A Continuation of a short

So, I’m not sure if you guys remember but a while back I posted something I wrote, about a young man named Jacob who craved blood. Yeah, that messed up guy. Anyways…as much as that was just a short, something I was prompted for…I decided to write another installment in his story. So here it is. Warning…this one is a little dark. Okay, a lot. Enjoy!

It had been mere days since I’d last seen her,my chest ached to be near her.
But not more then it ached for blood.
Blood that I was currently getting from the man underneath my blade.
“Please…have mercy?” A gurgled cry came out of his throat. I laughed at him. Mercy? He wanted mercy? I brought my bowie knife up again and brought it down, right into the fleshy material of his thigh. Rapists didn’t deserve mercy. I was there to extract justice. For all those little girls who didn’t stand a chance, who’s innocence was stolen. Just like her. I grit my teeth at the memory of her beautiful features, twisted by her nightmares, of him stalking her in her dreams.
“Ahhhhhh!” A desperate scream came from him. Now, if I was in the city I would be have been worried about someone hearing him. But we weren’t in the city, we were deep in the woods, the smell of wet moss surrounding us. The darkness hiding us, not even the light from the moon could penetrate the canopy above us.
I pushed the black hood I had concealing my face off my head, it fell against my shoulders. I could feel the blood on my hand transferring to my skin. I relished in the feeling.
“Tell me, Mr. Harris…was it worth taking those little girls? Breaking them? Raping their little bodies?” I spit. I don’t take my eyes off his, which were glossy with crocodile tears.
“I..I didn..”
“DO NOT LIE TO ME, Mr. Harris.”
“I…I’m sick! The doctors…they say I’m sick!” Blood rushed from his lips as my knife once again struck something vital.
I chuckled. “That’s right. You’re sick. And sick perverts aren’t welcome here.”
And with that…I took the sick bastards life. A feeling inside of me swells…pride. I wish she could see what I had done for her.

-Turner

Word Games

Inspiration is an illusive creature that often hides, despite your best efforts to capture it (sort of like a leprechaun). You could be inspired for days or weeks to write, then at other times, you can’t write for months. Writers are constantly at the mercy of inspiration.

To combat this irritating phenomenon, Turner and I often play prompting games. I would like to share one of our favourite games with you guys today. This game is easier to play with a writing buddy, but you can also play alone if you want to.

Here’s how to play: Say the first name that pops into your head. Each of you will write the name down and then quickly jot down the qualities/appearance/mannerisms of this character from your perspective. Then share with your partner to see how different your descriptions are. Repeat this as often as you like, because at the end you will have a list of characters that you can incorporate into different stories you are working on.

Did you find this game helpful? Turner and I would love to here what prompting games you like to use.

-Collins