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Creative Writing Prompt!
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Topic Started: Sep 4 2013, 03:35 PM (1,872 Views)
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Don Jentleman
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Sep 22 2013, 11:29 PM
Post #11
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Renzo is too sexy for himself
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This feels a bit short, but I happen to like it, especially since I wrote this in the middle of the night within an hour. The muses are weird sometimes.
The River I wake up, groaning as I pick myself up from a slightly damp surface. It feels like dirt that’s not quite mud, but still rather… dirty, I guess. I soon find out that I was laying down on a dirt road that stretches out for quite a bit. I’ve never been to this place before, nor have I seen something like this before. I’m surrounded by giant, craggy mountains, jagged red mountains that almost seem like they want to pierce the sky. The sky is completely black, not a single star in the sky, nor cloud, nor moon. I can’t even see any sort of fauna or flora; for all I know, I’m the only person here. I could have sworn I was traveling with someone else, but for some reason, I can’t seem to remember who… or where we were going, for that matter
Alright, this is totally weird, but I need to stay calm, I tell myself. All I can do right now is follow the road ahead of me, and see if that brings me any answers. And so I walk, and I walk for quite a long time. As I make my trek, the mountains seem to recede in length, growing shorter and shorter until after awhile, I can actually see a clearing up ahead. There appears to be a dock leading to a boat, which is sitting on a massive body of water. The water seems to be even more expansive than the mountains, as it seems to circle around them as I get closer to the dock. Maybe this is an island? I certainly don’t remember having any plans to come to an island of some sort. In fact, I’m almost certain I’m not on vacation. Even if I was on a vacation, this doesn’t seem like a very pleasant place to have one: even at the dock, I still don’t see any movement in the water or any grass on the ground. And I’m still alone…
… Or, at least I thought I was, until this guy pops up in front of me as soon as I step onto the dock. I give a scream and jump back in fright, completely caught off guard. I KNOW he wasn’t there before, so where did he pop up from? The guy completely ignores my reaction and simply asks one question, “Name?” I collect my wits, and get a good look at this guy. He looks to be around his seventies, and he’s just a little taller than I am, so he’s probably around 5’8”. He has bleach white hair, and these grey eyes that almost look hollow, but his brow and wrinkles are so pronounced that they give him an intense look, despite the white grin he’s giving me. Alright, so maybe he did have a reaction to my scream…. I really wish he would stop smiling. I look down a bit in embarrassment, and I notice that I can’t see his feet, as it’s completely covered by the garment that he is wearing, which appears to be a white bed sheet. How odd.
“Name?” The man repeats again, sounding a bit annoyed now.
“... You first.” I respond, looking him in the eyes. He gives a hearty laugh, although he keeps his eyes locked onto mine. I can’t tell if he’s actually happy or pissed off at me.
“Are you sure you want my name? Or are you one of those kids who don’t know anything about the world anymore?” He says curtly.
“... I don’t see what your name has to do with anything right now, so please, enlighten me.” Now I’m starting to get annoyed.
“... My name is Charon,” he answers calmly, as if he’s preparing for the worst.
“... Charon… the ferryman of River Styx…” I turn as white as the sheet he’s wearing. I know the name. The myths. I know why he didn’t want to say his name. But I don’t want to believe it.
“Yep. Same river that’s laid out before you.” His voice is smooth, unbroken, as if he has rehearsed his responses ahead of time.
“... I’m dead, aren’t I?”
“You sure are, kid. And now it’s time to move on and move forward. I know it seems scary, but the afterlife isn’t as bad as all those religions make it out to be. You’ll be travelling for quite awhile before you get there, though, which is why I need a name. So I can at least make you feel a little more comfortable.” He stretches out a hand to me, and asks once more,
“So, how about that name, kid?”
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JBRam
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Sep 23 2013, 11:16 AM
Post #12
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Don't play with fire, kids.
