Calling all creative writers! This is a column run by Nathaniel Lee to inspire readers to become writers. The column includes writing prompts, pieces by the coordinators, and occasional submissions from readers.
This month: short stories from Riley Barta and Nathaniel Lee, plus a farewell from Nathaniel.
Below is a set of prompts for different styles of writing beyond journalism. The idea is that you can create some kind of creative writing piece inspired by one of the prompts, but it doesn't have to be. You can submit any piece of writing you would like to share! All submissions should be school-appropriate. You can also suggest prompts to be featured in the next issue.
Here are some prompts to get you started. They can be used for anything, though some specify poetry or short stories. This month, the prompt theme is Summer.
1. What was meant to be a great bonding vacation turns sour when an uninvited guest tags along.
2. The cicadas came early this summer. Little did everyone know that it was actually an omen.
3. It just hit 110 degrees Fahrenheit, and your air conditioning unit just broke.
4. Write a story about a family summer vacation to Europe that… does not go to plan.
5. Write a story about characters going on a summer road trip.
If you have any prompt ideas in mind that you haven't seen on here yet or would like to see someone else respond to, then drop them in the Google Form below and I'll try to get them in the next issue! I sometimes don't see the response until after the issue is published, so I'm sorry if it takes a couple of months.
Well, this is it. I've written for The Scroll for the past three years, and ran the Creative Corner for two of those. Every month, I've written a short story. It has been one of the best things I have ever done. It feels strange to leave after all this time, but I know that I will never stop writing. I will write more books, more short stories. I will miss the time that I have spent with The Scroll, but it is in good hands now. Never stop dreaming, and remember to let your light shine.
I heard someone shuffle into the booth.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” a tinny voice began. “It has been three months since my last confession.”
I looked at my watch, confessional time was coming to a close. This would have to be the last person for today. “I am happy to hear from you today. What troubles you?”
There was a small crinkle of paper beside me. The man cleared his throat and then began, “I have taken someone’s life, Father.”
I felt a cold sweat bead down my neck.
“Before you fret, Father, please listen to my story. I need to tell somebody what has happened.”
I steadily replied, “Continue then.” He exhaled, cracked his knuckles, and began retelling what happened.
—
I remember the first time I met it when I still thought it deserved to be ‘he’. He was from out of town. His suit was tailored and his shoes were polished. He had come into my store to purchase the morning’s newspaper.
“Good morning,” I had said, “will that be all for today?”
He gave a short nod, paid, then left. This continued for several more months without fail. He never supplied any information about himself, and I realized one shadowy night that I didn’t even know what his voice sounded like. I could not remember the color of his suit, the shape of his eyes, whether or not he had a beard. Nothing.
I waited the next day for the man. Like clockwork, he walked in, grabbed a newspaper, and set it on the counter. I forced myself to examine the man. His whole body tilted to the side and his arms bent in unnatural directions. His skin looked cracked and dry, his eyes were glassy as though he had been crying, and his mouth– his horrible mouth– was set in an awful grin. It was that grin that made it clear he was something wrong. It was too wide for his face and had a giddiness that didn’t reach his eyes.
Cold overtook me in an instant as I continued to stare at the creature. He then spoke in a voice similar to a screeching tire, “Ah, so you can see now.”
It had taken me too long to realize it had left my shop. Once I regained my senses, I immediately closed down the shop and headed to the church. It was Sunday. Surely, someone there would be able to help me. Service had ended, but people still lingered about. I grabbed the first man I saw and pleaded for his help. I spoke so frantically that I did not hear the words that came from my mouth. The man shrugged out of my grasp and rushed out of the room. I howled endlessly about the threat that had just revealed itself. “A Beast walks upon us! Listen, we must rid of the perilous Demon!”
Men shoved me out of the building. They did not understand the gravity of the situation we were all in. We were all going to die! Good Heavens, the Beast would devour us all! I had to find a way to stop it before it could ruin everything. The sky opened up and began to pour. Rain punched down on me, and I welcomed it with open arms. It whistled past my ears, creating a beautiful symphony of answers. Don’t let it stay here, it sang sweetly, You must kill it before it kills you. Hope rushed through my bones, an answer! I was given an answer!
