Daily Writing Prompt Thread Thingy It'll Be Fun

[SkyAJK]

I have a tendency to write in almost "short stories", which has me leaving out details, sometimes on purpose, sometimes just because the stories link together and fill in the gaps themselves. I've been told off before for always writing things that end in "cliffhangers" before
I'm glad you enjoyed it though!

The suspense is in the not knowing everything and guessing ....whodunit?

 

[Lacy Duckwing]

There doesn't seem to be any other prompts posted for this week, so I have an idea:

Communication barrier; write a scene where there is a communication barrier between two characters or something written, etc.

 

[Lacy Duckwing]

There doesn't seem to be any other prompts posted for this week, so I have an idea:

Communication barrier; write a scene where there is a communication barrier between two characters or something written, etc.

I shuffled into the wheelhouse, clenching my English-Russian dictionary and a notebook that had a blue pen hanging off the binding. This couldn't be too hard, could it? It actually sounded brilliant. I peered over my shoulder at Kostas, who was watching from the deck. I swore he still had a twinkle of mischief in his eye, but I'm probably misreading that. He suggested this idea, and really, what could go wrong?
"Vasili?" I said, patting the dictionary.
He hovered over dials surrounding the wheel, finger on one and hand on a manual. He turned his head, settling his judgmental stare onto me.
I chuckled. It was a nervous chuckle. It's fine, it's fine. Kostas is the scarier one, not this guy. Vasili wouldn't hurt a fly. I set my belongings onto the counter and opened the blank notebook.
"Uh, I... uh," I folded the notebook, placing the pen on it. 'Toughen up, kid,' The words that Kostas often told me floated into my memory. Don't let Kostas come in here and show me... I grimaced. English. I was speaking in English. I needed to speak to him in Russian. I swallowed and puffed my chest.
"I was thinking," I said in Russian. Boy, I better be saying the words right. "That maybe if you wrote things down, maybe I'd be able to understand them better. Here," I slid my dictionary toward Vasili, "You could write, and I will find your words in here and translate them. How about that, huh?"
Vasili furrowed his eyebrows. I said something wrong, didn't I? I know I did. What was it? 'Boy?' 'Translate?' Which word was it? Vasili turned his whole body to look at Kostas, then slowly turned back to me and settled his glare on me once more.
I nudged the notebook and pen toward him. It was my only hope. My only hope before he ordered the Crusher to toss me into the ocean or worse- crush me. He dropped his hand on the notebook, eyes not leaving mine. Stepping back, he picked up the notebook. He glanced down at it and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A smile. An actual smile! I didn't know he was capable! He dropped it, but a twinkle appeared in his eyes similar to what Kostas had.
Vasili nodded his head and turned his back toward me. He set the notebook next to the window and clicked the pen. Sketching of a pen filled the room like he was writing an exciting tale of... something? Tearing out the paper, Vasili crumbled it into a neatly folded rectangle.
"Read it," he said, handing the paper to me, "destroy it after."
I clenched the paper tight enough to hear it crinkle. Why did he always have to be so secretive? It wasn't like anybody was out to get him. I grabbed my dictionary and rushed out of the wheelhouse. Whatever his problem was, I sure wish he didn't always have to stare at me like I was the threat. I sat on the rusty bench outside and opened the paper.
Scribbles, matching that of a three-year-old with a pen, ran across the paper, separated by occasional blanks that appeared to divide what should have been words. My mouth fell open, and a laugh erupted across the deck.
"Something wrong?" Kostas chuckled.
"How-what?" I blinked my eyes, but the scribbles were still there. They were playing with me. I know it! This is all a joke!
Kostas sat next to me and snatched the paper. "Can't read cursive, can you?"
"Cursive?" I spun toward him.
He chuckled, then held the paper at arm's length and read loudly, "'I don't know how this will help things. If you can't speak Russian, then you will never be able to read it. Either way, this is a good way to be trapped and I will not be...' Partnering? Praying?" Kostas pulled the paper to his face. "You know," he said under his breath, "I'm not sure that I can even read this."