What is the most beautiful thing your character has ever seen? Use a flashback or have them think about it, Why was it so beautiful to them? What made it stick with them?
This excellent and incredibly hard prompt is from Ally. I sweated over this for some time, and I’m still not a hundred percent happy. But JulNo is starting in twenty-five minutes, so it will have to do.
Without further ado! The POV is Angel, the main character from The Monster.
Rihanna tugged at me, tiny hand wrapped around mine, our palms slick with sweat. She was shaking, hair plastered to her skull with sweat, gaze looking around and around like she expected something to jump out at us.
I was scared, too. My stomach hurt, and beads of sweat trickled down my neck. Everything was tight and stiff from fear. Had been since that night when… I shuddered, forcing the thought away, and kept following her. She said she was going to make everything okay. I didn’t know her, but she promised me that all the fear would go away when we got where we were going. I hoped she wasn’t lying.
We went into a building.
“Are you sure he won’t be mad to see me?” I whispered.
“Of course n–”
“What the hell is she doing here, Rihanna?”
The voice made us both freeze. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my stomach tightened like I was going to throw up my breakfast.
Rihanna gripped my hand, trying to make me feel better. She only made me more scared.
That voice, that person, was behind us. I could sense him, even if I couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him breathing, even.
“She’s scared,” Rihanna said, her voice a whisper. “She doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” The voice sounded like it wanted to laugh. It was a boy’s voice, but it wasn’t like the voices of the boys back home. This one sounded like a grown-up’s. Very sure. Very not scared.
Rihanna and I obeyed the voice immediately.
I looked at the voice, and all my tight muscles relaxed. My chest stopped hurting as air flooded my lungs.
He was twelve, maybe? I couldn’t tell. He wasn’t much taller than me, not much bigger. He had black hair, long, tucked behind his ears. His face was too skinny and his body didn’t look like a little boy’s.
He was beautiful.
His eyes were black. Just black. All black. Shiny and hard, they sucked all the light into them. I stared, throat muscles tightening again. His face was so still and… I couldn’t think of the word. Harsh. All the angles were too sharp. Sharp cheekbones. Sharp nose. Fierce, almost angry looking.
“She has to go,” he said, his voice startling me.
He spoke the words to Rihanna, and she started to protest, but I couldn’t speak. Because he said those words out loud, but I heard something else in my head.
How do you know my name? I thought.
The tiniest smile curved the boy’s lips. You and I are going to have a lot of fun together.
Those words were almost threatening, but I’d worry about that later. Standing straight and tall in front of me, black eyes riveted on my face, confidence rolled off of him in waves. He wasn’t shaking, he wasn’t speaking, he hardly seemed to breathe.
And in that utter stillness, he was beautiful.
Because he was not afraid.
I apologize for typos. I’ve got… *checks watch*… twenty minutes to come up with a whole new plot! Eeek! Wish me luck!