Wednesday Writing Prompt (WWP)! is a biweekly writing challenge for you and for me.
Here’s how WWP works: I’ll post a writing prompt on Wednesday morning (that’s today!). Then you can participate by writing a 250 to 500 word scene or story in response to it. I’ll post my story response on Thursday and I’d love it if you share your scene or story (or the link to it!) in the comments of my response post.
Let’s see where this wacky world of writing takes us!
This week’s prompt was:
“What is it with all the ‘why’ questions?
They have nothing to do with now.”
I decided to use it as a prompt for my #NaNoWriMo project… we shall see where this leads… 🙂
Ben was breathing hard. His right arm was behind him, pulling Calla along by her left hand. She tried to hold up her skirts in her right hand so she wouldn’t trip on them, but that just made her lose her balance and stumble from that instead. So she flung her arm out to the side to act as a counterbalance.
She had never run so much in her life. After last night’s debacle, she’d thought finding the tower and waiting in that devilishly long line was all the difficulty today would give them. Climbing all the stairs proved exceptionally tiring, but doable. And then, finding the witch’s house on it’s curved street from their bird’s eye view proved even more difficult than she ever could have imagined. The town looked huge from so high. She’d lost her breath for a moment the expansive view. Until recently, she’d never seen more than the local market of any town. And here she was in the tallest tower in Kantarra, looking at a town like it was a map open before her. After what had felt like hours, they’d found the street that matched the old woman’s description, and had figured out which streets to take to get there. The descent from the tower was frightening, the steps were steep and narrow and Calla smiled at the feeling of solid-packed, flat dirt beneath her feet.
And then another one of those weirdos obsessed with her hair had come running. Well, not really running. More of a rapid stumble-hop. He was in just as bad of shape as the last man, though. His torn clothes were covered in what could only be surmised to be dirt, vomit, mud, and bits of food. And possibly some other forms of excrement. Calla shuddered at the remembrance of greasy hands gripping her and then the sight of a bloody, mangled face from last night. Shovels were pretty efficient weapons when used strategically.
“Why are we running?” she gasped.
“Because we’re being chased!” Ben’s answer was straight forward.
“But why? Why do these men want my hair?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Ben’s voice was getting ragged, the exhaustion of sprinting was catching up with him.
“Why would someone want a lock of my hair? And why do they all look like they haven’t seen a bathhouse or vegetable garden in years?” Calla’s mind was a wagon wheel, stirring up a constant stream of thoughts, of questions. It was a welcome distraction from the stabbing pain in her side and the burn of her boots rubbing against her heels.
“What is it with all the ‘why’ questions? They have nothing to do with now.” Ben pulled her around a corner into a small side street. It was straight and looked to open up into a market of some kind.
“They have everything to do with now!” Calla said as she struggled to keep up with Ben’s longer strides. “We don’t even know why we’re running!”
“Yes we do!” Ben glanced back at her as he pulled her down the street toward the market that looked to be streaming with early afternoon shoppers. “Last night someone just like him attacked you.”
“And you fought him off.” Calla stopped running. Ben’s momentum pulled her forward another couple of steps before he too stopped.
“I didn’t just fight him off, Calla. I killed him. With a shovel.” Ben’s searched the direction they had come from. “And I don’t want to do that again.”
Calla tried to catch her breath. She nodded rapidly, even though she knew he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “Okay. We’ll think about it later. At the witch’s.”
Ben’s eyes widened. He grabbed her hand again and started running.