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That's really cool, DJ. I'd like to see a continuation of this piece, actually. There are some minor things that slightly took me out of the mysticism of the world you had created. The first two paragraphs are beautifully written, but the first line of the third jars just a little. I'm going to attribute that to the speaker's voice, though.
Again, there are a lot of visual descriptions, but there are plenty of other senses. What does the speaker hear in this world? I picture it as a type of dead silence (pun intended) asides from the speaker's footsteps, perhaps. With those steps being the only sound, perhaps bring those front and center and give them a lot more detail than you normally would. Or perhaps there's an odd whispering sound that the speaker can't place, or something else that gives the piece and setting a more eerie feel. That, of course, is up to the writer.
I like how we learn almost nothing about the speaker other than the voice (and an approximate height). I picture a female character, for some reason. I might even remove the reference to the speaker's height and say the old man was average height. If you continued the story, I'd suggest keeping that concept in mind: give little to no description of the speaker, including gender. When the man asks for the speaker's name, I would say "I give him my name" and then continue onwards. It's a very tricky way to write a story, but you've started it effectively.
Very intriguing concept, and excellent execution, especially considering the amount of time involved. I look forward to reading more of your writing.
Edited by JBRam, Sep 23 2013, 11:20 AM.
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Speedy
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Sep 23 2013, 11:53 AM
Post #13
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Fairly sure I've given up.
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You know what? I think I'll coin an excerpt from another story of mine. I wonder how many people know about it..
The Ante Contero They could already see the top of the mountain, despite the blizzard obscuring their sight. It was no easy trek, but they had almost reached it… They were at their journey’s end. They had braved so many dangers, lost so many friends… But it would all be okay… If only they would reach the temple at the top of the mountain…
In there would be the sacred artifact that could turn back the time, to before everything changed. To a time before the corruption would spread beyond its initial border, causing the lands to start decaying and the people turning on each other. Only one person could use the relic to go back, and they had already decided who.
“There… there it is. The Ante Contero… To this day, I never truly believed the legends, but… we had to seek it. There was no other choice…” The old man dropped to his knees, crying. “I… won’t remember all of this… but… I’m glad there was another way…”
“So am I, professor.” The young woman behind him walked towards the relic. “…It just requires someone to hold it and say the keywords… and then we can fix all of this… It… It was an honor working and fighting alongside you all.” She wiped a few tears, before picking the relic up.
“Good luck… May the fates be with you, Sarah.” The old man said, before the woman silently whispered words… and the relic started to shine. Shine brighter than the sun itself, and as the light subsided, the woman found herself alone.
“…Has… has it worked properly? But… we assumed I would be transported to a different location…” She quickly took a sprint outside, and found that she was still in the middle of a blizzard… But the ominous dark green hue that had colored the horizon had vanished. “…Thank god… I’m… I’m actually back in time…” I do realize it's a short, 6 paragraph story.. But as I said, an excerpt from a previous work. It never continued due to the nature of said previous work.
Edited by Speedy, Sep 23 2013, 11:54 AM.
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JBRam
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Sep 23 2013, 01:01 PM
Post #14
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Don't play with fire, kids.
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That's a neat idea too, Speedy. You guys keep posting ideas I'd like to see continued Especially since I have a feeling that something in the Ante Contero didn't work quite as planned.
I'll add this to the OP, but it bears saying here: this is for creative writing, not just short stories or things that need to be five pages long. I set that as a maximum. I wouldn't mind seeing poetry here too. There is plenty that could be said in a short poem about Discovery, or whichever prompt we end up with next month. You shouldn't feel like your work is "not as good" as a longer piece. I'm looking for quality, not quantity, and when I really want to see more to a story, I think that means it's succeeded.
That said, the only real critique I have to offer is something I struggle with myself. Ellipses. I love using ellipses in my writing, but I've found that I sometimes use them too much. Often, a comma or even a full stop is more than enough to convey the idea of a pause. Sometimes in dialogue (and less often in narration) a hyphen can also create the same effect. Other than that, I would like to have felt more of the cold of the blizzard in the narrative, and what effect (if any) the relic had on that.
