Writing Prompt2
Our latest assignment in my creative writing class was to write a 500 word story using only single-syllable words… It was a bit of a struggle, but so fun! (We were given three exceptions where we could break the one-syllable rule.) Here is the story I wrote at midnight. Enjoy.
In the Field
“How do I work this thing..?” Pel swung his new gun to and fro, but the beam was still locked and he couldn’t fix it for the life of him. His spot by the wall next to the north door was hard to find, but it was lit well and would be hard to flee should he be seen. Pel whacked his Sim mask, jarred his head, and tried to find the right prompt for his sole weapon on its screen. All he saw were stars. “…Ow.” He heard yells to his left. They were close. He had to move. Pel broke free from his spot and made for the far side of the course. The red house was in his view; he could see the flag that hung from the third floor. With a brief smile and then a quick curse, he once more smacked his gun on his thigh in the vain hope that it would spring to life. “Come on..! Work! Dumb piece of—!” In the midst of Pel’s rant, he was met by three blue team grunts that blocked the one path that led to his goal. All of their guns were armed. Well damn. They saw him immediately and raised their guns in sync. Left with but one choice, Pel ran up the first rock he saw, reached for the switch on the back of his suit, and jumped as high as he could. Thin red wings shot out from his sides. The grunts fired beams up at him, but he dodged and turned his large wings so that they faced the ground and used them as a shield. He knew he would crash if he flew like that, so Pel made the best of it and dove straight for one of the grunts—fist first. By a bit of sheer luck, Pel wasn’t hurt and leapt up so fast, that the two grunts not on the ground didn’t know what hit them. He took them both out with two right hooks and then ran for the house once more. This time, he’d make it. There was still time on the clock—he was so close.
“You’re a cheat!” came a voice from his ear wire. “You can’t punch them, Pel! Do you know how much droids cost? That’s it—you’re out. Get your ass back here.”
The dome lights for the whole room went dark and a voice boomed the phrase “YOU LOSE.” “No— hey, Peach! My gun is dead, I had no choice! Please turn the sim back on,” I whined.
“Toooo bad, so sad, Pel. You should have just asked for new gear, you drap.” Peach sighed. “Maybe one of these days you’ll learn some sense and make lieutenant. That’s what you want, isn’t it? All you had to do was call for a new gun for god’s sake…”
Pel heard a soft laugh from his ear wire. He smiled. “But this gun looked so cool.”