STORY STARTER

Submitted by 𝐉.𝐑. 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧

Write a story about a character who regrets volunteering for something.

Don’t Think

I keep my face blank as the army’s general paces back and forth, his boots echoing in the cold stone hall.


If he catches me, I’m dead.


If I show any emotion, I’m dead.





Don’t think. Don’t think.


“It seems we have a problem, soldiers,” the general says, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you want to know what that problem is?”





Don’t think. Don’t think.


The general stops in front of us, his eyes lingering on me for just a moment too long. My dark hair falls over my brow, but I don’t bother brushing it aside. I need to look like everyone else.


But I feel his gaze like a brand.


“I’m sure you all know the story,” he continues. “That the royal family is the only group allowed to practice magic.”


I hold his stare, silent. It’s getting closer now, the pressure building.


“But once or twice a decade, anomalies happen,” he says, his words turning to ice. “People—at random—are ‘blessed’ with magic from the stars. And do you know what happens to these blessed individuals?” He shoots a pointed look in my direction, demanding an answer.


I swallow, the words coming out rough but steady. “They are killed.”


The general’s smile flickers, just a hint of satisfaction. “Yes. And as you all know, we’ve been hunting for one of these anomalies—someone hiding among you.”


I tense, my pulse quickening. He knows.


Someone shifts behind me, but I don’t dare look. The air feels thick now, as if every breath carries danger.


“Someone’s been feeding information to the rebels,” the general says, his voice cutting through the silence. “Someone here has magic. And I’m going to find them.”


I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. The room feels too small. I feel my magic stir inside, but I clamp it down. I can’t give him anything.


“You seem too calm,” the general says, his eyes narrowing on me. “Don’t you have something to say?”


I hold his gaze. “I’m not the one you're looking for, General.”


His smile sharpens, the look in his eyes calculating. “Funny. I thought the same thing.”


He steps closer, his presence heavy in the air. “You think I don’t know a thing or two about how a liar moves?” His voice drops, quiet but lethal. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?”


“I’ve been doing my duty,” I reply, my voice steady, even though my heart pounds in my chest.


The general watches me for a beat, then steps back, his lips curling into a thin smile. “One of you is the traitor,” he says. “And I’ll find out who. Until then… keep your eyes open. If I find anything suspicious, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”


I don’t speak. I don’t move.


When he leaves, the tension in the room doesn’t lift. He knows.

Regret gnaws at me. I shouldn’t have signed up for this. But now, there’s no way out.

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