I wrote Part 3 of A Stormy Night | Write Your Worst Challenge

Yes, Lucianalynn Rose’s story continues.

*drum roll commences*

It’s nighttime at the moment, and though I want to work more on a WIP, I’m way too brain dead right now. (I’m blaming my long shift at the coffee shop. And all the creative energy I spent editing my not-secret-anymore novella yesterday.)

I was trying to think of zero-pressure ways to rejuvenate my imagination, then suddenly remembered the Write Your Worst challenge, which I made for moments specifically like this. 😅 So here goes Part 3 of “A Stormy Night.”

(You can read Part 1 and Part 2 of this challenge, following the story of Lucianalynn Rose and Duke Ruttenson.)

---

The Rules

1. Link back to the creator of the tag, Saraina Whitney
2. Include the tag graphic in your post
3. Thank the blogger who tagged you and link back to their blog
4. Display the rules in your post
5. In a thousand words or less, do your best to create the most poorly-written story you can. Indulge in cheesiness, stiff or overly flowery prose, poor grammar, and cliche premises to your heart’s content.
6. Break all the writing rules you want
7. Keep it clean, of course; do not take “worst” to mean morally so
8. Though you can make fun of cliches you hate, do stay respectful of other’s opinions
9. Tag any bloggers you’re dying to see try this, or leave an open nomination!
10. You can repeat the challenge however many times you want

---

A Stormy Night – Pt 3.

Lucianalynn Rose shivered. She dragged her eyes open, and only then realized that she had finally fallen asleep. Groaning, she buried her face in her arms again, wishing for that bliss of deep slumber.

But goodness, it was so cold! Had her maid not stirred the fire yet?

And her pillow was so lank. Her blanket scratchy.

Awareness zipped through Lucianalynn Rose like a lightning bolt. She wasn’t safe at home, in her castle bedroom. She was sleeping on a cot in Mistress Hayes’ cottage, where the man called Duke Ruttenson had left her before riding ahead to meet with a friend of his.

Lucianalynn Rose jolted up, strands of matted hair tumbling into her eyes. She shoved them away. It was still dark out. Wood creaked as rain pattered the roof. Wind howled against the windows, which squealed as though they would break any moment. The hearth across from her cot was dead cold, all embers having been snuffed out like the sputtering tip of a candle. Much like her hopes of ever living life normally in the castle again.

Wood rattled.

Lu Rose shrank back, suddenly realizing that her cot lay in the room the main door opened into. If only she had a dagger with her. Or a glass. Or…a fireplace poker.

Lu Rose lunged for the steel poker standing by the hearth, and gripped it tight as the rattling increased.

Then a puff of white flashed by her, preceded by a candle. It was Mistress Hayes, and she unbolted said door with startling speed. A tall man stepped into the house, dripping wet.

“Ruttenson!” Lu Rose sprang forward, but skidded to a halt when Mistress Hayes thrust out a hand, holding her back.

“You ain’t Ruttenson, boy, are ya?” she rasped.

The man threw back his hood. Candlelight glowed onto his face, casting long shadows along angular cheekbones and lighting a glint deep in the man’s black eyes. A scar ran down the length of his bristled cheek, and Lu Rose shuddered, because it looked fresh.

“No, I am not,” he said in a deep voice that sent shivers prickling down Lu Rose’s spine. Not the good kind. “Ruttenson and I have often had the misfortune of being mistaken for each other.” His teeth bared in a smirk as those black eyes of his landed on Lu Rose. “But we are nothing alike.”

She was still holding the poker stick. Suddenly finding its presence quite convenient, she gripped it high in the air, wielding it like a spear. Or a sword. Or a shield. Some type of weapon. It didn’t really matter.

“What is your name, sir?” she demanded fiercely.

“My name?”

“You have one, don’t you?”

He grinned. Like he found her attitude amusing. That would earn him a well-aimed kick in the shins, sooner or later.

“They call me Matteson,” he said.

“Thomas Edwias Matteson,” Lu Rose muttered, remembering that Ruttenson had mentioned the name to her. He was the man who had fought and wounded Ruttenson.

Footsteps creaked behind her. Lu Rose cast a quick glance to see Mistress Hayes had been joined by a round man with a flopping nightcap and a sagging nightgown and the sharpest kitchen knife she’d ever seen.

He tipped Lu Rose a nod. “Don’t believe we’ve met yet, little lady. I’m that old lady’s husband.”

She tried on a smile. It felt stiff on the lips that had so recently scowled at Matteson. “So I gathered.”

Master Hayes focused his attention on the unwelcome intruder. “Son, I have a policy here at this ol cottage of mine. I get awakened in the dead of night – or crack of dawn – or, really, whenever I don’t want to be awakened…and I get to carry out any scheme of vengeance I want. Usually this takes form in misplaced pincushions, moldy bread, and missing sugar. But Georginna Hayes here tells me you’re a bit of a different case. So I got my ol’ butcher knife here. I was quite the swordsman back in my day. Want to have a little fun?”

Equally disturbed and amused, Lu Rose searched Matteson’s face. He seemed a bit paler in the moonlight as the knife edge glinted. But perhaps that was just her imagination, because his fingers dove under his cloak and emerged with a very intimidating-looking broadsword.

Lu Rose’s stomach tumbled all over itself. Her breath balled up in her chest. Suddenly her fire poker stick thingie seemed a little less fierce.

Oh dear, what should I do?

What was there to do but duck in a corner, close her eyes, and pray everything turned out okay?

The men’s footsteps creaked closer…closer. Metal shimmered in the darkness. Mistress Hayes had set her candle on a table and crept into the kitchen, presumably to snag a handy weapon of her own. Lu Rose felt her hands trembling. Fear beat hard in her chest.

And then a shout came. A strong voice that sent relief coursing through her veins like water.

Ruttenson was coming to her rescue again.

---

Yay for Lu Rose. 👏

(And as a disclaimer, I wasn’t trying hard to write my absolute worst. I just wasn’t trying…at all. Good or bad. 🤣)

Did you predict that turn of events? What do you do when you have deadlines but you’re creatively drained? Are you also noticing that Ruttenson is this incredibly unrelatable, flawless hero? (I kinda want to dive deeper into his characters just so I’ll have more fun writing about him haha!) And now that it’s December (*intense consternation and befuddlement*), what are your favorite Christmas movies?