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Next prompt is on Saturday. I expect more than one participant this time, but good for Crescentstar for writing something.

Rules:

1. Pick one of the prompts and write about it for no more than 20 minutes. You can write for longer if you want, but only words written during the 20 minutes count towards your total, so mark where you ran out of time.

2. You will be graded on wordcount and overall coherence. You will not be graded on quality, so write as fast as you can while still producing something that makes sense and would be salvageable with cleanup. It doesn't have to have an ending or form a complete story, but it should at least read like an excerpt from a longer work.

3. When you're done, post your wordcount. Posting your story is optional. We understand it will be terrible.

4. You may go back and work on previous days if you missed them.

5. You may write fanfiction if your heart desires.

Prompt #1: A king is giving a speech, and someone is there to assassinate him.

Prompt #2: A girl's evil reflection tries to pull her into a mirror

@WouldntItBeNice @Steve24833 @JJJ-thebanisher @Seto @bbshark @Bucky @mizal @FrankIevatus @TheNewIAP @Romulus @TacocaT @Crescentstar @Mayana @Zulutrader @MasonJarGuzzi @Ogre11 @malkalack @Charaxes (added a couple people I've been forgetting)

Stupid teenage fantasies. Impossible.

Every girl wants to be a princess, and every guy wants to be a prince. What makes me so special? What makes me worthy of being something so privileged? I can hear them already, the grownups that say, "Oh, it's just a teenage girl's phase. You'll get over it." Or, "That's immature." To me, it's like they're telling me to stop dreaming, to stop hoping for something better. Get with the real world; it's perfect for you—full of misery and loneliness.

What if I just want to act like some girly... girl? I admit that I'm not some dream-girl, but I still want. But that's just like everyone else. We all want.

My reflection trembles, and I feel myself copying its movements. I can dress up like a doll. I can act sassy or sexy or stupid. I can ace any test. I can't do whatever I want. My blonde hair is so bright it hurts my own eyes, a sheet of silky steel. This stupid blue dress makes me look like a Goddesses-damned maid. When I think of it like that, don't all maids want to be princesses too?

My reflection seems to darken. Why am I being so selfish, greedy, sinful? I feel so... so human. Human. I feel like a sinful monster. I want and I want and I want. I have the right to want, but when the need is too much, don't have the right to express it? I'm like everyone else, and I can't stand it!

The other me starts to pale. Pale lips, white face. Is it just my eyes, or does my hair look damaged, sickly? My ocean blue dress seems to drain of color. And I see a smile, though I don't feel my lips stretching.

The sky's darkening for some reason. Is Hell finally trying to reclaim me? Is a demon finally going to take me away for being so sinful, so wishful? For wanting to be someone different with real reasons to be miserable? Without real reasons to feel pain and sorrow and empty?

"You are the demon's child," my reflection hisses, and I don't find it strange. It's not strange at all. It's just me without my glistening mask. My true, plain self.

Evil.

"Yes," I whisper, and it sounds harsh, empty.

"Come with me," my other half commands, and I walk. I walk toward the mirror, the glass.

She starts to smile, to laugh, revealing sharp, bloody teeth.

I halt. Am I like that?

"What are you doing?" the thing hisses.

I can't be like that. I know I have a soul. That dark thing. That empty soul.

"Come over here!" my reflection hisses, and it reaches out to grab me, and my hands hit the glass, shattering it. She slams me over and over against the mirror, but I won't go through.

Because I'm not like her, am I? I think as my world spirals into nothingness.

Words: 497

Improvement! Yeah... about ^ that... *sheepish*

EDIT: By the way, I love your prompts!!

“Today is a day for change! A day from freedom! A day for progress!” King Salman said, standing at the podium with a smile.

Fares watched the king from the crowd, a smile plastered on his face to fit in and hide his rage. This “king”, this supposed reigning champion chosen by God, had betrayed his ideals, taken the path of consorting with damnation, giving his souls to demons and sacrificing all that mattered. Change? Freedom? Progress? The King spat on these, he betrayed what he stood for, he was vile, detestable, killable. 

