Ended BYC Writing Prompts! A Short Story Contest

[ColtHandorf]

For anyone interested in learning about any of the things mentioned in my "fictional" non-fiction piece, I have provided links below for your convenience.

Pleistocene Park

Colossal Biosciences

Quagga Project

Tauros Programme

Revival of the Woolly Mammoth

Pyrenean Ibex

 

[Amer]

I found the 1000-word limit to be absurdly difficult to stay under.

Some people like to watch the world burn.

Well, you know what they say: brevity is the soul of wit.

 

[Amer]

This is simply a chapter of a longer work, my novella, The Peregrination, which is about a fictional species of birds called American Canaries.
Prompt: Birds
Title: Red Feathers
Ch. 1 Red Feathers
Peregrine dodged a tree, pumping his wings excessively. He lurched in flight as the basket he gripped in his claws swung violently to the side. He navigated the forest shakily, eyes flashing back and forth, breathing hard.
There. Not far ahead was a branch with a teardrop-shaped hut hanging from it, woven from leaves and undeniably Canary-make. The long and poorly executed flight had sapped him of energy. He couldn’t manage another flap.
Peregrine made a last desperate thrust against gravity as he dragged himself through the hole, collapsing on the floor.
An elderly bird was staring at some abnormally colored leaves on the wall when he came in. Peregrine knew that her name was Zephyr. She inspected the contents of the basket beside Peregrine, clicking her beak with satisfaction. Then she peered at Peregrine who was still collapsed on the floor. He appeared to be doing his best puddle impression. When he heard her chuckling, Peregrine drew himself to his full height—which wasn’t very significant.
“Hey!” Peregrine’s voice gave an adolescent squeak. “I can barely carry myself yet, let alone a whole basket on the side!” He preened his brand-new feathers and got a mouthful of fluff. Barely a fledgling, Peregrine was still pudgy with bits of chick-down stuck all over his patchy brown feathers.
Peregrine peered into the basket and swelled with pride. It was full of black raspberries. I didn’t drop any.
“So! What are these for?” Zephyr asked, pointing to the berries with her foot. “And what is your name?” She tapped Peregrine on the head with her wing.
“My name is Peregrine, Peregrine Quill, and Sage wanted me to deliver this to you, Zephyr,” Peregrine explained.
“Thank you, my dear, and thank Sage for me,” Zephyr said.
“Not a problem!” Peregrine said, even though it had been a problem.
Peregrine watched with interest as Zephyr reached into the basket and swallowed a berry. She closed her eyes, clicking her beak. Peregrine watched her eat a few more berries. He lost interest when she didn’t offer him any.
Zephyr droned on about how “Would you believe that this is my first taste of the black raspberry crop this season?” and that “Black raspberries are my favorite food, too.” Peregrine nodded along but he had completely zoned out by the time she told him how boring nuts and grubs got when you had eaten them all winter.
Peregrine’s eyes wandered the room. He saw a little wooden writing desk and a roost along the wall, but the furniture barely registered when he realized that what he had originally thought were funny-colored leaves on the wall were actually feathers. Blacks and greys speckled with red framed a feather that sat in the middle, huge and scarlet.
She’s clearly gone senile, Peregrine thought. That’s gross, collecting other birds’ feathers.
Zephyr trailed off when she saw where Peregrine was looking. She sauntered over to the feather, preening it back into place in a possessive manner.
“That was my mate’s feather,” Zephyr said. “His name was Delo. He was a great warrior. And he was one of the red canaries, a great race. They were as good as you or I.” Zephyr glared into space, her voice gaining a bitter edge. “But all that meant nothing. Now he is dead, along with all of our chicks.” She gestured with a great sweep of her wing. The feathers fluttered in the gust of her movement. She stared into the distance. Peregrine knew he would never be able to see what she saw.
“Wow, that’s terrible, I’m really sorry,” Peregrine said, not sure what else to say. She really did look like she needed a hug, but Peregrine’s skepticism battled with his sympathy. The whole story seemed contrived, and Zephyr seemed like the sort who would make up anything for attention. She probably found a cardinal feather and made up a story to go with it. Also, Peregrine doubted any canary, red or no, would find a mate in someone who used the feathers of their dead relatives as wall hangings.
“I’m sorry too,” Zephyr said. The next few moments were spent staring at their toes.
With his breath having come back, and Zephyr being somewhat creepy, Peregrine thought it would be appropriate to leave. The awkward silence only solidified his decision. “Well, goodbye, then. Enjoy your berries,” he said, slipping through the door.
“Goodbye, and don’t forget to give my thanks to Sage,” Zephyr replied.
“I won’t!”
Peregrine took off and began the unsteady flight home. The wind carried something like a warbler’s song but with a melancholy note. The words to the song were about battle, honor, and death, though Peregrine only caught fragments of it. It was beautiful, a song only a canary could sing. Zephyr was singing to the feathers on the wall.

