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Band of Dystopian - Championing dystopian, apocalyptic, and post-apocalyptic fiction.
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Writing Prompt

Writing Prompt Winner: March McCarron

After a long hiatus, we’ve brought back Writing Prompt!

The farther she ran, the more distant her parents’ screaming voices became. Her nightgown blew in the damp breeze until a light began to rise from the ground. Halting before the opening in the street, she eased up to it and peered inside.

Participants are challenged to complete the prompt in 300 words or less. Check out the inspiration image on the permalink here.

The winning story by March McCarron appears below. Congrats, March!

The familiar portal shimmered beneath asphalt, an undulating, cerulean glow. Bridget glanced over her shoulder, to where her mother no longer screamed. Then she dove into the gateway, the blueness engulfing her. For several heartbeats, she spun—compressed, suffocated, and blinded—caught in the void between times.

Then her alarm clock was chirping. Bridget’s eyes opened, taking in the glow-in-the-dark stars puttied to her bedroom ceiling. She reached, sightless, for her diary. She flipped to a list scribbled twenty-nine mornings before—or yesterday. Her lime gel-pen marked her last, her final failure. Thirty chances spent, thirty portals wasted. Her gaze flicked up to the calendar on her wall—to the tomorrow she would finally meet.

She rose mechanically, slipping into a pair of cow-shaped slippers. The day to come flashed through her mind, like an oft-watched film: *Pancakes kind of morning—burnt, again!—hit the store after work—Bridget, did you feel that?—Run, run, don’t look back* She shook her mother’s scream from her mind. She could not change it; she had tried.

Bridget forced herself to move, to slump down the stairs and into the kitchen. She smiled, blinking back tears, as she watched her mother gyrate, rhythmless, to some 80s pop-song.

“Lo! She cooks,” Bridgette said, as she always did.

“It seemed like a pancakes kind of morning.” Her mother gestured with a spatula. “Blueberries or chocolate chips? Wait, stupid question. Chocolate.”

“Mom?” Bridget asked.

“Yes, Bee?”

“If you died today, what would you regret?”

Her mother, without suspicion, pretended to ponder this. “Too few pancakes.”

Bridget hid her sob in a laugh. She knew, then, what could be changed. She hauled the frying pan down, then shooed her mother away with it.

“So take-charge!”

“Drink your coffee; I’ve got it,” Bridget commanded. “You always burn them.”

May 8, 2017by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

Writing Prompt Winner: Katy Walker (Again)

(JUNE 26TH PROMPT)

Prompt: “Drive!” Annie shouted. She kept shooting as Maddox rushed to the driver’s side and peeled out, kicking up a storm of dust.

Original post and photo found here.

Katy’s winning story:

Never had she thought that her escape plan would fail so badly. She dug a few more shells out of the front pocket of her jean shorts and reloaded as the Alpha Regiment gave chase on rusted motorcycles. A megaphone stuck to the lips of the Captain exploded with words Annie didn’t want to hear.

“Annie, stop the vehicle and come quietly and no one will be harmed.” Annie rolled her eyes and fired another round, nearly connecting with the Captain’s mechanical steed. His glare burned holes in her own and she swallowed nervously.

“Maddox, please. Just go faster!” Her boyfriend didn’t reply, but the car swerved dangerously, throwing Annie to one side.

“Maddox?” She attempted to pull herself up with the edge of the truck bed. “Maddox!”

Motorcycles surrounded the truck as it veered off the road and slowed to a complete stop. Hands grabbed the gun from her grasp and the Captain held her as gingerly as a vice grip while he zip tied her hands together. Annie strained to see where Maddox was, but only saw some soldiers carrying a black body bag towards the car. Tears blurred reality and she tried to keep her eyes on her shoes.

The Captain held her chin, forcing her to look at him. “No one,” he flicked his eyes in the body bag’s direction, “takes my daughter from me.”

Annie glared venom back at her father, even though she knew he spoke truth. She would never get away from the regiment. With zip-tied hands and the soldiers of the regiment around her, Annie knew she’d have to wait for the next boyfriend to try to sneak her out. Maybe next time. The next boy to fall for her like a siren. It was never about love. It was about freedom.

July 29, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

Writing Prompt Winner: KM Slemons

(JULY 17TH PROMPT)

Photo and prompt can be viewed here.

Prompt: His heart pounded ever louder in his chest as he watched her ascend. Where would it take her? And would it be better there? Surely it would…

KM’s Story:

Anguish slashed his heart as he knelt beside her. Drake had never prayed before, but as he watched her colorless form grow still, turned his tear streaked face heavenward and chanted, “Please don’t take her from me. She’s all I have.”

