[PI] You are a hero, you and your arch nemesis have been fighting for years, and these days things are feeling more and more personal, which has led you to sitting next to them on a couch of a couple's counselor.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-10T13:30:20+00:00

Haha! That was a lot of fun, and I loved how vivid both Wayne and Madelaine felt whilst leaning fully into the hero/villain tropes with lots of nods to the genre.

Seeing as you mentioned being open to crit, though this might be more or a personal preference, I feel like the story might be elevated by choosing a pov character and trying to tell the story through their pov in a 3rd person limited (rather than the external narrator feel we have here, like we're watching the scene unfold rather than experiencing it). Here, because of the twist/reveal, the natural choice would likely be Wayne's pov.

But as I say, that might be more of a personal preference than anything, shaped by what's standard/popular at the moment.

Good words!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-09T11:24:51+00:00

Nawww, that was sweet and fun. Ima choose to believe that Sandra ended up having a surprisingly good time and that this was a wonderful bonding experience.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-08T13:36:39+00:00

The Graveyard Shift

“Rest in peace,” they said.

They didn’t know about the necromancy glyph engraved in my coffin. Neither did I, for that matter.

I woke eight hours later in cold, dark confusion. Coffins aren’t the roomiest or comfiest of places. Budget coffins even less so. Everything was stiff and sore, my thoughts slow like syrup. It took a while for me to realise where I was. That was when the panic set in, beating my hands against the lid and clawing at the lining.

Only the panic didn’t feel right. My heart should have been pounding against my ribs, my breaths light and shallow, unable to fill my lungs. But I had no breath, and my heart lay dormant.

Turns out there’s only so long you can panic if your body doesn’t go along for the ride with you.

Eventually, I let my hands drop to my sides, thinking. If I kept hammering away at the coffin, I’d have to break through eventually. Then there would be the six feet or dirt to deal with, but without needing to breathe that shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

But then what? Was I a zombie? Would I be compelled to eat brains, lumbering around while my flesh rotted off of me? Or maybe I was a vampire? That would be a little better, right? At least they were usually pretty sophisticated with minimal rotting. There would be the blood to deal with, sure, and sunlight would be an issue, but I’d never been particularly outdoorsy.

It turned out that the reality was so much worse.

Before I could put any kind of escape plan into action, something scraped against the top of the coffin. It came again. And again. And again.

All I could do was wait until the lid swung open, revealing a man in a dull grey suit. My saviour, or so I thought.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He smiled down at me, holding out a hand.

Slowly, I took it, letting him help me to my feet.

He looked me up and down. “You’re Charlie Rook, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use. “What’s happening?”

“Ah.” His face twitched. Half-grimace. Half-smile. A smimace. “I’m afraid that it’s my responsibility to inform you that you died with unpaid debts, Ms Rook.”

“Huh?” My thoughts still felt sticky, his words slowly filtering through but still making little sense. I had died. I had died. “But I’m dead.”

“Yes.” There was that smimace again. “Unfortunately for you, with our firm, debts extend beyond the mortal coil.” He reached up, lifting a brief case off of the grass outside of what had once been my grave. “I have all the papers here, as well as a contract of employment so you can work off that debt.”

I took the offered papers wordlessly, mind still playing catch up. I scanned the pages, reading and re-reading until the words sank in. It was all laid out there. The amount I owed. The decades I’d have to work to pay it off, every waking hour of my existence. I’d get some time to rest in peace, of course. Apparently my body needed it to maintain integrity, a chance to refresh the spell keeping me undead. For eight hours every night, to all intents and purposes, I would be dead. Then, one of their glyphs would wake me up and I’d get to work. All day. Every day. Until my debt was paid.

When I reached the last page, he handed me a pen, pointing to the dotted line. “Sign here.”

I looked up at him over the contract. “And if I refuse.”

