The Writing Prompt that Broke me

My entire life, I believed with my whole heart that writing was my calling. I have always had the natural ability to spin words together into the foundations of whatever world I want to create in that moment. Poetry, stories, a call to action; my writing has always inspired, moved and pushed those around me.

I have spent many years slamming my fists into the walls of the creative world hoping they crack just enough to let me in.

Recently, I submitted an incredibly specific writing prompt for a staff writing-novelist position. I was so excited and more than confident that I'd be chosen for the role. Days of imaginative sweat poured into this prompt, each word destined to lead me close to my dream of finally becoming a writer.

I was going to finally quit my useless, dead-end job and do what it was I loved: my reason for living.

I submitted my story with hope in my eyes and a confident swell in my chest. A week went by and finally, they had responded!

"Unfortunately we have chosen someone who better fits the role..."

The words were all too familiar. Years of submitting my work, applying for jobs, entering contests and, even self-publishing once had produced absolutely nothing. No one wanted to publish my work, no one wanted me to write for them, I just didn't seem good enough.

Heavy-hearted and beyond disappointed for the millionth failure, I broke.

Maybe my passion is simply meant to serve as a means of escape for me. Maybe my passion isn't meant to be the purpose that drives my life or the thing that defines me.

Maybe purpose is living each moment, present and passionately just as if I were creating my world through the clicks of the keyboard.

Maybe writing isn't for me, but I'll let readers be the judge of that. So without further adieu, I present to you, reader, the writing prompt that broke me: Jungle Beat.

I struggled to open my eyes under the cool warmth of a green canopy blurring my vision. I could smell the fresh rain clinging to the air like a baked-in aroma. Traces of sunlight weaved between broad leaves and tumbling vines. Curious coos echoed through shards of empty space, soaking into tree trunks and feathered bushes.

The pounding in my head swam away with the babbling of running water somewhere to the east of where I laid. The fresh chill of nurtured earth beneath me persisted quietly through the layer of fleece, sewn into my grey pants. My once white button-down was a painted canvas of creamy, brown splotches held under black suspenders and an empty shoulder holster.

My memory was a smoky fog of hushed and harsh tones, peering through burlap sacks and a long, tumultuous journey. I could barely remember my own name, let alone how I ended up in the heart of this jungle with nothing but the clothes on my back and a silver hatchet; its handcrafted handle drawing my eye like an old friend.

By the position of the sun, the hours to nightfall were closing in. My stomach gurgled, begging for attention, but food would have to wait. I had no shelter, no fire going, no inkling as to where I might be and no plan on where to start.

Hatchet in hand, I gathered myself off the ground and headed in the direction of the water. If I had learned anything in my decades of life, it was that civilizations settled near water for their best chance at survival. I was only one man but the one clear thought in my mind was staying alive.

The area was saturated with large, thick leaves sturdy enough to hold off heavy rains and keep the ground underneath them relatively dry, perfect for the roof of a shelter. A creek ran peacefully southward of my origin. The water was mostly clear and tiny fish let the current carry them to bigger waters.

A few feet from the creek, the earth opened wide like a yawn, frozen by years of erosion. A flat boulder was embedded into the small hillside protruding in a solute toward the sun. The miniature cave was warm and dry. I was grateful it didn’t extend too far into the earth. I wasn’t ready to come face to face with anything burly and full of sharp teeth waking up from a disturbed nap.

I went to work in search of logs long and thick enough to create a reliable and sturdy structure. I don’t recall being a working man. My hands weren’t calloused, and my knuckles weren’t permanently swollen with years of labor, but I was strong enough and resourceful under pressure. I was able to find a couple of logs sporting a U-shaped fork at one end and used those as middle and frontal support beams securing the main log up top. I added logs I could find that were an appropriate size and others had to be chopped from rooted trees. When I wasn’t able to find the convenient U-shape, I cut a similar shape into the end of the wood and did my best to match up, wrapping the tops together with vines and saplings. The logs were heavy, and I had to stop a few times to scratch splinters from my now sore and lacerated hands. Dirt caked under my fingernails from digging out a small trench to cradle the logs toward the bottom.

