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Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Last week's rankings are as follows: 

1. Saika 2. Romulus 3. Minnie 4. Sent 5. Puddle 

What's this? A new writing prompt? :o 

I apologize for the one-week delay. I had a few personal problems, and by the time I could get on the site again, it was a bit late and I decided to just wait until Monday to post since there was only one more day anyways... 
The winner of each week's writing prompts gets to pick one of next week's writing prompts. It has to be either a plot idea, a picture, or a quote, and I have to approve of it. So this week, if you win, please PM me when you have thought of something ^-^ 
Idea was thought of by @mizal . 


Here is this week's writing prompts ^_^ 


1) This week, the topic for this is to write a fable. If you are unsure on what is considered a fable, read this, or ask. I'm categorizing it as just a work of fiction that conveys a clear moral lesson. 

2) The Alchemist 

3) “We live to be remembered.” 

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 @firegrill @WizzyCat @CaptainHooksDaughter 
As always, anyone is free to join- not just the people tagged, and there is no time limit nor word limit. You can go back and do any of the writing prompts at any time, and you can do as many writing prompts as you wish. 
If you want criticism, you can ask. 

Again, I apologize for last week, and I hope you all have fun ^_^

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Also before I forget;

@Saika @Iavatus @MinnieKing @Claw2k11 @Nyctophilia

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Hey Seto, can I join the tagging list? These prompts are getting more interesting... expect a prompt from me this week.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Sure, I'll add you! ^_^

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Definitely entering...

Wait... I got third... place...?

I... was better then people?

I'm so happy :O

And suprised...

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

So surprised you spelled surprised wrong. :)

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I'm too happy for grammar.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

He also managed to screw up "than".

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I am 2 happy 4 gramer :D

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

    Prompt #1

     There was a bunny named Lizzy. She had this friend was a fox named Amy. Amy and Lizzy did everything together. Then one day when Lizzy was at home. Amy made a new friend. Her friend was also a fox, her name was Chloe. When Lizzy sick of away, Amy played with Chloe. Then one day Lizzy went to play with Amy and Amy said that she was playing with Chloe at the moment and said that she would play with Lizzy later.Lizzy agreed and went back home for lunch. The next day she went back to play with Amy,this time Chloe approached Lizzy. Chloe said that she didn't want Lizzy playing with Amy anymore. She said "Our kind shouldn't be playing with your kind." Well this made Lizzy angry. So she went back home and silently cried into her pillow. The next day she went back to hang out with Amy and Chloe was there. Chloe stopped Lizzy in her tracks and said " Amy is my friend now,and I don't want you hanging out with her anymore. " Amy agreed,then Chloe and Amy walked of together and Lizzy ran home to her mom. Then her Mom said "Well Lizzy,I'm sorry that Amy did that to you.I'm sorry that Amy made that decision.But you know what people say,Birds of a feather flock together."

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I just lost faith in humanity.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

It's ok. I lost that a long time ago.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

You sound like the magical talking dragon in my dreams.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
Christ. Seto, you are responsible for her and also the only one of us in a good position to break all her fingers. Fix this.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Is this Gemini again? She promised me she wouldn't make another acct.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
I'm amazed she restrained herself from making another thread, but she has an, um, distinctive writing style.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

*skims* She actually took my grammar tips! ^-^

Edit: For the most part.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

BabyRapeRape AKA Gemini4Ever, CaptainHooksDaughter, Quan_Xiu_Ying, Asuna
 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I'm starting to see Gemini as the new DrkPhoenix.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

RapeRape? And SAO fan? xD

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

RIP my poem skills.

 

Prompt #3:

We live to be remembered,

We live to make a mark.

We live to hope that one day,

We'll leave a scar.

 

'Cause we know one day,

Everything will fall apart.

And we know one day,

We'll die and leave nothing at all.

 

So we live for fame,

And we live in shame.

And we try to explain,

This mystery of life,

And how it came to be

So that we can change this horrid destiny.

 

'Cause we all live for something,

Thrive for nothing,

Want it all,

And let everything fall.

 

'Cause what we want we can't obtain,

And we can't learn to restrain,

And we hope we can,

But we know we can't.

