|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 11, 2012 1:32 pm
~~**Whispers in the Rain**~~
Somewhere beyond the realm of certainty and reality, a region of vast, rolling meadows exists. They say that it appeared, without warning, out of the void on August 11th, 2012, like a sudden flash of lightning in an untroubled night sky. And, as its strange origins would suggest, this meadow is far from ordinary. Rain falls endlessly from the distant skies, though its intensity varies from day to day. Some days, the sky rolls with dark clouds, and the rain hurtles down from those obsidian depths like icy javelins hurled by angry gods. Some days, the rain falls gently from feathery, pale gray clouds, soft as a whisper. Some days, there are no clouds at all, resulting in peaceful sun showers that barely stir the blades of grass below.But the constant showers are far from the strangest thing about this meadow. No, this place holds mysteries far more bizarre and wonderful than simple weather patterns. This lonely field possesses something that no land in the world of reality could ever have.
This meadow has a voice. Or rather, voices.
If one were to listen closely, they might notice that the soft patter of rain on grass is not the only sound in the meadow. If one were to listen closely, they might detect the quiet, sourceless voices that are always present there, whispering into the rainswept silence. And, if one were to close their eyes and be absolutely silent, if one were to listen with their entire being... They might just understand. They might just realize what the voices are really doing. They might discover that the voices of the meadow are spinning stories into the cool, fresh-scented air, gilding it with fantasy and whimsy and adventure and mystery, with tales of love and loss and reason and madness.
If you truly listen, you may discover the beauty of the Whispers in the Rain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Week I
001. New Beginnings
002. Cause/Effect
003. Peace of Mind
004. Childhood Memories
005. Speed
006. Mayhem
007. Gilding a Lily
Week II
008. First Romance
009. Orchards
010. Disillusionment
011. Guardian Angels
012. Different Ways of Thinking
013. Consequence
014. Gratitude
Week III
015. Explosion
016. Money
017. Traveling Alone
018. Irony
019. Lust
020. Identity Crisis
021. Being Replaced
Week IV
022. Jealousy
023. Insanity
024. Snow Day
025. Sculpture
026. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
027. Monsters Under the Bed
028. Japan Earthquake and Tsunami
Week V
029. Wonder
030. Highs and Lows
031. Catastrophe
032. Betrayal
033. Rules
034. Tomorrow
035. Rock 'n' Roll
Week VI
036. Refugee
037. Queen of Hearts
038. Hangman
039. Magic Tricks
040. Radio
041. Prostitution
042. Celebrating a Birthday
Week VII
043. Swearing
044. Parade
045. Phobias
046. Suicide Notes
047. Emotional Paranoia
048. Missing Puzzle Pieces
049. Black Balloon
Week IIX
050. Graffiti
051. Empathy
052. Strangers
053. Pockets
054. Having a Stroke
055. Promises
056. Medicine
Week IX
057. Social Ladder
058. Four-Leafed Clover
059. Divorce and Separation
060. Brothers and Sisters
061. Perfume
062. Adoption
063. Blue Jeans
Week X
064. Paper Airplanes
065. Marijuana
066. An Open Door
067. Hiding Behind Lies
068. Archery
069. 1990s Cartoons
070. An Asian Food Market
Week XI
071. A Night to Remember
072. The Moon
073. Guidance
074. Dyed Flowers
075. Wheelchairs
076. Dedication Pages on Books
077. A Panic Attack
Week XII
078. Black and Blue
079. A Beautiful Place
080. Innocence and Guilt
081. Romance Addiction
082. Selfishness
083. Mockingbirds
084. Always a Bridesmaid
Week XIII
085. "Break a Leg"
