Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Creating Worlds Writing Camp - Project Seven

Hi everyone!:)
Sorry that this is so late! I used the following prompts-
(Nine in total)

I changed this one a tiny bit.;)

I didn't like the stares coming from the villagers. Not one bit. Anger rose to my cheeks at the glances Blake and I got for just walking down the street. So what that Blake was stranger than everyone else? So what that he wore a huge hooded cloak and hid behind houses? He was my friend and I hated how he was treated just because he acted differently. We strode past the town and into the forest, our favorite place to be. No one was there except us, which meant no one gave us weird looks. I let go of a big sigh.
“Blake? Why does everyone freak out because you act different from everyone else?” I asked.
Blake stared down at the ground. “I don't know. Sometimes people are just strange.”
“Yeah, the villagers are strange,” I agreed. Shaking his head, he looked at me.
“No, not the villagers. Me. I'm strange. I just don't like it here. I feel something calling me away. I can't explain it.”
My eyes widened and I felt my heart pick up pace. Suddenly my neck felt itchy, the sign my body gave me when I felt uncomfortable with the topic. He couldn't mean away away, Could he? Like, past the border? I itched my neck with my pointer finger.
No one ever strayed past the border, if they did, no one ever saw them again. What was on the other side, no one knew. If he left, I didn't know what I would do. The villagers correlated passing the border as dying, it was that unknown out there.
“When can we go to your tree house again?” I asked him, trying to change my focus. Blake looked at me sideways from underneath his hood. I searched his eyes, my heart hesitant to ask the question. For some reason, he never liked taking me to his tree house, but I thought it was the coolest fort.
“Fine,” he gave in. I laughed, but I couldn't shake his earlier words out of my heart. It felt like smoke, sticking to my mind. We went to the secret trail that led to his tree house and we climbed up the slats of wood nailed into the tree. I smiled when I reached the inside. Vines and branches grew through the house. Leaves covered the floor like a carpet. Blake threw back his hood and we mulled around.
What kind of adventures could he imagine up here? I almost wished I could live here, make the wild branches into seats and lay a mat in that corner-
I twirled to face the corner I would put the imaginary mat in when I noticed, for the first time, the actual mat there, the pile of books at the foot of the mat. I glanced at the tree house more thoroughly, noticing the appliances that made this fort into an actual home. Out of nowhere, I realized that the dream to live here was an actual reality for Blake. I froze to the ground, my hand rising to my neck.
A crash sounded from outside the forest and Blake perked up, throwing his hood back up.
“I'll go see what that is,” he volunteered and flew down the ladder. I became very interested in the fact that this was his home when he left. The mysterious person that was Blake made me imagine just what kind of secrets he might have. I began to go through the tree house when my foot snagged on an uplifted board in the corner of the room. Intrigued, I went to the ground and pulled up the board, brushed away the leaves, and saw a box nestled in the ground. Ants crawled over it and ancient dirt covered the box, but I made out the words “Bad Memories, Do Not Open” on the side. Of course, I opened. A leather bound diary was in the box. I tore it open and read it.
My world's not safe anymore. Or at least that's how I feel. Dad still hasn't come back after...everything. I went to the forest last night, calling out his name, like he would actually hear. Like he would actually care. I've been looking for him everywhere, but I don't see him.
I'm scared. Mom has been acting like everything is okay, but I can see that she's afraid, too. When will he be back? Will he be back? I have to be honest and say that I don't think he's coming back.
After this experience, I've learned something. Not all haunted places are houses. Sometimes, the place that is haunted is the past.
I want Dad back.
I flipped through the rest of the pages, coming to a stop in the middle of the diary where another entry was made.
The world is cruel. After I lost my dad, I've lost my mother, but I know what happened to her. She died. I need a hero now and right now I am the only one who is available for the job. I'm leaving the town of Tertrum. I don't have a life here anymore. It's time to move on, see what's out there.
I turned around, squeaking in alarm.
“What are you doing?” Blake shouted, lunging for me and the diary.
“I'm sorry, I just found it!”
“You shouldn't be snooping through my personal things,” he said, his voice ringing through the tree house.
“You aren't from this town?” I asked him. He gave me a surprised look.
“No, I am.”
“This says that you're from the town of Tertrum. Where's that?”
Blake's eyes lit up at the name. “Tertrum?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “My home...”
He raced through the tree house, collecting up his things.
“Blake?” I asked, my heart race picking up.
“I'm going back to my home!”
“You said that it wasn't your home, in the diary! You said that there was nothing left for you there!”
“Nothing is left here for me either,” he said, his mind far away. I gasped, taken aback.
“How could you say that?” I shouted. “I'm here for you, I'm your best friend! You said that your parents are dead!”
Blake froze. “You don't understand.”
He jumped down from the tree house and sprinted through the forest, me chasing him. He couldn't be heading towards the border, but as he turned right at the trail head, I knew that that was exactly what he was doing. I begged my legs to go faster, but I couldn't keep up with him. My feet stumbled on a root and I fell into the stream.
“No, Blake!” I screamed. I staggered up, limping toward where he went, but I knew I wouldn't see him again. Whatever had possessed him, it had taken him away from me.
He was right. I didn't understand. I wanted to help him. I wanted him not to cross the border, but as I reached the it, all I saw was his footprints in the marshy ground, disappearing right at the edge.
I knew what this meant.
I walked back to the village to the morgue. A funeral was in order for Blake, my best friend.
“Too bad,” the man in the morgue said. “What will the gravestone say? You were the only one who knew him.”
I paused, thinking on what he would want it to say.
“Blake. Here lies a friend who was not of this town.”
I didn't edit this story at all, I didn't have any time, so I'm sorry if it's not the best. I hope you liked it regardless.:)


  1. I love it, good writing by the way!


  2. All I have to say is you must write more or I will die O_O