Word prompt stories – I’m going to try and look for a word prompt daily (haha don’t laugh) and see if I can create something short and sweet to write around it. As it’s me I’ll probably try and put a science fiction spin on it.

For all you reading it, this is a challenge for you as well, can you come up with something based in the chosen word? Post it on your blog and link back to this post something short of around 50 – 200 words (but no limit really) , it can be a story, poem, thought or whatever.

Why not join in and create something?


Pushed back into their seats hard, their fragile bodies fighting against the forces holding them back. The engines firing on full force, the performance was incredible.

The pressure eased as the craft thundered forward, only minutes ago they were on the launchpad and now as the atmosphere cleared and leaving only a galaxy of stars before them.

© Simon Farnell 2020

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10 thoughts on “Word Prompt Story – Performance

  1. The witch stumbled to her feet, shaking with fear and confusion and anger.
    The men had charged into their hut, hurt her coven-mates, bound and gagged her with thick, itchy rope before throwing her into this slimy cell.
    How dare they.
    She was a rogue. She was a villain. She was a user of magic. And she was not going to be manhandled by some lowly guards.
    They had brought her into the castle, saying they wanted a performance from her, saying that the king was bored, saying that if she put one toe out of line, they would kill her coven-mates.
    A performance? She was a witch. She tore out hearts from corpses and fried them for dinner. She conversed with old souls and ghosts. She controlled the magic that was running through the threads of each persons life-force. How dare these stupid, stinky men drag her to some dirty room in a castle, telling her to perform for a king who whiled away his little, mortal life with his head stuffed up his buttocks?
    Utter nonsense!
    They wanted a performance? They would get a performance. An exhibit of pure evil. Let them kill whoever they wanted- after all, she was a witch. Witches cannot love. Witches cannot harbor emotion. Witches cannot care.
    When the guards came, she pretended to be meek. They presented her to their king. The king ordered her to sing.
    Oh, sing she would.
    She parted her withered lips and sang at full scream. The men clasped their hands over their ears, gasping as their noses gushed blood, as the carpet beneath their feet turned to hissing vipers, as the chandeliers morphed into clawed monsters.
    Louder, higher the witch sang. She raised her arms above her head as she floated off the wooden floor, as the crystal windows shattered outward, as the curtains melted to ashes. The witch promised herself she wouldn’t stop singing till every man in the room-including the king- lay dead.
    In time, the witch’s throat began to bleed, but she did not stop. Eventually, even the king keeled over, dead. All the men in the room lay still. Some had been victims of her deadly song, some had had their bodies shredded by her monsters, some had been bitten by the vipers.
    But every single one was dead.
    The witch snorted as she left the room, hunting for her coven-mates. She hoped the king found her performance entertaining enough.

    Liked by 1 person

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