086. Taking Initiative
087. College
088. Drama Queens
089. Unforeseen Tragedy
090. Loving Across Time
091. The Four Seasons
Week XIV
092. Abortion
093. Gunshots
094. A Masquerade
095. An Unexpected Twist on the Ending
096. Restless
097. Running Away
098. An Unknown Truth
Week XV
099. Persephone
100. Enlightenment
101. The Martyr
102. Alice in Wonderland
103. Wiseman
104. Natural Wonder
105. The Island
Week XVI
106. Eden
107. Drowning
108. Gamble
109. Thicker than Water
110. Clear Blue Sky
111. Rain
112. Drowning
Week XVII
113. Dead End
114. Stargazers
115. Insomnia
116. Skyscrapers
117. Butterfly
118. Smoke Screen
119. What Lies Beneath
Week XIIX
120. Losing Control
121. Unfaithful
122. Asylum
123. Injury
124. Karma
125. Dancing
126. Enchantment
Week XIX
127. Shadow
128. Red
129. Eagle
130. Extreme Behaviors
131. Soundtrack
132. Books
133. Lithium
Week XX
134. Paralysis
135. Holiday
136. Safety
137. Secret Wishes
138. Dishonor
139. Accusations
140. Motorcycle
Week XXI
141. Requiem
142. The American Dream
143. Solo
144. Leaving Home
145. Climb
146. Pressure
147. Test
Week XXII
148. Electricity
149. Amber
150. Bible
151. Shock
152. Glass Jar
153. Dragonfly
154. Truth or Dare
Week XXIII
155. Relativity
156. Reaction
157. Winter
158. Dolls
159. Ink
160. An Instant
161. Lullaby
Week XXIV
162. Spider Webs
163. Fortune Telling
164. Yin and Yang
165. Slavery
166. Confetti
167. Rooftops
168. Justice
Week XXV
169. Scream
170. Fabric
171. Circus
172. Observation
173. Sand
174. Love Letters
175. Orchids
Week XXVI
176. Owl
177. Metal
178. Exhale
179. Intoxication
180. Color Blindness
181. Flesh
182. Diary
Week XXVII
183. Vacancy
184. Sickness
185. Playing with Fire
186. Before
187. Sweet Nothings
188. Asthma
189. Stormy Skies
Week XXIIX
190. Red Lipstick
191. Scissors
192. Reflection
193. Black Cat
194. Siren
195. Shallow
196. Little Things
Week XXIX
197. Choke
198. Static
199. Snowflake
200. Honey
201. Catch
202. Stars in the Attic
203. Fairy Tales
Week XXX
204. Misunderstood
205. Illumination
206. Photograph
207. Imagine
208. Strawberry
209. Stripes
210. Spontaneously
Week XXXI
211. Dust
212. Chastity
213. Daybreak
214. Werewolf
215. Eyes
216. The Thirteenth Floor
217. Goodbye
Week XXXII
218. Computer
219. Just Hold On
220. Cross
221. Concepts of Hell
222. Remembering 9/11
223. Monsters
224. Practicing Tolerance
Week XXXIII
225. Broken Frames
226. Drive
227. No Time
228. Wind
229. Flag
230. Rules
231. Rebellion
Week XXXIV
232. Hybrid
233. Sweet Sixteen
234. Poison
235. Sleeping Beauty
236. Burning
237. Buzzed
238. Pearl
Week XXXV
239. Sword
240. Wizard of Oz
241. Freedom
242. Blue Rose
243. Codes
244. Decisions
245. Trickery
Week XXXVI
246. Peril
247. Million
248. Beauty
249. Tattoo
250. Whip
251. Tactics
252. Battlefield
Week XXXVII
253. Tomorrow
254. Daily Life
255. Language
256. Adolescence
257. Paradise
258. St. Mark’s Place
259. Blessings
Week XIIL
260. Thunder
261. Prison
262. Train
263. Abandonment
264. Sacrifice
265. Do Not Disturb
266. Traps
Week XIL
267. Challenge
268. Starvation
269. Alcohol
270. Spiral
271. Ashes, Ashes...
272. Triangle
273. Introverted
Week XL
274. True Colors Shown
275. Portrait
276. Model
277. Shutterbox
278. Diamond
279. Puppet
280. Actor
Week IXL
281. Two Roads
282. Beauty
283. Murder
284. Lost
285. Value
286. Sobriety
287. Sweaters
Week IIXL
288. Tulips
289. Resting Place
290. The Folly
291. Love Stories
292. Crows
293. Sunsets
294. December
Week VIIL
295. A Room
296. Victory
297. Defeat
298. Tiger
299. Peach
300. Candle
301. Personality
Week VIL
302. Dreams of a City
303. Ice
304. Fire
305. Legacy
306. Law
307. Flying
308. Fight
Week VL
309. Single
310. Hesitation
311. Healing
312. Fantasy
313. Building
314. Hero
315. Disguise
Week IVL
316. Soul Reborn
317. Between the Lines
318. Fireworks
319. Can’t
320. Soccer
321. Heat
322. Raising the Bar
Week IIIL
323. Live Your Life
324. Parents
325. Transcending Time
326. In Spite Of Which
327. Naked
328. Further
329. Outcasts
Week IIL
330. Calling
331. Alternatives
332. Elevator
333. A Bad Decision
334. Slow Down
335. Past Forgiven
336. Tree
Week IL