Lightning shattered the sky. I barrelled back to my shop and hunted for the dagger I knew was there. It was there. I kept it there for my safety! Finally, I found it hidden under the floorboards near the back door. I bounded back onto the street in search of my prey. The Beast would die tonight. He would gain power no longer! Lightning struck the tree across from me. A sign! I was being guided to the creature by the storm! I followed the strikes of lightning with eagerness pulsing through my veins.
I found it there, huddled against an old oak tree, staring out into the forest that surrounded the town. Trees were bending to the ferocious wind, rain whipped about striking everything in its path. The lightning that led me to the Beast stopped as suddenly as it began. The smell of electricity and rain danced in the air creating a cocktail to my senses. The wind pushed and tugged at me relentlessly, as if it were working to protect the Demon in front of me. I squeezed onto the dagger to anchor myself back to the ground. The Beast stared at me with its pale eyes and horrid grin.
“So this is the end, I suppose?”
The blood that coated my hands was a stark contrast to the rain belting down. Sticky and warm, it coated me like it hated me. Every bone of mine was shaking, and I could barely stand against the wind pushing me. The Beast lay on the ground with a peaceful expression gracing its face. The dagger shone on its skin like an ornate piece of jewelry. The rain stopped and left the blood to coat my arms.
—
“You see, Father, I had to destroy it,” the man beside me concluded.
I was shaking too much. This man was insane! Who’s life had he so cruelly stolen?
“Father, please say something.”
But what was there for me to say? This is irreparable, hideous! I glanced at my watch, confession time had ended an hour ago. The church would be empty.
“You must be in shock that a Demon was in our town. I understand your fears, Father. I will take my leave then and let you deliberate on what I must do.”
I heard some creaks and a few heavy footsteps. I remained in the booth for a few moments and then began to move out of it. Silence had overtaken the church, and a chill crept along my spine. I had to let the man’s story go, or I would be trapped under its terror. Pattering began behind me as I quickly turned around. A suit-clad man looked back at me, a silver dagger stood from his chest. He spoke in a bone-chilling tone.
“Where did he go, Father?”
An alarm clock beeped. Outside, birds chirped to signal the start of another day. Inside the plain white house, Leo stirred in bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stared at the wall while he blinked several times.
“Leo, dear,” his mom called up the stairs. “Breakfast will be ready soon. I’m making pancakes!”
He threw the blankets back and got out of bed, walking down the hall to the bathroom. The light clicked on, and it was clear that he had major bedhead. Leo wiped the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and showered. The first blast of cold water woke him up completely, and the temperature soon became perfect.
After getting out of the shower, he stared at himself in the mirror again. The dark circles under his eyes made him look like a raccoon, and sometimes that felt accurate. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get a good night of sleep.
As he continued to look in the mirror, a sharp feeling filled his body and he closed his eyes. Sandpaper being dragged across his heart, leaving scars that wouldn't heal. He ignored the feeling and went back to his room. Leo got dressed, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. A puma was on the front of the shirt, his school mascot.
He put on the dark gray sweatshirt that he wore every day, pulling the sleeves down to make sure they completely covered his arms. Even though it was already summer, he still kept it on.
Shoes were the final touch, one of his favorite things to wear. The comfortable shoes seemed to hug his feet. He’d bought special insoles that made them even better. Leo wore them everywhere, even to church and other activities that would usually be considered “formal.” When he’d first received the shoes as a birthday present, he wore them for the rest of the day, even going so far as to wear them while he slept.
His mom knocked on the open door to let him know that she was there: four sharp knocks, a second of pause, then two more quick taps. It was Morse code for “HI,” and they’d used it as the family knock since he was seven and decided to memorize the code. Sometimes, he wanted to say his many thoughts and feelings in a rapid bout of taps, but he was the only one who had the whole code memorized. She only knew the one greeting.