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JBRam
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Sep 23 2013, 09:52 PM
Post #15
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Don't play with fire, kids.
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I wrote this in about four hours today. I've had the idea in mind for quite a while and originally planned to make a novel out of it, but some plot holes didn't want to get filled in. This is actually deceptively difficult to write, and you might see why near the end. It's about four and a half pages, so get yourself some popcorn. Also, I know that this is rather rough, but it should be good enough for this prompt. I actually have several more pages written for the beginning of the story, some of which I added into this for adequate backstory. Enjoy~
Rikar's Fate Rikar stepped off the shuttle into the pristine white of the government spaceship Nebula, his now-girlfriend Tera in tow, and his NRG Blade in hand, ready to deal with the incoming threats. The clack-clack of Tera’s heels echoed with the heavy thud of his boots on the synthetic surfaces. The enemy knew they were coming. They had to. Rikar looked down at the weapon he held, perhaps for the final time.
Ah, memories. Rikar thought back to his homemade practice area back home. Ever since he was old enough to carry a phaser, his father had helped him with target practice. Rikar’s phaser could fire two different shots: the normal yellow pulse of energy that could stun or kill depending on its setting, and the light blue energy that lowered temperatures, effectively freezing an enemy in his tracks. The freeze setting could also kill small cold-blooded creatures with a single shot. Over time, his wild shots had become more focused, and Rikar could now hit a coin from a hundred meters on the highest setting. Once. The kick on that setting was plenty strong enough to throw his aim off for the next shot.
His father had helped clear out the garage at first, electing to park the family car out in the rain so they could shoot indoors. After Rikar learned the basics, his father brought him to a real shooting range with all sorts of weapons. Some of them could fire an explosive charge that would destroy the whole wall, while others did the opposite of the freeze ray, heating up its target until it burst into flames. But the weapon that Rikar liked the most wasn’t the phaser. It was his father’s NRG Blade.
The first time Rikar had seen the Blade, he didn’t understand what it was. It was a simple metallic cylinder, about thirty centimeters long and barely two centimeters in diameter. One end of the cylinder had molded plastic grips just below a toggle switch. The letters above the switch said B-A-S-G-O. Rikar had assumed that Basgo was the name of the weapon at first, until his father flipped the switch from O to G. Immediately a deep blue energy spread out from the handle, spreading outwards until it was a meter wide and about one and a half meters tall. Rikar watched as his father crouched behind the deep blue energy. Rikar fired a few low-energy rounds from his phaser at his father, and the shield absorbed the yellow into the blue, sending ripples throughout.
“You good?” Tera’s smooth voice snapped Rikar back to reality. He gave her a nod. A glance at Tera told him all he needed to know: she was ready too, his phaser cocked and ready in her hands. Her blonde hair curled around her shoulders, shimmering in the fluorescence from above. They both wore simple white uniforms with blue accents at the collar and sleeves. Rikar had spent days planning out the uniforms to both accentuate their strengths and not get in the way during combat. A quick pilfer of a local fabrics store, and Tera had everything she needed to make the uniforms. In her words, they looked “badass.”
Rikar snapped the NRG Blade to Guard, the deep blue ripples spreading outwards to shield them from oncoming fire. “Let’s go,” he said. “Time to find the truth.” Rikar saw a smile play at Tera’s lips. The lust of battle, he thought. Good. Time to die.
The Nebula was a frigate, a military ship known more for its speed than its size. A standard frigate operated with a crew of some thirty members, each trained soldiers who could wield a phaser, but the NRG Blade was only for the elites. Perhaps a handful on this ship even had access to one. Rikar had trained for this moment for months; he would finally free his parents from the government prison or die trying. All they had to do was commandeer a frigate, stave off attacks from thirty trained soldiers, and wait for the ship to continue its route. If Tera’s intel was correct, it was on an auto-pilot route straight to the government cell blocks.