 

[Kiki]

@MaeM You should enter this contest!

 

[Amer]

This is the first chapter of a larger fantasy story that I may or may not write called Perri Winkle: Dragon Slayer for Hire
Prompt: Fantasy
Georgi was the third man Perri had ever seen in her twenty-one years of life.
Perri jogged through the Endless Forest, dodging the massive, towering trunks of the Everstand trees. Far ahead, a brown hawk swooped towards a black, hairy shape that had to be a rabbit. The rabbit made a valiant show of scrambling away from the outstretched talons, but its hopeless screech seemed to indicate that it knew it could not delay the inevitable. The hawk pivoted, pouncing on the rabbit. It squirmed and screamed, but the hawk held fast.
“Good boy, Fletcher!” said Perri, catching up with the hawk. She held the rabbit’s hind legs in one leather-gloved hand and grabbed a large stick with the other, placing it over the rabbit’s neck and standing on both ends. Its neck snapped. When her quarry died, she stood up and slung the rabbit into her bag. She stretched her arm out and the hawk alighted on her hand. Perri stared into his brilliant red eyes. “You got four! Good b…” Perri trailed off. Something moved at the edge of her vision. She blinked and turned to look at it.
A peculiar, pale face peered out from behind a tree. It was a man’s face with a short, brown beard.
A man! “Hey there! I’m Perri Winkle!” she shouted, sprinting towards the face. The man cringed and tightened his grip on a large, bloody branch. One of his pant legs was torn and bloodied.
Perri grabbed his right hand and pulled it away from the branch, lifting him to his full height and shaking his hand vigorously. The branch dropped from the man’s other hand and the slightest suggestion of a smile curled across his sweaty face.
“P-p-perri Winkle?” he stammered. “I’m Georgi. Georgi Josh.”
“Wow, you’re real tall.” She looked up at his impressive height of five foot ten.
“Thanks.” Georgi said. In his time, he was taller than average, but 5'10" still wasn’t “real tall.” But Georgi decided not to contradict this terrifying woman.
At 5’5”, she was no shorty either. Georgi had seen no woman like her. She wore leggings, boots, and a yellow leather jerkin over a man’s shirt. A sword hung over her back right next to her bag. Dark freckles stood out on her cheeks as conspicuously as a cat’s whiskers. She had strong arms and laughing grey eyes. Her hair and brows were most unusual. Both were a dark plum-purple.
Perri peered closely at him, studying his facial features. He was younger than anyone she had ever met. “You’re handsome too,” she added matter of factly.
”Thanks,” said Georgi dumbly. “But what about that creature you were holding? What was that thing?”
“Haven’t you ever seen a rabbit hawk before?“ Perri asked. Fletcher stared at the man in disbelief.
“No. That thing he killed. It looked like an living beard.”
“Oh! The rabbit!” she laughed. “I am told they look a bit different here in the Endless Forest. But how would I know, I’ve never left it. It’s not a shadow creature, if that’s what you want to know. And those are quite easy to deal with, too, if you simply have a light and a little bit of shelter. You poor thing, you were probably up fighting those all night.”
Perri tapped her foot and stuck out her lip, staring at Georgi’s untidy brown hair. “I’m starting to think Huey’s messing with me. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“About what?” asked Georgi, perking up at the suggestion that there were more people in the strange forest.
“Well, he said people don’t just have brown and grey and white hair, they can have orange and yellow hair too. But all the people I ever met, all seven of them if I include myself, have brown hair. Or greyish or whitish. I was really hoping you’d have orange or yellow hair.”
“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you. But you don’t have brown hair.”
“Oh, this?” she asked, flipping her purple ponytail. “This was Huey’s doing. A little bitterberry juice… Oh, where are my manners? You must be thirsty. And starving! Come this way. I’m afraid we rarely get visitors.”
She turned and walked back the way she’d come.
Georgi limped hurriedly after her. If there was any hope for his life, it would come from this strange woman.

