Crescentstar, The Wordsmith
Last Update: 2/21/17
Movie/TV Show List: Ice Fantasy and this Parisian thingy...
Books: Six of Crows, Court of Thorns and Roses (Re)...
2. Temple of the Fae - Fantasy (2,844)
Eerie and quiet, the temple of the ancient stands alone and abandoned. Whenever the moon glows as a full orb of silver light, howls from monstrous beasts can be heard.
Lauren, daughter of a healer and magician, has found herself at the legendary boundaries of the Wolven Forest with a mob of Believers chasing her, a torch-armed horde against the darkness; a presence so tense the air around them crackles.
And they say she's the witch.
1. Secret Winter Story - Modern (1,542)
It won't be out any time soon. I got some planning ahead of me. :(
3. Nostalgic Memories - Modern (Main Path: 483)
Just something I throw scenes into. You can read it if you can figure out the password. Hint: The password is symbolic. There are only three people on this site I know might/do know, and one of them is me.
(And don't go PMing me for answers. >_> Plelb.)
6. Incorruptible - Edutainment (Researching...)
The French Revolution in the eyes of the people. Note: Incorruptible was a nickname/term used for somebody in history.
4. Love Notes - Romance (813)
Just some riddle-making, clue-hiding, etc, etc. It's difficult, actually.
5. Steel and Glass - School-Based (25,454)
It's probably going to be back!... Yeah, none of us are excited. As you shouldn't, but I'm going for big improvements, especially in my characters and world building.
I'll try to get a few betas as well as intensely *cough* check over grammar/word usage and tense problems. I really appreciate the comments from last year because they were incredibly helpful.
Thank you!! Thank you for the contest, long-gone Kiel. Thank you for your awesome partner generator—for that I'll be eternally grateful. Thank you, everyone who supported me. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being supportive
for the most part of my first published storygame here.
"Trust is something hard to earn. When you have it, never break it because betrayal is worst in those held dear." - me, the betrayer
"I refuse to partake in any of this. I am strictly neutral in this war." - Seto, the true Sage
"It's not always about what the result is. Sometimes who said or did what matters the most." - me, the hypocrite
"It takes a monster to kill a monster." — Caleana Sardothien/Sarah J Mass (whichever you prefer); Heir of Fire
This is my 2016 December Ballad Contest entry
Note: Any items are in the girl's inventory.
Also, this entry is quite short, but there are several endings.
Beware some of the things in here as they're quite... unfriendly.
Things from the past seem to come back to me. Beautiful memories of how all of us were so happy together. We would chat every day and strengthen our bonds everyday. It was summertime then, and the the light was so bright and lovely; it cast a warm glow on all of us, our auras were so bright. I would go to the length to say that I love them. I love them so much. They were the people I hold closest to my heart, and I cannot bear to ever lose them, to ever stop talking with them and sharing our lives with each other.
But... now. It's all gone. All ruined. I can't stand how these beautiful memories are so out of reach, so blurry and bleak. I can't stand how one of the people I say I love has changed so much... and for the worse. I can't stand how my friends have to leave, one after another, slowly and slowly. I can't stand watching them leave me. I can't stand it. It's breaking me slowly. I love them all; they are very dear to my heart. These people are some of the best friends I've ever had. But they're changed and gone... and I fear that they don't know how much I truly, truly love them.
Recent PostsPoetry Prompts - Week 6 on 3/1/2017 10:43:55 AM
It's okay! ^-^ I eagerly await the next challenge. :D
Writing Prompts Week #9 on 2/28/2017 8:33:31 PM
Don't Edit Lock, Please. :)
The harbor was busy in the afternoon. Sailors and sweethearts clamored around the port, hugging and rejoicing in the other’s presence. The breeze inflated the sails as the gulls caw around the cargo. Horses pulled street carriages, and aboard them, schoolgirls fluttered their lashes at dashing townsmen. They, to the dismay of the headmistress, winked in return.
Some of the sailors staggered onto land and immediately headed off to the nearby tavern, pockets full of whatever pay they received from their Captain. They were ready to spend it all on beer and entertainment. Others returned home to spend time with their families, and she eyed those ones enviously.
Katherine returned her wandering eyes to HMS Dolphin, a 24-gun frigate with beautiful white sails. It was going to return to England soon, and she needed to catch a ride. Her fingers curled around the shiv in the pocket of her overcoat. She heard of a woman there, who held command of a few ships.
The wild stories of the woman had plagued her dreams. She was carefree, powerful, alluring. Men fell to her cunning, ships were claimed by her strategy, and officials were deceived by her many masks.