If he were to die, he would not go down alone. His brothers, his trusted allies, those who truly stood up for what is right, were scattered through the crowd. It had taken the combined effort of many men to get them here, to sneak past, bribe, coerce or simply kill whatever guards necessary to allow them through. He didn’t dare tilt his head to look at them despite how much he would want to to look in their eyes and share the strength and determination they both had, in case the guards grow suspicious and stop them before the time had come.

“No longer will we be bound by the ethics, the morality and the beliefs of our forefathers! No longer! We grow as a people, to new horizons, to new dawns, to a new future!” King Salman cried, his voice reverberating along the crowd.

How dare he tell such abominable lies and spit such nonsensical drivel? Fares sneered for just a moment, before faking a cough in hopes the guards would correlate the two. Fares smiled and even let out a cheer, even though his stomach twisted at the thought. It took all his effort not to charge the stage and end the king’s wretched life. He couldn’t blow his brothers’ chances of success just because he got hasty. He was going to do what was right, but when the time was right as well. He wouldn’t destroy the actions of his…

A guard made eye contact with Fares, staring at him. What was that in his eyes? Suspicion? Worry flooded through Fares, before he realized it had morphed his face to that of a nervous man, and he quickly grinned, like the other idiotic zombies that surrounded him. The guard’s view shifted as he continued staring at the crowd. Fares wauted, patiently staring at the king. The sun’s heat caused him to sweat heavily, and he wiped it off with his robes. Suddenly, his watch clicked, signalling the time had arrived. Fares surged forward, leaping onto the stage. He saw out of the corner of his eyes his brothers surging through the crowds, onto the stage.

“We will end the anti-blasphemy laws! We will end the whippings, the crucifixtions, the beheadings! We will move towards free sp…!” King Salman said, before his eyes widened in terror as Fares ran towards his. 

The guards drew their guns, filling the air with bullets, but it was too late. Drawing the trigger from under his robes, he pressed the detonator and let out a cry as his suicide vest exploded.

“God is great!” he yelled, as King Salam was turned to a red mist.

The explosion tore Fares apart, but his last feeling was that of joy, not pain or terror. Jannah awaited.

556. Admittedly, didn’t do too well this time. Got distracted a fair bit. Also, the real King Salman is a massive cunt, but I have no idea how Saudi Kings work, so fuck that, maybe his son will be king and also called Salman, and not a prick. 

Like mine, the ending sounds rushed, but your story is very hooking nonetheless. ^-^

492 words: Prompt #1.

The King steps onto the stage. It's a stage because it is the set for a performance. The King, the people, and the guards know it. It's just a performance. The King will say things he neither believes in nor will accomplish. The crowd claps when they should clap and sit still when they are supposed to listen. Even the guards know their job is only as decorations on the stage. The should look tough, for nobody will attempt to kill the King (since he's a left wing radical and banned all kitchen knives except for the use for his personal guards).

He starts blabbering about the needs for unity in the country, for yet another pestilence is sweeping the region. (It is actually spread from people wallowing in the fecal matter, but since the highest medical idea at this time is "let's bleed him" they have no damn clue.) They should burn a few witches to appease the whatever deity the King believes they should worship, and perhaps they should donate money to the religious institution (which is run by the King's younger brother Earl). What they should not do is form a mob or immigrate to another country.

The crowd, nonetheless, already knows this.Their forefathers received the same speech, and their forefathers' forefathers also listened to the same speech. But, they just nod their heads as if burning witches was some novel concept like taking a bath more than once a year.

To show a sense of unity, the King has his entire family on the stage with him. His wife is to his right wearing a dress worth more than an entire town's yearly gross domestic profit. His favorite son is wearing a shining set of plate armor that dazzles in the light. His hear is trimmed carefully, and he continuously shifts into one pose to another to show his physique off to the maidens in the crowd who mostly showed up just to stare at him. (However, the son never actually fought in any battle except for where his younger sister would give him wedgies.) Finally, the King's only daughter is standing to the right of the son. Much like the crowd, she does not want to be there either, but the King figured that a low cut top from a person below the age of consent by today's standards would boost the morale (among the men).

