Here are my compiled vss365 microfiction and their prompts from March 2019.
Updated July 13, 2019 to add links and a missed prompt on March 5th.
Date: March 1, 2019
I’m running and running and gasping for breath but I can’t stop because if I stop and think I’ve won that’s when they’ll catch me.
No one has escaped the werewolves.
Date: March 2, 2019
Movies glorify enhanced hearing. From 100 feet, you can hear her breath, her heartbeat.
Every soft footstep thunders. Whispered secrets shouted. Exhales from a room full of people a flash flood.
In bombarding noise, you have to learn to listen.
Date: March 4, 2019
He’d seen everything in med school. Horrific injuries that haunted his nightmares until another lab and another cadaver. Now black necrotic rot on the vampire’s leg topped it all, communion wine decaying muscle, bone, and sinew and spreading. A living nightmare his to mend.
This was my original posting. Unfortunately, I got carried away and forgot to add in the prompt. So here it is revised for the prompt!
He’d seen everything in med school. Horrific injuries that haunted his nightmares until another lab and another cadaver. Now black necrotic rot on the vampire’s leg topped it all, communion wine decaying muscle, bone, and sinew and spreading. Now it was time to improvise.
But I like the original better, so I’m sharing it here!
Date: March 5, 2019
Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can overlook the value of human lives. They’re more than food, even the criminals. They have a right to live and struggle to find humanity, just as we do. It isn’t black or white or gray anymore. It’s a mud pit.
Date: March 8, 2019
She despised the idea of sexy vampires. Long legs, ageless curves, hundreds of years of charm. Women were more than that. They were survivors, haunted by decades and centuries, mauled by addiction, overcoming hell every day. Sex wasn’t power. Resolve was.
Date: March 9, 2019
The epitome of a woman was not a werewolf. She-wolves never fought the battle for femininity long. Men could wear bushy bears and pass in society. Women who had 5 o’clock shadow by 8 a.m. on their legs, pits, and arms dreaded summer and shorts and fun.
Date: March 18, 2019
Centuries of life made vampires masters of crypticism. They could never say anything straight if they could layer it in metaphors and deception. Witches were even worse. Though werewolves–werewolves didn’t mess around. They prided themselves in bluntness.
Date: March 20, 2019
After centuries of pseudonyms, her name didn’t matter anymore. It was a word on forged government ids. She’d relived job certification dozens of times once she’d looked younger than resume attested to. Call her name at an interview and she may not answer.
Date: March 21, 2019
World Poetry Day
Gambling on a truce
a wish for peace.
Dead bodies in the streets
don’t keep you hidden.
Date: March 24, 2019
Like a thorn in the pad of his foot, he needed the young witch removed. Her research dug too deep to his past, to his brother’s past, to the witch who cursed them forever. If left alone, she’d only bring forth infection.
Date: March 28, 2019
“So if you don’t drink blood straight from the source, where do you get it?”
“Oh we collect from a wide pool of donors.”
That’s why the apartment complex had steep discounts for human renters. The residents were paying in blood.
Date: March 29, 2019
Unable to control new fangs felt like being disrobed in public. Everyone sees what you wish to hide, your past. Embarrassment. Shame. The scars, stretch marks, the sags. The fledgling vamp who can’t keep emotions and relentless sensory overload in check.
Date: March 30, 2019
She couldn’t remember her first vampire kill, her mind lost in the frenzy of blood and new urges. Her memory of the second kill was vivid. Traumatic. She’d never experienced death as a human, but as a raging werewolf it was all she saw. A new personal hell.