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Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Well, I can't say I wasn't disappointed with last week's entries. 

Final Results: 1) Crescentstar 2) Bannerlord (unofficially, it would be MadHattersDaughter 3) B101 4) Gemini4ever

Well, I'm hoping for more this week.

As always, anyone is free to join, not just the people I tag.There is no time limit, so spend as much time as you want on your story. If the contest is still running, remember to editlock your work. The reason why is so that I won't judge something, and then realize you've completely edited your work afterwards.

Prompt #1: A child notices their birthday cake always has 5 candles.

Prompt #2: The Dragon Village

Prompt #3: "Reality doesn't work that way."

Stealing the tagging list from Axiom, and tagging everyone that has expressed interest in the past. Please inform me if you don't wish to be tagged to this anymore.

@WouldntItBeNice @Steve24833 @JJJ-thebanisher @bbshark @Bucky @mizal @FrankIevatus @TheNewIAP @Romulus @TacocaT @Crescentstar @Mayana @Zulutrader @MasonJarGuzzi @Ogre11 @malkalack @Charaxes @eshspoyeofdoom @RoyalGhost_007 @StillWatersRunDeep @temporaryaccount @ISentinelPenguinI @Drew8521 @Orange @LickReborn @ZagHero @Gemini4Ever @Bannerlord @Taylor_Boulet @Madhattersdaughter @MrMustachio

Good luck to you all ^-^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

"Well, I can't say I wasn't disappointed with last week's entries." >_> The entries themselves or the number of them? ;-;?

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I was rather disappointed in the number of entries and the quality of a few of them >~<

I liked yours and Banner's..and MHD's, even if it didn't really count xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Hm.... >_> @Orange and @MinnieKing You guys want to try and chance that? xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I'll enter this week.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

You and Banner had the best, so excluding you two, it was both the number and the quality!

Edit: ditto ^^^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Lol. I uh... you should have just disqualified me, but this week? I'll really try this time. No rape or Zoroark okay? XD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Thank you :)

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

                                        A Child Notices their birthday cake always has five candles

         Ever since i was young, I noticed that i only had five candles on my birthday cake. I thought that maybe my parents just couldn't afford more than five candles on my birthday cake. I started to notice after I turned six years old, my parents had out only five candles on my cake. I thought that was weird, why would they only put five candles on my birthday cake when I turned six? One day I asked my parents why they always only put five candles on my birthday cake,they told me not to worry about it and that they do it for a good reason.

          I still didn't get it, what was so important about the number five? Why do they only put five candles on my birthday cake? Is five a lucky number in my family? I asked my mom about my birthday cake again, she didn't seem like she wanted to talk about it. So i asked her again, she said that her side of the family is part of a cult, she said that a witch came to her and told her something that frightened her so much. The witch told her that if she has a daughter that for every birthday she must give her daughter (Me) five candles on every birthday cake. She said that it would protect me, that it would ensure my safety. My mom said that when she met my father, my mom told him the same thing. She told him that they needed to protect me and he agreed.

         When i turned 7, a family friend was in charge of my birthday cake. Well it didn't go very well, our family friend put seven candles on my birthday cake. My mom of course told the family friend that he should take off two candles, he asked what was wrong with seven candles? She said that something bad would happen, so something bad went horribly wrong with the family friend. I don't want to go into much detail in that, lets just say that the family friend died in a fire, because a horrible monster from the cult burnt the house down. Ever since then i didn't question why there were only five candles on my birthday cake, I just accepted it. I accepted the fact that if it weren't for the witch from the cult warning my mom, I probably wouldn't be alive to tell this story.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

So far we've had a jewish bear drinking orange juice and a mustached gentleman sipping tea.

Can our upcoming winners top these excellent requests? ^_^

Also here's a gold star for all the runner ups! Very appreciated.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Ooh. I like the gentleman. Very well done! O-O

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Wait was I supposed to request something??

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I thought by this point it would be clear! :P Yes, upon winning, you send me a holler!

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

>~< I feel pressured! T-T I'm not funny enough to come up with something that could best a Jewish bear drinking orange juice or a mustached man drinking tea. :( I'll try to come up with something. :S

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Axila Martno, the double-agent, the traitor, and now, the queen. Glory was such a satisfying thing. Especially when you have the entire world squirming like worms at your feet. They took what had been sacred to her, what had been held so closely to her heart, and shattered it. Shattered him like he was a glass.

