This week’s writing prompt is brought to you by Prompturarium.wordpress.com. They have a lot of great writing prompt ideas on their site that you should definitely check out if you’re interested. I tweaked this one a little (changed 23 years to 10 years).
As always, please comment below with where your ideas take you. Or where you might want my story to go next! Take 30 minutes to write out some scenes based off the prompt below. Who knows what ideas will surface when we brainstorm a new piece?
Alright, let’s write together!
When I walked into the restaurant, the hostess eyed me up and down before straining to smile.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave your weapons at the door, ma’am. We like to offer our guests a peaceful experience.”
I nodded as I pulled the strap around my head and dropped the scabbard and backpack down. There were too many tools in it to dump them all out in front of her. Besides, I think I scared her enough without exposing my entire artillery to her. As I piled my belongings on the bench next to her podium, I scanned the restaurant. I should have dressed nicer. The place was a combination of dim lighting, crystal decorations, and spicy aromas. I was more in over my head than I had thought.
“You have someone to watch over this stuff?” I asked, watching her gingerly pick up the pack and sword and place them on a shelf alongside a dozen other miscellaneous weapons and bags.
“Of course,” she said. Her eyes darted to the big guy dressed all in black at the end of the long row of shelves.
I felt a pang ripple through me. I hadn’t even seen him.
“Here,” she said, handing me a tag with a number that matched the one on my stuff’s shelf. “Now, dining for one, or are you waiting for someone?”
“I’m Corsen. Here to meet Mr. Giochi. Has he arrived yet?”
Her smile wavered a moment before she pulled the ends of her lips back up as if by puppet strings.
“Of course, right this way.”
She led me with a menu in her hand to a table in the back. It was in a room by itself, separated by red-tinted glass doors. At the table, sat a man dressed in a combination of black and green snakeskin. His face was clean-shaven and sharp with delicate features. Even in the low lighting, I could see the yellow of his eyes.
“Have a pleasant evening,” the hostess said, already half out of the door.
“Take a seat, Corsen,” Giochi said with a flourish of his hand. His nails were long and pointed. Painted black.
I sat without taking my eyes off him, tucking the sides of my cloak around my lap as I should do with the fancy napkin they provided. I wasn’t sure if I would make it through dinner.
Giochi was a few years older than me, but that wouldn’t be the case forever. Not anymore.
As if he read my thoughts, he asked, “I’ve never helped a vampire before. What brings you to seek this city’s best mage?”
I took a breath and fingered the silver forks lined up so precisely against the red napkin. How many times had I seen silver against a backdrop of red?
“I don’t consider this ‘seeking’ as you’re the one who wrote to me first,” I answered.
“It isn’t every day you hear of a vampire killing their own. And in such a meticulous manner. The stories I’ve been hearing are as alarming as they are impressive. I thought offering my services would only be the proper thing to do.” His was face blank as he spoke. He pressed a closed fist to his chin, pushing back some of his well-maintained, black curls.
“Please, call me Danny,”
“Danny.” The name sounded too informal on my tongue, but I continued anyway. “How much do you know about me?” And how did you find it out?
“People talk, Corson,” Danny said. “They talk about a young woman who rose from her family’s grave plots after a storm of first-generation vampires took out her whole town. Bit of a slip-up, don’t you think? To leave one behind to turn?”
I hid my hands in my lap to prevent them from shaking. As he spoke, I could smell the fire. Feel the warmth of my best friend’s hands as she pressed her claws into the skin of my neck and dug her fangs into me. I could taste the metallic of her blood mixed with mine.
“That’s the general idea,” I said. I cleared my throat. “People make mistakes, after all.”
He eyed me over, though what he was seeing I could only guess.
“I see,” he said. His gaze flashed upward, and he straightened.
A man wearing a black apron slipped through the glass door with a wine bottle in his hands.
“Our house’s best, courtesy of your services, Mr. Giochi,” the waiter said. He poured Danny a glass and left the bottle on the table before disappearing from the room.
“Do you drink?” Danny asked, raising his wine glass.
“No,” I answered.
There was a clatter of dishes hitting the floor from behind the door, but we both ignored it. My ears were attentive though, and I could smell danger rising in the atmosphere like the beads of sweat on Danny’s brow and upper lip.
“Are you afraid of me?” I asked.
“I would be an idiot not to be afraid of you, Corson,” Danny answered. He still hadn’t taken a sip of the wine. Only swirled it around in a whirlpool of thoughtfulness. “It also isn’t every day I meet with a vampire. Period.”
“I’m not only a vampire,” I said. I wanted to see how far I could push him to see past the violet of my eyes. The translucency of my dark skin.
“True, and that’s why I agreed to meet.”
Another crashing noise came from behind us, and this time I stood up and turned towards the rest of the restaurant. Across the room, the weapon’s guard was holding our waiter in a headlock, his head bent in towards his neck.
I threw open the glass doors and sprinted towards the man.
“Hey!” I shouted.
Even as my feet flew across the room, I could see how everyone seemed to be frozen in time. The guests’ faces were twisted in slow-motion horror as they realized what was happening.
By the time I had made it to the big man, our waiter was looking pale and dazed. Before the vampire could even look up, I shoved my palm upward. His nose exploded with vibrant purple blood. The grip he had on the waiter released. The kid crashed to the floor in an unconscious heap. Unconscious. I could tell because I could still hear the thudding of his very alive heart.
Focus. Don’t smell. Focus.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snarled. “I thought this was supposed to be a peaceful dining experience?”
The man wiped his face with the back of his hand and stood up to his full height, almost two heads taller than me. I took a step back but held my head up to face him.
“Well?” I demanded.
But I was beginning to see the tell-tale signs of a newbie who had been fighting back the change’s demands. His jaw was slack, and strings of blood and spit were dripping down his chin. The look in his eyes was vacant and veined. He had no idea who he even was.
“I—I,” he stammered.
As he staggered towards me like a falling tree, I pulled out a black rod, hidden against the folds of my tunic. With the press of a switch, two silver blades extended from either end. I plunged one end into his shoulder.
The vampire cried out in pain and fell to his knees. The stunning powers of silver working twice as hard against his human-blood-filled body.
Two people burst through the front door. Both of them wore matching black uniforms with sleek black trenchcoats that went to their ankles and squat black hats with a shiny silver emblem.
I took one look at them, pulled my blade out of the man, and took a step back. My hands raised in alarm.
Both pointed silver embossed guns at me.
“Step away from the man, now,” the woman officer said.
“Easy, officers,” Danny’s voice came behind me before he stepped in front of me. “He’s the one you want.”
He gestured down at the man who was clutching his injured shoulder and panting. A puddle of his blood mixed with the waiter’s told the officers all they needed to know.
After handcuffing the man and taking him through the entrance, Danny turned to me.
“Well that was quite the show,” he said. “I see I’ve found the right girl.”
“The right girl for what?” I asked, lip curling and revealing what I knew would be my fangs.
“The right girl to help me with my own vampire problems,” he said. “Follow me.”
Without looking back to see if I would follow, he walked out of the restaurant.