337. Last One Standing
338. Drifting
339. Soldiers
340. The Right Reasons
341. Lists
342. Open Relationship
343. Riot
Week L
344. Invisibility
345. Second Chance
346. Bridge
347. Disturbed
348. Stitches
349. New Year’s Day
350. The Mile
Week LI
351. Perfect
352. Hurt
353. Exit
354. Good Riddance
355. Funhouse
356. Dark Horse
357. Sin
Week LII
358. If I Stay
359. Misguided Valentine
360. Pick Up the Pieces
361. The Bitter End
362. Missing You
363. Follow Me
364. Leave Together
Finale
365. Returning Home
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 11, 2012 3:44 pm
Prompt: Paper AirplanesSummary: A girl on the brink of a new chapter in life struggles with doubt and fear. She searches the web for a solution, and is surprised at where it leads her. ((My apologies for the poor quality of this first entry. It was a bit rushed.)) Not Alone It was mid August, and the day was slowly drawing to a close. Marissa Wood was sitting beneath a towering oak tree in her spacious backyard, the heat from the bottom of her laptop searing her thighs. She leaned her head back against the trunk of the massive oak, staring up through the slowly shifting leaves with vacant brown eyes. A few cottony white clouds drifted peacefully across the vast azure arch of the summer sky, but the girl beneath the tree took no notice of the idyllic scene spread before her. Eight days... The thought flitted through her mind for the sixth time that day as she shifted her computer farther towards her knees. Eight days until I leave for college... Eight days until I leave behind everything I've ever known.Most of Marissa's friends were ecstatic about the coming year. Whenever she spoke to them, they always raved about which classes they were taking, who they'd requested as their roommates, and how excited they were to move into their respective schools. And Marissa raved right along with them, smiling brightly to hide her doubt. In truth, Marissa was not excited, not in the slightest. Rather, she was terrified of stepping out into the unknown, alone in an intimidating new environment, miles and miles away from her family and friends. But her fears went deeper than that, and she knew it. Almost automatically, the girl's hand reached out and plucked a blade of grass from the ground. Her fingers toyed with it absently as her mind wandered down familiar, worn paths. What is my purpose?There has to be more to life than just surviving... There has to be a better goal than just to make enough money to get by. There has to be... right? I mean, what kind of life would this be otherwise? I have to have some kind of purpose... But what is it? I'm not good at anything... I'm okay at most things, but there's nothing I excel at. Even when I try to pick something and get better at it, it never works... So what am I supposed to do? And how am I supposed to find out?
People keep telling me I'll figure it out in college... But what if I don't?She looked down at her hands; the blade of grass had been shredded into tiny strips. Stress... I'm way too stressed out... It can't be good for me. She sighed and dropped the shreds of plant matter to the ground, then dusted her hands off and turned her attention to her laptop. After a moment's hesitation, she began typing into the search bar. How to relieve stressWhen the results page came up, she scrolled through it idly, rejecting most solutions from the titles alone. She ignored anything in chatspeak; if someone didn't even know how to write properly, they certainly wouldn't know how to cure stress. She stopped as she came to a result near the bottom of the page. "Stress Relief: The Paper Airplane Method."... How on Earth would you use paper airplanes to relieve stress? This, I have to see... She hovered her finger over the touch pad and tapped the blue link curiously. It took her to what appeared to be a forum. Written in the opening post were simple, matter-of-fact instructions: Step 1: Ask yourself what your most cherished dream is.
Step 2: Write your dream on a sheet of blank printer paper.
Step 3: Fold the paper into an airplane.
