WtbR Monthly Story Challenge: September

Last month’s prompt for a story with a legendary monster did not recieve any responses, so again, there is nothing to vote on. I will however post my entry below, in which my legendary monster is a shape shifter, and in this tale, he happens to be the good guy instead of the villian. I’d be happy to hear any feedback any of you have on it, even though you can’t vote. But first, let’s take a look at this month’s prompt to get those creative juices flowing.

This Month’s Prompt

This month, I want you all to write a ghost story where the ghost is the protagonist and is frustrated by the limitations of ghostlyness which keeps them from resolving a problem unfolding in the physical plane.

This prompt, by definition will be a parnormal story, but you can still cross it with any genre, so tell me the story that you want to tell.

The Rules

Remember, your story can be any genre, so you can get creative. Publish the results on your blog and send the link to me by the last day of the month. Be sure to label them with #WtbRStoryChallenge. Or, if you don’t have a blog, you can send the results directly to me at kayebooth@yahoo.com, and I will publish them or the links back to your blog the following month along with the writing prompt for the next month.

Stick to the rules and after 30 minutes of writing stop. You can finish the story if you like. I hope you do. But you need only submit that 30 minute piece for this challenge. I’ll be writing right along with you. I know the prompt ahead of time, but I won’t begin writing until it has posted. Be sure to have your entry to me by the last day of the month, so I can share them all for readers to vote on.

Another good thing about this not being a live event is you will have the opportunity to edit for grammar, spelling, and punctuation before submitting, and I do want it to be the best you’ve got, of course.

My Last Month’s Submission

Untitled Paranormal Romance

By Kaye Lynne Booth

When Elliot returns to camp, he finds Arabella missing and his sister sitting on the forest floor, he loses focus, almost shifting involuntarily. He quickly gets himself under control, although he can still feel the eagle, restless within him.

Where is she, Diedre? He says the words in his head, knowing his twin doesn’t need him to speak the words aloud. He scans the area as if the girl were somewhere in the clearing, and he might have just overlooked her. It was his job to return her safely to her father. She was his responsibility.

The wizard, Magnus, took her. His sister replies telepathically, as she shakes leaves, pine needles, and other forest debris from her long, blondish-brown hair, brushing through it with her fingers to get whatever won’t let go. He must have shielded himself before he waltzed in here to snatch her, because I couldn’t touch him, even after I let the cougar out.

“How long ago?” he asks aloud, too sharply. “Which way?”

“Long enough for me to return to my human form and catch my breath,” she says, pointing off to the right. “You’ll have no trouble tracking him. He left bloody prints in his wake.”

He cocks his head, giving her a puzzled look.

“From the girl,” she says. “He pulled her inside the shield with him. She grabbed hold of a stick from the fire as he grabbed her. She was doing her best to do some damage as he dragged her away. I think she fought him even harder than she fought you, when you announced that you intended to return her to her father.”

Without another word, he is off in the direction she indicated.

He follows the bloody tracks without stopping for two days, the eagle’s strength and spirit allowing him to endure without food or water, never tiring, through both day and night. It is up to him to get the girl back, no matter the cost. This night, the trail ends at the edge of a sheer cliff, plummeting down hundreds of feet until the land below is drenched in shadows, and darkness so thick that even the eagle’s eyes can’t cut through it. Bloody smears along the cliff face below, like those he has followed here, let him know his adversary climbed down the cliff face with the girl.

Elliot feels the eagle stir, excited, anxious to be loosed, expanding within him. A ragged seam splits the flesh along his spine as he spreads his arms to accept the eagle’s wings, rising into the air. Now, the wings are his, as he extends them, as long as his human form is tall, the wind catching them from below, carrying him off the cliff and out over the land. He descends downward faster than if he were falling, and the cliff face blurs in his vision as he flaps eagle’s wings, his wings, with long, hard strokes, applying his momentum upward. He glides in, lighting on top of a tall pine, affording him a view of the valley below and the entire face of the cliff, as the sun pokes its face over the horizon.

Perched more than a hundred feet above the valley floor, the eagle sees movement from a cave in the face of the cliff. Upon further inspection, he’s found what he seeks: the wizard and his captive prisoner.

Magnus stands at the edge of the cave, staring up into the sun, oblivious to his presence, while Arabella sits on a large rock only a stone’s throw away. She is covered in dirt and dark splotches hint at bruises beneath the filth. She must have fought him every inch of the way. If he tilts his eagle head just right, he can see the sun glinting off the shield surrounding the cave. He needs a distraction to get the wizard to drop the shield long enough for him to get the girl.

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