Writing Prompts

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

PROMPT 2:

She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled.

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

 The battle happened so fast. One moment I was on my way to visit my dad's grave, the next I was surrounded by people fighting everywhere I looked.

"What the heck," I whisper to myself. I pull a dagger from my pocket just in case I need it and continue on my way. No one seems be willing to get in my way, and that is fine by me. It means I'll reach the cemetery sooner. After a few moments more of walking, I see someone in my path a couple feet ahead of me. Without missing a beat, I wave my hand through the air and he- she? I don't know either way, and I really don't care- goes flying through the air, out of my way.

I continue walking until I reach the grave, then lay the flowers on the top like I normally do. I don't stand there for a few minutes more than normal, because of the battle raging in the background. If it had been a normal day, I would've stood at the grave and caught him up on my life, even though my dad couldn't hear me. As it was, I did stand over the grave for a minute or two.

As soon as I stopped standing at the grave, I ran towards the battle. No matter who I fought, I had no trouble beating them. Everything I fought turned to dust after I beat it.

The other side's forces were almost depleted when it happened. I felt a sharp, almost stabbing irritation in my chest. Someone had thrown a knife and hit me right where my heart should be. The girl behind the throw was running towards me as she pulled out another knife. I think she was trying to knock me off my feet, but I'm not completely sure.

In the next few minutes, she threw three more knives and ended up right in front of me. I lost no blood during this exchange, even though I'd been hit by a knife four times in total.

I pull the knives out one by one, starting with the one closest to my heart.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" One simple question, and it terrified the girl. "Because, if it was, it really didn't. None of them did." The girl's jaw dropped.

"What are you?" The girl's voice was quiet, soft, innocent. She had no idea what she had done; no idea why I was still standing; no idea why I didn't lose any blood. I almost felt sorry for her. If only my life was still that easy.

"What I am is not important, child. It's who I am that's important." The answer was simple, and told her nothing.

"Who are you then?" The child was curious, I'll give her that much.

"Alex Fairfoxx, of course." The child's jaw dropped with my statement. Before she was able to respond, the child had a knife sticking out of her heart.

"I'm sorry, but no one may know I'm still alive. I've managed to keep from them, and it's better this way." With that, I walked off, not to be heard from again. No one heard me and lived to tell about it, other than myself. It's better this way for them, even though it hurts me more.