Welcome to the final week of the Spring Writing Challenge!
It’s the final week! This has been such a fun challenge. You’ve all done so well with your stories. There are so many interesting and unique ways you have taken the prompt. It’s now time for the final week, so let’s do this one last time! We can’t wait to see what you come up with.
So, without further ado, here’s your final prompt!
Week Six Prompt – The Character Prompt
Write a story about a character that experiences a rebirth
Wait…what’s a character prompt?
A character prompt is a prompt that’s about a specific character. It doesn’t matter where your story takes place or what’s said. What matters is that your story must be about a character who experiences a rebirth.
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question, not a “comment”. 🙂 You’re all doing such a great job! I’m so proud of all the stories you’ve posted.
Happy Writing!
We’re so glad that you participated Juli! 🙂
Hello! This is Levi, from Team A. Here’s the story I came up with based on the character prompt. It deals with suicide and abuse though, so if that’s something you don’t like, here’s your warning 😉
—The Gun—
Derryl weren’t home.
I had the bullet.
I had the gun.
I’s gonna do it.
My God, I’s gonna do it.
***
The night was dark. The wind and rain beat against the windowpanes like bony fingers clawin for its next meal.
I sat alone on the edge of my stiff mattress in my room. The only light was the stabbin orange beams from the lamp on the nightstand near my legs. I’d just put my baby boy Andre down to bed.
I swallowed, moved my tremblin fingers along the collar of my grey hoodie. Felt the old scars; the fresh bruises Derryl’d given me the night before. Durin one of his, his…
A tear slipped down my blood-streaked face as my socked feet toyed with an empty bottle on the floor.
I could almost hear his slurred voice screamin in my ear.
Could almost feel his fingers bitin into my frail arm.
Could almost smell his sour breath in my nose.
I let my face fall into my hands, unable to hold the tears back. My God, I can’t take this no more.
Still hunched over, I reached to the left toward the nightstand. I slowly pulled open the single drawer. There it was, lyin atop a ruffled stack of unpaid bills and old mail, as black as the shadow of death-
The gun.
The sleek pistol seemed a creature, silently callin me. Callin me come and find true rest. Relief.
Almost of their own accord my shakin hands picked up the weapon my husband had threatened and struck me with time and again. But this time I was the one in control. I could do what my husband was unwilling to.
I slowly felt through the drawer findin a bullet.
I loaded the weapon with the single, lonely, deadly round.
Clicked the safety off.
Cocked it.
I pursed my cracked lips, liftin the pistol which now felt a hundred pounds up to my head, restin the nose on my temple.
Sweat ran from my forehead into my eye, minglin with my tears.
I breathed in.
Clenched my teeth.
Shut my eyes.
Ran my forefinger back and forth along the smooth trigger.
“My God.” I breathed, the words this time not just a phrase, but a Name. A Name all but forgotten. “You still up there?”
Silence, but for the beat of rain against the window.
“You still up there God?” I cried, my voice above a whisper.
Silence, but for the beat of rain against the window.
“God!” I screamed, tears streakin my face, “God, are You even there?”
Silence, but for the beat of rain against the window.
“Where are You Lord?” I winced, pressin the pistol harder to my temple.
But there was no answer.
My heart tensed.
I breathed out, plantin my finger firmly on the trigger.
My hand began to sweat.
I swallowed.
Gradually I added pressure to the trigger.
And then it happened.
From far, beyond the shut door to the bedroom, down the hall, I heard a little cry. The cry started out small wavery then grew to a full on wail. Scared. Young. Alone.
My eyes flew open, and I sucked in a breath. “Andre,”
The pistol fell from my tremblin hand.
This is amazing, Levi! Really love the drama and the imagery you use throughout the story. Great job!
Hey Levi, the story’s well written! It’s pretty intense as well, maybe put a disclaimer at the beginning for sensitive readers?
Thanks guys! I’m glad some emotion came through! Thanks for reading!
When the new prompt arrive, my first thought is, Oh no! What am I going to write to make that work? But the Holy Spirit ALWAYS shows up and I get an idea every time. It amazes me. Thanks for a thought provoking six weeks.