Hours later, I had what can only be described as a survivalist’s rendition of Eeyore’s house. I strategically laced the outsides of the close-knit logs with a healthy gathering of leaves. They served to keep my shelter dry inside and worked pleasantly well as camouflage too.

Finding the den-like cave granted just enough time as pink and orange clouds began to hug the sky in their evening ritual. I dug a small pit, surrounded it with stones, and set about looking for kindling. My biggest challenge was trying to find materials dry enough to turn a flame into a fire. Dried leaves were still clinging to the last remnants of moisture in their veins, recent rains still softened the bark of surrounding trees. I gathered what courage I still had and ventured further into the trees.

Time seemed to stand still here. The curious coos were quiet, the once youthful leaves were aged and crinkled under my feet. Then, fallen gracefully and soon to be my saving grace, was an enormous, ghostly white, dead tree. It was magnificent and terrifying all at once. The twisted roots reached from the ground like gnarled fingers reaching for the healing garment of a savior. Its bark was smooth and pure, almost glowing. Its branches continued to fall around it, beckoning me and my silver hatchet. Not a drop of water seemed to pierce the air here.

Quickly, I gathered all the bark, dried leaves, grass, and whatever else I could fit in my arms and headed back up toward my camp.

Using the hatchet to create a spark, had proven to be the most difficult challenge of the day. You’d think with little memory of my own life, being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and forced to carry on like some experiment would have been enough to break me already, but no. The sky teased an indigo tint along the billowing yellow and pink clouds as the sun continued its set. Real panic began to wash over me. I had used every type of stone I could find, nearly sliced a good chunk off my fingers, and could tell the hatchet was dulling down. With each strike of metal against stone, I prayed to whoever was listening, begging for a spark big enough to become a flame.

It was probably, quite literally the 500th strike against the stone that finally made the spark. I fought back the urge to shout while tears burned in my eyes. I blew gently on the kindling, hoping it wouldn’t die out.

Eureka!

I managed to get a small flame growing and cradled the kindling under the teepee of sticks in my fire pit. In a matter of minutes, I was staring into a real-life fire.

My stomach growled again, an empty throbbing indicating I was well past due for a meal. It was time to learn to fish.

I quickly fashioned a stick into a type of harpoon and hoped there would be enough daylight left to skewer a few freshwater fish for a snack.

Leaving my shoes near the fire, I waded gingerly into the creek. The water was surprisingly warm, and the current was calm against my skin. Fish I had never seen before careened playfully down the creek. Yellows, blues, and reds igniting the water with excitement. I almost couldn’t bear to pierce through their beauty, but the ache in my stomach grew with each passing second.

Finally, after a few failed attempts and one close call with my big toe, I was able to snag enough fish for what I like to call, a rainbow skewer. It was like the rainbow roll at a sushi bar only marginally less elegant and fully cooked.

The sun fell asleep behind the horizon and big, bright, dazzling stars splashed across the thick blanket of darkness that was suddenly the sky. What had once been a comforting reminder of time had now become smothered with a black so deep and endless, it looked as if it could, quite literally, swallow this place whole.

Usually, nights were my sanctuary; lying under the stars while whatever chaos for the day disappears behind the light of the moon. Tonight, however, my skin prickled with anxiety, my heart raced at every sound and my eyes strained to see whatever lurked in the shadows, so menacing it was as if they were all alive.

I scuttled into the back of my cave and listened to the coming rain. Thunder pounded overhead and lightning cracked in the distance. For a moment, the trees lit up, illuminating the vibrant greens and endless shades of bark. Some smaller animals scattered from the branches. I could only hope that this place wasn’t home to predators that wouldn’t let a little fire scare them.

Another whip of lightning and my heart stopped.

What was that?

I peered into the darkness feeling my throat close up. Was I hearing footsteps?