Step 4: Release your paper airplane from a high place on a breezy day.Marissa blinked at the directions. How would this help at all...? She was about to hit the back button when the next post in the forum caught her eye. She paused and scrolled down slightly. "Thank you."Marissa looked at the post for a long moment. ...Well, it looks like it worked for someone... She looked up as a breeze moved the leaves of the oak above her head, surrounding her with the sound of soft rustling. Marissa sat there for a few minutes, once again gazing up through the tree's leaves. Then, slowly, she closed her laptop, stood up, and walked slowly back towards her house as the sun sunk towards the horizon. She slipped inside without a backward glance. Half an hour later, she emerged once more. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange and violet as she walked slowly back towards the tree, her left hand clutching a small paper plane. When she reached the trunk, she looked up grimly, placed the bottom of the plane delicately between her teeth, and began to climb. After a minute's climb, she stepped out onto a thick branch and carefully sat down. She inched her way out across the branch until it began to bend under her weight, and then she stopped. She took the plane out from her mouth, oblivious to the beauty of her surroundings as she waited for the next gust of wind. When it came, she drew her arm back and launched the paper plane into the vivid sky, staring intently after it. I want to find my purpose.The plane soared away from her, buoyed by the brisk wind. She watched it intently as it grew smaller and smaller, flying lower and lower. She saw when it hit the ground, beside the trash can in her neighbor's yard. Blushing suddenly at the absurd childishness of her actions, Marissa hurriedly clambered back down the tree and hurried over to her neighbor's yard, snatching up the plane and ripping it to shreds before dropping the remains in the trash can. Stupid... Of course it wouldn't help. She stormed back to her house and slammed the door behind her, inwardly cursing herself for her naivete. ~~~~~~~ Marissa had a hard time falling asleep that night. She tossed and turned until two in the morning before finally slipping into a deep slumber. When she opened her eyes, she was overcome with a dizzying wave of deja vu. She was no longer in bed. She sat once again on the high branch of the oak tree, feet dangling high above the ground. She could see her paper plane once again sailing away from her. But two things were different now. Firstly, the plane did not get any lower as it flew, almost seeming to float higher the farther it went. And secondly, now Marissa could see the beauty of her environment, magnified a thousand fold. The sun shone a brilliant orange from the distant horizon, and the sky was streaked with clouds painted in the most vivid colors- deep crimson, dusky violet, delicate pink, blazing gold... The light from this explosion of color bathed the world below in dazzling radiance, reflecting beautifully off of every surface. The wind rushed softly all around the girl in the tree as she stared out at this stunning landscape. Then somthing brushed into her back, and she nearly jumped off the tree branch. She reached back and grabbed the offending object, and it crumpled in her hand. Perplexed, she drew it out in front of her. It was a paper airplane. This one was folded in a different style than hers, and was crafted out of lined loose-leaf paper, slightly torn in places. Marissa stared at it for a moment before slowly unfolding it. Inside, on the middle of the wrinkled page, a sentence was scrawled in messy handwriting so different from her own: "I want to find my purpose."Marissa read the words slowly. Then she re-read them. This is someone else's most cherished dream... She thought faintly. A rustling sound drew her attention away from the writing. She looked back up, then froze. Suddenly a multitude of paper planes were drifting on the breeze. They came in all shapes and sizes, some streamlined planes built for speed, some clumsy asymmetrical things folded in a hurry, some on loose-leaf, some on journal pages, some on colorful stationary. They filled the sky with their delicate forms, sailing bravely into the fire-painted heavens in an enormous crowd. Marissa gazed up at them, speechless. And then, very slowly, she smiled.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 12, 2012 9:54 pm
Prompt: Leave Together
Finding Happiness
She was alone,
wary and scarred,
and colder than
the distant stars.
She'd never loved,
and knew not how-
and this her heart
would not allow.
It yearned for love,
for warmth and care-
but who could melt
her icy stare?
He was too kind,
and too naiive,
and far too easy
to deceive.
People used him,
caused him pain,
but he never spoke out
or complained.
Yet in his heart,
he wondered why
true happiness
had passed him by.
You two lost souls
have found your chance.
Today, perhaps,
you'll find romance.
Music Club
is where you'll meet.
Don't hesitate,
and don't retreat.