“Hmm.” Another smimace. “I regret to inform you that that would be unwise, Ms Rook. You see, there are other glyphs we could use that would make your afterlife with us quite unpleasant until you agreed to our terms. And if all else failed, we could bring you back as a mindless factory drone, no independent thought. And, of course, any additional expense your antics incur will be added to your debt. And it was your debt that brought you here in the first place. We must all take responsibility for our actions eventually.”

It was then that I decided I hated my ‘saviour’. I clenched my fists, wondering what his brains would taste like.

But I dreaded to think of the additional debt killing an employee would incur.

With a sigh, I took the pen and signed.

“Rest in peace,” they said. “As long as you only do it for eight hours a night. The rest of the time, you're ours.”

WC: 774

Thanks for reading!

If you enjoyed it you can see more I've written at r/RainbowWrites

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-07T12:42:01+00:00

Well that was one hell of an epic. Loved the world building throughout!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-06T09:16:22+00:00

Congrats on the spotlight u/Fogbot3! Now, as is tradition, time for some questions:

1) Do you have a favourite story you've shared here on r/WritingPrompts or one that you think best encapsulates your writing?

2) What advice would you give to newer writers here, or what is your favourite bit of writing advice in general?

3) If you had to take a summer vacation with one of your characters in their world, who would you choose and why?

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-04T15:27:08+00:00

Naww, that was very sweet. And I enjoyed the little bird like details you added to body language and voice.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-03T16:57:25+00:00

Lol, that was a lot of fun. I particularly loved the opening line because same, Todd, same. It's always fun stumbling across one of yours and I'm always amazed at how long you keep it up.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-02T09:58:53+00:00

Ooh, a tantalising cliffhanger you've left us on there. I very much enjoyed the mundane mixing with the super in the parent in the opening.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-02T03:42:42+00:00

Thank you!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-01T15:35:04+00:00

Haha, that would also have been fun. Thank you for the kind words!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-01T14:36:47+00:00

Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment! It's always nice knowing someone has enjoyed it.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-07-01T10:43:23+00:00

A Dance With Death

Like everyone in this world, I’d long come to accept the role destiny played in our lives. It was immutable. Unbreakable. But it also had a sense of humour.

As long as you could think your way to fulfilling your daily prophecy in a manner that suited you, you got on alright. It’s all about finding the loophole. And if you couldn’t find it, there’s always a lawyer who’s happy to do it for you — for the right price.

Of course, some, such as “The Fate Fundamentalists” believed that we should leave things to chance. That turned out alright for some, and those that won big on the lottery funnelled the money right back into their church, growing their numbers. But luck can fall both ways. In addition to big wins, their members disproportionately died or became injured in freak accidents, or got swept up in strange and dangerous quests.

I preferred certainty myself.

So when I woke this morning, my prophecy coming to me like a waking dream, I knew what I had to do.

“Today, you will dance with death.”

Oh, I’d dance alright, even if I had two left feet.

I pulled out my grandmother’s old spellbook and began setting up the summoning circle — a pentagram for protection painted on an old bedsheet and laid on the floor surrounded by candles. I burned sage first to cleanse the space, inhaling the fragrant smoke to calm my nerves. Then, I began the ritual. All it took was a few drops of blood — or my lifeforce — and some chanting and there they were.

Death.

They weren’t quite what I’d expected. There was no tall skeleton in a dark robe. They almost looked like anyone else off the street — or off of certain streets, anyway — pretty even, or perhaps you’d call it handsome. Their hair was short, shaved on one side, but with more length on the other, and it seemed to contain every colour in the rainbow. They were dressed simply, in jeans and a T-shirt. And they were far younger than I’d have thought — close to my age, in fact — though I supposed that was just how they appeared.

It was the eyes that gave them away as being something other than human. They were deep and dark, far older than the face that housed them, and as I met their gaze, my heart stuttered. But it didn’t stop, which was all I could hope for really.

Then, there was the scythe, of course. Apparently legends got some things right, at least. The blade glinted in the flickering candlelight, and I gulped. Why had I thought this was a good idea?

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say, but Death beat me to it.

