Sarah Z. Creates

In the theme of giving myself some variety from my current work-in-progress, I’m using these writing prompts to build up some of the ancillary characters in the world of Harbinger.

Today’s writing prompt: Write about a wound.

The slash on Stephen’s cheek gaped, pale and grotesque. Alric froze as he watched the skin part beneath his blade, which suddenly felt heavy and awkward. He should be proud. It was rare that he managed to land a blow on one of his Sentinels.

But pride withered beneath horror, and his sword nearly fell from fingers that felt numb. There was no blood. Only dead things don’t bleed, but Stephen was very much alive and very much furious.

Alric panted in the cool fall air, his eyes huge but seeing nothing of the dawn-kissed walls around them. Only that bloodless cut.

Stephen’s sword stopped a breath from Alric’s neck. That tender skin prickled — was that the brisk morning breeze, the kiss of the blessed iron, or the eeriness of that inhuman wound?

“Pick up your sword, boy.” The cut gaped and closed as the Sentinel spoke, like a second terrible mouth.

Alric tried. He set his stance, but his feet felt leaden and his gut churned as he watched Stephen continue to not bleed.

How could he not be bleeding?

Stephen grunted and pulled his sword away. The same breeze that chilled Alric’s neck stirred the damp chestnut hair on Stephen’s brow. He looked so normal.

“Hopeless. What do you think war is, but horror and fear? And the sight of a single wound renders you powerless and dumb?” He shook his head, and the edges of the cut flapped. Alric swallowed against the bile in his throat.

“Go run.” Stephen didn’t bother keeping the disgust from his voice. “Don’t come back until you’ve found your mettle.”

Alric stood frozen for a breath longer. A breath too long for Stephen.

“Go!” he roared.

And Alric ran.