Writerdownbookworder - Writing Down The Book Words

Katie flung the door open and ushered the young king inside quickly, apologizing profusely.

King Dominick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m inside now. Thank you.”

Katie stared for a moment as he took off his coat and hat and hung them by the door. 

“Uh, what can I do for you, Your Highness?” she asked awkwardly, gesturing for him to sit down.

The king sighed. “Truthfully, I just need a place to wait out the storm until some of my men can find me. Stupid storm came out of nowhere and my horse…couldn’t make it through. Stepped in a hole.”

Katie winced. “Is he…still out there?” 

King Dominick shrugged. “Couldn’t let him suffer out there for who knows how long.”

The wind howled outside, startling them both. Katie walked over the window and looked out. 

She turned back to the king slowly. “I hate to have to tell you this, Your Highness, but you might be stuck here longer than you thought. Snow storms especially are pretty bad here in the valley. Could last for a few days. And if no one knows where you are…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

He sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “Call me Dominick. If I’m going to be here for a while, we might as well dispense with the formalities. And your name is?”

“Katie,” she mumbled, slightly shocked. She shook herself out of her stupor and rushed into the kitchen, bringing back a bowl of soup for each of them. 

“Glad I made extra,” she joked with a half-smile.

They didn’t speak as they picked at their food. Neither of them said much as Katie showed Dominick to her guest room for the night.

They weren’t sure how it happened. One day, they were barely speaking, their relationship strained from proximity and difference in social class. Then the next day, they were laughing together like old friends.

It took two days for the snow to stop. Another two days for it to melt enough to travel. By then, Dominick was all too happy to wait for someone to find him, praying they would take their time.

Almost a week after the snow melted, the dreaded moment finally came with a pound on the front door of Katie’s cottage.

The two looked at each other, their eyes wide with a mixture of relief, fear, and sadness. 

Katie slowly rose and trudged over to open the door without a word, reverting back to the beginning when they barely spoke.

Dominick lunged and grabbed Katie’s wrist. “Wait,” he said desperately.

She looked at him, taking a deep breath and redrawing the lines they had slowly torn down. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Dominick winced. “Wait,” he said again.

The pounding on the door resumed, startling them.

Katie moved toward the door again. “We’re out of time. You need to go back to your life and I need to go back to mine.” She gently pulled her hand away, turning so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Dominick reached for her again, but Katie pulled the door open, and the guards on the other side erupted in cheers.

They were all so busy thanking Katie and bundling Dominick onto a horse, that every guard missed the look Dominick was giving her.

Katie ignored the burning in her eyes as she watched them ride away.

A week later, a letter arrived for Katie. She burned it. For the next several months, letters kept arriving, sometimes, days apart, sometimes a week, but all from Dominick.

Katie burned every single one.

"who's this?" "it's the fucking king of England, that's who it is. Now open up, I'm drenched and I'm cold" answered a voice from the outside. "really funny sir. And original, I haven't heard this one since… Oh I'm sorry your highness"

“No, did you say you love me?” she asks slowly, turning to look at her best friend.

He looks anywhere but at her, the wall, the floor, the picture frames, the door. His cheeks are bright red as he says, “I…don’t know what you’re talking about I said ‘What.’” 

She crosses her arms, staring at him until he meets her eyes. “You know what you said. I know what you said. Will you just own up to it?”

He sighs. “It was just…an exaggeration, Camille. I was just poking fun. You look good. Can we go? The movie starts in twenty minutes.”

Camille puts her hands on her hips. “Lukas Emery James. You tell me the truth right now. We have plenty of time.”

Luke bites his lip nervously. “I…have maybe…fallen in love with you.”

She stares at him for a second, not quite believing it. She somehow had almost convinced herself she had misheard him. She shakes her head. “Come on. Luke, we’re…friends!”

He looks away, quietly asking, “Are we?”

Camille shakes her head again. “I…yes! Why? Why do you think you love me?”

Luke laughs a little and meets her eyes. “I don’t think, I know. I know I love you, Camille. You are…everything to me. Everything I have ever dreamed about. You’re always there for me. I’m always there for you. We tell each other everything. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Now the tables have shifted, and Camille is the one who feels uncomfortable. “Luke…”

Luke turns away. “Let’s go then. The movie starts soon.” He looks back at her with a smirk. “Last chance to change your clothes.”

She smacks him lightly. “Not a chance.”

Camille follows him out to his car and climbs in. The drive is silent for several minutes before she finally says, “Are you upset?”

Luke jumps at the sudden sound. “Of course not! We’re best friends. If that’s all you want to be, that’s okay.” He pauses, his cheeks a bit pink. “Hurts a bit, but whatever.”

Camille winces, running her fingers through her hair absently. “I just…need to think.”