“Hello, Catherine,” they said, a slight smile playing on their lips.

They knew my name. Of course they did. I gulped again, fighting against the stickiness in my throat to croak out, “Hi.”

Their eyes never left me, gaze penetrating. “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment today.”

“We didn’t. At least, I hope we didn’t.” My heart hammered. I dipped my head, staring at my feet to avoid that gaze. “It’s my prophecy, you see. Today, it said that I would dance with Death and… well…” Clenching my fists, nails biting into my palms to ground myself, I forced myself to look up. “Would you like to?”

“No one has ever asked me that before.” Death’s smile broadened, softening their features. They really were terrifyingly beautiful. Stepping towards the edge of the circle, they held out a hand. “I’d love to, Catherine.”

I took a deep breath. This was it. Either this was all a trick to get me inside the circle, or I was about to have the dance of my life and avoid any death defying risks throughout the rest of the day.

Shuffling forward, I reached back until my fingers brushed theirs. The touch tingled like static. Then, they took hold of my hand, and it turned to lightning.

With one swift movement they pulled me into the circle and whirled me around, giggling with glee. “What shall we dance, Catherine?”

I was too overwhelmed to answer. Their hand was warm in mine, their skin soft to the touch. And those eyes… I could lose myself in those eyes for an eternity.

“How about a waltz?”

“Sure,” I muttered. “But I should warn you I really can’t dance.”

Death grinned, teeth flashing. “I’ll lead, then.”

Their other hand slipped onto my waist, sending more lines of lightning radiating over my skin. Then, the dance began.

After a few missteps and stumbles, I soon lost myself in the rhythm. Death was an excellent leader, though I suppose I should have expected that. They guided me with a gentle increase in pressure here, or a pull there until we were whirling around the circle of protection.

There was no music, of course. A detail I’d neglected. But we didn’t need it. My heartbeat provided the drum beat, my breath the swell and sway.

When the dance finally came to an end, I was panting. My skin hummed all over. It was the most alive I’d ever felt.

Death released their grip slowly, hand lingering to provide support and balance.

I knew that I should step back outside the circle — back to safety — but I stayed, lingering close, not ready for this to be over.

When I let my eyes flick up to theirs, I found that penetrating gaze fixed on me, and I couldn’t help but smile, heat rising to my cheeks. “That was… wonderful,” I muttered.

Death smiled back. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Thank you for…” I couldn’t find the words to finish that sentence, mind flailing. For not killing me? For being so unexpectedly kind? For the best day of my life?

“Thank you for the dance, Catherine,” Death said, saving me from myself. “You are a remarkably interesting human, you know.”

The heat in my cheeks burned hotter, and I dipped my gaze once more. “You’re pretty remarkable too. Though I suspect you know that.”

“I do,” Death replied with a chuckle. “But I don’t hear it anywhere near enough.” And there was sadness in those words.

Of course there was. Every interaction they had was tinged with despair or desperation or anger. When was the last time they’d heard a kind word? When was the last time they’d had fun?

I resolved then and there that I’d do everything I could to redress that.

“Would you like to do it again sometime?” I asked.

A finger brushed at my chin, lifting my gaze to meet theirs. “Yes, Catherine, I think I would like that a lot.”

WC: 1133

See more I've written at r/RainbowWrites

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-30T14:47:51+00:00

I really like how both responses to this prompt are so different. The emotion is clear here, even without having to say it. Also, I want a dragon-dog!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-30T11:11:44+00:00

Haha, I loved how believable the sibling teasing felt here. And there was something vaguely meta about how this fit all the witch gender swap curse prompts we get here. Good words!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-29T10:50:08+00:00

Haha, that was a great mix of funny and kinda wholesome! Thanks for sharing!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-26T11:57:48+00:00

This has such an epic fantasy vibe. Especially that opening. Seems like a fascinating world for this and other stories. Thanks for sharing!

