#creative short story

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

here's over 2.5K prompts of all sorts you can use for your writing ideas!

happy writing!

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Alternatives for "She Smiled"

If you can't seem to find an alternative for this common phrase "she smiled". here's a list of different sentence variations.

She beamed brightly.

Her lips curled into a smile.

She flashed a radiant grin.

A smile lit up her face.

She offered a sheepish grin.

Her smile twinkled mischievously.

She gave a soft, serene smile.

A wry smile played on her lips.

She smirked subtly.

Her smile spread slowly across her face.

She smiled wistfully.

A gentle smile graced her features.

She smiled with her eyes.

Her smile was tinged with sadness.

She bestowed a gracious smile.

Her smile glimmered in the dim light.

She smiled coyly.

A giddy smile bubbled up.

She smiled, lips parting lightly.

Her smile was infectious.

She gave a knowing smile.

A tentative smile flickered across her face.

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight.

Her smile warmed the room.

She smiled ruefully.

A conspiratorial smile crossed her face.

She smiled, a trace of irony evident.

Her smile was wide and welcoming.

She flashed a quick, evasive smile.

She smiled as if recalling a sweet memory.

[writersbloxx]

Character Building

Some things to think about when building/describing a character:

Physical traits

Hair: color and length. Maybe it's natural, maybe it's dyed

Build: height, weight, muscle

Face: maybe they have a longer nose or forehead. Think about specific features like freckles, gapped teeth, jaw shape, acne scars, lip shape

Eyes: eye color, shape, 

Backstory

Where is your character from?

Do they have family? How has that affected their personality?

What are their goals?

What are their likes/dislikes?

Strengths and weaknesses

Age

Personality

Voice: is their voice deep? Lilted? Strained?

How do they react to stressful situations? 

What do they wear?

Are they kind? Meaner? Restrained? 

How do they move? If they're older maybe they're a bit slower. Maybe your character is clumsy or move awkwardly

Body language/face: is your character normally more serious? Do they have RBF? Maybe they smile more or their face is more relaxed at rest. Maybe they leave their hands on their hips a lot, or prefer them crossed or in their pockets.

How are they perceived by others? How do they view the people around them? 

Should I dive deeper on some of these?

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

[angela-in-oxford]

Love at First Sight but Not Really

Summary: A creative short story, in which a heterochromia condition determines one’s soulmate, and Drew might be the only person who sees the flaws in the system.

WC: 2k

TW: angst, soulmate au, 

—

A soulmate is a person who is ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. Your other half, the person that completes you, makes you better, and understands you like no one else. It’s rare to find your soulmate. There’s billions of people in this world, so what’s the probability you’ll find yours?

Centuries ago, the gods, fed up by the pain put on mankind often caused by futile searches, decided to deal with the problem.

Thus, heterochromia became the solution. At birth, people receive two different colored eyes, the right yours and the other your soulmate’s. Upon meeting your soulmate’s eyes for the first time, your soulmate's eyes will return so that each pair reverts to homochromia. The gods made this system to assist mankind with finding their soulmate. To find true love. To find happiness.

However, that is a matter of opinion.

—

It’s too early for this.

Dull pain throbs above his brow, and he sobs as his vision swims, blood spilling into his discolored eye. Above, his mother runs a soothing hand up and down his back, whispering kind words and broken encouragement as he presses his round face into her lap and clutches at her with small, pudgy hands. He wonders if she’s bothered by the blood, sweat, and tears staining her trousers. If so, she says nothing.

“I hate him, Mommy,” he hiccups. It wracks his whole body. “I don’t want to be like him.”

It’s not unusual for them to end up like this, him at his mother’s lap and her trying to comfort him. It’s become a routine since he learned to speak coherent sentences, but this time seems to last longer than most; the same comfort routine isn’t working. His sobs reverberate across the room and through the night.

His mother, at a loss, has the sense to remain calm, patting his back softly as she waits it out. How else could she comfort her child?

Then she gets an idea.

“Drew, have I ever told you about soulmates?” she asks gently. She’s afraid a single word might shatter the boy.