The car falls quiet again. The pair doesn’t talk much as they walk into the theater. 

Halfway through the movie, Camille leans over to Luke, whispering, “I might have feelings for you too.”

He whips his head to look at her, but doesn't say anything. 

She smiles nervously, saying quietly, “Let’s give it a try, Luke.”

Luke can’t stop the grin that takes over his face. The movie is forgotten in the background of the dark theater, as he leans over and kisses her cheek.

Prompt #1133

"Would it kill you to put a little bit more effort into your appearance?"

"Why? So pricks like you will fall in love with me?"

"Already too late..."

"What?"

"What?"

the problem with reading and writing leading to a strong vocabulary is that you tend to know the vibe of words instead of their meanings.

if I used this word in a sentence, would it make sense? absolutely. if you asked me what it meant, could I tell you? absolutely not.

The first few days after the wedding were the most…interesting. My Our people were picking themselves up after a long war. They didn’t know how this was supposed to work. How to bow to the person who had been responsible for the damage, the casualties.

Inside the castle, things were just as confusing. My Our servants tiptoed around the castle, scared to death of my new wife, unsure of how she would act as mistress of the castle and queen of the land. 

I did not regret my decision, not then, not now. The adjustment just took some time. The wedding in particular was…memorable. Allowing the woman responsible for so many deaths into my the church, standing by her side, taking the vows only broken in death, was a surreal experience. Letting her into my our bed that night was even harder. She had given the order that led to my own father and brother dying, not to mention some of my cousins and best friends. 

After a few months, we slowly grew to know each other better. 

Years passed. We forgave each other, for I had caused almost as much damage to her people as she had to mine. Although nothing could undo the damage, we slowly built a trust and friendship with each other. At the same time, my our people learned to trust and respect her, and her our people did the same for me. 

It was not a conscious change.

It was slow and tedious.

It took care and intention.

One day, I looked at her.

My wife, my queen, my partner, my best friend. The woman who had started a war that took the lives of my family and friends, my our people. And I realized…I loved her. 

What had started in an effort to simply end the war between our people, led to a marriage of convenience, ended in a marriage of love. 

My dear Helena, while I did not love you at first, I love you now. I love you still. Forever and always, my wife, queen of OUR people.

From the diary of King Carlos Rolfson, 3173 A.D., shortly after the death of his wife, Queen Helena Rolfson (3096 A.D.-3173 A.D.), married 56 years

You were a beloved ruler of your country. When the evil king/ queen tried to conquer your country, you fought to the death to protect your country. Seeing how much your people loved you, the evil king/ queen proposes that you two marry to merge your countries. You accept for your country's sake.

“Whoa!” Johnny shouted, throwing his hands up. “What’s going on here?!”

A tall man stepped out of the crowd with a fierce look on his face. “Do not even think of trying to do anything. You will be taken before the king and given a trial. Come peacefully, or we have been given permission to use any measure of force on you.”

Johnny looked around in bewilderment. “Dude, I’ve been asleep. If all went right, for a thousand years! What is it that you think I’ve done?”

The man sniffed. “Come.” He directed Johnny to stand and he tied him with special enchanted ropes to hold him. 

Johnny fumed for the entire ride to the castle. Once they finally arrived, he was dragged, literally dragged, before the king, who stared down at him disdainfully. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the king boomed.

Johnny stared at him confused. “I’m sorry to have to say this again, but what is going on here?!”

The king scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. Just because it’s been a thousand years, doesn't mean we’re ignorant. We know everything that happened between you and Russo. You almost destroyed the world, and I will not let it happen again!”

Johnny’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Nothing?” the king glared. “You have nothing to say? No false promises? Pleas? Nothing?”

Johnny shook himself out of his shock and poured out the story, but nothing he said made a difference.  Eventually, the king sentenced him to death. With the enchanted ropes still binding him, Johnny was unable to fight.

As he was dragged through the halls, he remembered the last few days before he went to sleep. The memories were so vivid, it was like he was reliving them.

Russo, attacking yet another village, burning it to the ground.

Johnny fighting back, again. 

Their fight had been so big and powerful that it shook the mountains. In the end, Johnny had cast one last spell, thinking he had killed Russo. 

Worn out and exhausted, Johnny had secluded himself and cast a spell to send him into a hibernation of sorts for a thousand years. He was too tired to continue on helping the mortals when he hardly ever even got a thank you.

But while his spell on himself had worked, clearly the one he cast on Russo had not. Russo had still been alive when Johnny sent himself into a protected sleep.

Unable to kill Johnny, Russo left a message for those somewhere down the line to finish the job for him. 

History is written by the victors.