Instinctively I reached for the dulled hatched and cautiously crawled from the illusion of safety within the walls of my shelter.

“He-hello?” I stammered, staying close to the fire. Thunder rolled but I could still hear the steps. Light and quick, they headed in my direction. “Who’s there?” I crouched down, holding my hatchet overhead. The panic was drumming through my chest like a barbarian drum. I was a wild, warrior, caveman. I was crazy and ready to bury this hatchet into the skull of whoever or whatever was lurking in the dark.

An arrow struck the ground at my feet. My eyes widened in horror as I realized the dire situation I was suddenly in. I heard a click, then a whoosh as another arrow grazed my right ear.

Without a second thought, I rolled out of the fire’s light and into some nearby shrubbery. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Who was out there shooting arrows at me and why?

I ducked down as low to the ground as I could waiting to see if the intruder would reveal themselves and what a reveal it was. A small, slender woman crawled into the light, snapping her head from left to right like a wild animal searching for food. Her cocoa bean skin harnessed the light of the moon in smooth allure. Twisted locs cascaded down the banks of her chest as she stood erect, reaching behind her back for another arrow to load her crossbow. She wore a white, cotton tank top stained with the same creamy brown splotches as my own shirt. Her beige cargo pants fit perfectly to her form and each pocket appeared to be in good use. A sheathed machete was tucked away under whatever she had fashioned to carry her arrows and a toolbelt of sorts was strapped around her petite waist.

She looked curiously at my campsite stepping closer and closer to my hiding spot.

The drumming in my chest grew faster with each cautious step she took. Mania invaded my thoughts. What if she took my camp? What if she ate my rainbow skewer?! Deranged from fear and hunger, I attacked.

With a swift step to the side, she completely dodged whatever maneuver I thought I was going to use, flipped me with a graceful twitch of her wrist, and pinned me under the blade of the dagger from her left holster.

“Wow.” The words slipped from my lips without permission from conscious thought. “Your eyes are… beautiful.”

She stopped and gave a curious look about my face. Then she raised her dagger with both hands to lunge into my chest.

I rolled away and her blade cracked the earth. She cocked her arm back, hoisting up her dusty, grey crossbow in my direction.

“I’m going to kill you now,” she said matter-of-factly like a child off to play. Her amethyst eyes locked in on me. My hands were poised in a position of surrender while I watched her take aim, and shoot.

Another close call with my big toe.

“Whoa, whoa! Now hold on a minute!” I scurried back and forth like a helpless crab on the beach.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said, unsheathing the machete from her back and temporarily dropping her bow. She lunged at me with a rather adorable growl and nearly sliced right through my arm. I managed to get hold of her long enough to gain the upper hand.

Her neck pressed against the crook of my elbow while I held the machete as far from both of us as I could stretch.

“Usually I like to buy a woman dinner before we get physical.” I spun her around to face me and tightened my arms around her. The machete dropped and she wiggled to try and escape my embrace.

She smelled of raw coconut and sweat. Her skin was silk against mine and the fire in her eyes detonated my pounding heart. “You are… a goddess, “ I said, catching my breath. She stared back at me; a hint of a smile teased the corners of her lips. Then she slammed her head into my nose.

“Ow!”

“Ow!”

We both fell flat on our backsides, rubbing at our sore body parts. A few minutes of silence passed before either of us made a sound.

“Look,” I started, “It’s late, I’m tired and it took me a good hour and then some to get my fancy fish skewers made on the fire. Let’s say we have a good meal, get some rest and then, if I can’t sweet-talk you out of it, you can kill me in the morning.”

She sighed heavily and put out her hand.

“I’m Zelora. Sorry I tried to kill you.”

“Uh, Q… I think.” We shook hands and I helped her off the ground. “I’ve had a tough time remembering much from before I got here.”

Zelora nodded understandingly, dusting the dirt from her pants. We stood there awkwardly until fat droplets of rain splashed down in crescendo. “Come inside, “ I said as the rain transitioned quickly into a torrent. “It’s not much but it’ll keep us dry for the night.”