I want to be like her, was the first thing Katherine Walker had thought. Not a street crawler, not an orphan, not a whore. She didn’t want to be who she was—she wanted power. She needed to find this woman and her crew, and if she had to beg on her knees, she would. She was willing to work her way up to a position of respect and honor.
Creeping back into the crowded streets, dressed in male garb, Katherine casted one more longing gaze at the Dolphin and its beautiful white sails against the ocean blue.
She leaned against the wall of the table by the door, wrinkling her nose at the sour smells of the tavern. Those sailors were mostly gone—on their ships, probably.
“The Dolphin is sailin’ to England tonight,” the tavern owner said in response to a scruffy man’s inquiry.
“She is a beautiful girl,” somebody of no particular significance commented, and the others around the counter nodded and huffed in agreement.
Tonight! Katherine stood up slowly, discreetly pouring the contents of what they claimed to be ale onto the nasty floor. She removed herself from the tavern without attracting attention and headed to the harbor.
The frigate stood there, proud and tall, sails aglow with silver upon dark waves. Sailors were loading up cargo already, so she set her plan in action.
She simply walked toward the water. With her shiv in her pocket, she pretended to be somebody examining another ship, but quietly slipped up the gangway into the Dolphin as the sailors dusted off their hands to take a break beside the salty seawater. She had practiced climbing up ropes and walking up boards with makeshift ladders for this day.
She spotted the entrance to the sub-floor and snuck toward it, careful not to disturb the dozing men on guard duty. When she reached the entrance, Katherine peered into the darkness.
And climbed down.
According to the information she had gathered in the past few days, the cargo hatch should be somewhere in the back of this ship. Chills crawled up her spine as she continued toward the back. Where were all the sailors? They had been busy since they arrived at the Boston port, but the Dolphin was quiet.
Katherine came across the crates soon enough and found a stack of them to hide behind. She lowered herself behind a few crates, scanning the area in the dark. A shadow flickered in her vision, and as she turned toward it, alert and frightened, something slammed against her head, and everything was dark.
“Wake up, girl!” somebody sneered at her with a barely matured voice, and she blinked open her eyes. Light filtered through a crisscross of wooden bars above her, and she gasped. Katherine sat up straight, twisting around to find herself imprisoned in a dank brig.
The boy looked only older than her by a couple years, and he wore a cruel smirk on his weary face. Somebody was overworking the cabin boys.
“Who are you?” she asked, hands and eyes skimming over her clothes and body. Nothing was missing. Her hands brushed the hard blade through her clothes, and she thought, Not even the shiv.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the boy remarked, pleased with himself.
Katherine looked up and gave him a bored look.
When he realized she wouldn't give him more than that, he called, “Captain! She’s awake!” and shot her a threatening glare.
Finally noticing the sounds from above deck, Katherine eyed the pistol at the boy’s side. “They let you have a gun? Not sure why they’d trust you with it.”
“Shut up, girl,” the boy snapped, hand sliding to his gun. He dropped his hovering hand when he realized her intention.
“Maybe when I get out of here, I can teach you how to shoot.” Katherine grinned, and it was the kind of smile that showed fangs.
The boy spat at her before light filtered into the brig, and several well-uniformed men stepped down.
One of them had on a lovely, black hat—British style.
“Why, hello, Captain,” she purred as the three newcomers stalked toward her cell. The boy shot her one last glare and retreated to the hatch. At least he knew his place.
“And who may you be?” the captain asked as he stopped before her cell. He wasn’t tall. His features were on the finer side, and his narrow hips showed off an elegant sword. At least he had manners and hadn’t donned one of those ridiculous wigs.
She scooted to the wall and crossed her legs in front of her. The men looked down at her with distaste. Only the Captain's eyes stayed on her face.
“I haven’t the honor of knowing your name, Captain,” was her only response.
Katherine swore one of his companion’s eyes almost bulged at that.
“Captain Jocelyn,” the man replied coolly. The man to his left, however, did not seem to have as much self-control.
“Treat the Captain with respect!” The wig-wearing one’s voice was rugged, but higher than she expected.
“Pleased to be your acquaintance, Captain. I’m Katherine,” she replied, ignoring the remark and giving them a lopsided smile, which wasn’t too different from the one she had given the boy.
“Now, Katherine, why were you on the Seahorse last night?” Captain Jocelyn asked. He sounded quite curious. Why would a woman be on a ship for God’s sake?
But Katherine’s mind spun. The Seahorse? What about the Dolphin? Was this the wrong ship? “Er…”
“Women bring misfortune on a sailing ship. We’re delaying our trip to England because of you,” Jocelyn explained. The men at his side were throwing daggers at her.