All available personnel to Deck Three. The female tone of the PA system echoed throughout the ship. “Here they come,” Rikar said. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the NRG Blade to B. A spike of pure cyan energy shot outwards from the handle, forming a blade of a meter and a half long. The Blade setting was designed for pure offense. Rikar’s hands quivered in anticipation. He could taste the oncoming battle; his eyes narrowed.
Then he saw them: the first unlucky victims of his blade. He was on the duo like a wolf before they had even located their targets. The blade sliced through their armor like it wasn’t even there, and they fell limp on the floor. Patrols come in groups of three, he thought, looking around for the third member of their group. Rikar heard him from around a corner speaking into his Commlink. “They have an NRG Blade! I need backup! Officer do—“A blast from Tera’s phaser silenced his plea for help.
Damn, Rikar thought. “So much for our advantage,” he growled, flipping the switch on his weapon to A. The cyan energy turned dark blue again, mimicking the blue of his Shield. From the end of the blue column sprouted two edges of cyan energy. The Axe setting gave Rikar a balanced set of offensive and defensive capabilities, but was often slow and unwieldy. Rikar much preferred the Blade setting, but the Axe could break through the Blade’s energy with easy. Rikar swung the weapon around once, twice, for practice. He grinned. The NRG Blade anticipated his movements, adapting itself to his strokes. NRG: Naturally Regenerative Gravitons. They were discovered nearly a century ago, but it had taken scientists years to create weapons from them that civilians could use. The shimmering cyan energy was Cutting Gravitons. They are always in motion, and can cut through nearly anything with enough force behind it. The deep blue energy was made up of Guard Gravitons. They solidify on impact to form an energy shield that can block nearly any other type of projectile, energy or otherwise.
“You still good?” Tera asked. Rikar nodded. They could do it. They’d blast through the waves of enemies, one after another. No one could have trained as hard as he had in the last few months. He hid behind the corner in the wall, waiting for the sound of more footsteps. One shot from a phaser, and he’d be done for. No time to screw around.
After what seemed an eternity, Rikar heard them. They were walking as quietly as possible, heel-to-toe, but Rikar could hear the quiet hum of their blades. He motioned for Tera to be still and waited for the group to be closer. He counted the footsteps. Two… three… four? There were at least two patrol groups waiting for him. The footsteps stopped and he heard a click and a louder hum. They were switching to Shield. Dammit. He looked over to Tera and held his hand like a gun, then pointed it towards his feet. She nodded. Smart girl.
He slowly drew a breath and exhaled it. Let’s hope they’re stupid. He rushed into the open, screaming loudly to throw them off while Tera leaned her phaser around the corner. The first shot dropped the first patrolman to his knees and the second froze his hands to the ground, allowing Rikar to smash the axe into his helmet. Having broken through their lines, Ryobi swung the axe into the second shielder’s back. A blast from Tera’s phaser brought the third to his knees, just as he switched his Shield to Blade. The new weapon fell from his hands and he landed on the blade, quickly putting an end to his career.
The back three now had their weapons set to Blade and were advancing quickly. Rikar grinned and jumped backwards, switching his NRG Blade to the S position. The flat cyan blade of the Axe shot outwards perpendicular from the handle in a wide arch. The Scythe was where Rikar’s ability truly shone through. One swipe of the blade, and all three patrolmen were down. He shot a glance back to Tera. “You okay?” he called.
“Stop killing ‘em all! I can barely get a shot off!” Tera shouted back. Rikar grinned and switched his weapon back to Shield. The deep blue calming energy hummed again. “Let’s get out of here before more show up,” Tera said quickly, ducking out from the wall she was hiding behind and taking the lead. “Schematics show that we need to travel down the hallway to the left and look for an air vent.”
Rikar sighed. Crawling through ductwork was not his idea of fun. “Can’t we just take them head on?”
“I want to minimalize casualties, our own included.” Tera checked her phaser. “Still good on energy. Let’s head towards that duct.” She click-clacked forwards and Rikar followed, grumbling slightly.
