Once upon a time, in a land born of fire and smoke, there was a Kingdom. At this kingdom’s center was a castle made of dark stone, that sat perched atop a hill that surveyed all of the lands of the valley. There lived the wise king and queen who ruled fairly over their domain and were loved by all the people.
The monarchs were happy, for they had a flourishing kingdom and were adored by all the people. But, alas, not all was perfect for the Queen was barren and the couple yearned for children of their own. So, one day, the King set out to travel towards a large mountain that overlooked the kingdom.
There, the man remained for a week’s time, hoping and praying earnestly for a child. Then one day, he came upon the highest peak of the mountain, and there he found a large opening. In that opening was a substance of the likes he had never seen. A liquid fire that bubbled and smoked where is sat in the mountain’s hole. Then, a woman rose from the people, her presence like that of a wildfire, robbed in nothing but flames, her hair flickering in burning tendrils.
“I am the lady of the fire and have heard your cries,” she said to the King. “And I shall fulfill your wish.”
In her hands, she seemed to be holding a wrapped bundle of cloth. But, upon grasping the bundle, the King found the cherub-like face of a baby, nestled in the fabric. But when the King turned to thank the lady, she was gone.
And so, the king returned home with the child, and he and his wife named her Kenna, which means “born of fire”.
And so Kenna continued to grow up with her parents, given everything her heart desired. The family continued to hold favor with the people and the kingdom upon the hill was prosperous. All was well.

~~

Kenna woke to the beating of drums. It was her eighteenth birthday, she told herself. So, of course, there should be some celebration among the people. She rolled over in her bed, paying the pounding no heed. But as it continued to grow louder and louder, she rose and rushed to her balcony that overlooked the kingdom, wrapping her crimson, silk robe around her as she went.

A gasp escaped her lips as she saw a dark shadow on the horizon, moving slowly towards the city. “An army!” she exclaimed, her hands clenching into fists.

She whirled around and opened her mouth to call for a servant before stopping herself and resolving to dress quickly and skip her morning wash up. She burst into the royal chambers, talking feverishly fast to the council members, and her parents. “Ah! The attack!” a councilman said once she had finished.

“We have been well aware of this for the past two seasons.”

“What?” Kenna was confused.

“Our spies among our enemies have been quite helpful,” her father elaborated. “We have it all under control, dear heart.”

“Yes, dearest, why don’t you go back to sleep,” her mother agreed with her husband, nodding in such a way that made her dark curls bounce around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry your pretty head,” Her father finished, waving her away.

“Now off with you, we have business to attend to.” Kenna was indignant.

“But these are my people too. This is also my home as well! Can I not aid in the fight to defend it?!” She demanded, crossing her arms.

“Kenna, you would do well to hold your tongue,” her mother spoke sharply. “Now return to your room. This does not concern you. You are not Queen yet.”

Kenna turned, blinking back angry tears as she stalked out of the room, slamming the chamber doors shut behind her. The princess returned to her room to sulk and cast worried glances out her balcony window. The shadow army had finally stopped moving closer, coming to a stop just a few miles out from the city gates. Tents of dark fabric were put up. And so the waiting game began.

Kenna wondered what the plan of the army was. Hold them under siege? Attack them at night? Wait while they send an assassin in to kill their royalty and advisors? Kenna flopped backward onto her bed, heaving a long sigh. She wished terribly that her mother and father had allowed her to stay in the council chambers.

She wished they had let her sit there quietly and listen to the clever schemes that her father would suggest and the battle strategies that the council members would cook up. She wished so bad even if she wasn’t allowed to speak. Anything would be better than waiting around, listening to the silence before a battle. She sat up quickly.

“No,” she said. “I will be prepared to fight, they can count on that.”

The princess left her room once more, this time making her way down a long corridor that led to her parents’ room. Knowing that the room would be empty, she let herself in, her eyes searching for what she had come for.

Her gaze came to rest on a glass case mounted to the wall. Inside was her father’s famous sword collection, composed of rare and exotic rapiers, longswords, and sabers. She licked her lips as she looked at them longingly. How she had always wished she could wield one herself. She wanted so badly to grasp the leather hilt of the sword firmly and feel its balanced blade in her fist.

“And today I will!” she told herself, moving to open the metal case. The glass door swung open and Kenna looked quizzically, wondering as to which blade she should take. She finally decided on a long, intricate saber with a gold embellished hilt.

Kenna admired it for a moment before slipping it into its scabbard that she had attached to her waist. Now, if the enemy invaded her city, she would be ready.