Her translucent eyelids quivered for a moment before opening. “Drake?”

“Ella, I’m here.”

Her cerulean eyes focused on his face and her gray lips twitched a smile. “It’s time.”

Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. He pleaded, “No Baby, stay with me.”

She stared intently into his eyes. “You must not cry. Where I go, you cannot follow. Not yet. Your time is not yet complete here.”

He strangled on the sob that rose within his throat. “I cannot live without you!”

“You must.”

To his disbelief, the darkened forest exploded with a brilliant, golden light. The leaves of the trees above rustled, and he gasped as a golden liquid form appeared before him with outstretched wings that were blindingly beautiful. The creature spoke with the melody of a flute, “You will behold her beauty once again, friend. You must complete your journey in this realm so that you may learn and love in the next.”

Ella sighed once and grew still, as the golden creature reached into her body and pulled her spirit into its arms. For the first time, Drake beheld her true beauty and it was breathtaking. She smiled a radiant smile and spoke with the voice of an angel, “I love you.”

“As I love you!” His heart pounded every louder. Broken, but mesmerized, he watched in awe as the creature flapped its wings once and ascended into the skies. Drake looked at her cold, motionless body. “Soon my love.” He kissed her cool lips and smiled with the hope of things to come.

July 28, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

Writing Prompt Winner: Adri Lemke

(JUNE 5TH PROMPT)

Prompt: Now that the snow was clearing, I could venture further out for food and supplies. With my bags full of loot and heavy on my back, I looked up and saw her standing there – STANDING! It sent shivers across my skin. “Momma, where’s your wheelchair?”

Photo and original prompt can be found here.

Adri’s story:

She stood, a silent sentry in the snow. Getting cold, I decided to bring my bags into the house to put everything away and prepare dinner. “Mama, are you coming in?” She nodded, following me in. “I don’t understand, mama,” I said while preparing our meager meal. “How did this happen?” I smiled, pleased that she had finally gotten her wish to be out of the wheelchair. “How did you get better?” In a breathy voice she answered, “I’m free. Nothing tethers me.” I felt my face twist in confusion and turned to examine her more closely. “Mama…” I began hesitantly. “The city masters came,” she continued in the same soft tone. “They set me free from my prison.” Tears gathered in my eyes, and I rushed to my mother’s normal sitting room. The room that gave her the best view of the barren streets around us. Gasping, my hand flew to cover my mouth in despair. “MAMA!” I heard myself scream. Turning to face away from the image of death in front of me, the walking, talking version of my mother gave me a sad smile. “I was a burden. Now you are free of me.” Shaking my head in denial, tears continued flowing. “You…you can’t leave!” Raising her hand toward me, her image flickered, like a glitch in a computer screen. The images around me disappeared and all I could see was black. A man’s voice echoed through the darkness, “This is what will happen if you don’t follow orders. Do as we say, and your mother will survive. Become our operative, and we may help your mother walk again. Don’t and…well…” The voice trailed off and, tears still falling down my face after the too real virtual simulation, I agreed.

July 28, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

Writing Prompt Winner: Katy Walker

(MAY 23RD PROMPT)

To check out the photo and prompt, go here. Read Katy’s story below.

Prompt: Nobody survived except the boy alone. No one knew how or why. He took a step toward them and tilted his head…

I felt like a dog catcher trying to lure a stray whose owner had beaten it, then abandoned it. Someone had left this boy for dead. We were trying to be quiet and careful because we didn’t know what happened to everyone else yet. He didn’t see me peering at him from behind the corner, but my associates had definitely caught his attention. Idiots…. I had no patience for the clumsy group the Doctor had hired to round up survivors. The boy tilted his head again, crouching on all fours like an animal. Maybe we are dog catchers, I thought as I watched my team walk towards the boy, speaking down to him in a soothing manner. When one man, Marty, I think, got within two feet of the child, the boy pulled his lips back in a snarl. If he had feline ears, they would have been flat against his disgusting, grimy hair. I swallowed nervously. The boy’s teeth were stained red. Marty ignored the warning signs like the stupid oaf he is…was…and reached out to grab the boy’s arm. The snarl opened into a feral smile as the boy leapt for Marty’s throat and latched on with hungry jaws. Marty clawed at the boy, his eyes widening in surprise. And faster than I thought possible, Marty was down…unmoving. I accidentally tripped over my own feet and watched as the boy’s head swiveled in my direction. I ducked behind a toppled desk. Did he see me? A crack between the wall and the desk revealed the boy standing slowly—deliberately as the rest of my team ran away. His voice echoed in the empty halls as the feral grin spread wider on his bloody maw. “I love hide and seek.”