 

It's the mystery of life.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I can't understand Shaekspear'ish stuff. 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
You can't understand a lot of things.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Ok

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Or how to spell Shakespeare.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I spelled it right 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Nope.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

My opinion is rather different, as you said "Shaekspear'ish", while the correct spelling would be something along the lines of "Shakespeare'ish" or "Shakespearean".

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Oh ok. Thanks

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
End just pointed out she gave Briar's Tower game a 1/8 and complained it confused her so that makes this extra funny.

(And here we all expected such great things from a small retarded child who named herself after an MLP character...)

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I'm not retarded

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Child, she didn't mean "retarded" in a mean sense. :/

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
Don't make assumptions.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

You meant it in the literal sense, right?

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
Let me point out again that she named herself after an MLP character. I feel like this should answer your question, even aside from the part where she struggles with understanding basic words and concepts and likes to blame it on others.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I think End just banned her xD

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
Lol, what happened to being intelligent for her age?

I get the sense she's probably been pampered and praised most of her life and this may have been a valuable reality check. You're doing the Lord's work End.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Well, I wasn't going for a Shakespearean style poem. XD

And I don't think my poem managed to imitate that style either, though I could be wrong.

Uh..what about it did you not understand? ^^

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I just didn't understand what it means. 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

It didn't seem Shakespearean to me, but what do I know? *revisits Rom's poetry thread* Honestly, idk what Rainbow is thinking; it makes perfect sense to me.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
There is zero connection to Shakespeare in style or word choice or anything else. I have no idea where she got the term from or what she meant by it and I doubt she does either.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Here's a very helpful link, @RainbowDash you may find it useful in defining certain things ^_^?

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
BTW, before it all gets lost in the thread explosion, I enjoyed the poem and liked the message and all, though as far as flow goes it's a little choppy. Line lengths change a lot from stanza to stanza, which may be the issue.

Ooh, but you've opened the floodgate for poems now...

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I haven't written any poetry in awhile, and after digging through my Google Drive, and talking to someone - felt slightly motivated to write one.

I'm glad it was pretty ok, and I guess I'll have to work harder on making the flow less choppy.

Are you going to write a poem? If you are, that'd be great! Poems are not as hard (nor do they usually take as long to make), and that should make it easier for people with less time to enter something :)

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
I'll see if I can manage something if I don't get around to a story.

I've only entered the actual poetry prompt thread once. I do enjoy writing it but I have some kind of disability where I can't hear meter. Like, at all. It may very well be a completely fictional concept backed by a vast conspiracy, for all I can tell. Kind of puts the kibosh on serious aettempts.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

@Seto In the OP, you said the idea was from mizal. o-o I see the copy-paste.

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

The idea of letting the winner choose one of the next Prompts, yep the idea is from mizal xD

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

But I thought Saika... ;-;

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Eh?

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Ignore me and slap me. I'm clearly confused and insane right now. T-T

Edit: Sent said it.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

The idea for the winner to select one of the prompts was mizals idea, but I think the prompt idea for this week was from Saika.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

You said Saika won last time, but Mizal picked. Something's befuckled!

Edit: OOOOOOOOHHHHHH OKAY

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Oh >~>

No, I don't mean mizal picks for this week. I meant that mizal was the one who thought of the idea of choosing next week's prompt. 

Perhaps my wording was confusing. 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
I didn't pick the prompt, I just had the original idea to let the winner pick one every week.

Now both of you scamper off and take your meds.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Alright. Oh, I probably won't write something this week for the prompts. ;-; *scampers off* *offline*

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Plot twist: none of these are prompts I chose! Presumably because I asked Seto to pick a different one if they had any better ideas. Now nobody wins.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago
He means the idea of letting the winner pick a prompt.

....damn I want to do something with that alchemist. We'll see if I can manage to focus a little better this week than last.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I love that picture! Abigail is a really good artist, and if you like this picture too you should check out some of her other works ^_^

Here's a link to her page, if you're interested.

I really like her artstyle.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Esteemed Leader of the Isles,

We live to be remembered. We all do. We want people to see us and recognize us and acknowledge our power. And what better recognition will we get than that of revolution? Of overthrowing corruption? Join me and my men, and we could conquer the world.