Inside the fire was warm. Our clothes were wet, and I had no blankets, just some leaves and plants I had fashioned into a makeshift cot.

“We probably shouldn’t sleep in these wet clothes.” Zelora had already removed her shoes, shirt and was unbuttoning her pants before I had a chance to respond.

“Oh,” I managed while gawking at this incredible creature in my cave. “sure.” I fumbled nervously with the buttons on my shirt.

“We’ll need to huddle together for warmth.” Her tone was mostly serious but trailed off into a whisper.

“Okay,” I choked, laying down onto the plant cot. She nestled in close with her back to my torso, obviously avoiding the growing visitor between us. I coughed to try to shift myself to a less awkward position. Surely, she knew the effect she had on men, probably women too.

Long moments of silence passed between us as we watched the rain. I thought Zelora had fallen asleep, but the glow of the dying fire flickered off the crystal lavender of her irises.

“How long have you been here?” My voice cracked from thirst, but I ignored it.

“Months,” she said, “maybe a year.”

“How did you get here?”

“I-I don’t remember. All I remember is losing my mind and killing for survival.”

“So, there are others?”

“They come and go. You’re the first I’ve encountered in a while.” She shivered. I pulled her closer.

“I see,” was all I had the courage to say. The quiet was welcomed as my imagination ran marathons trying to figure out what was going on in this place and how I ended up here. The thunder outside began to fade and the strikes of lightning were fewer and far between. The rain became a sprinkle until it stopped.

“So,” she said, “goddess huh?”

-----

You’d expect a morning in the jungle to be a breath-taking experience. The sun would dance through the trees, shining its happy warmth on your skin while you dressed after an indescribable night. Birds would be singing and cawing like the opening to an animated musical. You wouldn’t wake up with bugs on your face or animals in your shelter. You’d expect waking up in a beautiful jungle with a gorgeous woman to be magic. We hardly expected to wake up to fight for our lives.

“Q. Psst! Get up!” Zelora’s voice hissed urgently, prying open my tired eyes. She was dressing nearly as fast as she had undressed the night before and arming herself with her survivalist’s arsenal.

Thick, smokey fog rolled up to our knees. Eerie quiet covered the air like a wet blanket. There were no curious coos and vibrant greens like yesterday. It was like we woke up inside of a black and white silent film.

I jumped up from the bed of leaves and got dressed.

A screech, a howl in the distance. The leaves rustled at the treetops.

I snatched up my hatchet and walked out into the open.

“Here, take this.” Zelora handed me her machete and retrieved her crossbow from the ground. There was a deep rumbling nearby. The embers in the fire snuffed cold out like a candle wick in the wind but the fog around us seemed to carry a hell-like heat in its fists.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of fur. The screeching sounded closer this time.

I held my breath waiting to see what fresh hell awaited me.

The fog rolled higher and higher until our visibility was nothing but a white exhaust surrounding us.

“Zelora,” I called, hoping she hadn’t left me here alone.

“I’m here. Be ready. Something big is out there.”

A figure began to materialize inside of the fog. First, it was small, but it grew and grew with each twirl of the fog. I blinked, begging my eyes to unsee the creature forming in front of me.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I thought.

In front of us was a giant, four-armed, six-eyed spider-monkey, rabid and desperate for blood. Its silhouette hovered menacingly in the thick of the ground cloud suffocating my once logical brain. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move. I was going to die here.

Its massive paw rose, almost in slow motion. Its jagged claws stretching toward the sky. Then, with one swift motion it came down with a thud so hard the earth beneath us cracked. It opened its mouth in another horrible screech to reveal two, razor-sharp spider fangs.

Its massive tail swung slow, an almost mesmerizing movement. I felt myself drifting away in its rhythm.

“What are you doing? Move!” I felt a small body slam into me with unbridled force. I fell back with Zelora panting on top of me. “Are you trying to die?” Her eyes were filled with genuine concern and fear.