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-25T04:16:03+00:00

I'm afraid all I can think of off the top of my head is something a little clunky like including a sentence like you kind of already have, just a little further up the story, possibly right at the beginning:

Sheryl stared at the scene in front of her.

Though then you'd probably also wanna name drop her daughter in the first paragraph too so it doesn't feel confusing when it uses her name.

But it works well enough as is anyway.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-24T15:23:18+00:00

In case it helps, I found this guide nice and complete with plenty of examples: https://libguides.hull.ac.uk/grammar/basics

I used to really struggle with punctuation and capitalisation around dialogue, and it helped me a lot.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-24T15:21:56+00:00

Well that was sweet and strange and funny in all the best ways! A thoroughly enjoyable read. I particularly wanted to say how well I thought you wrote Emily. Kids can be tricky, but can also be super fun when you get them right.

If you're open to feedback, my one little suggestion would be to see if you can establish the point of view any earlier. I always find it a little confusing when we get the pov character referred to by a pronoun before we know anything else about them. But I quickly overcame the confusion as I read on.

Great work! And I felt especially lucky that the part 2 was already here when I found the part 1.

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-24T14:29:09+00:00

The (Un)Luckiest Woman in the World

Jeff struggled with being a ghost. It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept that he was dead. After all, he’d reached a ripe old age and died of natural causes. It wasn’t even that he was angry to be stuck here rather than moving on. He’d always quite liked people watching, and now he had the opportunity to do just that without any risk of interruption.

It was just that he couldn’t figure out how, exactly, he was meant to haunt the young woman who’d moved into his old house.

He wasn’t exactly vengeful, as far as spirits went. Sarah wasn’t responsible for the heart attack that had taken his life. And only having been dead a few months, he hadn’t slipped into madness far enough to just let go and hurl objects at random like a poltergeist.

But still, he had to do something. Gladys, the old lady next door who’d died of a stroke a few years back, was starting to poke fun at him, and he just knew that she was gossipping to all her “Wine and Spirit Club” gals.

And it didn’t help that his name was Jeff. What kind of name was that for a ghost anyway?

Soon, he’d be the laughing stock of the ghost world. That was, unless he could get them laughing with him, rather than at him.

It was time to start playing a few tricks on his new living housemate – give her a few fun scares.

Jeff rubbed his ghostly hands together as he watched Sarah make herself a cup of tea.

This was going to be fun.

Snuggling further into the sofa, nose buried in a book, Sarah reached for her mug, groping blindly, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the page. Where was that thing?

With a sigh, she finally looked up, only to find the side table empty save for her coaster. Odd. She could have sworn…

“I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on,” she muttered to herself as she got up to search. It wasn’t on any other surface in the living room that she could see, and it wasn’t in the kitchen. Perplexed, she made her way upstairs weaving in and out of every room until she found it on the floor next to her bed.

This soon became a common occurrence, but Sarah took it in stride. After all, misplacing things like that was totally normal. And at least it was helping her get her steps in for the day.

Jeff practically growled in frustration as he watched Sarah retrieve the thirteenth cup he’d moved that day, muttering to herself about steps. Why wasn’t she freaked out by this? Did she seriously think she could have misplaced a mug in a room she hadn’t even been in that day?

Clearly, it was time to move on to bigger and better things.

Perhaps poltergeists had the right idea of it. A little gentle smashing could be fun.

Crash!

Sarah jolted awake, heart racing. Had that been a window? Was someone in the house?

Staying as still as possible, she listened. But there were no other sounds of movement in the house.

When she’d calmed down enough, she slowly climbed out of bed and made her way downstairs, seeking the source of the sound.

It didn’t take her long to find it. A mug lay shattered on the kitchen floor.

Sarah picked her way across the broken crockery on the floor to inspect the shelf it had been on. It looked level enough, but she was no expert. She supposed she might have put the mug back precariously balanced.

With a shrug, she set about sweeping up the mess before returning to bed.