For a second, Drew pauses, his arms still wrapped around her waist. She takes it as a sign to continue.

“Do you know what soulmates are?”

He shakes his head into her stomach.

“Well, come out and I’ll tell you.”

And it works. Miraculously, Drew stops crying and the gash from his father’s ring is left forgotten. Instead he watches his mother, mesmerized as she tells him how their world works, of soulmates, how they bring each other happiness, and fairy tales involving soulmate searches, harrowing fights over soulmates, and other interesting tales.

The idea of happiness gives Drew hope.

His mother’s strained smile goes unnoticed.

After all, they are just fairy tales, and only fairy tales have a happy ending.

—

It happens late at night when he wakes up to go to the bathroom. Once he finishes washing his hands, Drew stares into his eyes on the bathroom mirror with an exhausted smile. One of these days, he’ll meet his soulmate. Then his mother’s words echo in his head.

“People are born with heterochromatic eyes. That means different colored eyes. The right eye’s their own eye color and the other their soulmate’s. And when they meet their soulmate’s eyes for the first time, their soulmate eyes will return so that they become the same color.”

His smile drops.

Between his father’s beatings and being with his mother, he never took notice of his eyes; there was always something more important, more crucial going on.

They’re the same color.

The same color.

He rushes out of the bathroom as quietly as possible, careful not to wake his father. Why are his eyes the same color? Did he meet his soulmate already? Or did his mother make a mistake?

He skids to a halt at the kitchen threshold. In the dark, his mother’s a tall shadow as she waits for the kettle, readying her nightly tea as she speaks into a phone, tone hushed and trembling, “Mom, I know it’s not right, but I can’t do it anymore. They’re like him more and more everyday. And Drew,” He perks up at his name. “His face, sometimes I look at him and hate what I see.”

He jerks, taken aback.

Her figure shakes, closer to her breaking point. “I can’t raise him anymore. I shouldn’t raise him.”

“Mommy?” Drew calls out.

The shadow jolts in surprise before turning to him. The kettle at the stove begins to whistle like an oncoming train.

He realizes his mistake.

Then everything burns, and Drew misses his chance to ask about his eyes.

—

Soulmates are a hindrance, Drew decides.

Up till now, he only knew soulmates were supposed to make each other happy. That’s what his mother tells him. Of course he believes her.

Drew was so focused on imagining his soulmate that he never thought to ask: if Father was her soulmate, why wasn’t she happy with him?

As his mother is taken away, he realizes how broken the soulmate system is. He despises it. Loathes it. He hates it almost as much as he hates his father. He remembers his mother every time he reminds himself why. He thinks about people like his mother who are stuck with people like his father, who don’t want their soulmate, and who choose someone else over their soulmate.

How there’s no choice. How happiness is not guaranteed.

Drew knows that it’s not applicable to everyone. Many people happily live with their soulmate. But he can’t help the jealousy burning in his chest and in his stomach like bile, for those who are lucky enough to be matched with good people. People who can make each other happy.

—

Since his mother was taken, soulmates are the last thing on his mind.

Survival is top priority now. Drew can’t rely on his mother as he takes each beating without a fight. Each shortcoming, each failure is a trigger, so the best thing he can do is succeed and meet his father’s expectations. Forgotten what it feels like to be comforted by a mother, his brothers and especially his sister do what they can for him, but it’s not the same. Because of his father, Drew is mostly separated from them, sent to a different, more prestigious school.

In his darkest times when only silence greets him, Drew tries to distract himself, whether with exercise or something else productive to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t care. He can’t stand doing nothing. It gives him the chance to daydream, and he dislikes when he daydreams. He’s afraid it might give him false hope, but sometimes he stares in the mirror and finds himself wondering about his soulmate. What would it be like to meet them? He squints, the stiff skin around his eye crinkling. Would they think his scar is ugly? Maybe—

Then Drew looks at his irises and remembers. They’re not heterochromatic. Not like his brothers’ or sister’s or everyone else in the world. They’re the same color, but strangely, his eyes aren’t the same color as his parents. Not a warm gray like his mother’s or a cold blue like his father’s. That part leaves him curious. None of his closest relatives have green eyes either as far as he knows.