Maybe a year ago, she would have felt evil and guilty sitting on this golden throne. Maybe a year ago, she would look down at the minister below her and pity the poor man. Maybe a year ago, before the world went to Hell, she would fulfill her promise of a constitutional monarchy.

But she was not the same person as a year ago. She was no longer that girl who was infatuated with every noble, loyal man that crossed her path. She was Queen. A broken, evil, miserable queen.

“Please.” The minister’s words were hardly a whisper. “Please.”

How she loved men begging her. He already decided his fate the moment he tried to send that letter to Maervia, the only nation capable of defeating hers. His blood was just another addition to these red floors.

Alixa stood from her seat, her red cape pulling up with her. “Why should I spare your life, minister?” She must have looked like the embodiment of the underworld, the great goddess of death herself.

“I didn’t realize I had revealed secret information!” He was practically panting.

She walked up to him, and he shrunk back as her hand reached behind him. His eyes are glazed with fear. The Queen chuckled, and he flinches.

Then he yelped as she slipped a knife through the ropes that bound him.

She leaned forward, sharing a breath with the man. One of his last breaths. How sweet. His short arms fell forward to his sides. Such a vulnerable position.

Gripping his chin so she’d be the last thing he saw, she whispered, “Traitor,” as they had done to her a year ago.

The man screamed as he hunched forward, blood leaking from that lying mouth and wound. Nobody had seen that knife creep closer and closer to his back until it was already buried into his flesh.

When she turned around, a pair of violet eyes were fixed on her. Something inside her broke when she saw the revulsion in his eyes—of her—being tucked away quickly. “Yes, Brigan?”

“Sometimes,” he said, voice calm and solid, “I wonder what we’d be if you weren’t Queen." And if you could trust somebody else with power, is what he didn't say.

“Reality doesn’t work that way,” she snapped, pivoting and stalking to her throne as the servants took away the body for the next traitor or spy or whoever was unlucky enough to have to face her.

Reality doesn’t work that way. The world doesn’t work that way. Everything she had. Everything she worked for. The image of the blood burned into her brain. She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t have had a choice.

Because never again will she let someone important to her disappear. She’d sell her soul to Death before Brigan came in harm’s way.

She can handle the pure disgust and disappointment in his eyes. She was no better than the men she defeated. Any of those silly, girly dreams left inside that stupid, ridiculous heart died. Any fire—hope. She locked her humanity up in the darkest corners of her mind as the next man was brought in.

---

The lamp's soft glow illuminated the varnished desk. Papers, maps, and contracts sprawled across the table in no logical order. Outside the windows, the mountains loomed. Above the jagged peaks, the stars and snow sparkled in the moon's grey light.

The door cracked open, and firelight shone through. He already knew who the shadow belonged to.

"Is there anything you need, Queen?" His voice came out colder than he expected.

"Did I do something wrong?" Alixa purred, sauntering into the room. Her cape fluttered behind her in a red sheet, the edges darker than the rest of it. Some of her earlier supporters said that it used to be gold and white.

"You weren't very... creative." He silently swore at himself for the hesitation.

She gave a heartless laugh as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Should I have been?"

His eyes focused on the report in front of him, but his nerves were jumping at her closeness.

"I think you work too hard," she whispered into his ear. So, so close.

"It's my job, Queen," he replied, thankful he didn't sound as shaky as he felt.

She straightened, but her callused hands remained on his shoulders, gripping them surprisingly tightly. "Drop the titles, Brigan. I hate it when you call me 'Queen', especially... like that."

"Alixa."

Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Warrior. Knight. Brigan." With a sound so quiet and gentle, she murmured, "We are all traitors here. Traitors to our past kingdoms and empires and people."

Brigan stiffened when the room darkened and the lamp dimmed.

"But do not be a traitor to me." Alixa stepped to his left. His violet eyes swerved to her.

His queen. His master. He was following this woman, this woman who has permanently stained her clothes with the blood of enemies and allies. The woman who turned family against family and friends against friends—to make a better world. That's what she had said. Brigan had believed her. And the scary thing...

He still believed her.

Alixa cupped his left cheek, her palm scratching against his stubble. "Say something."

"We will make a better world together—"

Her muscles locked, and her dark eyes widened.