Spread your wings
and cut the tether;
come alone,
but leave together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2012 10:10 pm
Prompt: Love Letters (Heads up for minor language in this one. A rare occurance for me. For greater understanding of this piece, look up "Tsundere" on tvtropes.org.) With Love, Tsundere-chan Markus, For God's sake, I haven't heard hide nor hair from you in almost a month! What the hell is wrong?! Are you in the freaking hospital or something? I swear to God, Markus, if you're just being a lazy a*****e again, I will drive to your Goddamn college and beat ten different kinds of crap out of you. God, you really make me want to punch you sometimes. I bet you're out partying the night away, picking up random girls and drinking booze and having a Goddamn wonderful time. Oh yeah, no need to shoot a quick hello to your friends, they won't miss you or anything. ... Not that I miss you, obviously. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not worried about you at all, of course I'm not. I'm doing just fine, thanks so much for asking.(Goddamn pens, why did I have to write this on paper? I could've just sent you an email, or at least written in something erasable...)... Look, Mark, there's not much I hate more than lies I've always liked directness more than You know me well enough by now that Just give me a straight answer, okay? You're not avoiding me because you don't like me any because you're getting tired of because you don't want to be friends anymore, right? I mean, if that's true, that's totally fine. I understand. I know I can be I'm not easy to get along with sometimes most of the time. I mean, if you don't wanna talk to me anymore, that's okay. Whatever you're comfortable with, you know? 'Cause, well, you know, I don't mean to I don't want to drag you down or anything. Just tell let me know, okay? You won't hurt my I can handle it. So... I hope college is going great for you you're doing okay. I'm sure your grades are as good as always good. Maybe you could Shoot me a letter or email or something when you get the chance, please okay? ... I do kind of miss you. See you later. Your Friend, From, Aly Alexandra ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear Aly, You're as adorable as ever. Want to take a guess at what I've been preparing for for the past few weeks? No? Well, I'll tell you. Midterms. I just finished my last one yesterday, actually. I can assure you that I've been having anything but a wonderful time... And no girls were involved, unless you count Professor Curry, so let that quench the smoldering flames of jealousy you're not very good at hiding. Oh my. Where did your fiery spirit go? And what's this sudden submissiveness, hm? Maybe I should stop writing more often... But, all jokes aside, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time... which is saying something, as I hear ridiculous things on a daily basis nowadays. You're all that keeps me sane, most of the time. On a side note, I couldn't bring myself to hurt you like that. I'm not that much of an a*****e. My absence would leave a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in your poor lonely heart, and you'd be a weepy, sullen wreck for months, I'm sure. Don't worry your pretty little head over that scenario, as it's about as likely as a zombie apocalypse. ... Actually, maybe a bit less so- zombie apocalypses don't seem so terribly far-fetched anymore. By the way, I'll be coming home for winter break. I was going to surprise you, but you seem to be lonelier than I'd anticipated. Do yourself a favor and distract yourself until then, hm? As a reward for your patience, I'm officially offering to make the hot chocolate myself the first visit. From scratch. With cinnamon. And an optional cuddle afterward, if I live through the beating I'm sure I'll receive for teasing you this much in one letter. I figure you must be going through teasing-withdrawal by now, so I'm doubling your dosage this time around. I bet you love that, don't you? I'll see you soon, Aly-cat. Until then, you might want to invest in erasable pens. Unless you're just using the pen thing as an excuse to secretly show me your sweet side. In which case I commend you on your creativity. Love you too, Markus ~~~~~~~~~~ Dear Markus, God, you're a delusional b*****d. I'm going to bury you under three feet of snow and leave you there for a few hours when you get here. Sometimes I don't know why I bother with you. ... But I'm glad it's nice to hear from you again. I'll see you soon. And don't think I won't hold you to that offer. THE ONE FOR CHOCOLATE, OBVIOUSLY. JESUS, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU. Love Your Friend, Aly
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 14, 2012 6:57 pm
Prompt: Blue Jeans
If she were an item of clothing, she would be a pair of simple blue jeans.
Plain, but practical. Sturdy, but flexible. Completely and utterly ordinary.
If she were an item of clothing, she would be the kind of jeans that you wear while you garden, or while you're stuck in the house all weekend. The kind you know aren't fancy enough to wear to school, or to the mall, or to a concert. The kind you keep sitting in your closet just in case you're not going out in public, and want to wear something comfy and unassuming.
If she were an item of clothing, she would be the kind of jeans that are a size too big for you. The kind of jeans that are a bit too long, so the edges at the bottom are slightly tattered from dragging on the ground all the time. The kind that your mom is always telling you to roll up so you don't get them dirty, but you don't want to feel like a geek, and you know they can handle the wear anyway.
If she were an item of clothing, she would be the kind of jeans that have been through everything. The kind of jeans with a couple of tiny stains on the legs, from when a drop of ketchup dripped out of your burger, or from when you laughed so hard your grape juice spurted out your nose. The kind of jeans that have little stitches of thread where you'd ripped them, like the time you were riding your bike and managed to get catapulted over the handlebars, or the time you tried to sit cross-legged in your computer chair and your jeans couldn't quite handle it. She would be the kind of jeans that have taken a beating, but are just as comfortable now as they were when you first got them- maybe more so, because they only seem to get more comfortable as time goes on.
If she were an item of clothing, she would be a pair of jeans.
The kind that no one wants to admit to owning, but everyone secretly loves anyway.