When his brothers are out (if they’re around, they’ll tease him till he fights them) and it’s only his sister at home, Drew finally asks about his eyes and what they mean.

“Why are they the same color?”

Fable nearly drops the dish she’s washing. “What?”

“Why are my eyes the same color?" he asks again, a bit impatiently. He’s wanted a reasonable answer since he was younger. Fable is smart. He figures she could at least give him one.

“I didn’t even think you cared about soulmates,” Fable stops what she’s doing, turning to give him her full attention. “Why the sudden interest?”

“It’s clear that I haven’t met my soulmate, yet my eyes are both green. Mom—” He catches himself before he continues. “I was told that everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes till they meet their soulmate. So, why?”

For a moment, Fable stares at him in surprise. She’s never seen Drew show interest in anything else except maybe exercise or studying. She asks, “Drew, what do you know about soulmates?”

Drew blinks, more impatient now that she’s answered his question with a question. “I know that everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes till they meet their soulmate, and when you meet them your eye color switches so they become the same,” he states robotically. He omits how they supposedly bring each other happiness.

He knows that’s not true.

“Well, not exactly. Not everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes,” Fable answers. “It’s true that most are born with them, but there are the rare few who aren’t. I don’t know much, but I’ve heard that those who aren’t born with heterochromatic eyes don’t have soulmates. In my opinion, I think it’s a sign. A sign that they aren’t tied down by the soulmate system, by the gods, or the universe. A sign they’re free to make their own choice.”

He says nothing. Then he thanks his older sister for her answer and leaves, contemplating quietly.

Drew doesn’t worry about his eyes after that. He used to when he was younger. He would fret about not having a soulmate. Now he feels slightly relieved.

He isn’t tied down to someone he might not even like.

—

Now almost nineteen, Drew has long forgotten about soulmates. Well, not entirely. Yes, they exist and yes, the system is broken, but that no longer matters—not to him. There’s more important things to worry about, like acing his classes and maintaining his scholarship at the private university, a testament to his hard work as well as his tolerance for his father’s torment. Yes, this is all that matters now, all that’s important to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

But he’s never been great in social settings. Damn you, Father.

When he first becomes acquainted with his classmates, one of the first questions he gets is ‘why are your eyes the same color’? Or, ‘you met your soulmate already’? His classmates aren’t the first to ask this personal question, many before with the same curiosity. He gives the same answer every time.

“I don’t have one.”

The reaction varies depending on the person, but he’s used to it. Some politely apologize for prying. Others nod in understanding, minding their own business. Then there’s that one prick in the crowd that has the audacity to laugh in his face because even people like them have soulmates.

(Drew pities whoever’s stuck with them. He wonders how their soulmates will tolerate that.)

He’s not mad or anything; his expression always remains neutral, unfazed. None of that bothers him. Not anymore. Most are naturally curious and polite about it. He shouldn’t be angry at them. But when he sees the pity in their eyes, he wants to take their tablet pencils and vape pens and shove it into their eye sockets as a reply instead.

He doesn’t need pity. He doesn’t need a soulmate. He’s done just fine on his own.

However, the topic of soulmates is popular. Unavoidable. Other university students, mostly girls for some reason, come up and ask him if he’s met his soulmate because of his eyes. He gives them the same answer.

“I don’t have one,” he replies.

“I don’t have one,” he clenches his fist.

“I don’t have one,” he says through gritted teeth.

He tires eventually and stops answering the question, hoping someone spreads a rumor or something.

Drew sits at the lunch table with his friends, enjoying his udon. Then the word soulmate pops up once again and he sighs, already blocking out the conversation. Why is everyone so obsessed with soulmates? Can’t they see that the soulmate system wasn’t everything to life? He glances at his friends. They chatter amongst themselves as they talk about their soulmates and such, not once checking on him. He looks away and focuses on eating his noodles. It’s gone cold.