July 27, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

BOD Writing Prompt Winner: March McCarron

(MAY 2ND PROMPT)

This is one of my (ER Arroyo) favorite winning entries we’ve had! Check out March’s story below and view the original photo and prompt here.

Prompt: She had only ever stepped outside once in her life, and that time she’d only made it halfway to the dilapidated gate before her parents caught her and brought her back inside to rescue her from the Dangers. Now that her parents had gone to the Next, she had no choice. She knew what she was walking out of, but had no idea what she was walking into.

The girl tread on light feet, mud beneath her toes. The Fog hung heavy on the ground, blanketing time-worn headstones—almost still, like common fog. She shivered in her thin shift.

As she passed the gate, her breathing turned fitful. The Fog around her stirred—undulated, billowed. She clenched her fingers, as clouds coalesced into form, taking the shape of a hunched crone—slate-hued and wavering. A face of seething smog, hair like wisps of mist. She moved, even while motionless.

“Who’s this?” the Ask crooned, in a voice made of wind. “Who, who?”

The crone sprung, swirled around the girl, a tornado of question, sending her dark hair skyward. The girl squeezed her eyes shut. “Who, who, who?” thundered in her ears.

Then, stillness—abrupt and strange. The girl opened her eyes, hesitant. The Ask hovered just before her, staring with a gunmetal gaze. Eyes that were not eyes. “Who?”

“Just a girl,” she answered, in a quiet voice.

“Girls have names, as all things do. Like hills and songs and sickness. Who?”

The girl could taste The Ask in her mouth—sweet, cloying, horrible. “I have no name,” she said. “I am nameless.”

Sometimes, on the cusp of sleep, the girl thought she could remember a name she once had. Her mother’s voice calling out to her—two syllables, sing-song. Nothing more.

“No name,” the Ask breezed, then cackled. “This nameless girl had clever kin. Cannot take a nameless thing to the Next. No name. Who, who?”

“I only wish to pass,” the girl said.

The Ask swirled, gusted. “The nameless may pass. A girl won’t be nameless long. All things have names, girls too. Who who?” And then was gone.

The girl stepped forward once again, the question still echoing in her mind.

Who?

May 30, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

BOD Writing Prompt Winner: Brea Behn

(APRIL 17TH PROMPT)

The original prompt and photo can be viewed here. Check out Brea’s story below!

Prompt: This was it. She had to be here…and Jake would find her. As long as someone else didn’t find Jake first.

April hunched down in the broken patio doorway. She hoped she would be able to see Jake, but no one would be able to see her. This was it. She had to be here…and Jake would find her. As long as someone else didn’t find Jake first.

She had spent years preparing for this moment. The one she had foreseen in her visions. The moment when she would finally reunite with her long lost son. She had been so careful. Each decision she had made with special consideration of getting him back. She hoped he had been preparing as well. The way she had taught him. The future is fragile though. Despite all her efforts she had seen several possibilities of this moment. Reuniting with Jake was only one. Another was the Force catching him before he could get away. Yet another was the Force catching her and her life ending in torture and interrogation. She shuddered and pushed both of those scenarios from her mind.

April froze as the unmistakable crunching of someone walking in debris below caught her ears. It was time. Her breath rushed out of her as more footsteps joined the first. She moved as slowly as possible back into the destroyed room. Something went wrong. The Force was here.

Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and someone grabbed her from behind.

“Shh, mom. It’s me,” The unmistakable voice of her son whispered in her ear.

She immediately pulled away and turned to grab his face in her hands. Tears filled her eyes with relief. They hugged briefly before he pulled away.

“We have to go. The Force…”

She nodded and followed him into the darkened hallway to face a future she had not seen. One full of possibilities.

 

April 25, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

BOD Writing Prompt Winner: Monica Enderle Pierce

Our friend and BOD member, Author Monica Enderle Pierce stole the show for the writing prompt below. Check out her winning story!

Original Prompt & Photo can be seen here.

PROMPT: “You’re serious?” Stella stood atop a slide at the long-abandoned amusement park feeling anything but amused. “This is really the only way to get there?”

“You’re serious?” Stella stood atop a slide at the long-abandoned amusement park feeling anything but amused. “This is really the only way to get there?”

“Don’t you want to see the jewels?” Bean whispered in her mind.

“I—I’m afraid.”

“That didn’t keep you from fighting for me.”

