"Write about a person or object vanishing into thin air."
Strange tales are whispered around fires, of sudden disappearances. Both and beast have fallen prey to some unnatural and seemingly malevolent entity. Jack, a youth in his early twenties, had first heard these stories from his friend and classmate Mark years ago. He hadn't believed any of it then, of course. He was an intellectual. Mark, also, was a known liar and had a habit of spreading the local superstitions and his own dreams around like fact. He knew better now. There was one, every year, on this day.
Jack was never popular in school. His two closest friends, Mark and Steven, were similarly outcasts. None of them stood out academically, and despite Steven showing some athletic potential, it was stifled by his other friends. To his fault, Jack encouraged Steven to spend more time with them, and would guilt Steven into going places, while Mark was adamantly against the entire notion. It all boiled over before summer vacation that year.
The air was hot. Unbearably hot. Jack and Mark were walking through the yard, looking for their friend, and Mark was telling Jack another one of his tales.
"-I'm telling you! I saw a UFO last year, literally on this day!"
"Come on Mark."
"You're just jealous, Jackie. You're just jealous that I got to speak to an alien."
"What! You've told me this story three times Mark, and this is the first time you said you saw one. How did you even communicate with it?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"I do understand. You're full of shit."
Mark rolled his eyes, a habit that he developed when he was called out in his lies, and told Jack where he could go. Mark must have known better than to try arguing his point any more. Jack smirked, but chose not to press the issue. The conversation changed to Steven. Mark seemed to know a lot more about their friend than Jack did, how he was secretly dating the nerdy girl from their math class and how he had tried for the track team but was turned down. It was strange, how much he knew, Jack thought to himself.
The school that they went to was built beside a patch of trees. Mark had a faraway look in his eyes and turned abruptly, pacing quickly towards the trees. Steven called from behind them, and Jack gave him a chance to catch up. They followed slowly behind Mark, who had gained a dozen and a half feet in front of them.
"Say, Jack. Remember how you said I shouldn't try out for track? You were right. I got told by Mr. Sullivan that he couldn't take me on. Something about my attendance."
"Sorry to hear that! It's probably for the best anyways. You don't need that commitment."
"That's right... besides, I won't have much time," he leaned closer, looking around, "y'know that girl in our class? Emily?"
"Yeah! I heard you guys were going steady?" Steven stopped, and cocked his head at that.
"Who told you that? I just asked her out today, just before I saw you. She hasn't given me an answer yet?"
"Mark told me"
Jack turned to point in the direction of his friend, but he was gone. Mark never answered his phone when Jack called him that evening, and soon it was on the local paper.
"Write a story about a character who can't figure out when they're dreaming or awake."
It was night once more, the sun dipping lazily into the horizon, it's final farewell marked by the bright colors of it's setting. As darkness cloaked the night sky both moons shone brightly. Cirdan wandered, cold and alone through the grasslands, heading in the direction that he believed to be north. He stepped through thickets, and tripped over things that crawled across the ground. He saw his breath take form in front of him, it's silvered mist pooling around him as he forced himself onward. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut himself away from the dread that knotted his stomach. Then he heard it. Music.
Cirdan shook his head firmly, refusing to believe what he was hearing. It must have been some sort of illusion, or mental break. Yet when he saw a brightness, he opened his eyes and beheld a strange fair. There was pennants of vibrant colors, strewn across the branches of trees and several tents of white, and of red. There was laughter, and screams of delight. With some effort he hurried himself along, hobbling towards his respite, his exhausted state feeling more akin to a dream he was finally waking from.
Stepping into the fairground, he was met by a dancing fool, who's painted white face held a sardonic smile. It flipped, and stood on it's hands before walking away. Cirdan pursued it, but was distracted by the scent of meats, and of pastries cooking. A woman, dressed in frivolous apparel offered him some, and he ate greedily. Handfuls of pie were stuffed into his mouth as he walked away. His eyes wandered over all that lay before him. In each direction he turned there was something new, something better, something closer to his hearts innermost desires. A man with an empty expression offered him ale, and Cirdan drunk from it heartily. Another, similar to the first offered him exotic fruits, the vibrant colors unlike anything that he had ever seen before. A dog barked, and Cirdan bent to pet it.
It was like a dream, Cirdan thought, still enamored by the gifts that he had been given, and the sights and smells that were upon him. He grinned towards every one of the unique faces, the fire breathers, and those that swallowed swords. However the further in he walked, the more eerie the place was. He walked in a straight line, and yet he could have sworn he saw the same people, and each encounter was similar. A man would offer him wine, ale, or beer while another would offer him meats, other, more strange exotic fruits, or candies. No one spoke, no matter how hard he tried to get them too. He would turn, and to his left catch a man, smile plastered upon his face, preparing to swallow a sword. The laughter and screams of excitement still rang through the fair, though Cirdan was alone. Cirdan hurried with his steps, passing many which stepped towards him, gifts in hand, calling to him. One grabbed at his arm, and he pulled away quickly, refusing to even look at the person. He looked down, and saw that he was standing in water.
Around him, in every side they gathered, shambling and stepping with awkward gaits. Their painted faces, and twisted smiles drawing ever closer. Cirdan, for the first time since he arrived reached for his blade, yet felt nothing. Looking down, he held his arm out in front of him. His hand was gone, as though it was ripped off, where one had grabbed a hold of him in an attempt to deter him. Cirdan looked towards the bright, cloudless blue sky. It was night. He was dreaming. They gathered close to him, and he felt their breath on him. He stared, eyes bulging towards the blue in the skies, and swore he saw a glimpse of stars beyond the blue.
It had to be a dream.