It didn’t take long to locate the duct, and Rikar graciously allowed Tera to go first. Tera crawled into the ductwork on her hands and knees, and Rikar fully enjoyed the view she was giving… until he entered the duct behind her. The duct was dry and hot, being the main heat source throughout the ship. In addition, it smelled foul, as if it were connected to both the lavatories and garbage chute. Rikar nearly gagged on the stench; it was so bad that he could taste it.
“What’s the matter?” Tera asked, her voice lilting with sarcasm. “Not enjoying the view?”
“Nah, smells like you let one loose here, Tera.”
Tera snorted back a laugh. “Shut up, or they’ll hear us,” she whispered back.
A few minutes of silent crawling later, and they arrived at their destination: a small storage room in the aft of the ship. Rikar stood guard by the door as Tera went to work, picking the locks on file cabinets and sorting through the files. “Got ‘em,” she said, holding up a file. “This one’s your parents’. With this file, we can access not only the cell number they’re in, but their history, reason for incarceration, file number… we take this back to the shuttle, and we can get them out by hacking their file. You sure you want to keep going with the original plan?”
Rikar nodded. “I’m going to get them out. This is our best shot. If you get caught hacking into their files, I could lose every chance of setting them free. Plus, they might just blast us once we leave anyways.” He had decided. This was his destiny!
Tera sighed. “Fine. But I’m setting this phaser to stun. I want to keep as many people alive as possible. We can tie ‘em up in the brig.”
Rikar nodded and turned his NRG Blade to the Off setting, then hooked it onto his belt. “Suits me. Just hand me back my phaser.” Tera flipped it towards him, then drew another one from her own belt. “Where’d you get that?”
“Picked it off one of the guards,” she said. “Thought you had me, didn’t ya?” The lights flickered. “Shit, they’re gonna kill the power to this area.”
“So?”
“If they kill the power, that means no life support. We gotta hurry!” Tera threw open the door into the hallway. The hall was bare, save a few random pictures that looked like they belonged in a doctor’s office. Rikar was surprised at how normal the place looked. There was carpet, sheetrock…
“What’s going on here?” Rikar said, stepping backwards a little.
“Come on! Hurry!” Tera ushered him forward. Rikar blinked, and the walls again looked like the pristine artificial plastic surface from before. Had he just dreamed the office look? “Rikar!”
“Huh? Oh… yeah.” Rikar followed Tera down the hall. Something was off. The colors felt less vibrant; the hum of the engines grew quieter. The lights flickered again, and Rikar saw the carpet and sheetrock walls once more. “Tera, they’re playing tricks on us. Don’t believe anything you see.”
Tera stopped and turned to face him. “What are you seeing?” she asked.
“Does it matter? It’s not real; it’s just an illusion.”
“I find illusions rather illuminating,” Tera said, a friendly smile on her face. No, this is wrong. This is all wrong.
Rikar looked down at his phaser. It felt lighter than normal. The familiar orange and blue markings were gone, and it felt like more of a stage prop than an actual weapon. He threw it to the ground. “You gave me the wrong phaser,” he accused. “This one’s fake! Give me my real weapon!”
Tera stepped closer to him. “It’s okay, Rikar. Why don’t I read some of this file to you?”
“Don’t we need to hurry?” Rikar asked, but she was already beginning to read.
“Richard Barrows, Age 19, Born December 14th, 1993, in Helmsville, Illinois. Aged 9, was playing with a pistol in his garage and shot his father dead. Significant mental breakdown to follow. Mother transferred custody to the state at the age of ten. In and out of mental wards until aged 18 when deemed not a threat to society. Released to the custody of Tera Phillips, PsyD.”
Rikar stood dumbfounded. “You lie…”
“I told you when we first met that I enjoyed seeing how a person’s mind worked, and that I enjoyed helping people. I was assigned to keep you safe. Instead, I decided to help release you from your mental prison.” Tera’s smile was kindly, but it seemed foreign to Rikar.