Bean. Stella swallowed. She’d tried, but the Watchers had stolen her baby brother anyway. Bean they’d wanted. Bean could soar. Stella they’d thrown away.

She nodded. “If you can fly, so can I.”

“Yeah.” Bean’s sweet voice enfolded her like a hug.

Stella sat at the slide’s edge. Blue and yellow paint—chalky with age—graffitied her palms and gray pants. They looked better that way, like a painting she’d seen when she was little. Before the world had burned. Was that painting gone now? Probably.

“Fly,” Bean said.

Stella pushed off.

She skidded toward the forest below. Fast. She shivered. The scabs on her scalp were sensitive where the razors had cut deeply. Faster. The blue and yellow blurred. Cold air rushed over her face, snapped at her tunic, and whistled in her ears. Something sliced her palm. She screamed. “Bean!”

Then green trees replaced gray sky. Stella hit a bump and pitched forward to tumble head-over-heels-over-head. Pain stole her breath.

“You’re almost free.”

The slide ended at a cliff. “No-no-nooo!”

Stella fell.

Sunlight cut through the clouds to light the world below. Blackened skeletons and broken buildings littered the ground. But a billion shards of glass sparkled in the sunshine—mirrors and windows amid puddles of blood.

“Do you see the jewels?”

Stella flew.

“I see them!”

“There’s treasure in the broken stuff. Like you, Stella.”

She soared.

“Oh, Bean. Thank you.” Stella closed her eyes and didn’t care when the ground rushed up to break her into a thousand pieces.

April 22, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

BOD Writing Prompt Winner: JaynetheScourge SlashImpaler

Last week, BOD Member known as JaynetheScourge SlashImpaler won our latest Writing Prompt! Check out the original prompt & photo here, and read the winning story below!

I knelt beside the railing, squinting to see through the surface of the murky water. A minute passed before I saw it again, but it was clearer this time. A ripple from the far end. Something was in the water.

The little wave of movement flowed across the surface towards me. A sleek head surfaced, hair darkened by the dive.

‘Did you find it?’ I called down.

Murph shook his head as he tread water.

‘Nothing.’

I pressed my forehead against the cool metal of the railing and swore softly.

Murph pulled himself back onto the catwalk and wearily rubbed at the marks the goggles had left.

‘Give me ten minutes to rest and I’ll try again.’ I nodded in agreement. He’d been at this for hours. I didn’t know how much longer he could go on. I tightened the tourniquet a little. My leg had lost feeling a while back and my swollen foot had gotten a bluish quality.

The constant clatter and scraping from the other side of the door suddenly ceased. We both stopped breathing. Silence reigned for a long minute. Then the ringing thunder of metal striking metal echoed through our little watery chamber. They’d found a new way through the door. An excited wordless chatter rose up while whatever they’d found hit the door again. And again.

Murph pulled the goggles back on and dropped out of sight beneath the waves without a word. I peered into the depths after him, but all I saw were clouds of silt.

March 16, 2015by Band of Dystopian
Writing Prompt

BOD Writing Prompt Winner: Brea Behn

Our latest writing prompt winner was Brea Behn, author of YA Dystopian Romance, Wolves in the Woods.

You can view the original photo and prompt here on Facebook, and check out Brea’s winning story below!

Alex Tuoku was a slave, but brief moments like these — where he was able to give himself over completely to the music, even if for the entertainment of his captors — these were the moments he lived for. It was all he had. He’d always known he would never get off this planet, but today he was snatched up after his set and then everything changed.

“Who are you people?” Alex asked as the shuttle lifted into the air. The rescuer closest to him pulled a black helmet off revealing a tumble of blonde hair the same color as his own.

“Aliah! I thought I would never see you again.” Alex said pulling his twin sister into a hug.

They were both crying when they pulled away.

“How did you find me?”

His twin sister smiled. “We’re twins silly. I’ve always known where you were. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to get some quinar together to buy a crew. It took some time.”

They chatted for hours about his shows, his fame all over the galaxy and his life as a captor. The shuttle landed suddenly then and the bay door opened.

Aliah put a hand to Alex’s face. “Now it’s your turn to be free Alex.” “Aliah what did you do?” Alex was held back as his twin backed off the ship and into the waiting arms of a pion. The scum of the trading world. It was hard to read his reptilian face, but Alex was pretty sure he was smiling.

“I will come for you Aliah!” The doors slammed shut blocking his view as his sister was escorted away.

In his head he heard her words like when they were little: “I know you will Alex. I will be waiting.”

February 26, 2015by Band of Dystopian
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