Another great edition of WRITING PROMPT last Friday. You can view the original prompt here. Author Lisa Vasquez’s winning entry left us wanting more! Read her story below.

The sun was setting behind the horizon and the sky burned with the colors of dusk. The looming presence of the train stood against the backdrop menacingly. We all stood there in silence, trepidation causing a mass wave of fear. Six months. To us, having lived in isolation for that long, it was a lifetime. Steel against steel, it let out a final hiss followed by a high pitched squeal signaling that it had come to rest on the tracks. A collective gasp washed over the growing crowd who watched with curiosity. The Judges had arrived.

Curling his fingers through the chain link fence, Leo nodded softly and swept his gaze toward the section of women where Julia was already watching him. Since the Plague had eradicated most of the world and left the remaining survivors to fend for themselves in this small, simple village, the two had formed a bond. Between them they cared for the sick, the orphaned, and the despondent. By default, the others looked to them for everything.

As if on cue, the large door of the first car opened and the seven men began to exit dressed in the long, black cloaks that merged both priest and judiciary into one. When they reached the fence, the train let a blow of its horn fill the silence before the Guardian emerged dressed in stark contrast. Her white robes billowed in the wind before she took her first step toward Leo.

She made no rush of her pace, revelling in the anxiety she induced. When she reached Leo and removed the mask, her cold smile chilled him to the bone. This seemed to please her even more.

“Let’s skip the formalities, Leo. Bring me the infant.”

BOD author Ann Christy won this week’s Writing Prompt over in the group. Check out the original post here and then read Ann’s winning story below!

“That’s ridiculous!” Emma cried. “There are no trolls. And if there were, they wouldn’t live on top of bridges, but under them.” She rolled her eyes at Gary. He might be twelve and she nine, but she wasn’t a baby.

“It’s true. I swear,” he said, an annoyingly superior look on his face.

“Then prove it.” The ultimate challenge issued, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the bridge.

Gary huffed, momentarily at a loss, then hissed, “Fine. Tonight!”

—–

Emma woke in a panic, Gary’s hand over her mouth. When she saw her brother, she pushed him away, sat up in bed and punched him in the chest.

“What’s that for?” he half-whined, half-whispered, rubbing the spot.

She waved him off, got up and dressed. Silently, they snuck downstairs, donned their outerwear and left the house. At the bridge, their flashlights darted about, chasing creepy night sounds.

“Let’s go.” His voice was shaky, perhaps reconsidering this course of action.

Emma felt victory close at hand and winning would be delicious. She wasn’t having any wavering. She charged toward the bridge’s center, her boots clomping loudly.

Gary hesitated, then followed. Under the little building, Emma faced him. She felt brave now, convinced of her rightness. He’d tried to scare her. He’d lost. Emma shone her light up toward the hole in the building’s bottom. Nothing peered back, no croaking voice demanded a toll.

“See,” she said.

Gary started, his flashlight bouncing around, his breathing suddenly harsh. “Shh. I heard something.”

Again, Emma rolled her eyes, patience gone. Then Gary squeaked and crouched a little, fear blossoming on his face. Emma looked up again and saw what he saw. A pair of orange eyes framed by a green face leaned out of the hole above. Then another pair. Then another.

This weekend we held our second edition of BOD’s Writing Prompt contest. We posted an image with a writing prompt asking for a story in 300 words or less. Here was the original image and prompt. Again, we had many great stories but one stood out from the pack and Bridget Nash was our winner! Here’s her story:

“We got another one!” I yelled over my shoulder as I took a step back and shut the door firmly. What was on the front step would have to wait a minute.

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Ray said, shaking his head.

I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t even shake my head. It was a miracle we’d pulled this off for this long. Everything was packed up and the truck was loaded, waiting in the alley. I was sure this last act would be our demise. They were going to find us.

“Hurry up!” Ray barked. He wasn’t wasting any time. He already had on his scrub coat and surgical hat. He was pulling the 3M N100 respirator over his mouth. It was our disguise.

Somehow (Providence? Dumb luck?) we had convinced the Authority we were scientists. Ray’s sheer genius and my knowledge garnered from researching natural healing allowed for us to talk like scientists in the interview, but how we passed any of the background checks is beyond me. Sure, we made some fake stuff for the internet and printed some fake diplomas, but someone must have been sleeping on the job for us to get approved.

And yet, we were approved. And they were shipping the live test subjects to our residence.

Some didn’t have a chance of surviving transport. The Authority thought we were testing vaccines on these people. Vaccines to halt the horrific disease that had swept the nation.

We pulled the delivery into the house and locked the door. Ray pulled out his knife and cut the dripping plastic wrap. Like all the others, this young man was bound and packaged like he was nothing more than a grocery store piece of meat. The small breathing hole wasn’t enough for some.

But it had been enough for this guy.

Last week we launched a new contest – Writing Prompt. You can view the original post here. We posted a photo and challenged BOD members:

“You just woke up here. In 300 words or less, explain how you got here.”

We had a lot of great stories come in and the feature was so popular that many of you demanded we do it again! And we intend to do it weekly.

Our first winner, Justin Vokey, stood out with his originality and it’s our pleasure to share his story with you in case you missed it!

There is nothing worse than thirst. My skin had been empty for a day now. I checked the quiet world around me one more time, squinting at the hateful sun. There was no water of course. But I had to know if they had caught my trail.

I had stumbled upon this bizarre shelter, an old bus stuck in the ground like a pathetic imitation of a tree. Not that trees grew anymore. It was all just dust without the magic of water.

God, water would be so nice right now. I remember when there were streams of water just running along the ground. Free flowing water had turned from a reality into a fairytail for children.

They wanted water, the ones that followed. And the human body contained a lot of water. Between flesh and blood, I was a walking canteen. They were coming for my flesh and blood, and by God I would make them pay for it.