If Maria were an item of clothing,
she would be exactly the sort of jeans that she's so fond of wearing.
And she's fine with that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 16, 2012 8:15 pm
((Neglected the challenge for the first time so far yesterday. And I haven't even started school yet... I'm not sure how I'll keep this up in a week or two.
... In other news, this is actually a semi-true story. Except my solo was only a single line long. And not very high. Ah... Memories.))
Prompt: Solo
Summary: Mira has been an avid chorus member since third grade. She's tried out for every solo that's been offered so far, but never seemed to have any luck. So when she's finally chosen for an important solo in eighth grade, she's more than a little nervous about it. *A Stream of Consciousness piece... Sort of.*
Don't Trip Up
Oh my God... Me?
Miss Turner really just picked me?
No way! I get a solo? For real?
In a song I really like? That's...
... That's awesome!
But scary. Oh God, what if I mess up?
No, I can't mess up! The chorus is counting on me!
Out of all the people who auditioned, I was the only one...
I was the only one who could hit the high notes at the end.
Everyone is counting on me.
Counting on me! Oh God, this is unreal.
I'll start practicing right away!
Those end notes are really high. What if my voice cracks?
But no, I'm a soprano one! Hitting high notes is my specialty!
It should be fine! I can handle it!
Okay, focus! Let's start practicing!
Doing okay so far.
Hey, this isn't so bad.
Agh! Oh no! My voice just cracked!
Let's try it again... Ack, it cracked a second time!
Oh God, what if I can't sing this?
What if my voice cracks at the concert?
In front of all those people?
Eek! I can't think about that now.
More practice!
A week later, my voice hardly ever cracks.
The only problem is volume.
My voice is so soft. So quiet.
That's why I never got any solos.
But that's what microphones are for, isn't it?
Other than that, I sound okay. This might just work.
But what if it doesn't? That would be awful!
But I can't afford to think like that.
The concert is tomorrow night! I'm so nervous!
I'll practice a lot today so I'm ready for it.
By nighttime, my throat hurts! Oh no, too much practice!
Will it get better in time? What if it doesn't?
I'll have to sleep on it.
The next day, my throat feels okay.
Tonight is the night! I won't strain my voice again until later.
The day passes by in a blur. Then it's time.
I show up backstage. I'm in a bright blue dress.
The whole chorus is shuffling around back there, waiting.
My heart is hammering in my chest. I'm scared.
Miss Turner announces us, and we file out onto the risers.
The crowd applauds politely. Oh God, there are so many people.
We sing our first song. It's an easy one. Safe.
When it's done, that's my cue.
I carefully step off the risers. My pulse pounds.
I approach one of the two microphones. I can feel myself trembling.
The boy singing the other half of the solo takes his place. I'm starting to feel dizzy.
Then Miss Turner starts playing the piano intro.
This is it.
This moment is everything.
I open my mouth and sing.
And suddenly I'm not so scared anymore. I can't spare a thought for fear.
I'm focused. Intensely focused on the song. On my character.
This is the Phantom of the Opera. I am Christine.
I sing with feeling. I sing in my strongest tone.
The Phantom boy is very good, too. But I don't waste time thinking about that.
The end of the song is drawing near. Three and a half minutes doesn't seem half as long on stage.
The high notes are coming. I feel a brief, frantic flicker of doubt.
Can I handle it? It's too late to go back now.
I tilt my head back slightly. I open my mouth.
The first few notes ring out, accurate, but soft.
Too soft. Too quiet, even with the microphone.
I realize it. I panic for half a second, then find a way to mask it.
As I move through the series of high notes, I crescendo. Slowly. Deliberately.
I can hear my own voice ringing strongly in the room.
This is it. The final note.
The highest.
The one not even the other soprano ones could hit.
I close my eyes.
I take a quick, sharp breath.
And I belt it out, clear as a bell.
I hold on to it for one beat. Two. Three.
Then I let it taper off into silence.
I'm done.
There is no sound in the room for the space of three seconds.
Then the auditorium bursts into applause.
I stand there, shaking like a leaf, eyes wide.
Oh my God. I did it. I pulled it off.
I didn't mess up!
I can feel the huge grin spreading across my face.
Miss Turner rises, smiling, and presents us to the crowd. The applause swells.
Then she sits at the piano again. We can go back now.
I did it.
I walk quickly back towards my place in the chorus, joy humming in my veins.
And then my foot catches on the bottom riser.