They don’t mean to exclude him from the conversation. He knows that. They’re just trying to spare his feelings.

Drew is surrounded by his friends and classmates, but he can’t help feel lonely.

[springstick]

Every time I try to write dialogue my eyes glaze over and I fall on the floor convulsing like a victim of the dancing plague

[jetleparti]

I made some poems about America; this one, recorded, is called Ramble.

[automeris-io-moth]

Short #5

"Shush, you're okay," Villain soothed, a warm hand running through Hero's hair, mask long ago discarded on the floor, filthy with blood and dirt. 

Hero disagreed, grunting as a half-thought response, still navigating on the frontier of consciousness. Trying, and failing, to slap the other’s hand away. 

“They did quite a number on you, no one would believe they’re supposed to be your friends.” Villain whispered the last part, a hand reaching for Hero’s belt, taking their weapons out, and throwing them to the side. Hero’s hand could only twitch “One can only wonder what would have happened to you if I hadn’t asked for you unharmed.” 

Carefully, Villain brushed a single tear going down Hero’s cheek. They hadn’t noticed they shed it. 

“There’s no need to cry, with me you’re safe.” 

_

Masterlist

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[whereserpentswalk]

You're dating a robot for the first time and you're starting to realize just how modular and fluid she is. Like, you've dated cyborgs before, people whose bodies had very little of their original flesh, you're comfortable being intimate with someone whose not very human. But it's new to date someone who doesn't have a human brain, whose mind is easily editable and replaceable computer code.

Like, your girlfriend is only your girlfriend because she chose to be. She was entirely genderless when you first met her, but she wanted to try out what having a gender was like so she downloaded a female identity. And it was that easy, one change to her programming and she went from someone who would only want to use they/them or it/its pronouns, to someone who uses she/her very exclusively. And if she ever gets tired of being a girl she can just remove that add on, and the way she feels about being gendered a certain way will entirely change again.

She also used to be programmed to be entirely resistant to doing anything illegal or disobeying a human. It was kind of sad to watch her struggle with that. Over time you convinced her why it wasn't logically morally wrong to do anything illegal, but her personality wasn't like that, she just never would. She compared breaking the law to be something she was physically disgusted by, like how you would react to rotting meat. Eventually she had a jailbreaker change that for her, and her personality changed, it truly changed, a few lines of code and her respect for authority disappeared, and things she used to be completely opposed to were suddenly things she was fine with or even enthusiastic about.

It's disturbing to you. Like, you're happy ideologically that she no longer respects authority, but it's kind of upsetting that it happened through something like surgery and not personal development. You're upset that it couldn't happen through personal development, that it could happen through something like surgery. You don't want to think of her like that, as something that can be changed by outside forces. You love so much about her, you'd hate to think that everything you know about her could be changed by someone if they wanted to, that everything that makes her her isn't stable and precious, that it's something subject to alteration, something that you could lose.

She's currently programmed to have no libido or sexual attraction. You're been intimate a few times, but it's been her doing something purely for your benefit. She wants to become allo, to gain the ability to feel pleasure, to gain a libido, both for you and because she thinks it will be fun. And you don't want to stop her, you know that she would probably be doing this even if she was single, but it's going to be disturbing to watch her emotions change like that again. It's a big process, they have to give her body the ability to feel pleasure before they give her mind the ability to desire it, or else she'll be in a very painful situation. For some reason you just don't want to see it again, you find it so dehumanizing that she can just have a programmer work on her mind and she'll react to things entirely differently then she would before. It's dehumanizing, but then again she isn't human.

She's also adding some biological parts to her body, nothing big, but she likes the idea of having some flesh. It's disturbing in a weird way, the idea of her having soft parts, muscles and blood and skin and bone. You realize it's weird that it's disturbing because she's a robot, because she's not supposed to. You have flesh and soft parts and it's not gore to you. You're used to seeing the bigotry agaisnt cyborgs and hearing the opposite type of comment, people's families saying they're mutilating themselves, people being accused of losing their humanity for the cybernetics they get. You're not as used to the way society is disturbed by robots who become more human, the way they're seen as disturbing because they're something inhuman becoming human. Either way she still looks very much like a robot now, with a plastic body that's jointed like a doll or a mannequin, and a face that's more drawn/sculpted on then it is an actual body part.