I snapped myself out of my trance and reassured her I was ready to fight.

Our initial strategy was to use the fog to our advantage. If we could remember enough of the area well enough to hide without full visibility, we’d at least stay alive.

Zelora went off to the left and I ducked right as another paw came crashing down. I heard the click of her crossbow as another paw went up into the air, poised to strike.

Whoosh! The arrow flew and the monkey jumped from its path. The sound of rustling bushes followed by cursing seemed to grab the creature’s attention.

Without a second thought, I started to hoot and holler, hoping to serve as a distraction while Zelora reloaded. Sure enough, all six eyes landed on me. I ran toward the monkey and veered away just as I was getting close. Its tail caught my strategy and knocked me onto my back.

Whoosh! Another arrow followed by a sickening howl. Zelora had shot straight into one of its eyes. She scrambled to reload, hands shaking. The monkey wrapped its tail around her waist just as I heard another click. She struggled to get her arms out long enough to aim. Whoosh! Another eye struck!

The monster screeched, synching its tail tighter around her. Her bow dropped to the ground as the breath was squeezed from her lungs. The creature pulling her closer to his jaws.

I sprang into action with the roar of a mad man. If I was going to die here, I was going to take this furry bastard with me. The hatchet in my left hand and the machete in my right, I sliced and hacked, chopped, and cut at the tail with every ounce of strength my adrenaline had granted. Blood sputtered onto my face and clothes with each motion. I could hear Zelora above me gasping for air while this unholy thing tried to evade my attacks.

“Let her go!” I screamed and brought the machete down on the last shreds of muscled holding the tail to its body. The monkey cried out in pain and the fog immediately lifted.

Four eyes and four arms remained. Now that seemed like a fair fight.

An angry roar belted from the creature’s chest. It pounded the ground in protest of its wounds. Suddenly, it was swinging from the treetops, panting and drooling, planning its next move.

I helped Zelora get free from the tail still curled around her. After a moment or two, she was ready to finish the fight. I could hardly breathe, my arms weakening after the burst of strength it took to sever the tail.

“What are we going to do?” I tried not to sound panicked while I watch the monster begin its descent back to us. She thought for a minute, her otherworldly eyes darting about as if she were solving an equation.

“The arms. We go after them.”

“How are going to do that. That thing is is fast!”

“Look, it’s already wounded and losing blood fast. We’ll use the vines to essentially lasso its wrists and pull them straight enough to be able to…disengage. That would be the end of it. “

I shook my head in disbelief but had no alternative plans. The same flash of fur from before appeared in my peripheral. We had no time. We had to try.

The vines were heavy and moist which was good because, we hoped, that meant they wouldn’t snap under pressure. We would each lasso one arm on the same level but first we had to catch the monkey between two trees close enough to create the opportunity.

Sweat trickled from my brow as I watched its feet hit the ground in slow motion. Another roar shook the frequencies in the air, vibrating my ear drums.

Between two trees stood the monster, right where we needed it to be. I gave a look in Zelora’s direction. She nodded and the plan was a go.

Its arms flailed as we charged in its direction, screaming at the top of our lungs, hoping to stun it long enough to get the vines around its wrists. I felt a sting in my back as four razors cut through the flesh. I had to keep going.

Like some derange rodeo clown, I swung my lasso again and again until at last, miraculously, Zelora and I both hit our mark, tightened the loop and tied the vines to the trees. Two arms were temporarily immobile.

The sound of bones crunching echoed. Zelora kicked furiously at the back of the monster’s locked elbows with supernatural strength. The monkey howled in pain and what sounded like sadness as its arms went limp. Its knees buckled underneath it and it crumbled to the jungle floor.

I watched in awe as what had just been a mighty opponent, shrunk down to the size of well, an actual spider monkey. Its fangs and sharp claws disappearing right before my eyes. And finally, with a small whimper, four of the six eyes absorbed into this little monkey’s face.

The vines fell and the monkey took to the trees, tail intact as if nothing had happened.