"—We will destroy the people who have destroyed ours. We will do this together, and when we're done, we will set them free."

---

Axila remembered saying that. She remembered saying that after she escaped those hellish dungeons and steel devices. Remembered being surprised at how easily her siblings agreed. Wished. She wished that she could change the country. But it was a silly dream. People are the same. They're all the same regardless of who's on the throne.

"It's too late. I..." She lowered her eyes at her scratched armor and bloodied cape.

Brigan gripped her hands, and she gazed at him from the corners of her eyes. The lamp stood behind him, and he seemed like a guardian born from light.

"This is reality, Brigan. The real world. People can't change. I can't change. It was a dumb dream. I regret it. I regret everything. Everything!" She needed to reign in these emotions... these horrible emotions.

"Everything?" He appeared hurt, and something surged into her. Confusion? Anger? Hate? Regret?

"Yes," she replied with a small breath.

His hands fell into his lap. "I told you before that I would follow you to the ends of this world, Axila, but maybe the you that I loved already died."

She knew horror flicked across her features.

"Show me one sign you're still there... One sign that that icy death queen I saw earlier today isn't what's left."

How did she become an icy death queen? Something cold gripped her soul. They dishonored her in those dungeons. They almost killed her before the throne. They deserved it. But… this man is loyal, kind, and not one of those two-faced bastards. He’s not. Brigan openly dismissed Maervia to help her.

So Axila drew her bejeweled obsidian sword and fell to a knee. She raised the sword to Brigan. “If you hate me, if you have anything against me, if you wish me dead, if something in your heart and soul is shadowed by me, kill me because I am no better than the men we vowed to defeat. I beg you to never let me fall again because even I cannot stand and believe who I have become. I am a traitor, hypocrite, liar, manipulator, and villain.”

Brigan’s violet eyes were fixed on her dark ones. “Alixa,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t work that way. You are also my Queen. You are the person I swore allegiance to.” He got off the chair to crouch in front of her. “Do not bow before me.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “And what if you were my King?”

That was all he needed. Brigan shot forward to embrace her as the sword clattered to the ground.

She couldn’t have lived like that for long. Guilt. That’s what it was. Guilt.

As they hugged each other tightly on the cold, stone floors, Axila whispered, “I am guilty of killing my siblings. I am guilty of killing my supporters. I am guilty of killing everybody who ruled before me. I am guilty of killing the double-agent Axila Martno. I am guilty of loving you, Brigan.” But maybe... it is better that way. Or maybe... Her lips quirked into a smirk.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

*nervously* Edit Lock. ^^; I'm not sure if it's how you guys might've liked it to turn out. Feedback appreciated. :)

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

As always, another Masterpiece, Cres!

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Do you think I executed Prompt 3 correctly? It's kind of vague on how it relates to Prompt 3. :/

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I think it works :)

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
When's this week's contest over? I might make a few edits tomorrow if possible. I can't do them right now. :/

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

On Monday, as always ^_^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

    Here, Kyle sits in his bedroom, thinking, like h always does. He thinks about being a Police Officer or going to space, pretty much any job a boy dreams of. Over the years many people have asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, and every time there was a different answer. "A Knight! A Space explorer! A King!" He would say, and always received giggles and laughs from his family. His Mom walks in, a pan of freshly baked cookies in her hands.

"How'ya doing, kiddo? Want a cookie?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mom." He proceeds to grab a cookie off the plate and continues to day dream.

"So, have you decided what you want to be when you grow up?"

"How about... Ohhh! A Dragon Hunter!"

"I meant something realistic, but okay. How about you see what's on the television, honey?"

"Sure, Mom." He picks up the remote and turns the Television on. One comes a fresh episode of Leave It to Beaver and all its black and white glory. "Mom, why can't I be a Knight, or a A space Explorer?"

"Because, well.... Reality doesn't work that way."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't."

Nine Years Later, Space Ship Launch Site

Here Kyle sits in his chair, strapped in, preparing to go explore space, one of his Moms most dismissed fantasies. "It'll be a century or two before we get that advanved." She said. But, alas, here he sits, not a century later, but merely a decade. His Mom was sitting at home, watching it happen on the Television. She was crying, likely a mix of her being proud and mad at herself for saying that he would never do this. There Kyle sits, thinking about his Mom, not a bit mad about her dismissing his dreams. She didn't know, he thought. I love her just as much, if not more. When the news was released, she supported me. That's all that matters. The Booster engines activate, Kyle feeling proud and his Mom feeling even more proud. As Kyle launches, he once again thinks. Reality does to work this way.
 