The prophecy foretold that The Great Evil would awaken 1000 years after his original defeat. As it turns out, the people took this very seriously, so when he awakened, he was met with an army of blessed knights, an evil containment system, and two dozen automated holy turrets aimed at him.

Hanna looked at her watch. Usually he was here by now.

The people she had trapped and tied up whimpered, pleading. She ignored them, scanning the rooftops for any sign of Kyle.

After a whole half hour had passed with no sign of him, she sighed and released the captives with barely any marks on them, not even hearing their cries of thanks as they ran.

Hanna set off, slipping through shadows and alleys as she made her way to Kyle's apartment. He lived only a few blocks from the community college, am easy landmark to remember. To top that off, his front door was bright red.

She settled into a shadow behind the dumpster nearby and waited, watching for any sign of him.

The shadows grew longer. Hanna's eyelids drooped and she slid down against the wall, yawning. A few minutes later, she sat bolt upright, her sensitive hearing picking up a quiet sound coming closer.

She peered around the dumpster, her eyes widening as she saw Kyle limping toward his door. There was dried blood everywhere, a few places still bleeding. The weirdest part...

It hadn't been Hanna.

If it wasn't Hanna who had attacked Kyle, who had?

Hanna snapped out of her thoughts as Kyle struggled to unlock his door. He dropped the keys as he swayed, reaching out to steady himself on the doorframe.

The villian hesitated. On one hand, he was her enemy. On the other hand, they enjoyed the time fighting so much that they were practically friends (in the loosest sense of the word, of course). Mostly, there was something that didn't add up about Kyle's injuries, and Hanna wanted to figure it out.

She stepped forward.

Kyle noticed the movement and sighed as he turned, mumbling, "Someone beat you to it today. Sorry."

Hanna ignored him, stepping closer and picking up his keys, unlocking the door for him. She turned just in time to watch him crumple to the ground.

She took Kyle inside and laid him on the floor, hunting around for a first aid kit. Hanna pulled off his shirt and froze.

Kyle stirred. When his eyes opened a Crack and he observed the scene, he quipped, "What? I'm amazingly ripped and flawless?"

Hanna's face was positively white as she started cleaning and bandaging some of his wounds.

Kyle's face was concerned as he watched her. "What? I think I'll live, most of this is superficial."

"I know who attacked you." Hanna's voice was barely above a whisper.

He waited, holding his breath.

Hanna pointed to a small symbol burned into Kyle's shoulder.

"That's my father's mark."

You are a Villain who has always had The Hero to stop you. At first, it was a true rivalry, soon it became a bit more like cat and mouse, you even found yourself enjoying it. One day, The Hero isn't showing up to stop you.

“How did you do that?!” I shriek.

The Knight is staring at her sword in surprise and shock. She looks up with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know!” she cries out. 

I hesitantly raise the gun again and pause. “Can you…do it again?” I ask curiously.

She shrugs, equally curious. “Try it.”

I fire…and she manages to parry it again.

The gun drops to my side in shock, and she drops her sword like it’s on fire. She stares at it in horror.

“It must be cursed!” she yelps, backing away from her sword.

I roll my eyes. “Really?”

The Knight trembles with fear. “I traded for it a few weeks ago. Traveling trader. She said it was special, but I thought she just meant that it was forged well! This is my first time actually fighting with it!”

I stare at her. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that you brought a sword to a gun battle…and you hadn’t even used it yet?! What kind of Knight are you?!”

She shrugs sheepishly. “A not very experienced one?”

“Parry this you filthy casual.” You pull the trigger… and begin to panic as the Knight ACTUALLY parries the bullet.

Lilith watched gleefully. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. The stupid hero who had been tormenting Lilith's band of mercenaries and assassins. Amelia was finally under her control, and she could do whatever she wanted to her.

Of course, she wouldn't actually do it herself. That was beneath her. Instead, she watched as her second in command, Carson, tortured the annoying girl.

Lilith laughed as Amelia screamed. When she plead for mercy, and Carson looked to Lilith, she just shook her head. When Amelia passed out, Lilith motioned for people to revive her. When the sun crept lower on the horizon, making the clearing dark, Lilith finally sighed and allowed several people to lock Amelia up for the night.

They would resume in the morning.

... ... ... ... ...

Amelia couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She could have kicked herself as she was dragged into the camp, except for the fact that her feet were bound tightly together.

She looked away when she saw Carson's face. The horror was well hidden behind his eyes, but they both knew what would come next. They both knew that they couldn't blow his cover. Which meant, they both knew it had to be done well.

And he did. For hours, Amelia was chained to a tree while Carson - her Carson - tortured her. She couldn't look at him while he yelled at her. She bit her lip when he whipped her. She looked away when she screamed as he cut into her.