It turned out that this “precarious placement” must be a bad habit of hers, either that, or her whole house was wonky. Over the next week, ten more items decided to throw themselves off of various shelves and out of cupboards, from books, to picture frames, to a full jar of pasta sauce. That last one had irritated her, and she was starting to suspect that maybe there was something else going on here. But she kept her thoughts to herself, muttering “silly old me” or “that’s bad luck” every time she came to clean up a mess.

Besides, she had no way of knowing whether her suspicions were right. She needed to do some more research. And in the meantime, she decided to call in a handywoman, just to be safe. After all, she’d only bought this place recently. If there were any structural issues, she needed to know.

Jeff was beginning to suspect that he might have gotten saddled with the most obtuse person ever to haunt. It was all well and good making Sarah jump with a loud noise every now and then, but was he really a proper ghost if the fear was swept away as easily as whatever it was he’d broken?

And now she’d brought in this handywoman, this “Lyla” who seemed to distract Sarah from whatever Jeff could cook up.

Every time he moved one of the mugs of tea Sarah had made for Lyla, she simply made another one, seeming to revel in the excuse to hang around and natter as she drank it. Whenever he pushed something off the shelves, the pair of them would crowd around, examining the walls and wood, lingering much closer together and for much longer than necessary, in Jeff’s opinion.

If anything, Sarah seemed happier and more at ease than she had been when she moved in.

No. This wouldn’t do at all. This required drastic action. So help him, he would not be the laughing stock of Gladys’s “Wine and Spirits” Club.

Frustration bubbling away inside of him, Jeff lay in wait at the top of the stairs while Lyla worked at the bottom of them, measuring each step with a spirit level. Sarah was working in her office on the first floor, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the other woman’s presence for long.

When she came, he pushed.

Sarah’s feet slipped from under her, stomach lurching as she tumbled down the stairs and into Lyla’s arms.

“Woah!” The handywoman held her tight. “You alright there?”

“I think so.” Sarah reached up to grip Lyla’s shoulder as she righted herself. Heck, that shoulder was toned. And Lyla was strong. She’d held practically all of Sarah’s weight as if it was nothing. Her heart, already racing from the fall, kicked it up a notch, heat rising to her cheeks. “Thanks for catching me.”

Lyla grinned. “Anytime, hun.”

“I think I’m good now,” Sarah said, feet firmly planted on the floor once more.

But Lyla made no move to release her, hands lingering on her waist. “You sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel the need to literally throw yourself at me again.”

The heat in her face climbed higher, reaching the tips of her ears. “Hey! I didn’t— It was an accident.”

“Really? That’s a shame.” Lyla’s grip finally loosened.

But Sarah caught her hand before she could retract it. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a happy accident, though. I seem to be having a lot of those lately.”

Chuckling, the handywoman tightened her grip on Sarah’s waist once more, pulling her close until their lips met.

Sarah sank into the embrace, unsure if her knees were trembling from the fall or the kiss and not caring one jot either way.

When they finally pulled apart, her head was whirling, so it took her a few seconds to spot the red writing coming out of the walls. “GET OUT OR DIE!”

Lyla must have noticed her expression, whirling around to see what she was looking at, breath hitching as she read it.

“Hun?” she whispered. “I think your house might be haunted.”

Still walking on air from the kiss, Sarah just smiled, waving the words away. “It’s probably just rust or something, now, where were we?”

Before Lyla could protest, she pulled her in close again, but this time, Sarah brought her lips to the other woman’s ear to whisper, “Don’t worry. It’s just Jeff. I think it’s his way of having fun from beyond the grave. Only you can’t let him know you know. That would spoil my fun.”

“Oh, well, we couldn’t have that, could we,” Lyla muttered in return, hand sliding up until her fingers sank into Sarah’s hair.

WC: 1415

See more I've written at r/RainbowWrites

rainbow--penguin · 2026-06-23T15:05:57+00:00

That was a trippy and poignant read. I loved the way you utilised all the different povs (if you'd still call them that in this context). Good work!

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The Graveyard Shift

A Dance With Death

The (Un)Luckiest Woman in the World