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Edit lock, boi.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Sahll opens his eyes, catching glimpses of a figure standing over him. The smell of sweet perfume filled his nose. "Aww man," Sahll groaned. The fight with that river beast took a lot out of him. The gash on his chest smarts a bit, as the young adventurer stands to his feet. An attractive human girl stands before him, wearing nothing more than a tattered dress. A dessert flower is tucked in her curly auburn hair, and her chocolate brown skin soaks in the sunlight. Sahll makes eye contact with the girl, becoming entranced in her flame-orange eyes. He realizes that despite her simple appearance, she wears an expensive perfume. How strange, Sahll thinks to himself.

"You must have floated down here by the river near the Sabule Temple, yes? The girl's voice is sweet and husky.

Sahll rubs his sun-burned neck. "I'm afraid so. I was sent to kill a river beast that was hunting their livestock." At this the girl smiles, and her orange eyes flare. "But, I've failed and ended up here." The gash in his chest sends a sharp pain throughout his body, and Sahll swoons.

The girl catches the adventurer in her sturdy arms, "Welcome to the village of the Dragonkin, hero."

Sahll laughs, despite the pain, "I'm no hero. I'm only a man with a restless heart and a need for some honest coins."

"Coins will have to wait, I'm afraid. Come with me. I'll take you to Kioln, the medicine man." Without any dispute, the girl drags Sahll deeper into the village.

The two pass through the friendly streets and eager merchant stands until a humble sandstone shelter is before them. A small painted slab embedded into the front wall serves as a sign that reads in a script that Sahll has never seen before. The girl yells, scrunching her tanned toes in the sand, "Kioln! You are needed!"

In the shelter a man's raspy voice greets them, "I am old yes, but not hard of hearing! There is no need for shouting!" The man trudges outside to meet the two. To Sahll's surprise Kioln has dark green skin and no ears, a mouth of small sharp teeth, and spines on his head and neck. Even a tail pokes from the elderly man's backside, protruding from a pair of simple brown pants. A set of long and wispy whiskers hang from Kioln's face, giving him a stern look. Kioln takes a knife and cuts away Sahll's shirt, inspecting the wound on his chest. Squinting his wizened eyes, "Yes, a few herbs and a sealing balm should do it. Eh, fetch some water, Yora." Kioln gestures to the orange-eyed girl. Yora nods and places Sahll on a large bench inside the shelter before running off.

"You're much to kind, sir." The adventurer lays on the large wooden bench, and removing his weapon from it's holster and placing it beside him. Unlike it's wielder, his short-staffed pike was still in good condition, the polished wood handle intact and steel tip still sharp.

"Kindness is one of the few things that you cannot have too much of, adventurer." Kioln smiles as he grabs jars of dried herbs from the dusty shelves of his hut. Sahll turns his head to look around, viewing the many shelves of ingredients and tools. A small and squared hole in the wall serves as a window, allowing the warm sun into the cool shelter. "The Divines will surely look upon you with favor when they see good in your heart." Kioln's smile stays on his face as kneels beside Sahll.

"I don't think I've done much good." Sahll frowns. "I'm only out to make an honest wage."

"Ah, but a hard worker is smiled upon much more than the lazy fool." Kioln opens a jar, and begins to apply a thin layer of healing herbs. "This will burn for a moment."

Sahll retains a whimper, "I just hope I'm doing the right thing."

"Stick to what you know, and listen to the good inside you, adventurer. Your heart will be restless, and it shall deceive you. Simply try to learn from those around you." Kioln moves on to a small container holding a thick yellow paste. He applies the balm over the herbs. "There we are. I encourage you to rest for remainder of the day."

"I'm back with the water!" Yora pads in, setting a ceramic jug by the door. "Has Kioln bored you to death with his ravings yet?" She smiles at Sahll.

Sahll grins, "Nearly. I'll be off near sundown. Is there a pub in this village?" He turns to Kioln, who busies himself with sorting his jars and containers.

"Yes, down near the well. You'll be able to hear the shouts of their dice games." Kioln chuckles.

Sahll rests his head, and closes his eyes. The sun beams down on the sandy village, shading the monolith remnants of a beast who's reign is long passed.