She met his eyes only once. She lifted her head groggily when she heard Lilith shouting something. Carson hit her again at Lilith's urging, and Amelia moaned in pain. Carson flinched, but thankfully, his back was to Lilith and Amelia was the only one to see. She looked at him, meeting his eyes and giving an almost imperceptible nod.

When he hit her again, she finally fell limp, blackness claiming her.

... ... ... ... ...

Carson hated himself. When they dragged Amelia into the camp, bruised and bloodied, he had thought she was dead. When she moved and saw him, they both knew the moment when they realized it would have been better if she had been.

Carson floated through the day in a daze. He retreated into himself while he hurt Amelia, the one thing he had sworn to never do. The only time he snapped free and realized what he was doing was when she let out a moan. They had looked at each other, and he had known that he had to keep going.

He had to get her out. When most of the camp was asleep, he sneaked into the tent where Amelia was kept and cut her loose.

Carson shook her desperately until she stirred. He handed her his knife and spirited her away to the edge of the forest. She was barely awake, but she managed to rasp out, "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. They won't know."

They both knew that wasn't true. Amelia resisted, but finally Carson convinced her to leave him, agreeing that it was time to pull him out.

... ... ... ... ...

A week later, Amelia arrived back at camp with a team to extract Carson, only to find out that he was gone.

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well

“Hey!” I cry out in shock. Jason obviously can’t hear me, up on the platform through the screaming crowds, as he kisses Ella soundly on the lips.

When they pull apart, Ella’s face is red. They turn to the crowd and bow proudly.

I am in shock. There are tears pouring down my face, but I can’t feel them. I stare numbly at the stage. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake. 

It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.

The tall guy next to me looks over and frowns. He shouts over the noise, “Hey man, are you okay?”

I can only shake my head, eyes locked on the stage where Jason and Ella are holding hands and staring at each other as they answer questions from the reporters.

The man takes my arm, leading me onto a side street a few blocks away, where the noise is significantly reduced. 

“What happened?” he asks, offering me a bottle of water. 

“Tha-that’s my girlfriend,” I say shakily. 

His eyes go wide. 

“And,” I continue, gulping the water. “My best friend Jason. We’ve known each other since we were six! And Ella…”

I can feel the tears now, hot tears falling down my face as I start to sob. 

The man sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. I’m George, by the way.”

He offers his hand to shake, and I accept it with a shaky laugh. 

“Dylan.”

I wipe my eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears. Now that I’m a bit less shocked, I’m angry. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks carefully. 

My hands clench into fists. “We’ve been dating for three years! I was going to…”

My voice trails off and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I thrust it at George angrily, putting my head in my hands. 

George doesn’t have to open it to know that the box contains a ring.

“I was going to ask tonight,” I whisper. 

He tries to hand the box back. “Call her. Or him. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

I know deep down that he’s wrong, but I can’t ignore the brief hope that flares up in my chest at the possibility. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and desperately press Ella’s name, putting it on speaker. 

George and I listen to it ring several times before she picks up.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice is breathless. “I’m kinda busy, can I call you back?”

I close my eyes, hearing the crowd in the background. “Where are you, Ella? I was going to surprise you at work.”

This was true. That had been my pan before the whole fiasco happened and the streets were blocked.

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Just…in the back, working on something.”

“Sweetheart,” I say quietly. “Have you seen or talked to Jason today? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, but he never showed up.”

“Jason?” Ella’s voice jumps up an almost imperceptible note. “No, I haven’t seen Jason today! Listen, I’ll call you back in a few hours, baby. I’m really busy right now, you can stop by then, okay?”

George shakes his head slowly, eyes angry for me, a bit sad.

I can’t stop the tremble in my voice as I say, “Never mind, Ella. I saw you. It’s over between us. You can tell Jason the same thing from me. I don’t ever want to talk to you ever again.”

I stare at the phone in front of me as Ella gasps and sputters, protesting. I can’t bring myself to hang up.

So George leans over and does it for me, turning my phone off and handing it back to me.

“I, uh, left my bag back there,” I mumble, pointing back to where we had come from, where the crowds were still screaming. 

George nods. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I put my number in your phone. If you wanna catch up later, talk, get coffee, whatever, just text me.”

I nod, with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

I push my way back through the crowds, miraculously finding my things right where I had left them. Ella and Jason are still on the platform, though now they look considerably less happy.

But their hands are still tangled together between them. 

Ella scans the crowd. Eventually, her eyes find mine. She nudges Jason and they both lock eyes with me, clearly pleading with me to talk to them.

I find it funny that in doing this, they ignore the reporter currently talking to them. He looks confused, trying to see who they are looking at.

I shake my head and turn around, pushing my way out of the crowd.

I hope my disgust was clear on my face.

You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.

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.