You've already witnessed my power on Silver Island - the new Atlantis, I suppose. My forces are awaiting your troops at the Amrics. Betray us, and my power will be turned on you. I need your trust, as I have given you mine.

We can give you anything you want. Riches, power, fame. We'll have your wrongdoers begging on their knees.

Lord Wulve

---

Lord Wulve

My men are on their way. I must thank you for giving me this opportunity. I expect help in the Isles by then.

Tomok

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

  What a pretty picture! The drab color and beautiful detail makes for an interesting looking stylish piece! I'll try to do better this week. I pick prompt 2, although I admit I was pretty loose about this one. I did have a lot of fun, though! I hope y'all enjoy.

***

 It was beautiful that time of year in Hawaii, with the playful, frothy waves caressing the soft-sanded beaches, the sun kissing the skin of every happy-hearted islander that had not taken shade under the loving coconut trees, ocean birds with beaks full of fish, floating through the sky as little dots against the blue. A refreshing breeze pushed them on. The islanders grilled their catches where they caught them and laughed as their voices danced with the wind. Everything was beautiful in paradise.

 Meanwhile, in London, it was raining.

 “One day, my lad, we’ll be off to Lalaland.” Dr. Writ announced triumphantly up at the sky, water splashing against his mustache dramatically. “Lalaland with coconuts and Hawaiian babes, and those darlinful umbrellas they stick in drinks for presentation. They do know a bit about presentation in Hawaii.”

 Babel nodded in agreement, trying to keep up with his master.

 “One day, we’ll be off from this fascist slaughterhouse  excuse for a city and we’ll be sipping virgin Pina coladas under God’s good glory.” The doctor swung his cane about like he was in a movie and, while nearly knocking over the low-lady’s fish display, performed a spin in the streets that ended with a dazzlingly soaked finishing pose. Babel would have dutifully clapped if it wasn’t for all the bags he was carrying.

 Dr. Writ grinned mysteriously and pulled his top hat further over his eyes. He adjusted quickly after, as the brim made it actually pretty hard to see. “Practicality does win over presentation in some respect, Babel.” He admitted. “But do never forget that there are sandier things in life.”

Babel, who was not completely listening, walked onward and jerked his head at a suspicious poster:

  WANTED: UNDOCUMENTED ALCHEMIST ILLEGALLY PRACTICING

 Aloysius Derulius Writ, a public enemy, may be spotted with a runaway urchin and insidious mustache.

 If spotted, contact authorities and promptly restrain him. Non-dangerous and physically unfit/ flimsy.

REWARD: £200

 

 “Who the devil wrote this callous buffoonery? I am perfectly fit!” Dr. Writ reached over Babel’s fluffy head and ripped the poster off the wall, balling it up and tossing it to the side for the dirty urchins to scavenge later. “Absolutely despicaful. Unfit and flimsy? That’s a personal attack. Babel, do me a favor.”

 The boy nodded obediently and produced from the bags printed paper, a worn paintbrush, and a can of paste. In a few minutes, his work was done:

 NOW PRESENTING THE WONDAZING ALL-PURPOSE ALCHEMIST ALOYSIUS DERULIUS WRIT (and his assistant)!!

PAINTER OF WORDS AND ARTIST OF IMAGERY!

INTELLIGENT! SKILLFUL! HANDSOME!

Let all your literary and ludicrous impossibilities be possibilified by his world-class service! Solves all alchemic and otherwised problems.

(Please contact via pigeon or fax)

 

 Dr. Writ stood impressed. “Much better. Now, onward, boyo, we have the impossible to solve!”


 

  Mrs. Manther brought her hands to her mouth at the sound of the clinking under the sink, and then gave a little gasp as she heard what she thought to be the sound of the gentleman’s head slamming against the pipes. She was teetering between concerned and confused as she peeked from the door frame and into the scene at the kitchen.

 “Are you sure you’re an alchemist?” She squeaked shyly.
 Dr. Writ, who was lying half in the cabinet, under the sink, and covered with water made a sound that was not unlike that of a wounded animal. “Miss, for the last time I am indeed an alchemist, and if I wasn’t one, I would certainly be a terriar.