“But we kissed… what was that?”
“I did everything to help you, Richard. To do so, I had to assume the identity you created for me. I set up this entire ‘mission’ to help you recover your memory. It’s all true.” Tera placed a hand on his shoulder.
“MY NAME IS RIKAR.” Rikar stepped backwards, shrugging off her touch, but he knew, deep down that what she said was true. His fond memory of his father showing him the NRG Blade… Rikar looked down at the weapon, reading the word BASGO etched on the side of the metallic tube. There was no longer any switch to toggle between the options.
“Ricky, what are you doing?” his father had said, backing away in fear, grasping at everything around him. “I said to never point that at anyone!”
Little Ricky turned the safety off like he had a million times. “Show me how it works, Daddy!”
His father grabbed at a metallic pipe from a plumbing project long forgotten, and held it in front of himself for the inadequate protection it held.
“The EMT said he died instantly, that he didn’t suffer,” Tera said. “Ever since, you’ve kept that pipe from BASGO Corp. on you at all times. The doctors learned quickly to let you keep it with you. You created this entire world based on a fabricated memory about a traumatic event. It’s okay. You’re getting better now.”
Ricky looked up at Tera, tears beginning to fill his eyes. The door at the end of the hall opened, and some former “guards” entered. Ricky recognized one of them as the first one he had “killed.” He allowed them to take the pipe from his hand and lead him away.
Rikar awoke, trapped in his cell. They had taken everything from him: his parents, his girlfriend, his NRG Blade. And now he wanted revenge…
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Hatsune Candy
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Sep 24 2013, 05:49 PM
Post #16
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The soul of a forgotten file
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Right, I would read other people's stories, but I hardly have enough free time as it is, so I'll just drop this here and be done with. You won't believe how long it took me to find the inspiration for this piece.
Spoiler: click to toggle It was cold, dark, and damp. I had woken up with a slight headache and could barely see a thing. I had little knowledge as to where I was or what happened before I arrived here. And it wasn’t long before dread filled my body as I realized I had absolutely no clue who I was. Of all things, I was left with total amnesia. The only memory remaining in my mind was of a name that kept popping into my mind. Emily. I couldn’t be sure that it was mine, but it must’ve been; it just felt right to me. Wherever I was, it was so dark that I wasn’t even sure of my own gender. But after a quick feel... Around, it was more than obvious that I was female, so at least I knew that much for sure. However, that wasn’t the only thing I found out; there was a note in my front pocket. There wasn’t nearly enough light to read it though, so just kept it in mind as I further assessed my situation.
“Hello?” I called out, my own voice a stranger to me. Almost immediately, I heard a response in the form of a yelp off in the distance. I ran towards the sound as fast as my legs could carry me, but I only found myself abruptly running face first into a wall I didn’t know was there. As it turned out, I had merely mistaken my echo for someone else. The wall itself was rough and jagged and hurt like a son of a gun, I must’ve been in some type of cave. My brain felt like it was banging repeatedly against the inside of my skull and I instinctively held the back of my head as if to stop it from moving. That's when the bump on my head was brought to my attention, presumably the cause of the amnesia I was currently suffering from. What happened for me to get into this situation in such a condition? I wondered to myself. Did I do something wrong or was I just unlucky?
I looked around once more and this time I spotted a faint light source coming from a crack in the cave’s ceiling. I quickly walked over to it without hesitation, despite that I was still a little disoriented. I pulled the note out of my pocket and was able to read it carefully. It read: If you ever want to see your daughter again, you’ll do exactly as I say. Is that what happened to me? Was I... Kidnapped? But that still leaves so many questions unanswered. If anything, why did I have the note if it was supposed to be sent to my parents? With that in mind, I slowly worked my way back towards the cave wall, using it as a guideline to walk further into the cave. Or maybe it was out of the cave, I still don’t know. Eventually I found another light source off in the distance. At first I thought it was an exit, but then I saw that it was moving and a man was calling for me.