 

[SPARKSTEAD]

Prompt: Poultry
Title: Yolk's Magic Lesson

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, lived a farmer named Jack. Jack had a large backyard that was filled with all types of plants, trees, and flowers. Jack loved gardening, but he had always felt that something was missing. One day, Jack realized what it was- he wanted backyard chickens! So Jack went to the local pet store and bought a dozen eggs.

After a few days, Jack noticed that one of the eggs had hatched! A little chick popped out of the egg, and he was so cute and cuddly that Jack decided to name him "Yolk." Yolk grew up to be a strong and healthy rooster, but he just wasn't happy. Yolk dreamed of living in a magical kingdom where all the chicken's feathers shimmered in the sun, and the eggs were made of gold.

One day, Yolk came up with a plan to fulfill his wildest dreams. He decided to gather all his chicken friends and turn Jack's backyard into a magical kingdom fit for a king! The chickens chipped in, and before long, they had built an incredible castle out of hay bales and cornstalks.

As the sun set, the roosters crowed with excitement, and the hens clucked with pride. Yolk strutted around the castle, gazing at his new home and pecking at the grains of corn. Suddenly, a fairy appeared!

"Hello there, Yolk," said the fairy. "I've heard of your dream to live in a magical kingdom. I'm here to make that happen! I'll grant you a wish, whatever you desire."

Yolk couldn't believe his luck! "Oh, fairy, please make my dream come true. Please make all my chicken friends and me sparkle like diamonds in the sun, and give our eggs the Midas touch!"

"Your wish is granted," said the fairy, "but be careful what you wish for. Magic comes with a price."

Yolk ignored the fairy's warning and excitedly pecked at his golden egg. All the chickens watched with envy as he ate the glittery yolk. The next day, the chickens woke up, shining like stars. Their feathers were so reflective that they could light up an entire room, and their eggs glittered like gold!

But as the days went by, the chickens began to notice something strange. They started to feel heavy and hard to move, and their feathers began to lose their color. The chicks, who used to be so soft and fluffy, were now covered with a hard, glittery shell.

Yolk realized too late that the fairy's warning was right- magic does come at a price, and he had paid a heavy one. The chickens had become statues, unable to move or lay the eggs they had once been so proud of. And it was all Yolk's fault.

As the sun began to set on the once-magical Kingdom, Yolk hung his head in shame. "I've messed everything up," he told the fairies who had come to see what happened to the kingdom. "I broke the rule and paid the price. I only wish I could take it all back."

The fairies looked at each other and nodded their heads. They knew that magic was powerful, but it could also be forgiving. Together, they used their magic to bring back the chickens and un-do what Yolk had wished for. The chickens shed their hard shells, and their feathers regained their color.

From that day forward, Yolk and his friends lived happily ever after, content to be chickens, laying eggs that tasted of the earth and sky. They learned that, in the end, it was the simple pleasures that mattered the most, and magic, while fun, could be dangerous if not used responsibly.

And so, in Jack's backyard, the chickens lived on, sparkling only with the joy of a life well-lived, and the magic of friendship.

 

[the_peanut_coop]

Gahhh!

 

[the_peanut_coop]

Alrighty tighty, I got rid of an adverb or two so I should be good to go.

Prompt: Fantasy, Mystery.

Title: Arsenic

Lukas opened his eyes a crack, vibrant sunlight shining down on him. He felt chilly as a breeze brushed over him. His body ached a little as he sat up. Dirt fell from his hair into his lap and all around him.

“Alright, Darrin, Oregon, what is going on?”

April Fool’s Day was right after Lukas’ birthday, and his friends--early birds, no doubt--pulled the most elaborate pranks that Lukas had ever seen. One year they had cleared all the furniture in Lukas’s room and left a note saying that the house had been condemned for demolition in the afternoon. The door was locked, so Lukas jumped out the second-story window in panic when he heard a truck coming down the suburban street.

Yes, Lukas always went to sleep late in the evening of his birthday, dreading and eager to see what he would wake up to.