 “A dog?”

 He grunted and motioned for Babel to hand him the wrench. “No, not a terrier. A terriar. A terrible liar.” There was a notable clank as he whacked his elbow against one of the pipes. He took a second to hiss appropriately. “My area of alchemic expertise lies in the complicated  and noble art of verbal and written conjunctions, definitions and compiling. Where other alchemists choose to combine chemicals, I choose to combine that of the written word.”

 “If you don’t use chemicals, then what are all those fancy bottles you’ve got there?”

 “Oh, those are for lunches. Chicken Dumpling Chowder does quite scrumptable in those!”

 “...So what can you do about the curse in my sink?”

 “This curse you speak of is but an orange peel headed the wrong way. A bottle brush and a well-trained eye is all the alchemy we need here. Babel!”

 The boy handed him a tissue and returned his attention to the petri dish he was eating out of.

 Mrs.Manther waved at him and was met with no response. “Shy fellow you’ve got.” She said.

 The doctor scooted himself out from under sink, entire upper half dripping wet. His drooping mustache and apparent orange smell provided for a very strange picture. “Oh? Mute, actually. His parents were killed in a mysterious fire and now he’s positively traumatazzled.”

 While drying himself off with a neckerchief, he mistook Mrs.Manther’s look of horror for confusion. “It’s a combination of the words traumatized and frazzled.” He added kindly.

 The lady nodded politely. Babel threw a few napkins onto the wet floor. The doctor grinned and let out a mighty sneeze.

 Mrs.Manther felt quite the rush of relief when she heard the door open. She turned to meet the face of her tall, muscular, do-good husband who would know what to do when two awkward strangers were dripping wet all over her floors. She had invited them but she hadn’t expected there to be as much mess. Normally, city alchemists were more tidy and quiet.

 “What’s going on here?” Mr.Manther asked, squinting into the kitchen.

 “Oh, deary, the pipes were cursed. Except they weren’t. It was really just orange peels, dear. We’ve got be careful about those.” She presented the scene, complete with a boy munching quietly and a grown man sitting in a puddle of sink water. “They are alchemists, dear! Er, literary alchemists. I think.”

 Mr.Manther squinted even harder.

 Dr.Writ felt a tingle up his spine and elbowed Babel, a loogy swinging from his nose. “Boyo, I think we ought to make like a hyphen and dash. That’s right, don’t forget the dumplings…”

 “You there!” It was if the damning voice of death itself had shaken the room. Mr.Manher pointed at the two, as if condemning them to the chair like a judge at court. “You’re Aloysius Delirious Write, that undocumented chap!”

 “It’s Derulius, dear.” His wife whispered hurriedly.

 “No matter! The Unlicensed Hardly Alchemist. Me an’ the folks at HQ have been looking for your raggedy pants everywhere.”

 Dr.Writ stood up indignantly, yanking Babel’s collar up along with him. “My pants are in perfect shape, thank you!”

 Mr.Manther paid no mind and reached into his waistcoat, pulling from it a large piece of official looking parchment. The very sight of it made the doctor’s mustache twitch.

 “Aloysius Derulius Writ, aged approximately thirty-two, unlicensed and unruly alchemist, has been charged with the following:” Mr.Manther’s beady eyes flicked over the page with a dutiful coldness. “Vagrancy, vagueness, vindication, unforgivable fraudulence, blackmail, laundering, lautering, laziness, loitering, unsupervised and illegal practice of undocumented arts, misleading advertising of unlicensed services, and aggravated wordslaughter of the highest degree. Do you own up to your crimes against the English language?”

 The doctor frowned. “I’m bilingual,” he growled. “Ni mama duì ni hen shiwàng!

 Babel picked up the doctor’s case, flung it at Mr.Manther’s head, and ran.


 

 The sound of Dr.Writ’s labored gasps were only washed out by the sound of salty waves crashing together, ramming into the pilings like angry bulls. The boy and his master listened tiredly for any footsteps above, shivering under the docks. Babel stared blankly at his own icy hands.

