#er_writeober

Hi y’all!! I’m sososo excited to announce that I’ve made an October prompt list! I’ve wanted to write more lately, and I originally just made this for myself, but I thought it’d be cool to see other people’s ideas! Hope y’all enjoy this!

Do you ever gaze up at 

the stars and wonder

whether in a thousand years

you’ll be remembered?//

A thousand years is nothing

Yet it’s everything:

with your fleeting heart, beating,

Impermanent,

Inconsequent,//  

The next one thousand years are

Eternity,

For you, for me.//

The haunted places are not always the ones you might expect.

I had spent the day visiting the ruins of the abbey: as a medievalist by trade, these trips were a regular occurrence. I truly loved seeing the ancient building stand there: a husk of its former grandeur, yet somehow more richly steeped in power than ever. At least in my eyes.

Darkness was just settling over the landscape as I began preparing to leave. Perfect. I had timed my visit deliberately to catch this moment: the abbey at night really gave meaning to the term “gothic architecture”. Really, it was a great shame that it was not open to visitors much later. 

I should have just been glad to get to see it like this at all. After all, who doesn’t love a good spooky sight? 

The problem with ghosts though, is that what makes them spooky is the fear of the unknown. When you anticipate that a place will be full of them, they may as well fade into nothing. Perhaps that was why I never really got the supernatural vibes that you would expect from the abbey.

I realised I had been dawdling, and had to rush to catch my train. Panting, I collapsed onboard just on time. The carriage was warm compared to the biting chill of the evening air. I began to feel drowsy… 

I woke with an icy shudder to feel a hand on the small of my back. Disgusted, I turned, prepared to deliver a lecture to a man who thought it was his right to touch me as he pleased. But the harasser was nowhere in sight. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I reached for my thermos of tea, hoping the caffeine would help me to keep alert for the remainder of my journey.

I was right, it did help. But the lukewarm drink was not enough to shake the chill that had taken a hold of me. 

My stop came. I joined the throngs of people on the platform. A strange feeling of isolation, however, surrounded me, an invisible wall of ice between me and the crowds. I was adrift. Lost.

That was it: lost. Something about this place felt unfamiliar. Maybe spending so many hours stewing in the history of the abbey had caused my sense of time to become uncalibrated. I thought of a compass needle and how confused it becomes when a magnet is drawn close to it. Perhaps all the time I was spending in the past had begun to confuse my sense of the present? More and more people were arriving. I was invisible to them; the crowd seemed to pass right through me. Their clothing seemed like it belonged in another time? Or perhaps I was the one who did not belong?

Megan found it hard to believe that the Faeries could always be this exuberant. 

It was just her luck, she supposed, that the short amount of time that Prince Rosen and her were spending in the Faerie realm happened to coincide with their festival season. Or perhaps it was her fate. She snorted at the thought: clearly all these whimsical beings who she was surrounded by were already having an effect on her rationality.

Despite the sun having barely reached its peak in the sky, the celebrations outside were beginning to pick up pace. Snatches of different songs made their way up to her room. Though many dissonant melodies were playing all at once, the sound somehow managed to be quite pleasant. It was too riotously joyful to sound anything but pretty. It reminded her of the Faerie decorations she had seen the day before: the loudest of colours were splashed across banners, everything in sight screaming for attention, overflowing with vibrant life… 

‘Please do not tell me you are planning on hiding away in your chambers throughout all these festivities,’

She looked up to find the Prince leaning against her door frame.

‘You know Meg, for someone on a Quest, you really have no sense of adventure,’

‘Well you aren’t exactly the outgoing type yourself! Thinking about it, why are you so bothered? You know you’re just going to spend the whole time having to awkwardly avoid dancing with all the unmarried faerie men and women who will be practically throwing themselves at you,’

Prince Rosen gave a conspiratorial smile and leant closer to whisper to Megan,

Ever since she could remember, Megan had longed for her own weapon. 

She knew it sounded stupid. Carrying stuff like that wasn’t exactly something you could legally do in the twenty-first century, was it? And whoever had heard of a sword-wielding warrior princess with a name like Megan?

Yeah, sadly she would never quite be able to live out that dream aesthetic. Oh well, she thought, she would have to make do with her razor sharp wit. That would certainly cut down her enemies in their tracks.