I'm jolted out of my elation as I begin to topple forward.
Oh no. No, no, no.
My eyes snap wide in alarm.
My arms pinwheel frantically.
No, no, NONONO!!
And then
I cannon into my fellow chorus members,
and several of us
go sprawling
on those cold, indifferent risers
beneath the cheery, oblivious lights
of the full auditorium.
My first solo
will live forever
in the memories of
all the students in the middle school.
But not
for the reason
I wanted.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 16, 2012 9:50 pm
Prompt: Strangers
Summary: It's a more or less normal day for Arianna Cartwright, until she encounters a rogue gunman in the street. Luckily for her, a boy from her school is nearby when things go to hell. (Rushed again. Sorry.)
Arianna Cartwright had not been this irritated in weeks.
She had just gotten out of a job interview that had lasted a grand total of two minutes. She'd been perfectly courteous and enthusiastic about it, too, but her interviewer had rejected her immediately.
"I'm very sorry, but you're not quite what we're looking for," she grumbled acidly as she stormed down the crowded sidewalk, drawing a few stares on the way. "Then what the hell are you looking for, you pompous b*****d? I was qualified. I was sociable. I was perfect. Oh, right, except for the fact that I've got a little metal stud in the side of my nose. Because one tiny piercing makes me completely unsuited for the job, right?" She viciously kicked at the sidewalk with one dress-shoe-clad foot, icy blue eyes narrowed almost to slits as she scowled at the ground as though it were somehow to blame.
Well, whatever. I'll find something else sooner or later. But right now, I'm going to Antonio's. 'Cause pizza makes everything better. She paused at a crosswalk, along with a small crowd of others, and waited impatiently for the light to change.
It was then that she heard the screams.
There were many, and they were coming from nearby. Arianna frowned and looked in the direction of the screaming. Whatever was causing it was out of sight behind a building. What the hell…? And then came another sound, one that froze her blood solid.
BANG.
At the sound of gunfire, the people around her began to panic. Several turned and fled back the way they’d come from, crying out in alarm. Arianna seemed to be rooted to the spot, frozen by shock.
Then the gunman rounded the corner.
He had a pistol. He wore a mask- it reminded her vaguely of the drama masks that hung in theatres. Half of the mask wore a smile, while the other half was set in a dramatic grimace.
He walked slowly down the sidewalk, in an almost casual way. He would almost have seemed like an ordinary pedestrian, if it hadn’t been for the gun. And the mask.
And, you know, the crazed giggling that drifted from behind the mask.
Arianna just stood there staring at him as he drew closer. A few other people at the crosswalk were frozen in place, too. One of them, a middle-aged woman, seemed to snap out of it after a moment, and dropped a bag of groceries as she turned to run.
The giggling gunman stopped. He raised his arm.
BANG.
A ripping shriek pierced the air as the woman went down, clutching at the bullet wound in her thigh. The giggling stopped for a second, and, very quickly, he took aim and shot off another bullet. This one struck the lady in the chest.
Now the rest of the crowd snapped out of it. Screams rose from their midst, and they began to scatter. Arianna hesitated for a fraction of a second, eyes wide as she stared at the woman writhing on the ground, at the growing pool of crimson blood beneath her. Her stomach lurched.
A hand gripped her thin wrist, and she jumped, jet-black ponytail lashing as her head whipped around to look at the person beside her. He was tall, about her age, with short, inky black hair, deeply tanned skin, and quick black eyes. She recognized him- he was a student at her high school, but she didn’t know him personally, and couldn’t recall his name at the moment.
He yanked on her wrist, darting a glance at the approaching gunman. “Move!” He barked out.
His sharp command shook her out of her daze, and adrenaline spiked through her veins as she turned and ran. She heard his footsteps right behind her, along with the sound of an approaching siren.
But his order must have attracted the gunner’s attention.
Half a second later, she heard another BANG, followed by a sharp sound as the bullet ricocheted off the concrete a foot or so in front of her running feet.
She skidded to a stop, and the boy plowed into her from behind- the impact sent her sprawling onto the sidewalk, panic flashing through her mind. She scrambled to regain her footing, but then she heard a deranged chuckle, much too close for comfort. She looked up, and saw that the gunman was less than ten feet away, pistol pointed straight at her.
Oh my God. I’m going to die.
Time seemed to slow as she stared into the barrel of the gun. She’d never get out of the way in time. She saw everything in vivid detail, heard everything magnified tenfold. She noticed a police car screeching down the street behind the gunner, approaching fast. But it wasn’t going to be fast enough.