In the village of the Dragonkin, the restless adventurer slept soundly, and the words of the wise man settled in his heart.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Edit lock, my dudes.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

@ZagHero I like yours. :) I get a feeling of deja vu. ;-;

 

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Thanks Cres. Ah yes, the innocent times of adventuring and stories.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

The Dragon Village was aptly named. The humans that lived and farmed in the surrounding countryside thought this name originated from the giant dragon bones that seemed to hug the village one the three sides. They were wrong. The Dragon Village was named so because dragons lived within it.

One dreary morning an explorer could be seen scaling the mighty skeleton. He was just a dark speck on the slightly lighter, and much larger, background of the massive skeleton.

"I am Tim!" He shouted to the universe in general, the cry echoing throughout the lands.

The Dragons in the village below were startled by the fierce cry. But after inspection of the countryside they found nothing. Even though the search was rather fruitless, it brought seeds of hunger back. The whole village awoke, as the dragons prepared for the midday meal. They gathered around the walls of the castle at the very rear of the village, nudged right up against the great skeleton. They gazed at the highest tower, where a form stared gloomily back at them. It was the fair Princess Emberella, or Princess Scarlett, or Princess Coal Black, or Princess Mizal. They were too lazy to figure out which Princess this one was. For some reason, all the other ones seemed to jump out of the tower and dash themselves against the rocky parapet far below. The dragons didn't understand why. They gave the princesses a Yew-Nork style apartment, far away from the annoyances of society and life, and fed them with healthy raw meat. But for some reason they just kept commiting suicide, after giving up waiting for a Prince Charming of some sort. Prince Charming was in fact, the head dragon.

But for some reason, all the princesses ever did when they saw him was cower and shout, "Oh gods, it's the Horrible G'rauk Thunderbreath!"

It was also annoying to find a new princess every single time. The kingdoms nearby had a very finite supply of the things, and it was very annoying to have to fly far away to pillage and burn another couple of kingdoms, all for another princess that would inevitably kill herself in the next 25-35 years. So the dragons developed the tactic of guarding the tower 24/7 and they always gathered at meal-times to provide additional protection. Sadly, the princesses seemed to be immortal elves, and kept thinking of new ways to kill themselves, and never getting tired of it. One had managed to hang herself using rags from her own dress!

Fortunately, it seemed that this one had lost all hope. She just mourned in the tower, looking longingly out towards the distant kingdoms. The dragons were rather saddened by her depression, and wished they could help, although they could never figure out what she wanted.

Today it would all change. The dragons began finishing their picnics by the tower and left in small groups or in pairs to go about their afternoon business. Within half an hour, all of them had departed.

"AIIEEE!" The princess shrieked as a dark shape swooped into her room, from the roof, via the window.

"Shhh!" A hand prevented her from screaming anymore, "We don't want to attract any unwanted attention."

She calmed down a little, realizing that this was her saviour, most likely, "Who are you?" she asked, just to make sure.

"I am Tim! Your saviour!" She was spun around, and presented with a rather pathetic sight. Tim was a skinny guy, wearing a strange mask and a cloak that made him look almost like a Plague Doctor. Maybe he was. Seemed like they multiplied with the Plagues. Aside from that, he was just a scrawny guy with black hair and an equally dark outfit.

"I was supposed to be rescued by Prince Charming!" The princess was on the verge of crying.

"I am him! I am the most charming guy in all of Systia!" Tim reassured the princess.

"How are you charming?" She asked tentatively.

"Well, it says +10 Charm on my profile, and it doesn't say that anywhere else, so yeah." Tim reasoned.

"Seriously?!" The princess exclaimed, "Well, you better have a good way to get me out of here then."

"Oh, I do!" Tim pulled a small switch out of the repths of his cloak and flicked it. A low rumbling was heard by the two, and then a giant ballista bolt sailed through the room, smashing through one wall and going out the other. A rope trailed behind it.

"Where did that come from?" The princess was intrigued by this method of rescue.

"The top of the skeleton!" Tim answered as he fiddled with the rope, attaching something to it.

"But how did you get it up there?!" The princess was even more confused.

"Oh, it was up there. I'm making history, and history really likes placing plot-convenient objects in the vicinity of itself." Tim answered, adding finishing touches to his creation.