~~

The enemy came crawling over the walls with sharp grappling hooks and armed with jagged weapons that sliced and cut with a biting fury. The men on the walls were no match with their primitive swords and crossbows that were of a much weaker metal. And they were outnumbered.
The King and Queen exchanged worried glances from where they stood overlooking the battle on the balcony. And for the first time, a distinct feeling of fear had come over the two.
The armies of the King and Queen were barely able to withstand the first wave of soldiers from the opposing side. And by the third wave, they had already taken over the main part of the city and continued to push towards the castle which they promptly invaded at exactly midnight.
The enemy had achieved victory and foreign royalty now sat upon the throne of the city of Feyre. The King and Queen were then thrown into the dungeons below the castle, left to weep for their people and their loss. However, a flicker of hope continued to burn in their hearts for their eighteen-year-old daughter had seemed to evade capture or else she would be by their side in the dungeon cell. The parents hoped desperately that their daughter would one day return and deliver her people. The Queen and King, kneeling in the cell, sent up a quick prayer to the Lady of Fire in hopes she would watch over and aid Kenna on her quest.
And while the Queen most certainly had her doubts, especially as their time in their cell dragged into weeks, the King never gave up on their daughter. She would return someday.
“After all,” he would tell his worried wife. “She was born of Fire.”
And the Queen would nod grimly. She knew all too well.
~*~
Kenna slipped silently through the doorway, holding her sword tightly in her hand. She paused a moment to listen to make sure no one lurked in the library. Silence echoed back, but her ears still hummed with static due to adrenaline. She glanced down at the blood smeared sword, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
I’m not abandoning them, she told herself, moving forward into the library. She made her way to the far wall and removed a book from it. She then reached into the space the book once occupied and her fingers found their way around a small metal knob which she turned slightly clockwise. A mechanical click was heard and the bookshelf swung forward, revealing a dark, gaping tunnel.
“There is no shame in living to fight another day,” her father’s words rang in her head. But still, her shoulders sagged and her head was bowed low in shame and defeat as she descended into the darkness, the shelf swinging deftly behind her.

Whatever inspires I guess. Here are a few aesthetics I like that are fun to incorporate to stories for symbolism or just plain fun.

Herbs

Violins

The month of September

Piano keys

Flickering candles

Grandfather clocks

Dawn/Sunset

Cherries

Autumn 

Masquerade balls

Jasmine 

Winter

Parsley

Dice

Sage

Orchids

Coral

Shadow

Ocarinas

Saffron

Guitar

Ruby 

Pepper

Stained glass windows

Gears

Diamonds

Crystals 

Gold 

Blood

The moon

The planets

Playing cards

Crows

Prisms and rainbows

Greek

Lanterns

Roses

Stars

Carnivals

Green Computer code in a black background

Ink

Irises

Church Bells

Silver

Ivy 

Rain

Lightbulbs

Aurora

Royal

Apples

keys

Fireplaces

Paint

Egyptian style drawings

Black Pearls

White kittens

Blue butterflies

In Modern times,

In A city,

In Victorian times,

In Space,

On a pirate ship,

In An academy,

In London,

On an African savannah,

That are pirates,

In A spaceship,

In Sci fi era,

That are/is a superhero(s),

In A circus,

in Egypt,

In Rome,

in A forest,

In Another dimension,

In The Steampunk era,

In High school,

In University,

In a time traveling machine,

In The zombie apocalypse,

in Fantasy world,


Quick Writing Ideas

A fairytale but told in reverse. This could mean a many number of things. You could reverse the roles or the events, either works. It’s good practice and helps you move past figuring out what to write. 

An excerpt from your life but told in a dramatic, over the top fashion. We’re all drama queens and you know it. This not only allows you to write what you know, but I’ve found it’s a wonderful way to expand your vocab because it forces you to look up big and fun words. And while these words are pretty frivolous in this specific context, these words will come in handy the next time you take on writing a story where they wouldn’t be so out of place. 

Get inspired by history. Write short excerpts from the point of view of old historical figures. There are tons of interesting people to be discovered in the past. 

Get inspired by art. Art and writing have a common purpose… to create a picture, so the two are clearly linked in one way or another. Perhaps this is why I find inspiration in the lovely paintings of the past. To do this yourself, pick out an interesting or unusual painting and use it as writing inspiration. 

Write an over the top conspiracy theory. The more ridiculous, the better. This also can be tool for building your vocabulary while you have fun writing the worst lies you’ve ever conjured. 

Write a piece specifically for mocking a cliche. 

Write down a list of three aesthetics or objects that you really like for some reason or another. Now try and incorporate them into a story. 

Take a fable or fairytale The primarily stars animal characters and humanize them. Or, if you’d like, take a human based fairytale and make all the characters forest animals. 

Take a work that you really like and give it a mood shift and tell it in a fashion completely opposite of what it was originally but while keeping most of the main events. For example, you take a work of Edgar Allan Poe and give it a sunny, happy, comedic spin. 

Challenge yourself to write a story where the narrative and events are completely confined in one room. 

Pick a specific year to inspire your work. 

Pick a historical figure to inspire your work.

Have your work center around a specific object. Like a mirror or a pen for example.

Have your work be inspired by a game. For example, chess, checkers, poker or just playing cards and their suites in general, Clue, monopoly, Candy Land, Shutes and Ladders, Mastermind, or Battleship to name a few. Think outside the box.

Have a color play a dominant theme in your story.

Have a plant play a dominant theme.

Or an animal.

Because why not?

“Batten down the hatches!”

“Work is for people who don’t know how to plunder.”

“Not all treasure is silver and gold.”

“I climbed the crow’s nest and now I can’t come down.”

“Weigh anchor!”

“Full speed ahead!”

“We’re pirates! We have no moral dilemmas!”

“Obey the captain or learn to swim.”

“Hoist the colors.”

“We’re pirates; We don’t take out loans!”

“The ocean roar is music to a pirate’s soul.”

“You’re so salty today; you’re making the ocean jealous.”

“We’re pirates; we don’t err, we arrr.”

“Treasure x’s are the only kind I’m interested in finding.”

“Home is where the anchor drops”

“A smooth sea never made a skilled pirate.”

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

“Don’t look to closely at the water.”

“Books are my silver and gold.”

“Individually we are a drop, but together we are an ocean.”

“Parrots are way too cliche.”