“Emily!” he cried out, “You there, Emily?”
“Over here!”
As soon as I spoke, the light source began to move closer and closer until it was revealed that it was a flashlight the man was carrying. “Oh thank God, it’s you! I thought you were done for,” he hugged me tightly, my face buried deep into his shoulder, “Are you okay? What happened to your head?”
“I don’t... I-I don’t know who you are...”
“Sweetie...” he was distraught, “I’m your husband, remember?”
Yes... husband. That seemed to fit his familiarity to me, “I suppose...”
“Good. Now did you find her?”
“W-Who?”
“Who? What do you mean who? Our daughter, sweetie! Did you find our daughter?”
“I don’t remember... What is her name?”
“Her name is Emily, of course!”
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JBRam
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Oct 2 2013, 09:51 PM
Post #17
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Don't play with fire, kids.
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After careful consideration...
I have decided that Cedi's prompt will be this month's winner! I really liked the depth of the story, how it felt there was a lot more to the story than just what was posted. The style was also unique and done really well.
So, Cedi, you get to pick the next topic! WHOO!
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Cedi Fonei
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Oct 3 2013, 08:01 AM
Post #18
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Dragon Lord in Training
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Thanks, Jeebs! I'm surprised to know that the aspects I wanted to focus on in my prompt were recieved so well- I mean, yeah, I'm definitely glad and consider my writing a success in my own opinion, but I didn't think others would consider it especially successful. I definitely want to flesh out that setting more, as you can probably assume by that little cliffhanger, and I hope that I can write something equally engaging in the process.
As for a new prompt... I've already given some thought into one, though I didn't think I would have the opportunity to offer one this soon. It's tempting to suggest a silly, specific prompt like "dragons", but that would be a very restricting and pointless idea. I mean, yeah, you could write a WHOLE buncha different prompts with that, I guess, but I personally want to suggest a prompt that isn't such a concrete concept- something that can be interpretted many ways, that doesn't need to always include such an obvious element. Kinda like the Discovery prompt, we all took the term to varying degrees of literal and traditional meaning. I also wanted to suggest a prompt that can have a little more meaning to it. Because you can't apply much about dragons elsewhere. Unless the dragons symbolize something.
... I guess I just feel compelled some kind of acceptance speech, so that when I decide a new prompt there's more substance to this post than "thanks bro, here's my prompt". So, without further adeiu, I hereby give my choice for the next prompt as...
"Faith"
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JBRam
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Oct 8 2013, 09:09 PM
Post #19
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Don't play with fire, kids.
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I actually wrote this back several years when I was in college, but it fits the prompt. I'll write something else if I have time as well, since this is an old story. Note: This story was published in a Christian magazine. As such, it has religion involved: it was written for a specific audience, and about a specific circumstance. Please keep that in mind as you read.
Down to the Streets Sometimes I hate this job. Michael walked up Main Street, watching everyone pass by. Every ten years, it was his job to come down to the streets of the world and oversee the tally of all humanity. Being an archangel had its downside sometimes. Through the course of history, mankind had become increasingly selfish, destructive, and hateful.
Praise God that it is almost time.
Michael noticed Faith on the other side of the street, nearly doubled over in tears. He quickly crossed and ran toward Faith. “What’s wrong, Faith?” Michael asked. He hadn’t seen an angel cry so hard since the Dark Ages.
“I have never seen faith so low,” she sobbed. “No one has faith anymore it seems! I feel useless…”
Michael looked around, concentrating on the faith of those walking by. So many placed faith in their paycheck, but almost none had even a glimmer of God’s faith. Michael narrowed his view to Christians. On the busy street of downtown Secoville, Michael could only see a couple dozen cleansed souls. The angel was right; faith was lower than he had ever seen. At least ten souls had rejected their Christian upbringing altogether. Another dozen were placing all of their faith in their own goodness, thus making their pure faith lower than most of the non-Christians around. From what Michael could see, only Frank kept a strong relationship with God by reading his Bible and praying daily, at least until recently. Work was getting in the way again. Like clockwork, Michael thought. Every year from mid-November to the end of the Christmas season, Frank’s industry kept the workers for longer hours than normal, making his quiet time with the Lord almost disappear. Today, however, Frank was heading toward his church. It had been too long since he had spent some time alone with God.