 “Q-Q-Quite a chase, wasn’t it, b-b-boyo?” The doctor chattered, his mustache plastered and ragged on his face. “I don’t think th-th-they’ll ever think to find us h-h-here. To think we’d have such a sneaksterious s-s-streak in us!”

 There was clack from above, and he fell silent. Froth and chill. It seemed to go away.

 “...B-B-Babel. You’re a clever boy. You know I haven’t got a license or any of that. I haven’t got a penny to my name…” He searched for some kind of response in Babel’s face, but it only looked blue-ish and blank-ish. The doctor treaded carefully. “...I...Well, the alchemists don’t fancy me at all. The other ones. They don’t think i’m a real alchemist and that i’m just a John too run-on for my sentences. I do admit to talking big. I think myself to pieces and I simply don’t know what to make of the picture put together. Does that make sense?”

 Babel only gave him a sad, far-away look.

 Dr.Writ smiled and sighed. “I’m sorry, boy. I think it’s about time I gup. It’s a combination of give and up. Why don’t you swim ashore and get adopted by some street urchin brotherhood while I let myself get overtaken by the sea?”

 “Cheer up, Doctor.” Babel said.

 “You’re words are kind, but…” The shivering, blue man’s head snapped to the side, eyebrows raised nearly off into the air. His mouth hung open. “...But Babel, you dear, darling delightable angel, you! I thought your tongue was ruled down and out after the trauma of that terrible fire! Well, now that I think about it, I don’t know how the whole mute conundrum really works. How does it work?”

 Babel shrugged questioningly.

 “It’s no matter, I suppose.” The doctor’s cheeked flushed once again with spirit and bobbed up and down in the water as if he were a happy seal and not a freezing fugitive. His mustache even seemed to have retained some polish. “But what are we doing here? Instead of the sea, maybe i’ll try being overtaken by a few Hawaiian beauties or duck-fluff pillows. Mopeyness does not suit my charming features does it now? Babel, have you ever seen my backstroke? No? Let’s make it to shore and you can observe along the way. You see, boy, backstroke is all about presentation..."

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

*.+EDIT LOCK!+.*

I would appreciate any feedback of you folks are willing to sling my way! 

It was really fun to come up with all the stupid words.

 

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I shall get to reading it soon! ^_^ I'm not very good with feedback even though I review a lot, but *shrugs*. I leave that for mizal. :D da gifs in a writing thread T^T

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

I'm sorry, I didn't know that cute gundam pilots with 80's fade backgrounds weren't allowed in these threads! I'll remember for next time.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Ah, that's up to Seto! ^^; I just don't like the movement distracting me from reading.
>~<

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Gifs are fine as long as a post contains something else besides the gif, which your post did.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Ahhghghg I couldn't write much. I'm not into it right now. :< My brain's been feeling like ish for a while.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

So I wanted to do either a sci-fi or fantasy theme, but whenever I do either of those I do a lof of planning and end up not being satisfied unless I write 10+ pages on it. And I don't have the motivation for that length anymore, so what I did end up with will probably feel like the start of something larger which never comes to pass.  

prompt #3

Julius Estuar followed the elderly scholar into the Room of Remembrance, eyes wide with fascination and reverence. It was an honour for the Uvexus Domina to permit him inside the Audrex Archives, especially a student of his meagre rank with few prior accomplishments.

            The Audrex Archives were a topic of great interest with the acolytes. Some said there were records here that were so ancient, the slightest touch would reduce them to dust. Some said there were histories housed in the Archives which went back for millennia, even before Earth was destroyed by the primitive natives and life was allowed to thrive naturally once more. Some said there were experiments taking place down here, deep below the surface of the planet, that the professors who witnessed them were confined down here for the rest of their days. The Uvexus Domina guarded their secrets well.