He shook the dirt out of his sandy blonde hair, returning it to its fluffy and well-moisturized state. He surveyed his surroundings, which appeared to be a cemetery. He glanced down into a deep hole in which an empty coffin lay splintered, and his eyes wandered to the gravestone above.

~Lukas Archovich~ it read. Beloved Son and Friend.

Yeah, right. Lukas thought. Where did his friends get the money for these things? They did live in Pumatown, CO, which was known for graceful suburbs, great school programs, and, well, rich kids.

Lukas walked out of the cemetery, ignoring the glances of the people in the street. Yes, I probably look like I just emerged from the grave. Lukas thought. Good thing I’m not walking like a zombie. He quickly navigated home.

Immediately after opening the door, his ears were greeted by the chilling noise of sobbing. It sounded like his mom. He navigated to the living room, peering through the side of the opening. His family was gathered on the couch, close together, his younger sister, Caroline, was hidden under her father’s arm. His mother held a bundle of fabric, clutching it close to her chest as she cried.

“It’s been three years,” said his father, who appeared to be praying. “Please help us as we try to accept that he is in heaven with thee now.”

His mother sobbed harder. She had never been an actor. Even if Darrin and Oregon had begged her to try to cry, it wouldn’t have looked like this. Something was off. He stepped into the room.

“Mom, are you okay? Dad, what’s going on?”

Time seemed to stand still for an instant. Then his sister screamed and ran past him in the direction of the door. She slammed it as she evacuated the house.

Lukas raised an eyebrow, glancing back behind him. “What was that?” He asked his parents.

His mother clutched the fabric bundle closer to her, her knuckles growing white against it until it emitted a soft cry. She relaxed her grip.

“L-Lukas? Lukas, you’ve come back to us-” his mother choked on every syllable as her already pale face drained of colour.

“No, sweetie. That isn’t him. It’s just some sick prank by one of those vile neighborhood boys. It’s time someone called the police.” His father stood. “None of you move.”

Lukas backed away slowly. Something was way off. When his father looked down to dial on the phone, Lukas bolted to the stairs, heading towards his room to give him time to think about what was going on. Along the stairs were the usual pictures of his family. His mom and his dad in front of a church, Mom in a white dress, and Dad in a suit. A picture of a baby with brilliant blue eyes (that was Lukas), and then a picture of Lukas holding his baby sister Caroline. As he went up the staircase, he noticed new pictures. A photo of Caroline- she was graduating from elementary school. That made no sense, Caroline was in 4th grade. A photo of his entire extended family, all gathered and in black. But where was he? He remembered being at his great uncle’s funeral. Then another photo. His mom, holding a baby. Another baby! One he didn’t recognize. That must have been the bundle his mom was holding.

To Lukas, this was starting to seem less like a prank than ever. He felt sick, so he headed to the bathroom.

He stopped himself in the mirror. No- The mirror stopped him. The reflection stopped his heart.

His face was, understandably, covered in dirt, but that wasn’t what stopped him. It was his eye. Had he realized that his eye was sealed shut before? Lukas touched the hideous scrape, a violent stinging feeling following.

The stinging brought back everything. It brought back last night.

Lucas was heading from the family reunion birthday party, intrigued by the woods that called to him. He was rustling through the undergrowth when he heard the noise. It was a small rumble, but it grew louder, evolving into a roar. An enormous bear burst from the trees, lunging at him. Shouting, Lucas ducked, avoiding getting his heart clawed out but getting a huge slash across the right eye. He ran back to the reunion, the pain making him want to vomit.
His family fixed him up, but he was still in shock. He sat there, trembling when a tall man with dark sunglasses approached him. He was probably a distant uncle or a second cousin thrice removed, something like that. The man handed Lukas a cup of water. Lukas drank it and began feeling better. Later in the night, when they had gone home, Lukas got sicker and sicker but finally managed to get to sleep.

No, not sleep. He had died--the reality hit him on the head. He had been poisoned. This wasn’t a prank, although it seemed similar to a couple of movies that he had seen. Lukas had really, truly come back from the dead.

The police car pulled into the Archovich's driveway.

 

[ColtHandorf]

Gahhh! View attachment 3485720

 

[the_peanut_coop]

Let's face it. If they had placed a limit of 10,000 words, I would be struggling to stay under that too. I'm just... rebellious like that.