“Sailors and their superstitions.” She scoffed at the idea, but she might have just gotten into a very sticky situation. “I would like to go to England too, Captain Jocelyn.”
The men all exchanged a glance, disbelief etched into every sea-worn feature of their faces.
“Didn’t you just hear what the Captain said, girl?” the black-haired one hissed.
“Hey, you gotta admit,” Katherine said, gesturing to herself, “I give a good view.”
“Now she’s whoring herself, Captain!” the wig one snarled.
The Captain, however, was scraping his eyes down her, and she shifted nervously. This was not part of the plan.
His eyes snapped back to her face, which stretched with a toothy grin. “You’re rather pretty for a girl, but sadly, I'd like to keep the integrity of our men. Especially the ones with darlings already.” He jerked his chin toward her. “Toss her out.”
His two companions unlocked the door to her cell. Katherine’s hand inched toward her pocket as they neared. Before they could grab her, she slipped her shiv into her hand and sliced it down the arm of the wig-wearer. She ducked under them and sprinted toward the door, where Captain Jocelyn’s sword was already drawn.
She prepared her shiv, diminished any thoughts of her possible death, and made for the space between the door and the Captain. To her surprise, the Captain didn’t go for her. Rather, he whipped the sword out to the two men. They grunted in surprise and scrambled back. That gave the Captain enough time to slam the door in their faces.
Katherine was already at the hatch, grappling with the boy. She took the gun from his trembling hands, flipped it once, and shot at the space next to the black-haired man’s head.
The traumatized man yelped and covered his face. “Don’t!”
She turned back toward the boy and smiled sweetly. “That’s how you shoot.” Then, instead of returning the gun, she slipped it into a pocket and turned to face Captain Jocelyn, who pulled at his hat.
Auburn hair tumbled down, falling past his shoulders. Or better, her shoulders.
Katherine’s jaw must’ve hit the floor. “You’re…”
The Captain winked at her before facing the jailed men and speaking in a cold, hard tone, “I don’t like it when my crew treat women with such disrespect. This wasn’t the first offense, mind you.”
“You’re a girl? A she-devil was the Captain?” The wig-haired one gasped, clutching his injured arm.
“That’s right. And this she-devil,” the Captain said with a smirk, “just took over the ship.”
“W-where’s the real Captain?” the other asked, shock still in his eyes.
“Captain Robert Jocelyn is on a short leave in the East Indies. The last I saw him, he was flirting with some woman.” The Captain headed toward her, that smirk still glued to his face.
“You can’t just leave us down here!” the two men called out, almost in synchrony.
She cut them a goading look. “Oh, yes, I can.” And that was that.
Katherine watched in amazement as her idol just put down two middle-aged men. “You’re Mary.”
The boy just stared at them, mouth agape, even as the Captain gave her a kind smile.
“Let’s talk more on deck, shall we?”
Writing Prompts Week #9 on 2/28/2017 2:53:32 PM
Yeah, you're right. I was writing on the idea that everything was "happening to quickly", so the man didn't have time to think about his dead wife. I probably should've built up more suspense. I realized it could've been entered in that comp, but I'm pretty sure it was too late.
Writing Prompts Week #9 on 2/28/2017 2:29:24 PM
So... >~> Yeah. My attempt with horror. Sorry if it's short; I don't know how to write horror otherwise.
I'm going to write a second piece just because this one is shorter than I expected. :3
Writing Prompts Week #9 on 2/28/2017 10:43:36 AM
A quiet, feminine giggling startled him awake. It was a distant sound, and it seemed to drift out from a nearby room.
"Daddy." Then, more giggling—high-pitched and teasing.
The man wrapped the thin, stiff blanket around him. Reaching out to the lamp beside his bed, he fixed his eyes on the door, marked by small claws. The yellow light illuminated the room, casting shadows in mid-chase after the furniture. The door was locked and shut, the window closed.
"Tiffany, did you hear that?" He turned to wake his sleeping wife, but when he reached out to touch her, she was wet with splattered blood, throat open to the suffocating air. Lifeless eyes seemed to stare at him.
His scream echoed in the house, and he tumbled out of the bed. "W-what the hell?!" The sheets were mostly dried, red. Had those dead eyes watched him in his sleep?
"Daddy~" The sing-song voice was louder, closer. Soft footsteps sounded outside his door, in the hall.
Faster. The beating in his chest quickened with his breath. "Mallory?" The darkness flickered in response.
The footfalls stopped outside the scuffed door. Something squeaked behind him. A shadow fell over him. He heard the sound of wind chimes and then, "Yes, Daddy?"
