I found a couple of sites that list various story prompts and decided that would be a good way to get myself writing short stories. This is the first one that I will be working on, and I really don't know how long it will take me to finish it, but here is the intro.
Prompt: Write a story titled, "The Bat Who Couldn't Fly." Prompt from here.
Prompt: Write a story titled, "The Bat Who Couldn't Fly." Prompt from here.
Intro
Brink, a creature of habit, sat in his favorite tree as he did every night, gazing silently at the stars even though the June air was unnaturally chilly. He had always found the dark sky comforting when something was troubling him and tonight was no exception. The moon was waning and shed little light through the tree branches overhead but the crisp air allowed the stars to shine brightly and bath everything in a warm glow. Even his black skin was glossy and shimmered in the light, sparkling with an iridescence that was washed out in the sun's harsh rays.
Occasionally his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lone cricket stubbornly chirping, even though the cold night should have sent it home long ago. But Brink didn't mind the cricket and felt some sense of kinship with it, knowing he was just as stubborn. Besides, the sound of the cricket let him know he wasn't alone in the cold night, as he knew his true kinsmen were all inside the warm lodges, planning and scheming.
Occasionally his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lone cricket stubbornly chirping, even though the cold night should have sent it home long ago. But Brink didn't mind the cricket and felt some sense of kinship with it, knowing he was just as stubborn. Besides, the sound of the cricket let him know he wasn't alone in the cold night, as he knew his true kinsmen were all inside the warm lodges, planning and scheming.
By the amount of smoke coming from the Anciano lodge, he knew the council elders were still in their emergency meeting, as they had been much of the day. He really wasn't sure why they insisted on their philosophical debates at such a time as this. How would it help? Talking wouldn't change what was happening, it would only distract and perhaps delay the panic that was slowly making it's way along the land.
The land. The land knew what was happening. How could the land not know? The air that was cold enough to freeze in the middle of June was statement enough for that. The land knew. The land knew and was preparing Herself. Preparing for war.
The land. The land knew what was happening. How could the land not know? The air that was cold enough to freeze in the middle of June was statement enough for that. The land knew. The land knew and was preparing Herself. Preparing for war.
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