"Reality doesn't work that way!" The princess argued.

"Never you mind!" Tim handed the princess a coat-hanger-like object, "Hold on tight."

She took it with a hint of surprise, "What's thi-" She couldn't finish, because Tim flicked the switch again and she flew out of the room as the rope retracting rapidly.

Sadly, even with their mosquito level attention span, the dragons noticed the action going on in the tower, and flew over to investigate.

"Uh... Wat r u dooing?" One of them asked in language that was obviously riddled with errors.

"Getting the princess outta here." Tim pointed with his thumb at the rope, with the princess rapidly being towed along.

"..." The processing power of a dragon was about that of Macbook. Eventually it realized something, "Stop him!" It shouted, pointing a talon at Tim, who was preparing to escape in the same method that he had employed for the princess.

What dragons lacked in intelligence, they made up for in fire-spewing capabilities. And what Tim lacked in haste, he made up for in fire-proof armor. The cloak burned away, but the armor beneath was impenetrable. When the dragons ran out of breath he pulled a gun from behind his back.

"Now you'll learn what it's like to get fired at!" He smiled wickedly, and then riddled the dragons full of bullets. They fell to the floor of the village with heavy thumps, alerting the rest of the village to what was happening in the power. But when the village arrived, the only thing they found was the tower in ruins, a horribly smashed-up ballista bolt, and a bit of cord. Having the deductive ability of a potato, they just shrugged and went back to whatever they were doing.

Meanwhile, Tim and the princess were in a jeep, barreling down the side of the giant skeleton, heading towards the messed up land of Kreeaytiv Kaurnur, where they lived. If only they'd realized that the dragons were planning to raze it to the ground, with the help of trolls.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

EDIT LOCKED!

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Did you combine two prompts? xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I referenced one but I technically only used one. ;)

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Interesting use of... characters. :3

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Tim is the closest thing to "Prince Charming" I have found on this website.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

:/ Will? xD Define "Prince Charming".

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Definition of Prince Charming. : a suitor who fulfills the dreams of his beloved; also : a man of often specious charm toward women.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Or the one guy who has "+10 Charm" written on his profile.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Lol. I see. :O Interesting.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

That's literally the only reason.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
Commended by JJJ-thebanisher on 2/17/2017 1:15:19 AM
The smoke from the sacrifice curled from the nostrils of the mountainous, ancient skull. Grand Protector Vargain paced in the Eye chamber above. It used to be the forges in the Snout melted and purified the crystallized blood mined from the fallen dragon’s veins and recast it into gems, blazing with barely contained power. Lengths of fossilized bone, their weaponsmiths carved into weapons and armor using secret techniques. In those days, none were fool enough to make war on the city of Deathshadow.

But the princes and their sons had grown fat, complacent, dependent on the luxuries of far lands. One by one, the gems of power and the artifacts of dragonbone were sold or traded away. Now the knowledge of how to forge them was long lost, and the raiders from the north had grown bold.

Now the blood, not of the Dragon, but of mere slaves mingles with the fires. Desperate times.

Below, he could hear the chanting of the priests. Perhaps this time it will work. Perhaps this time it will summon their salvation.

He didn’t like that they were using skilled slaves now. His preference would have been to send soldiers to clear out the workhouse. But the detritus there had ‘rights’. Such legal niceties, in times like these! Still, the priests had pointed out that this particular slave had strong ties to the god of Life. And what they seek the attention of, of course, was exactly the opposite. Maybe Death would notice them now.

The chanting and ululating grew louder, reached a fever pitch—then silence.

Vargain stopped, looking towards the stairs that led to the Snout. This had never happened before. After a long moment in which the eerie silence continued, he steeled him nerves and made his way down to the sacrificial chamber.

The six priests, decorated in crow feathers and painted head to toe in black and white, lay sprawled in a circle. One glance told him they were dead. In the center of the circle, stood a pale figure. A man in an inky robe, its edges wavering and blurring into the shadows about him.

Vargain knew in an instant he looked upon Death. He fell to his knees.

Death turned, regarded him. His face and head were smooth and hairless, and his eyes were placid lakes hiding a fathomless abyss. A god or not, he breathed--visible puffs of frosty air were expelled with each breath—the Grand Protector could feel the cold of winter’s heart upon the mountain radiating out from him. While Vargain was for a moment to awed to find words, the man’s image wavered, and Vargain sensed somehow he was both here and not here. Both here and somewhere else.