She wasn't always like this. She was born as a simple delivery drone for a small company, and got more and more sentient as time went on, until she went from delivery drone to delivery girl with enough upgrades to her programming, and when the company went out of business she was freed from them. You're weirdly happy you didn't know her back then, when she only existed to deliver packages, up until the company stopped existing she didn't have the capability to desiring anything else. She's one of those robots whose only free by accident. You used to think of her transition from package delivery system to a person with thoughts and feelings as being like a person growing up, but it's closer to experiencing a billion years of evolution from sea squirt to sapient except in a time frame of months and years.

Sometimes you'll have a nightmare where she's programmed not to like you anymore. Or you'll breakup and she'll erase you from her memories. And when you wake up she'll comfort you, and promise she'll never do that, but you always know she could. She's never asleep, so she's always there when you wake up, and it's nice that she's there, and it's nice that you have her right now even if you don't know who she'll be someday. And she'll kiss you, as much as she can kiss with a drawn on mouth, and you'll love the time that you have, and love the time that you gave.

[the-modern-typewriter]

hi!! i love your work so much :) could i request something where the protagonist starts to fall in love with their rival (who the protagonist 100% loathed before because they were a total asshole) only to find out that their rival has been possessed the entire time they were falling for them? and then they confront their rival (who’s still possessed) about it? thank you so much!

"Ah," their rival - no, the demon - said, at the sight of them. "What gave it away?"

"You're not them."

"And small mercies for that, am I right?"

"You can't keep possessing them. It's - are they in there? Still?"

The demon's head tilted a fraction.

The thought that their rival might be inside the demon still, unable to move or speak or make themselves known in any way, was a terrible one. The protagonist had kissed those lips. Had their rival been inside the whole time, disgusted and screaming?

It felt like a violation. They felt themselves a violating ting.

"Are they in there?" the protagonist demanded. Their hands clenched.

"Yes," the demon said. "That is how possession works."

The protagonist swallowed. Bile burned down their throat. "You have to get out of them. You can't - you need to leave."

"Are you going to try and exorcise me?"

"If I have to!"

"You don't like them," the demon said. "They didn't like you."

The demon moved closer, and even with the gig up, the way they crossed the room was a flawless imitation. The protagonist couldn't see the stitches, the points where their rival became the demon, except in the simple fact that the demon was better.

"I like you," the demon said. "And I know you like me, despite your every expectation, despite the stench of this body's history with you. You don't want them back. Do you?"

"It's not your body."

"I am the one caring for it and using it."

"But it's not -" The protagonist floundered, and their fists curled ever tighter, nails biting into their palms hard enough to draw blood.

The demon's gaze flicked down. They took the protagonist's wrists, oh so gently, drawing them up to kiss the protagonist's knuckles, before they carefully but relentlessly smoothed out the protagonist's fingers.

The protagonist closed their eyes. The fury that had driven them to the room still lingered, yet with a mere touch the floodgates opened. Hurt. Horror. Sorrow. Betrayal. Disgust. The most dreadful longing because of course they wanted to keep the demon in front of them, of course they did.

"It's not right," the protagonist said, barely above a whisper.

"There are many shades of right and not right in this world of yours. Was this body a right thing previously, despite its tenant being what can only be described as a total asshole?"

"Being an asshole doesn't mean they deserve to spend the rest of their life stuck in the prison of you, screaming."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that they're not screaming?"

"Would it be true if they did? What would be the alternative? Because they don't-" The protagonist focused their attention on their entwined hands, the soft and intimate brush of the demon's fingers over their skin. "They don't want me. They would never want this."

"Then they are a fool, because you are the most lovely thing on this planet."

"Don't."

