in the door to the Queen’s throne room as she flies to her feet, grabbing the hilt of her sword before recognition flashes across her face. “Dad… what are you doing here?”

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. I can go all day."

"No. I can do it myself."

*wince* "Well, not so much."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not giving it to you."

*shrug* "Fine." *nods at Character C*

*Character A turns in time to see Character C hit them hit something heavy, knocking them out*

*Character B takes the object from Character A* "Sorry. It's for your own good, you know."

Writing Prompt #2880

"Stop trying to help me. I can do this myself."

"Quite frankly? You can't. You're one mistake from having a nervous breakdown or hurting yourself because you can't think clearly. Now, swallow your pride, and give that to me."