            “Now, Julius,” the scholar was saying, adjusting the glasses on her face, “I trust you understand the full implications of what luxuries are being afforded to you here. The Uvexus Domina have only allowed you into the Archives because of your numerous commendations and the impressive scholarship you acquired before entry into the Domina itself. Please take care with the documents you have been given. The 200-page approval document will require signatures from all of your professors, along with proof of identity and evidence that you have not been contaminated by any Earth-based diseases picked up from any planets…”

            Julius was hardly paying any attention as she went on and on. He was too busy staring up at the hundreds of shelves around him. By Aster, it was beautiful! Thousands and thousands of books made up the first half of the chamber, followed by a spectacular collection of plants and vegetation – all of which was sampled from alien planets when the Domina took over. Above that, some of the inhabitants’ remains had been collected. Was that a brain in a jar?

            As he peered more closely at the jars themselves, he could see that there were thousands more of them, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. Thousands of brains, perhaps human, perhaps animal…rumour said that some of them were even donated by the Uvexus Domina themselves. Julius couldn’t even begin to imagine how esteemed an individual you had to be in order to reach that kind of privilege.

            “…all of which needs to be stamped and requires the usual genetic security checks,” the scholar finished up. She was still reading through the guidance forms for all visitors to the Archives. “Well then, Julius, I’m sure you are keen to be rushing in. Domina procedure demands that I take you on a brief little tour of the place. If you would follow me…”

            Julius couldn’t quite keep his eyes off the multitude of brains near the top of the chamber. Evidently his enthusiasm did not go unnoticed by his companion.

            “You seem to have a keen interest in the brains we keep here, Julius,” the advisor observed. “I don’t mind telling you that this is one of our greatest investments by the Uvexus Domina. Certainly something to be proud of. Would you like to take a closer look?”

            He nodded and followed her over to the transport module near the doors. It didn’t take long for the chromium supports to click into place, followed by a protective metal gauze which shielded them from the negative side-effects of the kind of travel necessary in the environment provided for them. At a speed like this, the chemicals involved could be quite toxic to those riding the module.

            When they reached the top, Julius stepped forward to stare at the jars of brains stacked up on the shelves. He saw then that they were not merely there for show: the brains were all preserved in a pale regenerative fluid, connected by numerous tubes to a larger tank of bubbling, yellow chemicals.

            The brains pulsated and throbbed, like the beat of a heart.

            “Are they…” He swallowed, not sure if it was right for him to be asking such questions, especially of a scholar of Domina. “Are they…alive?”

            She laughed shortly in response. “Alive? Why, of course, Julius. We would hardly be storing the organs of dead creatures. If that’s what you came for, then you would be better off visiting a museum.” The scholar paused thoughtfully for a moment. “In a way, Julius, this is the future that Uvexus Domina aim for. The mind is a very powerful tool. It governs pain, pleasure, emotions, and every aspect of a person’s life. Why should the brain die along with the body? Why should we not preserve our minds and live on, contributing to Uvexus Domina?

            “We live to be remembered, Julius. Do you want your achievements and accomplishments to be forgotten forever? We’re not like those natives on Earth, you see. We do not live solely for ourselves, taking from the planet without giving anything back, leaving them ravaged and desolate wherever we go. Ours is a selfless and altruistic generation, Julius.” She smiled, though it was evident that her smile was not for his benefit. “You should give thanks that it is a generation that you have been born into.”

            He gazed up at the jars of living, breathing brains; yes, technically they did not breathe, but there was little else he could think of to describe such an entity. This comprised of over two thousand years of history right in front of his eyes. How many years had these organs seen come and go? Did they communicate? Did they advise? As the scholar had said, they would contribute to the ever-changing society which flourished around them…

            “Incredible,” he breathed. “Really. I…had no idea that such things existed down here, below the surface…”

            “Of course,” the scholar said with a shrug, a little dismissively. “But that’s quite enough of that. Can’t have you spending all day looking at the brains, Julius! Now, let’s be moving on…”

            As she walked on ahead of him, Julius took one last look at one of the jars. The brain inside seemed twisted and shrunken, almost as if it had suffered from a mutation at some point in its previous life. It was so hard to look away.

            Then the brain twitched, and a layer of matter lifted up to reveal a grotesque, writhing bloodshot eyeball staring out at him.

            Julius yelped and backed away from the jar, his heart pounding. When he looked again, there was no sign of the eyeball. The brain was quite still in the jar, quivering away.