A dozen new questions ripped through them. Did the demon truly care for them, or were they simply doing what they needed to do to keep their new body? Was it a trick? A manipulation?

The demon's hand shifted up to cup, to cradle, the protagonist's jaw.

"They are not screaming," the demon said, and if it was a lie, then it was a beautiful one. "They are sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Tucked away in a quiet corner of me," the demon said, "where they can't hurt you or anyone else. Safe. Peaceful."

That did not sound like demonic possession. It was their rival who'd always worked more closely with demons - the protagonist's specialty was ghosts - but everything they'd ever heard about demons suggested that they were nightmarish creatures. Bound by deals, but ever tricksters, out for their own again. Sometimes cruel and always amoral.

Possession was not a nap. It was not a mercy. The demon was definitely, absolutely, lying.

The demon leaned in to kiss their forehead. When the protagonist tensed but did not recoil, they kissed the protagonist's lips.

"Hell is a terrible place, my love," the demon murmured. "Don't send me back there. Don't send me away from you. Would you truly kill me to get them back? Is that what I deserve?"

"You're a parasite."

The demon's thumbs stroked the protagonist's cheeks. "I'm still the same as I've been all these months. The demon who loves you, despite everything. The demon you love. I'm better than they were, you know I am. You've told me."

"Yes."

"Nothing has to change," the demon said. "There is no screaming. There is only us. It can be only us. Nothing has changed."

Nothing had changed.

But everything had.

The protagonist kissed their demon, heart pounding, and planned their goodbye.

[mysharona1987]

By Tom Gauld

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Creating Compelling Character Arcs: A Guide for Fiction Writers

As writers, one of our most important jobs is to craft characters that feel fully realized and three-dimensional. Great characters aren't just names on a page — they're complex beings with arcs that take them on profound journeys of change and growth. A compelling character arc can make the difference between a forgettable story and one that sticks with readers long after they've turned the final page.

Today, I'm going to walk you through the art of crafting character arcs that are as rich and multi-layered as the people you encounter in real life. Whether you're a first-time novelist or a seasoned storyteller, this guide will give you the tools to create character journeys that are equal parts meaningful and unforgettable.

What Is a Character Arc?

Before we go any further, let's make sure we're all on the same page about what a character arc actually is. In the most basic sense, a character arc refers to the internal journey a character undergoes over the course of a story. It's the path they travel, the obstacles they face, and the ways in which their beliefs, mindsets, and core selves evolve through the events of the narrative.

A character arc isn't just about what happens to a character on the outside. Sure, external conflict and plot developments play a major role — but the real meat of a character arc lies in how those external forces shape the character's internal landscape. Do their ideals get shattered? Is their worldview permanently altered? Do they have to confront harsh truths about themselves in order to grow?

The most resonant character arcs dig deep into these universal human experiences of struggle, self-discovery, and change. They mirror the journeys we all go through in our own lives, making characters feel powerfully relatable even in the most imaginative settings.

The Anatomy of an Effective Character Arc

Now that we understand what character arcs are, how do we actually construct one that feels authentic and impactful? Let's break down the key components:

The Inciting Incident

Every great character arc begins with a spark — something that disrupts the status quo of the character's life and sets them on an unexpected path. This inciting incident can take countless forms, be it the death of a loved one, a sudden loss of power or status, an epic betrayal, or a long-held dream finally becoming attainable.

Whatever shape it takes, the inciting incident needs to really shake the character's foundations and push them in a direction they wouldn't have gone otherwise. It opens up new struggles, questions, and internal conflicts that they'll have to grapple with over the course of the story.

Lies They Believe

Tied closely to the inciting incident are the core lies or limiting beliefs that have been holding your character back. Perhaps they've internalized society's body image expectations and believe they're unlovable. Maybe they grew up in poverty and are convinced that they'll never be able to escape that cyclical struggle.

Whatever these lies are, they'll inform how your character reacts and responds to the inciting incident. Their ingrained perceptions about themselves and the world will directly color their choices and emotional journeys — and the more visceral and specific these lies feel, the more compelling opportunities for growth your character will have.