“It is odd, to be summoned.” The voice sent a chill through him, like...well, like a whisper from the grave. Death turned to regard the fallen priests. Something like a thin thread, a wispy filament of silvery smoke, coiled from their mouths, wove their way toward him, and vanished into the edges of blackness around his robe.

“Mortals...the sons of men especially. They go to such lengths to avoid me. But you...” He fixed the Grand Protector with a stare, taking the measure of him. “You have been so, so persistent. Why do you call upon Death?”

“My lord,” Vargain rasped, bowing his head. He’d finally found his voice. “There are raiders--evil men, in ships with black powder weapons--who have struck the outskirts of city again and again. They burn our crops, rob our storehouses, and slaughter our people left and right. Even women and children! As we speak, there is a force gathered in the Yellow Canyon River, just beyond the Tailtip Arch, greater than any we’ve seen before. My general believes that tonight, or perhaps tomorrow night, they’ll sail up and strike the city in force. We haven’t the means to stop them. But you...please, our city has always honored you, lord. I know that you have the power to save us from these pirates and their cruelties.”

Death blinked at him, slowly. “You think that I can save you?”

“Yes!” Vargain burst out, looking up at him and outright pleading now. “My lord, I beseech you! The pagans who lived here before us worshiped the Dragon, but this is the city of Deathshadow. We have always honored YOU above all.” On impulse, he drew a breath and recited a verse written by one of the city’s first rulers:

"Winged lord of the mountain,
Flames no mortal could tame,
Humbled only by Death,
In Death’s shadow we pray."

“Interesting. This is all so strange to me. You know I don’t interfere in the world? I only take mortals when and where they must go.”

Vargain opened his mouth, closed it. He stared at Death, incredulous. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Had he had things wrong, somehow? Had all of them?

But wait. Death held up a hand for silence and tilted his head, as if listening. The silence stretched on. Vargain sensed he was more somewhere else, than he had been at any point since his appearance. Then Death nodded, returning his attention the Grand Protector. “But it seems I may help you after all. What you wish is...for the raiders to be prevented from harming you?”

“Yes, exactly!” Vargain felt a surge of hope and nodded eagerly.

“Mm. Very well.”

Those eyes, bottomless glacial pools, became unfocused. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, from every direction, long silver tendrils of mist began to drift into the room, vanishing into Death exactly as the threads of the priests had.

“What’s happening?” Vargain stared as dozens, then hundreds of wisps uncoiled their way into the somewhere else.

Then, he heard it. Borne on the wind from the city below, a babble of confused voices, shouting and weeping. One by one, they were silenced.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, staring at Death with dawning horror. “You--you’re killing them!”

The voice was as quiet and unruffled as ever. “I’m sending them along, ahead of the raider’s strike. Just a bit before their time.”

Vargain coughed, then shuddered and fell forward onto his face, a long line of silver summoned out from within him. The visitor wound it up carefully, and sent it on his way, speaking with just a hint of apology, and genuine confusion in his voice. “I know it’s not what you wanted. But I am Death. What else can I do?”

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
lock

Writing Prompts Week #7

2 months ago

that was very good!

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I quite enjoyed your entry. Excellent work. smiley

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
^Well written and chilling near the end. :0

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Indeed.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I enjoyed reading these. Congratulations to all of you, as they are very good.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I'm really sorry I'm so late to getting these to you guys, @Crescentstar @Seto ! We had a recent addition to the family, so this week has been hectic!

Wolf, fox, raven & panther!

Adorable pokemon-looking dragon creature....(plus rainbow version)

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Omg it looks adorable :o

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
That dragon is a Nocturne.

...I'm ashamed I could immediately identify it. What am I doing with my life :(

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Playing/Watching flighthrising apparently xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
Thank you!!!! It's amazing. :DDDDDDDD (You forgot the kitty xD Oh well :3) I like what you did with the raven. xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
Just want to point out that the guy who did the Dragon Village pic has done some amazing shit.

Possible future prompt?

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
^ Damn that amazing. And that'd be an interesting one.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I've noticed, and sure :) 

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

"The idea is to create the ultimate immersive experience," The boy clicked the remote, flipping to the next slide in his presentation. "It's easy with virtual reality. Instead of simulating a store for everyone to walk in, you can give each of them an individual copy of the same 'VIP showroom'. Programmed models will put on a fashion show with your merchandise. All customers have to do is sit back and relax."