Even in her own head, she could hear the irony, loud and clear. To put it simply, Megan was not the most eloquent. She supposed it came from spending so little time actually bothering to interact with other people. Not that she had the inclination to change that any time soon. 

Day 2 is... Cinderella! From the prince’s perspective! With a twist! It’s almost 1 am and I completely rewrote my story for today after watching Cinderella 2 hours ago. Enjoy! :)

The prince stood, bored out of his mind at his father’s side as princess after princess introduced themselves. Sure, they were beautiful, but just standing there was mind-numbing. How was he supposed to choose a bride if he knew nothing about the women he was speaking to? At least Clara, his sister, could mingle as she pleased. Then again, being forced into chatting with the other ladies of the court probably wasn’t as thrilling as it currently seemed to the weary prince. Clara was a lively one, always pulling pranks and finding new ways to create unbridled chaos. She was an artist at heart, and you could usually find her in a tree with a sketchbook and a torn dress. Listening to the ladies jabber about what gowns they would wear to their next luncheon was not her idea of a good time.

More ladies arrived and the prince’s gaze was torn away from his sister for a moment. When he looked up again she was gone, and he was confused for a moment until she suddenly appeared at his side. 

“Heya, Tom!” He pinched the bridge of his nose before giving her a tight smile.

“Thomas, Clar, you know I hate that nickname.”

“Correct! I do know that! Which is precisely why I shall use it at every opportunity.” Clara beamed at him, and he had to give a short laugh.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Well,-”

Prince Thomas blocked out his sister’s voice for a moment. The man who had been announcing the guests said a name the prince had never heard before. “Miss Ella?” Odd title. Most of the women here were nobles, going by “Lady” or “Countess.” Simply “Miss” implied no status. However.... 

The prince turned towards the door and… there she was. A gorgeous young woman, the picture of grace as she crossed the threshold and descended the stairs. Her light blue gown billowed around her, and the crowded people attempted to give her a wide berth so as not to trample on her skirts. Her blonde hair seemed to glow in the light. The present nobility whispered to each other behind hands, as if doing such a thing could possibly conceal their words.

“Who is she?”

“Where did she come from?”

“Perhaps she’s a foreign princess.”

“She certainly looks like a princess.”

“Do you think she’s here for the prince?”

“Well, of course she is! Why else would she be here?”

“Miss Ella” began to walk towards the pedestal at the back of the large room, where the royal family seemed to scrutinize her.

“Who is she… Do you know her?” The king whispered, giving his son a quizzical glance.

“I’ve never seen her before.” Thomas breathed his response, unable to look away from the beautiful woman on the ballroom floor. He turned to his right to ask Clara if she knew the maiden, perhaps from court, but she’d disappeared. Confused, the prince turned back towards the floor to see his sister embracing the mysterious girl as if they were old friends. Clara seemed to give a slightly exaggerated bow, making the other girl giggle and give a not-quite-as-exaggerated curtsy. 

“Father-” The prince stopped himself.

The girls stood up straight and their eyes met. Slowly, they joined hands and began to slowly waltz around the room, eyes never leaving each other’s. Things suddenly seemed quite intimate, and the prince looked away. It almost felt like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have; a private moment.

“What is it, son?”

“Mn…? Nothing.”

You know that feeling when you see someone so beautiful that regardless of whether you feel any actual attraction towards them, they still manage to take your breath away?

Well… Aia, the elven guard who came to meet her, was  certainly having that effect on Megan. Were all the Elves she met going to look like that? On the one hand, Megan wanted nothing more than to see more of these exquisite faces, but then again, she knew that if everyone was similarly entrancing, there was not a chance in hell she’d be able to keep her wits about her.

For the first time since this whole damn adventure had begun, Megan felt truly scared. Her knowledge no longer felt like a weapon she could wield against these strangers. Actually no: it was still her weapon. The problem was that to beings as powerful as these her strongest weapon could be snapped as easily as dry wood.

In theory, Megan told herself, these Elves were not any greater a force than the Faeries, and had dealt with them easily enough. Weren’t they as captivating, with their ethereal beauty? The life radiating from them like a glowing light? But that was it, she realised: the Faeries and the Elves were two sides of the same coin. For where the Faeries brought forth warmth, the Elves were filled with ice-cold magic. Older, far more beautiful, and far more frightening.