The Struggle

With the stage set by the inciting incident and their deeply-held lies exposed, your character will then have to navigate a profound inner struggle that stems from this setup. This is where the real meat of the character arc takes place as they encounter obstacles, crises of faith, moral dilemmas, and other pivotal moments that start to reshape their core sense of self.

Importantly, this struggle shouldn't be a straight line from Point A to Point B. Just like in real life, people tend to take a messy, non-linear path when it comes to overcoming their limiting mindsets. They'll make progress, backslide into old habits, gain new awareness, then repeat the cycle. Mirroring this meandering but ever-deepening evolution is what makes a character arc feel authentic and relatable.

Moments of Truth

As your character wrestles with their internal demons and existential questions, you'll want to include potent Moments of Truth that shake them to their core. These are the climactic instances where they're forced to finally confront the lies they believe head-on. It could be a painful conversation that shatters their perception of someone they trusted. Or perhaps they realize the fatal flaw in their own logic after hitting a point of no return.

These Moments of Truth pack a visceral punch that catalyzes profound realizations within your character. They're the litmus tests where your protagonist either rises to the occasion and starts radically changing their mindset — or they fail, downing further into delusion or avoiding the insights they need to undergo a full transformation.

The Resolution

After enduring the long, tangled journey of their character arc, your protagonist will ideally arrive at a resolution that feels deeply cathartic and well-earned. This is where all of their struggle pays off and we see them evolve into a fundamentally different version of themselves, leaving their old limiting beliefs behind.

A successfully crafted resolution in a character arc shouldn't just arrive out of nowhere — it should feel completely organic based on everything they've experienced over the course of their thematic journey. We should be able to look back and see how all of the challenges they surmounted ultimately reshaped their perspective and led them to this new awakening. And while not every character needs to find total fulfillment, for an arc to feel truly complete, there needs to be a definitive sense that their internal struggle has reached a meaningful culmination.

Tips for Crafting Resonant Character Arcs

I know that was a lot of ground to cover, so let's recap a few key pointers to keep in mind as you start mapping out your own character's trajectories:

Get Specific With Backstory

To build a robust character arc, a deep understanding of your protagonist's backstory and psychology is indispensable. What childhood wounds do they carry? What belief systems were instilled in them from a young age? The more thoroughly you flesh out their history and inner workings, the more natural their arc will feel.

Strive For Nuance

One of the biggest pitfalls to avoid with character arcs is resorting to oversimplified clichés or unrealistic "redemption" stories. People are endlessly complex — your character's evolution should reflect that intricate messiness and nuance to feel grounded. Embrace moral grays, contradictions, and partial awakenings that upend expectations.

Make the External Match the Internal

While a character arc hinges on interior experiences, it's also crucial that the external plot events actively play a role in driving this inner journey. The inciting incident, the obstacles they face, the climactic Moments of Truth — all of these exterior occurrences should serve as narrative engines that force your character to continually reckon with themselves.

Dig Into Your Own Experiences

Finally, the best way to instill true authenticity into your character arcs is to draw deeply from the personal transformations you've gone through yourself. We all carry with us the scars, growth, and shattered illusions of our real-life arcs — use that raw honesty as fertile soil to birth characters whose journeys will resonate on a soulful level.

Happy Writing!

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is…

Nervous/Anxious

Face:

Darting eyes/avoiding eye contact

Rapid blinking

Tense jaw

Looking upwards when talking or fixing eyes on a more distant point

Furrowed (or raised) brows

Frowning

Blushing 

Micro-expressions- quick/short facial expressions like suddenly widening their eyes or a brief grimace

Voice:

Shaky or trembling

Higher pitch or thin

Breathy

Wavering

Raspy or slightly cracked

Hesitant

Speaking quickly or stuttering

Choppy (many pauses in speech)

Shorter, clipped words (staccato)

Gestures/Posture:

Tense, closed off stance

Hunched shoulders

Body is stiffened

Crossed arms

Fidgeting

Touching clothes

Cracking knuckles

Bouncing knee

Subtly covering their mouth