Michael tried to comfort Faith and moved on, following Frank towards the church. He felt like he needed to recharge as well after looking into the dark souls of men. Michael watched Frank head up the granite steps to the church entrance and pull on one of the doors. Locked?! Since when has the house of God been locked? Frank looked disappointedly at the door, then turned away. However, physical doors cannot stop a determined angel. After watching the dejected parishioner walk away, Michael passed through the closed doors. He entered the sanctuary and approached the altar to pray, but Michael immediately felt something missing. As the mighty archangel kneeled down, he noticed what it was. God’s presence was not in the locked church. Michael was stunned. Ten years ago, this church had been in excellent health and growing, but now it was dead?
The archangel searched the church’s memories, attempting to find the time where they lost God’s presence. He skipped past the adultery of the minister when he saw God’s forgiveness next to it. He paused when the deacons declared their antagonistic standpoint on the “King James Version Only” belief, noting that this may have started the downfall. Browsing through the memories, he found what he was looking for. After years of neglect of the poor and needy and ignoring the pleas of the lost, the church finally split over the color of the new carpet. Michael looked down at the floor and decided that they had chosen the wrong color anyways. That shade of green was not worth splitting a church over.
Michael couldn’t stand being in the dark church any longer. He left it and Secoville as well, traveling to the next town over, Perso. People had always generally been more faithful in small towns like Perso, but even this was changing as they were slowly becoming overrun by the cities.
He headed towards the pastor of the New Hope Church of Perso, after seeing Charity standing by him. She pointed to a homeless woman digging around in the church’s garbage can and whispered to the minister. Michael was shocked to see the Reverend shrug her off and walk away. Michael ran up to Charity, who sat down open-mouthed on the curb.
“I can’t believe it,” Charity sighed. She looked questioningly at Michael. “He always used to have so much love for people. What happened?”
“Ten years can really change someone,” Michael replied sadly.
Charity looked at the poor woman. “We have to help her,” she said. Charity walked over to another parishioner named Amy who happened to be walking by. When Charity whispered softly in her ear, Amy stopped and looked at the homeless woman for a second, then offered her jacket to her. “At least Amy still has some love in her,” Charity said, relieved.
Michael smiled, his heart warmed by the woman’s love. Her humility will not go unrewarded. He would have to tell Meek to have a chat with the Reverend as soon as the tally was complete. Michael could already tell that he was not going to have a good report for his Lord.
--
“The tally has not gone well, Lord,” Michael said. “The Christians have lost their first love.”
“Like the church of Laodicea*, I am about to spew this lukewarm church from out of my mouth,” God replied. “I have been knocking at their hearts’ doors for many years, yet more close each day. The end is soon to come, and the church will not notice it happening. Thank you, Michael. Although the news you bring grieves me, it was not unexpected.”
Michael bowed low to the ground in reverence. As he turned to leave, he was amazed to see a tear fall from Jehovah’s eye and land at the foot of His throne.
*Revelations 3:1-10
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Hatsune Candy
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Oct 10 2013, 08:54 AM
Post #20
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The soul of a forgotten file
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I'm not religious by any means, but that story pretty great, Jeebs. Also, I'm assuming it doesn't matter which interpretation of "faith" we use?
You said we could use poems, so here's my entry.
Forever Departed I know I have flaws I know I've made mistakes I'm aware of all that But why must I lose you?
We've done too much Been through too much And shared too much For it to end like this
I respect your decision So please respect mine If I must say goodbye to you I must say it to the world
I know you'll object It's in your nature But there is no joy If you won't stay here
Perhaps this was always our fate But it doesn't matter now There's no changing the past Though I shall always love you
Goodbye...
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