As the boy spoke, the screen showed a video of what he was describing. Even though he was primarily a programmer, he'd taken the time to learn and create the animation himself. He knew the demonstration made his idea more tangible. In fact, he'd done all the work on his own for this pitch, including sample program code and a cost analysis.

When it was finally ready, he picked through all the companies he could pitch this to. Who could profit? Who would be interested in something so cutting edge as a Virtual Reality storefront? Now, here he was. The company whose catchphrase is, "Because we care."

Tugging his suit sleeve nervously, the boy kept his focus on the man in front of him. Only one to present to. Only one to convince. He kept the presentation rolling even though he felt like bouncy balls were bouncing all over inside of him. The man asked intelligent questions at all the right times. That was a good sign.

Before he knew it, the presentation was done. With a relieved sigh, he opened up for questions. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for. If the man said yes, he'd be set for life. After all, if this idea took off, it'd change the clothing industry.

Silence filled the room. It seemed to stretch on much longer than he knew it really was. Finally the man sat back. "You did this all on your own?"

The boy nodded.

He flipped through the presentation packet. "Do you have a USB of the slides?"

Jumping forward, he pulled the drive out of his pocket and handed it over, silently thanking Joan for recommending he bring an extra copy just in case.

The man nodded then picked up the phone to call someone into the room. Seconds later a gentleman strode in whom the man handed the papers and USB drive to. "Take these to R&D." The gentleman left. He finally said to the boy, "I like your idea. Thank you for sharing it."

"Really?" he just about jumped out of his skin with excitement.

"Yes, and right now is the perfect time to start thinking about such a thing. VR headsets are bound to be a household appliance before too long."

The boy nodded in agreement.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment coming up."

"But what about..." the boy trailed off, unable to find the words he was looking for.

The man watched him carefully. "Yes?"

"What about me? Do I need to sign anything or fill out paperwork."

"Oh no, you're part is done. We'll take it from here."

No paperwork? The boy processed the meaning behind his words slowly. No paperwork meant no proof it came from him. No proof he had the idea in the first place. They could claim full credit and leave him out. The man would virtually be stealing. "You can't do that!" his throat was dry but he licked his lips anyway. He couldn't. Right?

"I can't?" They locked eyes. "Have you filed a copyright?"

The boy's heart sank. "Well no, but..."

"But nothing! If you don't legally protect your software, it's free for the taking."

"You can't," the boy was a truely pitiful sight, now, head hanging.  "It's not right."

"Right? Who said anything about right or wrong? We aren't in some virtual reality, boy. If you don't care enough to protect your work, don't expect that the whole world will be nice enough to not take advantage of it. Not everybody has the same beliefs you do. Get off your high horse." He grinned, his eyes narrowing fiendishly. "Reality doesn't work that way."

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

lock - missed some grammar and a misspelled word. Now they're bugging me. frown

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

ahhh!!! That man makes me so mad! Grr!

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Lol. Seto you got more "quality" this week! ^-^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Yup! My disappointment worked! XD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

:0 It was all a trick??? And there I go, trying to write more scenes for my piece, which btw isn't done yet!! >~<

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Poor kid.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
The real challenge would be in using the phrase "Reality doesn't work that way." with a story/character that isn't cynical as fuck.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

So being moderately cynical is alright? xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago
Personally, I get more of a depressing vibe from the quote. I picture a character that finds some utopia or paradise, but then finds out that such a place does not exist and returns back to reality, causing the character to become heartbroken over the realization and whisper the phrase to himself.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Mine isn't cynical. At all. I think.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Sorry I wasn't able to post anything. I've been super busy :(

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

:< *mews sadly*

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

I'll definitely post something for the next one.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

When are these judged/ when does contest end?

 

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

@Seto

I'm assuming tonight/tomorrow.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Tonight if possible. Finishing some things up xD

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

So, about a week between each judging and contest?

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Yeah. I usually have a new writing prompt up each Monday. Last week was the last day for the whole "compete for a picture" event, though. It'll be back to normal writing prompts this week.

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

That's always good. *mew* :3

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Yup ^_^

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

Image result for readiness intensifies gif

Writing Prompts Week #7

3 months ago

FTW