            Shaking his head slightly, he forced himself to avert his gaze and followed the advisor out of the Room of Remembrance. There were still places to go and information to learn within the Audrex Archives, more than he could have ever imagined. This was something that he wanted to remember.

Writing Prompts Week #12

5 years ago

Alright, I'm going to try to start doing these. Add me to the tagging list for next time, please.

"We live to be remembered."

5 years ago

My name was David R. Besl.

I thought I was smart. That Sunday afternoon, while the rest of the staff members were at the Easter buffet, I disabled the security cameras and snuck into my boss's office, using the pendulum of my old metronome to pick the lock. Bet they weren't expecting that when they let me bring it in. I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and reached for the document. Case file 880201 became case file 880201 version 2.0, and nobody knew the difference, save myself.

A year later I woke up to a phone call from the district coordinator. She said some discrepancies had been found with a case of mine from a year ago and asked me to come in and talk with her about it. I knew immediately what this was. I still don't know how they found me, but I knew that I had to leave and never return.

I thought I was going to disappear. I got into my car and drove straight through my garage door, much to the awaiting ambush's surprise. I drove right through them, my foot heavy on the gas, pressing harder as the car bumped and lurched over the broken debris. I got on the highway and kept up the chase for a while. After I swerved off the construction ramp on the I-295 and sent those coppers screeching into the barrier, I was sure I'd make it to the mountains.

I made it as close as two exits from my destination. Then a black van came out of nowhere and rammed right into me. I don't know how long I was out.

I thought I was done for. I woke up with my chest, legs, and left arm bound to a seat in an oval-shaped office. A man wreathed in cigar smoke sat reclining in deep leather across from me. The silver plaque on the desk introduced him as Gerome Russelford. A voice somewhere behind me thanked me for my coming - even though it's not like I really had any choice. I could see two guards stationed on either side of me, so there was no way I was going to get out even if I broke the straps. Instead of trying to escape, I just nodded blankly at the supposed gratitude of the man in the chair.

The man motioned to somewhere behind me, and the voice I had heard earlier spoke again. He asked me if I understood that forging federal documents was a serious crime. I kept my gaze locked on the chair-man and continued to nod. When he asked me why I had done it, my answer was short, simple, and quiet.

"I thought that the crimes they committed were greater than mine."

Russelford lowered his cigar and stared into my eyes. He asked me if that was so. All I could do was nod. I did not break away from his eye.

"I'd like to offer you a deal, Mr. Besl." The man in the chair spoke for the first time. "How would you like to join us?"

I couldn't hold my tongue. "You're not the government?"

Russelford snapped his head back and laughed deeply. "Us, the government!" he bellowed. His sudden movements disrupted the smoke about him. "No, Mr. Besl. We know all about you, but we're not your superiors. We're the subject of case file 880201, in the flesh. Pleasure to meet our unwitting helper."

I couldn't believe it. "You're... the mafia?" I muttered in disbelief.

"We don't use that term around here," he replied. "We refer to ourselves as the Family. So, what do you say, Mr. Besl?" he leaned forward with his hand outstretched. "Are you with us?"

I broke my line of sight to glance at his hand. "If I may ask, Mr. Russelford, why did you choose now, of all times, to recruit me? Wouldn't having a spy in the system been a better alternative?"

Russelford smiled. "I thought you had greater plans of your own at the Bureau, Mr. Besl. It's a shame you didn't get the chance to execute them, but with the police on your tail and you speeding towards the Appalachians, I had to make a choice. You and I...," he gestured using his outstretched hand and set down his cigar on an old ashtray with the other. "We don't just live. We live to be remembered. I couldn't risk to let you disappear and be forgotten. Maybe you'll have better plans as of yet."

I looked back into his eyes once more. I didn't think that this was possible, yet here I was at his desk. I made my decision. I shook his hand and that was it. That was the end of David's story.

My name was David R. Besl. I was foolish, but I've changed my ways. I'm a member of the Family now, and just like Godfather has his silver plaque that sings his chosen name to those that find themselves in his company, I have made a name for myself as well. They call me - and I call myself - the Devil's Bard.