Stonehenge

Writing Prompt:

You're able to gather meaning from any writing in any language. You think it's pretty cool until you visit Stonehenge and read it as "WARNING - DANGER ZONE"

"This is it! It's finally happening", I thought as the plane hit the tarmac. After months of saving up and managing shifting schedules, I was embarked on my journey to see the Stonehenge. This was a special trip; especially because my grandmother was with me.

My grandmother is the only one who knows my secret. It is harmless enough, yet special to me: I can grasp any written word. She discovered it when I was four, when I rattled off the instructions to boil instant noodles from the back off a packet. Since then, she and I formed a special bond exchanging and relishing stories from all over the world.

There are many stories associated with the Stonehenge, and they were the reason we were here. You see, some people believe that the Stonehenge is an ancient burial ground, a gateway to the dead. We were here to see my grandfather, her long-gone husband, who had never returned from war.

As we circled the stones, my grandmother finally spotted the markings at the base of the seventh one. She called me over, and I soon relayed the message. It said:

"WARNING - DANGER ZONE.

This is the adobe of souls departed

Heed us, stranger, enter not halfhearted

If among the dead, one is your friend

Cross to join forever and hearts shall mend

If you find not one to call yours, then Foe

To mist and ashes you'll turn, do know."

My grandmother and I looked at each other. This was the moment of goodbye and anguish. She had deeply missed the love of her life for all these years, yet it meant peril if Grandpa's soul wouldn't beckon to her. There was no turning back, so we hugged, and I watched anxiously as she stepped forward.

There was no mist and ash. The sun smiled out of the clouds. I heaved a sigh of relief and tears of joy swam in my eyes. "Happy anniversary, grandma!" I whispered happily.

"Thanks Becky, love from grandma and grandpa", the stone now read.

The Circle

Writing Prompt:

Everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle.

This was my third school in two years, and I was getting tired of the pack-unpack-suffer-repack drudgery of being a military brat. Though I was used to the awkwardness of being the new kid at schools, Bratton High was proving to be especially painful to the derriere.

Most schools I've been at impose restrictions on sigil powers during school hours, partly to inculcate discipline, but mostly, well, to avoid liability damages for student safety. But Bratton High is an inner city school; the administration's got ninety-nine problems, and sigil safety is hundredth.

Restrictions or not, I always avoid touching my sigil lest I invoke it. And that became my bane. Mark and friends, the resident bully gang, had been hounding me for weeks now. It started with the morning bus ride to school when he touched his lame-ass hammer sigil and pushed me to the ground. "Great." I grunted, "Your power is the strength of an obese fifth-grader. Well done buddy." Giggles and guffaws erupted, and so did Mark's temper.

"What did you say asshole? What have you got huh?" Mark seethed, his eyes searching and finally spotting the circle on my right wrist.

"What's that, a circle? What are you gonna do nerd boy? Ace geometry?" he smirked, and his goons sniggered.

I guess it was a little funny, sort of. I got up, turned and left with jeers behind me. I wish that were the end of it. But my loud mouth and lack of follow-up power display made me a tasty morsel in the bully buffet. The bus rides to and from school were a rain-down of sigils. Gym classes were for beating me up, recess was for throwing MY food at ME, and walking between classes was for verbal volleys and flooding my locker. It was slowly getting too much to take, but I swore never to touch my circle. Until today.

Today they followed me home. They forced their way in, and started throwing stuff around the house. And then they found my little sister in her crib. With no parents at home, one of the bastards thought it would be a good idea to mishandle a child. I ran towards my sister as he touched his lightning sigil and stretched out his fingers towards her. He gave her a nasty shock before I managed to reach them. He looked at me and laughed, and was reaching to do it again, when I changed my mind.

I closed my eyes and touched the circle. And looked into his eyes. And didn't stop until there was smoke and screams. Mark came running behind to grab me and save his buddy. I looked into his eyes, and he began screaming too. My sigil wasn't a plain old circle. It was a burn ring. Mark's retinas had been marked.