“Breakfast is ready,” she said.
“Alright.” He looked across the room and saw his reflection in another mirror.
Why are there so many mirrors in this house, anyway?
“What are your plans for today?” She walked over and tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he moved away from her grasp.
He shrugged, trying to keep his breathing under control. “I don’t know. I’ll probably hang out with my friends. Mark, Jay, Eddie, those guys.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I was just thinking.” She picked up a trophy from when he’d played soccer in third grade and blew some dust off of it. “Maybe we could go see a movie tonight? Something as a family.”
“Ah, yes. What a wonderful family we are.” Leo stepped past, taking care not to brush against her, and went down the stairs. He grabbed two pancakes—plus his phone and wallet—and went out the door.
He hated just leaving like that, but he knew that, if he stayed, they would’ve kept talking. Which would lead to her asking the dreaded question: How are you feeling? She thought she knew the answer to the four words, but she only knew about The Incident, and that affected her, too. Everything else was his to deal with on his own.
The sadness had passed. He’d dealt with those emotions a long time ago, burying them as deep in his subconscious as he could. It meant that he couldn’t relate to people or comfort them in the same way that he used to, but he didn’t really care much anyway.
Without any sadness to weigh him down, he got to sit around with everything else. Alone in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Before The Incident, glow-in-the-dark stars adorned the ceiling like jewelry on a rich woman but, after the sadness was buried, he ripped the stars off of the ceiling and threw them out the window. Pieces of the putty used to secure the stars still remained on the ceiling, glaring down at him like a million eyes of scorn.
When he sat in bed, his mind ran free of its chains, filling his head with emotions, with anger usually shining through. The emotions led him to—
He pinched the back of his hand hard enough to leave a bruise.
Nope.
Not going to think about that.
The pinching did seem like the opposite of what would help, but he hadn’t been trying it long enough to see if there was any difference. Rubi, the therapist he’d been seeing without his mom knowing, told him that it might help.
He walked down the street, nibbling on the pancakes. They really were delicious, but it was too late to tell his mom now. He kept walking until he reached Eddie’s house. It was in the rich suburbs, with perfectly groomed lawns and white picket fences. The idyllic American neighborhood. Leo’s house was in the suburbs, as well, but only because they still had some money from before The Incident.
He knocked on the door, unconsciously tapping Morse code for SOS. Luckily, Eddie himself answered. His parents were far too chatty and upbeat for nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning. All they ever wanted to talk about was their latest business deal, or gloat about how much money they made. Sometimes, they would remember The Incident and have a two minute pity party before talking about themselves.
“Do you want to hang out?” Eddie asked. Leo realized that he’d been standing outside without saying a word, lost in his own thoughts once again.
“If that’s okay.”
“Yeah. My parents are out of town on a business trip, so we’ve got the whole house to ourselves. I’ll call the others and invite them over, too. Sounds good?”
“Yes.” Leo said a quick prayer of thanks to anyone who might’ve played a part in getting Eddie’s parents away from the house. However, the amount of time they left their son alone at home had to be illegal. They seemed to always be off on some kind of “business trip” or even just doing “work stuff.” It wasn’t like Leo could do anything about it, but it was nice to have another reason to dislike his friend’s parents.
Within ten minutes, the house was brimming with teenage boys. Some played video games, some sat around on their phones, and some—miraculously—talked to each other. While they did their various activities, clouds rolled across the sky, followed soon thereafter by rain and thunder.
Leo sat on the floor in the corner of the room, sleeves pulled down over his hands. All of them were so happy, playing their stupid games. As he sat there, a boy who Leo didn’t recognize walked over and looked down at him. His eyes were a strange shade of green, like jade mixed with freshly mown grass, boiled down, blended, strained, and then purified until it became the perfect color.
“Hey,” the newcomer said. He sat down next to Leo, who scooted farther into the corner and pulled his sleeves lower. If the boy noticed any of this, he didn’t comment.
“I’m Chris.” The green-eyed boy smiled and extended a hand in greeting, which Leo ignored.