When he finishes speaking, the entire crowd stands and cheers as if he just lowered their taxes by ten percent (even though he won't because he's a greedy bastard). The family all stand arm to arm and soak in the joyous, fake adoration from the generality. This is what the King lives for. This is what the Queen desires. The young women in the crowd is what the son lusts. The next moment is what the daughter envisions...

The King cries out in a gurgling noise and falls the the ground. Lodged through the back of his neck is a spoon sharpened to the point where it can pierce flesh (since knives were banned). The wife screams in horror, the son feints at the sight of blood, and the daughter smiles. She immediately barks out orders to the guards for them to find the killer. The man stand motionless, for they thought that it was the daughter who stabbed the King. They decide otherwise, for they weren't paying much attention to begin with and the daughter's low cut top distracted them from thinking much anyway. They run off into the crowd searching for an assassin who isn't there.

The daughter smiles again. The only person now standing in her way is her brother (who she gave a wedgies to this morning). Now, a new age of reform will enter this kingdom (because she is a much better form of a left wing radical than her father).

The crowd stand frozen in their clapping. This has never happened before, and nobody has explained what the cues are for this type of situation. They do not know if they should sit silently or clap.

Thursday morning in the Kingdom of Thizia...

Just another typical day in the city. Crowds walking on the street, heading to do their jobs, buying stuff from the markets, et cetera. In this time of war between two alliances, the kingdom needs many fresh recruits to bolster up their ranks. Thizia is a kingdom focused on diplomacy, not war. Many young people, mostly in their twenties either volunteer or conscripted to join the armed forces. Two of three join the army while the rest join the navy as sailors or marines.

The recruitment posts are full with young faces eager to serve for their kingdom. Many of them are farmers, peasants, workers -- people of lower social class. They need a figure to inspire them, so the king decided to visit the city and encourage them personally. Of course -- security details will be tough.

The king is known to be a generous, fair, and inspiring figure to his people. Unlike the previous king, many people like him, especially those who come from lower families.

However... it's unfortunate that this will also be his final day...

-----

Watch tower...

"We are on a desperate situation. Agracean Empire and its allies will launch a massive offensive against our alliance. Unfortunately, we will be one of their first priorities. They know we have a lot of resources that are of importance to them.

[WORD COUNT: 226] [20 minutes ended here]

Our neighboring nations will assist us. But we have to contribute something. For the sake of our existence. We need every capable man and woman to take arms and fight..."

The king might not be good in speechs. But he's really damn respected.

Ravyn and Jenessa, Wolf Commandos of the Agracean Empire, stand on a watch tower. From there, they can have a clear sight of him from far away.

It took an hour for the commando units disguised in Thizian soldier outfits to infiltrate and set up their plans to assassinate the Thizian king. Bribing, sneaking, killing national guards and setting up traps... that's what the commandos did.

All nearby guards have been killed by other commandos. Now they wait for Jenassa to take the shot.

Ravyn observes with her binoculars while Jenassa holds her rifled musket attached with a scope, steadying her aim and adjusting the bullet drop.

"He's such a good figure. I respect him," Ravyn says.

"Yeah," Jenassa complies. "Too bad our Emperor is an ass."

"Hey... remember the times when we were just... girls?"

"Ah, it was a good and bad memory. Most of us were shits from low socials seeking to join the army for a living. I remember when you were still sixteen and still in the academy... pillow fight... Jonathan had a crush on you... you killed someone who was a prick... sent to a penal regiment..."

"I know Jenassa... I know... I'm just glad I could be one of the Wolves."

-----

A few minutes later...

The king goes upstairs and stands in the balcony. This moment is a good time to kill him. So Ravyn directs Jenassa and lets her take the shot.

Jenassa takes a deep breath... and squeezes the trigger. The shot pierces the king's head. He falls to the crowd below him. The crowd starts to worry and the guards are mobilized.

The Wolf commandos, being proficient in stealth, simply vanish as the guards get to them. The commandos hide among the crowds, pretending to be national guards on alert. They escape through a sewer, where they get out from the city and escape on horseback.

(This is something I made in a hurry and with low productivity. Sorry if it's shitty.)