Writing Prompts Week #8 on 2/27/2017 6:38:46 AM
Edit Lock. :3
Writing Prompts Week #8 on 2/26/2017 10:31:00 PM
Edit Lock. Sorry about this rather lame/boring thing. I'm cringing through a reread of it. And I think I turned the side character into a main one. xD
Writing Prompts Week #8 on 2/26/2017 9:31:01 PM
Wow. *wow* 0-0
Writing Prompts Week #8 on 2/26/2017 9:08:59 PM
He hoods his dark eyes with his grimy hands, squinting into the shadows. The others aren't here. His shoes, barely held together at the seams, squish on something unpleasant, but he doesn't look down. He and his gang haven't seen the girl since the news from the castle.
As he pads into the alley, the memories come rushing back, much like how the toxic rainwater floods the rickety pipes and splashes into puddles of liquid waste when it pours like this.
She had golden hair that gleamed even in the darkness of the city and clear, honest eyes. She wore the most dazzling of smiles. When she was cleaned, she had been a beacon. A beacon of hope for them. A beacon of hope for everyone. She said her name was Ya Dia.
He hopes she is alright. The wind sends another wave of polluted water into the alleyway, and he runs further back into the shadows to where his gang had set up base, which is well-kept and clean as they could keep it. Dia left a package here. She said she would retrieve it when… when she comes back.
He looks down at himself. His nasty clothes, dirtied shoes, his hands—layered in sweat and dirt. They curl into fists. How many times has he dreamt of something better? A world better than it is now? Dia is risking her life for people she doesn’t know. For a kinder place to live. For the children who lose their families in endless wars. For families torn apart by famine and executions. And he… he’s done nothing for anyone except for himself. Even in his gang, it’s finders-keepers.
But what can he do? He looks at the package, wrapped in soft, brown paper. The only promise he will keep. The only promise he could keep.
He shivers as another gust blasts in. Rubbing his hands together, he walks back toward the entrance. On the wall, the gang had set up a tin to filter and collect water. He rubs down as best he could with the cold water.
The winter storms are the worst.
He returns to the base, which consists of several strategically-placed metal frames and tarps and ducks into the large tent - and stays ducking as he steps around lumps of fabric called blankets and into the corner where they keep the package. He sighs at the sight of the little thing, limp and dejected. The package must have been through a lot. When had it been wrapped?
He starts at the sound and whips his head around to meet clear-sky eyes. "Dia."
The woman is sitting on blanket, grinning at him with that innocent smile... but something in the lines of her face and eyes tells him that something is very, very wrong.
"Is everything okay?" Juo asks her, worry evident in his tone. He doesn't move from his spot.
The smile fades. "I can't hide it, can I?" Her eyes shift from him to something next to her foot - the ground.
Not lifting her eyes, she replies with an aching voice, "I lost my brother in there."
"I-I'm so sorry," is his only response he could give.
"Your brother died too, didn't he?" she asks, fixing those eyes on him.
Juo nods. "When I was nine - I guess we're alike in that way."
"We're alike in so many ways, Juo." It's the way she said it that made him start.
"What do you mean?"
She points at the box beside him. "Open it."
Juo lifts an eyebrow. "I thought you said that it was for your partner in crime."
"Just open it," she breathes.
He quickly snatches up the package before Dia pounces on him and tears open the paper. Beneath the paper is a beaten box, and he lifts the lid.
After a few moments of staring, he looks up. "What is this?" Juo takes out the ring, eyes widening at the finely crafted gold. He could buy himself a life with this.
"It's the Jien signet ring," she replies. "You're a Jien."
Juo blinks. "I'm sorry?"
"You are the head of the Jien family and part of an ancient bloodline." Dia had the audacity to smile.
He blinks again before returning his gaze onto the ring. Serpents. Three serpents are on the ring, the oceanic background engraved. "You're joking."
"I confirmed it in the castle." Dia prods the filthy blanket.
"Aren't they banished? Exiled?" This is not good. This is very, very bad. If he is a Jien... He remembers his brother's last words.
"Trust the golden lady."
How he had known she would come to try and save them was beyond him.
"Yes." Her answer is firm. And it scares him. "Do you know what this means?"
Don't say it. Don't say it. No. This can't...
"You'll be hunted for the rest of your life until we can overthrow them."
When Juo's eyes lock with hers again, nothing innocent remained there.
Writing Prompts Week #8 on 2/26/2017 10:05:33 AM
Of course you can join! There's no restrictions or rules except for sticking to a prompt (and, of course, nothing too... >~> graphic, I suppose).