Wren and the Shadows

4/4/2025

Day 1 Writing Prompts

https://thenarrativearc.org/writing-prompts

Create a character who can control and shape shadows.

Wren awoke in a panic. Nightmares. Nightmares. Nightmares. Her mind had only been dreaming up nightmares over the last few weeks. This wasn’t necessarily abnormal for Wren, but that didn’t make it any less exhaustingly awful to deal with. Wren had struggled with boughts of nightmares from a young age. As the years went by, they became less frequent, but this most recent bought didn’t seem to be letting up. 

Exactly one month and 4 days ago, Wren, welcomed her 28th birthday. The nightmares started the night before. Some years, more often than not, Wren struggled with nightmares starting around her birthday, but for some reason, this bought just would not let up. In the last month she awoke at least once each night with her shirt damp and her heart racing only to fall back asleep (if she fell back asleep) to dream more treacherous dreams.

She was riddled with everything from watching her dogs get hit by cars in front of her over and over again, to decrepit old women chasing her through mazes with butcher knifes en tow. After about a week of having nightmares, Wren began to notice a dark and looming presence in the shadows of her dreams. At first she thought it was a mistake, but after she woke between dreams one night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not the first time things had felt ominous in the corners of her sleep.

After catching on to the feelings she stumbled upon when passing certain parts of her dreams, it became easier to pick up on the fact that something, something was coming from the shadows. Each night she woke feeling tense and as if there were a fraught silence. “Today! Today is the day I put an end to this nonsense,” she said aloud, as if awaiting comfort from another. “Today is the day,” she told herself.

Since the nightmares had been leaving her feeling unsettled in the morning, Wren had search the internet for ways to put her mind at ease. She’d begun to meditate in the mornings afterwards pulling a 3 card tarot spread to receive some guidance. She logged her readings every morning and it was a good thing she did for in the last few weeks she’d pulled one or more of the 5 of pentacles, 10 of swords, or the tower cards almost every single day. However, today was different. Today, Wren was going to see a psychic. She wanted more insight on how to deal with feeling rife with dread.

Before heading out, Wren glanced on the wall and into her oversized circular bedroom mirror to check her makeup and hair, when all of the sudden the shadow in the corner of her room began to grow. Not understanding what she was looking at, Wren closed her eyes and opened them. She did this two more times until she could not deny anymore that the shadow was indeed changing shape and growing.

Wren turned around and quickly stepped back only to drop and crack her abuelita’s antique, heirloom handheld mirror that had been passed down when she met her end some years ago. “Shoot. That’s all I need. Seven years of bad luck. Awesome.” She bent down to pick up the mirror, for a second forgetting the event that had led up to the unfortunate circumstance of the mirror coming to be broken. While hunched over the sunlight around her begun to grow dim until no light was left. -

- Wren quickly stood. “Hello?” Her voice echoed as if she was speaking in a tunnel. Afraid to move, Wren stood in one spot holding the broken mirror by her side, when all of the sudden she noticed what seemed to be the faint glow of a candle, but it looked far away. Farther away then what made any sense knowing that she was in her bedroom.

Wren took a single step forward then stopped. “Hello?” She said once more. “What is going on?” She thought silently to herself. This time she took two steps forward. Her laundry basket had to be somewhere around her. She began reaching her arms out in front of herself. If she could find it, she’d be able to find her bed.

Hunched over, she took a few more steps forward and realized that the candle light was glowing brighter. She stood up straight and walked until she was close enough to see that the light source was indeed a candle. The candle was held by a chamberstick and sat atop a small circular table with a chair on either side. Wren pulled out the chair closest to her and took a seat. “Hello?”She couldn’t make out exactly what the table looked look, but it felt heavy, sturdy, and smelled of moss and dust. 

Wren couldn’t make out the rest of the room. The light was bright enough only to barely light the table in front of her. She couldn’t help, but think this wasn’t her bedroom. “Hello Wren.” Wren jumped. What seemed like out of nowhere a woman appeared opposite of Wren. The woman did not look to be young or old. Her physical appearance and voice gave away nothing. “Hello Wren. I was beginning to worry you would be late.” “Late?” She thought. “Late for what?”

“Um, hello. I don’t understand what is happening. I was just in my room a minute or two ago and now I’m not. Where am I? Who are you? This is kind of starting to freak me out.” “Technically, you are in your room and never left.” The woman said. She was soft spoken with dark curly hair that resembled the look of a chin length bob. “Uh, what?” Said Wren. “You are still in your room, but you are also here with me.” Said the woman. “Uh, okay, and where would that be?” Asked Wren. “The Shadow Realm.”

“The what?” Wren said aloud. “The shadow-“ the woman began to repeat. “Yeah, I heard you the first time lady, but what in the fuck does that mean?” Wren glared at the woman when asking the question. “I don’t mean to be crass,” said the woman, “but this is one of those don’t kill the messenger types of situations.” “Okay, well, why the fuck did you bring me here,” Wren protested, “and who should I be aiming to kill?” The woman tucked her chin slightly and softened her eyes. “I didn’t bring you anywhere, Wren. You brought yourself.” “Now why would I- how did I manage to do that. I don’t even know what this place is-“ The woman cut her off before she could complete her sentence, “I told you, the shadow realm.” “I know what you told me, but I don’t know what that means.” Wren was starting to become agitated. “You said I’m in the shadow realm, that you didn’t bring me here, I brought myself here, and you’re just the messenger,” Wren said. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m here to tell you that you’ve been blessed,” the woman started off, “or cursed. I guess that depends on how you see it.” “Either you’ve struck someone’s fancy or you’ve really pissed someone off,” continued the woman. “If you’re just the messenger, then who sent you?” Wren asked the woman. “Oh, that I do not know and if I did I would be forbidden from tell you,” said the woman. She continued, “I am a neutral party, just the messenger that comes with this blessing-“ “Or curse,” Wren reminded her. “The gift is given and I simply appear to relay the news,” said the woman.

“Well spit it out lady. Tell me about this curse-“ This time it was the woman who cut her off, “Or gift.” “Or gift.” Repeated Wren. “I’m sure you are no strangers to night terrors and I’m sure you’ve noticed there is something different about this bought,” said the woman. “Yeah, every night it feels like something dreadful is hidden in my dreams,” Wren shuddered holding herself, “like, in the shadows.” “Very good,” said the woman, “this makes the explanation a little easier.” “Someone out there,” the woman began to gesture at nothing, “thinks you should be plagued by your shadows.” “What the-“ Wren began to say. The woman cutting her off again, “Let this be at your detriment,” she snapped her fingers, “or don’t.” Wren awoke to the daylight in her bedroom with a sharp pain in her left hand. She looked down to find the broken hand mirror had cut open her left palm. “Shit, shit, shit,” she thought to herself, “I guess I better go clean myself up.” She finished her thought with, “If abuelita knew what I just did to her mirror, she’d never forgive me.”