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The Countdown (Writing prompt / game)

The Honor Spren

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This is part writing prompt, part game. You basically just have to write a scene when your character's clock stops and falls off and they meet his/her soulmate.

I know that I would think this is fun.

Here's my scene:

I walk through the bookstore, thinking quietly to myself. The watch on my arm is still ticking, always ticking, always there. I try not to look at it too much, but I caught a glimpse of it an hour ago.

Soon, I would meet the one.

Right now, I peruse the fantasy books. So hard to find a good fantasy story these days. As I look around, I see no one. It's all right, I tell myself, I still have time, before it comes.

I put a book back with a sigh, I haven't read any really good ones since Harry Potter. Will they like books like me? I wonder, What if they can't stand the sight of them?

I pull another novel off a shelve, then gasp as my watch beeps and clatters to the ground. I wildly glance around.

What do you do when your watch beeps, but there is no human being in sight?

With nowhere else to look, I read the title of my book.

The Way of Kings By Brandon Sanderson

I hope that gives you a good idea of how it's done! Feel free to be as creative as you like! (Obviously)

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Tick, tock.


Tick, tock.


Tick, tock.


It's funny that a clock of all things was interrupting my takeover of the world.


The stupidity of the situation was not lost on me, as I paced the spacious bounds of my office in frustration. Each click of the clock grated on my perfect ears, reminding me of all the things I could be doing with the time being slowly siphoned away.


I could be meeting constituents. I could be kissing babies and shaking hands with farmers.  I could be meeting with my staff and smearing my imbecile of an opponent more than I already had.


In short, I could be accumulating power and winning this blasted election. I could be out there applying my intellect to all this city's awful problems, making a name for myself and working my way up the government ladder. The city needed a mayor like me, and the world at large needed me to prove myself.


Yet no matter how much the world needed me, the clock had me enthralled.


It wasn't an ordinary clock, of course--a man like me makes his own schedules, clocks be damned. It was my soulpiece; the piece of clockwork that's attuned to each new child, to give an alarm on the minute that child encounters his soulmate.


Mine was by far the plainest object in my office. Next to my gold-inlaid mirror, opposite my fine art collection, above my tiger pelt rug, it was only a round timekeeper with obvious screws, a glass front, and not even a hint of style.


Oh, how I hated that clock.


Yet, it had me enthralled.


For in just--oh, three minutes now--it would alert me to the presence of the only other human being who could support me on my endeavors for world benevolence.


It seemed all my thirty-seven years were leading up to this; all the years I'd been working my way up I'd been eager for the damnation clock to ring already, just so I could focus on what was really important. I'd dated women here and there, but it was clear none of them really understood the importance of what I aimed to accomplish. I'd often stare at the clock in the privacy of my office, counting its ticks and wondering when a woman brilliant enough to help me on my quest would make herself known.


Well, in just a minute now I'd know, wouldn't I? No matter that the building was silent and practically empty, unpopulated by any save I and my secretary. (Whom I'd given strict orders to stay out of my office, of course. A pretty thing she was, and worthy of an affair, but no woman who still monitored her horoscope could be the woman of the soulpiece's prediction.)


I watched.


I bit my lip in spite of myself.


Ten... Nine...


This was it.


Eight... Seven...


Finally, a reprieve from the company of imbeciles. I'd have someone worthy of my talents.


Six... Five...


Surely I should be hearing footsteps by now? There's no one on this floor but me.


Four... Three...


What if it was all just a hoax, a scam by the soulpiece industry? I should have taken that into account. I've passed IQ tests that would leave Stephen Hawking stumped.




Did the phrase "soulmate" even have any meaning to a man such as I? A man so far beyond any woman he'd ever encountered? There was only one person in the world who could help me reach my goals, and that was--




It all fell into place. I stood in the floor, grin spreading across my face. My back facing my fine art works, my gaze far above the tiger pelt rug.


Still smiling in relief and glee at solving the puzzle, I picked up the soulpiece, held it over my head, and smashed it against the table, over and over until nothing but springworks remained. These I brushed aside for the maids to deal with later, as I smiled at the one person in the world worthy of myself.


He smiled back, and his lips mouthed the next words in perfect unison with my own.



"This above all--to thine own self be true."

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