Creative Challenge #2
The Prompt Is: A group of friends discovers and abandoned town
This short story is based on a single phrase, word, or sentence that serves as today’s writing prompt. The Creative Challenge is to write daily for 30 consecutive days. Each prompt was written by another creative (in this case, my partner) and is revealed on the day, precluding the opportunity for planning ahead. The purpose of this exercise is to be freely creative. Not all prompts will be posted.
A group of friends discovers an abandoned town
"This is the castle!" Robert proclaimed.
"No, I already made that the saloon," Meg said. She was, at first glance, a wisp of a thing. Her shock of blonde hair stood out from the dark-haired boys around her. De facto leader of the group, and the only girl, Meg tended to get her way.
"Fine, that's the castle!" Robert pointed to an old, columned building that was probably a bank in its former life.
"I thought we were playing pirates," Sam piped up, "why is there a castle or a saloon?"
The others all booed.
"It's make-believe, we can do whatever we want," Meg's voice was clearly heard over the teasing. Sam, the youngest of the five, sulked away to find new places to name. "Don't go too far, Sammy!" Meg called after him. The others ran around the columns of the old bank, shouting and jeering at one another. A game of tag had started.
Sam wandered down an old road. Cracked asphalt slabs blanketed the road, and ancient-looking power lines hung like jungle vines. Meg saw him disappear into a little building no bigger than a room. An overgrown sign on the roof was shaped like an ice cream cone.
A high-pitched scream came from the shop, the kind that sets your teeth on edge and your heart racing. The kind young boys make when they’re scared, before they grow old enough to be ashamed by the pitch of their voice. The kind, Meg knew, that meant Sam was in trouble.
Little Sammy came bolting out of the shop, appearing less like a young boy and more like a fox cresting a berm as a hunting party bore down upon it. His voice carried to the group, now stopped in their tracks, with fear as real and raw as the blood trickling down his left leg.
“Run!”
