November's prompt: write a less than 400 word sci-fi or fantasy story with no dialogue. Hard mode: that’s already hard enough, haha.
As always, creative liberty with the prompt is encouraged!
Post your stories in the channel when you're done; one entry will be selected (providing we receive 3+ entries) to be put through the editing process and then read aloud on Mythos & Ink's podcast, Wayfarer's Guide to Worldbuilding.
You've got until 11:59pm CST on November 30th to submit your piece!
Written November 30th, 2022
As a sailor, the first thing you’re taught is to look to the stars. The stars are your map when there’s no land in leagues, forever constant and forever guiding you to new lands and back home when your longing is too large.
The second thing the captain teaches you is to not speak to mermaids. Beautiful as they are, they aren’t to be trusted, as any who go with them surely drown in the depths they’re led to.
You laugh and though he berates you for being young and not knowing the truth of the seas, it makes you want to laugh again. Superstitious as he is, he’d never believe you.
When you finally return to your home port, you enjoy your time in the day, showing your companions around. When night falls, however, and the stars glimmer in the heavens and across the waves, you slip away to the old pier.
You keep your eyes on the sky, your ever-lit map of the world and when you drop off the pier you watch the sea scatter the glow.
You float, encased in your second home as your friend races up to you, her hair trailing behind like kelp in the tides. You embrace her and are grateful for the bubble she blows around your head, before taking her extended hand.
The pearl strings you taught her to make shift around her middle as she pulls you both deeper into the supposedly uncharted depths, further from shore and from sky. You grin as she pulls you both into loops and spins, celebrating your return, and as you both go farther than your starlight can reach, you do your best to celebrate her return as well.
As you reach the sea floor, you begin to see more clearly as the starfish light your path once more, slowly shifting and trailing in mimicry of the stars so far above. You both swim through the sea of stars, enjoying their glow and the sight of creatures you’ve never known as they steer clear of you both, everyone in the situation alien to each other but oh so grateful for the starfish lighting the way.
You understand the captain’s fear, but feel like he’d understand the desire to stay if he was shown the glory of the stars meeting the rhythm of the sea, a sailor’s two loves united at long last.