“I’m Leo. Do you need something?”
“Not that I can think of. You just looked sad over here on your own.”
There was that word again. Sad.
“I’m not sad. I’m perfectly fine.”
Chris raised his eyebrows. “Are you? When I look at you, I see a little bit of myself.”
“I doubt that.” How could he see himself? There was not an ounce of confidence in Leo’s body right now, while Chris seemed to exude it. He was easily the coolest person Leo had ever met.
At that moment, the power decided to go out. The house was filled with darkness, and the voices of every single person grew louder and louder, overlapping each other in dissonant harmonies.
It was too much like The Incident. Leo remembered it now as his heart sped up and his breathing became haggard. Darkness. Voices calling out for help. He opened his eyes and found the same darkness. Screams began to assault his ears, driving into his skull like rusted nails. He managed to start crawling, calling out for his dad through the tears. His vision faded back to normal, but he couldn’t see much other than twisted metal and flames. Something grabbed his ankle, and he kicked out violently. He turned and saw his dad lying on the wet concrete, leg bent at an awkward angle. Before his dad could speak, Leo stood and ran away. That wasn’t his dad, it had to be some monster. He reached the sidewalk and looked for his real dad. Behind him, there was an explosion, but that was the last thing he remembered before he collapsed.
It had been his real dad, not a monster.
He’d run away and left his dad behind. Not just left him behind. Left him behind to die.
Back at Eddie’s house, a tear made its way down his cheek, the first one since he’d stopped crying after The Incident. Strong arms wrapped around him, surprisingly warm despite the cool air that had been coming from the AC. He twisted away from his unknown captor, but they held fast.
“It’s okay.” The words were whispered in his ear and, for a second, it seemed like they’d actually helped. His breathing became even more rapid, and he pulled away from the arms.
“It is okay.” This time more forcefully, and he recognized Chris’ voice.
“You don’t know that,” Leo muttered.
The lights came back on, and Leo realized that, while he was struggling, his sleeve had gotten pulled up. Not much, but it was enough to see—
“Go away!” Leo yanked the sleeve down, hoping that Chris was just as oblivious as every other one of the boys.
After a moment of silence, Chris spoke. “I do know that it is okay. You’re not the only one who is going through this. Some of us have angel tears as well.”
He turned his arm, and Leo could see the silvery lines.
His breathing started speeding up again, but Chris put a hand on his shoulder. Something that no one had done in a long time.
“Angel tears?” Leo whispered the question, worried that someone was eavesdropping. Not a chance. They had all returned to their previous activities.
“When my mom found out, she told me that these are the tears of angels. They see all of the pain that we’re going through and so they cry. Their tears create marks on our skin to remind us of how much we are really loved.”
“I’ve heard something similar, but it’s just a dumb—”
Chris held up a finger to stop Leo from continuing. “Hey, don’t insult the angels, man. I understand that life sucks sometimes, but you need to stop burying your emotions. Have a good cry every once in a while. Let it all out. Talk to your parents. My mom… isn’t in the picture anymore, so I always talk to my dad if there’s anything wrong.”
“I can’t talk to my dad ever again, and my mom doesn’t understand. She thinks everything is okay.”
“Everything is okay, remember? Angel tears. You are loved. If you’re positive that your mom won’t react favorably, you can alway come hang out with me. My dad has heard everything, trust me. Besides, he’s got a couple angel tears like we do. So, he’s chill. Here.”
The two exchanged phone numbers and, as if on cue, Chris’ phone buzzed.
“Well, that’s my dad saying that I need to come home now. I’ll text you later, maybe even call. I don’t have anything planned tomorrow if you want to come over and hang out.”
“Sounds great. My mom will be fine with it. I’m making new friends anyway.”
Chris laughed. “Well, this new friend kind of forced his way into your life, but I feel like he made the right choice.” The green-eyed wonderboy stood and left.
“He definitely did.” Leo looked out the window as his new friend walked down the sidewalk, spinning and dancing in the rain.
“I feel like I just found my angel.”
