Day 3, Many More Months Later: NaNoWriMo Prep

Prompt: Write a fantasy story in which one character is a child. Include a bucket somewhere in the story. 

The warmth prickled across her skin. She could feel the heat deeper than she had felt anything in the past. This could only be a bad sign. The sweat began to run down the nape of her neck, getting caught in the short, fluffy hairs on her skin, causing a trail that ran away just as quickly as she would have liked to run.

Her small frame caused shadows to flicker along the walls of the dim cavern. A twelve-year-old in a younger girl's body, she held little hope for survival in such circumstances. No one had been able to give her any useful advice, but she supposed that made sense as no one had been able to defeat this particular dragon. Hence, there she stood, trying not to shiver and wondering if it was even possible to do so in this heat.

Sheida could hear the beast's tail dragging across the rock-covered floor, as though it were announcing its arrival like a herald at a royal ball. A less joyous entrance. She noticed its scales were glistening and wondered where the light was reflecting from. There must be a hole in the ceiling through which she could escape. But first, she had to complete her task. She just hadn't figured out how.

As she crouched in the dirty corner, her feet cramping and her knees angry with a stabbing pain, she began to devise a plan. And suddenly, she realized there could be no plan. There could be no success in a duel between a child and a dragon. The dragon would always win.

And so she readied herself, and slowly stood as tall as her tiny body would stretch. She made herself as visible as could be, and presented herself to the dragon. The only weapon she was able to grab as the villagers, her friends and neighbors, had thrown her into the cave as this full moon's sacrifice, was a bucket. It held a dingy mop covered with the fallen remnants of last night's dinner, and the water sloshed precariously around in it. The dragon raised itself from the floor in response. Sheida thought she saw a smirk scuttle across its face as though it realized that this one would be easy. Its magnificent eyes sparkled with darkness, crowned with unexpectedly long lashes. Surprisingly white teeth peeked out from behind a wide mouth of doom. As it made its way closer, its nails scraped across the rough floor. Sheida reflexively clenched her teeth.

As it opened its mouth to release the fiery depth within, Sheida did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed the bucket, careful not to lose any of its precious contents, and aimed straight for the back of the dragon's throat. The water within released itself of its wooden constraints and flew towards to the dragon in defiance. The dragon had not yet begun the gutteral reaction which would release its artillery, and the water slammed into the back of its throat just as planned. Unexpectedly, the clash of water with the pre-fire's seeping chemicals seemed to be the dragon's demise. It swiftly crumpled to the floor, each heavy limb dropping with a thud that echoed in Sheida's ears. She looked at the creature in disbelief. Had she really just killed a dragon with a bucket?  

Day 2, Months Later

A one-way plane ticket to the Caribbean is purchased - why? Who bought it and where are they going?

She stood nervously at the ticket counter, tapping her fingers on the faded formica as the young man clicked away on his computer. ‘Please let there be a seat,’ she begged him in her mind. He looked up and smiled suspiciously, wondering why she was wearing her sunglasses inside. It wasn’t even bright out today. She noticed him glance at the large windows that betrayed her and showed everyone around her that the day was as overcast as her spirit.

“Okay, a one-way ticket to the Caribbean. It looks like we have a seat.”

She smiled gleefully, and he began to process the booking. “Um, can you please take off your sunglasses so we can take your photo. It’s for security purposes.” Her smile disappeared and she hesitantly peeled them away from her face. The bruising was evident almost immediately, black and blue and cupping her bloodshot right eye. His smile disappeared as well, and her pain suddenly slapped him in the face. This was her escape. This was her only way out of the hell she had been living in for over 18 months. The hell that began as the pure, lustful love of cheesy romance novels and ended in rage and fear. The police weren’t willing to help. They all belonged to him. The money that he used to initially draw her in with lavish gifts and exotic adventures was being used to buy corrupt police officers in their small town. He owned that town. He owned her. Until today, when she took out crumpled dollar bills and dirty coins that she had been saving from her leftover grocery money in order to make her escape. He would not own her anymore. And she looked up at the camera, and smiled.

Day 1

Prompt: Why was there a secret door in the back of her closet? Why had it just opened? And what could possibly be down the steps?

As she bent to pick up another pair of shoes that had never been worn, she noticed a tiny sliver of light in the corner of her immaculate closet. Jason always kept it a little too tidy for her own taste, but there was no fighting him on it. No point, at least. She pressed forward, reaching into the illumined corner and wondering what she would find. She certainly did not expect that her bejeweled fingers would find a crease that would push open like a doorway. Not like a doorway. It WAS a doorway.

'What in the...' Eliza mumbled to herself, as she dared to step further into the darkness. 'Please take me to Narnia. Please take me to Narnia.' As she pushed the door open, she knew that she would not be taken to a magical land, and instead found herself in a den of lies. She gingerly moved forward, one hesitant step after another, her bare feet touching the crisp cold stones that formed an almost medieval floor. She felt a chill crawl up her spine and knew that it would not be the first in this little excursion. 

'Does Jason know about this?' she briefly thought to herself. But her question was quickly answered as she stared blankly at the large desk in front of her. It was covered in papers smeared with his handwriting. None of it really made any sense to her. Some of it was in languages she didn't know he spoke, while other pages had more equations than a physicist's white board. She didn't know what to make of any of it. 

Then it caught her attention: the photographs that practically formed a wallpaper for the unseen room. She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed them up until this point. There was nothing inconspicuous about them. They covered every inch of the wall, some pointing to places on a large map while others were coated in tiny post-it notes and apparent potential theories. What struck her the most was that these photos did not show her strangers. Instead, they forced the mystery to spiral farther and her thoughts to blur into a haze as she blurted out, "What the hell does my father have to do with this?"