Arianna heard a muttered curse from behind her, almost inaudible. She heard quick, sharp footsteps slapping the concrete. She saw that eerie white mask turn.
Then the boy from her school launched himself at the man in a flying tackle.
Her disbelieving ice-blue eyes followed him as he soared through the air in a neat arch. His open black hoodie billowed out behind him like a sail. His neon orange converse sneakers cleared the sidewalk by at least two feet. His long arms were outstretched, as though he meant to hug the killer.
In slow motion, she saw the killer’s arm move. The barrel of his pistol turned away from her, swinging around towards the boy.
Then, abruptly, time sped up again.
BANG.
She saw the bullet rip through the boy’s shoulder. A pained sound escaped his lips. Then he cannoned into the man, and they both crashed to the ground.
Arianna scrambled to her feet as they hit the pavement. They struggled on the concrete for a moment, the boy clutching the man’s gun arm with both hands, fighting to keep it pointed away from him. But the pain from his shoulder wound clearly made him weak.
She heard tires screech to a stop, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw three police leap out of their car and race across the sidewalk towards them, shouting, guns in hand.
But the boy had already lost the contest of strength. In that last moment, she saw his face. His eyes were wide and frightened, but his mouth was set in a grim line. She saw him realize what was about to happen. She could practically feel the wave of cold fear sweep through him.
And then the gunner pressed the pistol to his forehead.
BANG.
~~~~~~~~~~
He had saved her, that boy from her school. If he hadn’t jumped in, she would have been the one to appear in the obituaries the next day. She would have been the one whose blood had splattered the pavement like thick paint. She would have been the one to pay for her mistake. It had been her fault she’d almost been killed- she’d frozen up, like a deer in the headlights, like those ridiculous damsels in distress she always scoffed at in the movies. If that man had killed her, it would have been no one’s fault but her own.
And yet this boy had felt the need to step in. He’d saved her from death. He’d sacrificed his life for her. And, for months after the incident had occurred, Arianna was haunted by a persistent question that she simply could not answer.
Why? Why had he done it? She didn’t even know him. They’d been complete strangers. So why would he throw everything away like that, just to save some random girl from his school? What had possessed him?
She’d voiced this question to her mother a week or so after the incident. Her mother’s answer had been that some people were simply so pure of heart that they would not stand by and watch another person’s death, whether they knew that person or not. Some people would give their lives to save just about anyone. Some people were just like that. He’d been a good boy, a noble boy. He’d done the right thing, in spite of the consequences.
And so the question of “why” ceased to haunt her. But in its place, a far more disturbing question tormented her restless mind.
Would I have done the same for a stranger…?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 11:19 pm
((This piece revolves around two OCs from a fanfiction of mine. I'll probably be using OCs from this fanfiction fairly often in my 365 Day challenge. ... I hope that's all right... In any case, the characters of this fanfiction are angels and demons. They are portrayed the way they are solely for the purpose of the story. No offense is intended to any religion.))
Prompt: Flying
Summary: Evra is an angel- she has always possessed the power of flight, and it's the one ability she's never taken for granted. To the angel, flight is beauty, joy, peace- everything she gets so little of normally. So when Zairus, one of the demons she reluctantly calls her allies, tries to pass flight off as just another frivolous pastime, it's simply her duty to prove him wrong. Isn't it...?
It was just another day of missions in the hidden base of the Resistance.
Or at least, it would have been, if everyone had been out on the same mission. For once, the leader, Kyrien, had sent Ike out on a solo mission, leaving the remaining team members with nothing to do. "Consider it a break from your usual duties," she'd told Evra when the angel had asked.
For a while, Evra had just sat in the living room, restlessly bouncing her ribbon-twined leg. After a few minutes, Zairus had coaxed her into a card game, but after losing her fifth game in a row, her sullen irritation grew into full-out anger.
"Goddamn it," the angel snapped, throwing her cards down as she fixed the wolf demon with a vicious glare. "I command you to cease this trickery this instant, cheating demon scum!"
Zairus chuckled dryly, pale gray eyes amused. "Don't get your ribbons in a twist, angel," he replied pleasantly, sweeping up all of the cards on the table and shuffling them deftly back into the deck. "I'm not cheating. You're just terrible."
"Tch." Evra abruptly rose from her place on the couch, turned on her heel, and strode towards the main room.
"Where are you going?" Zai's voice drifted lazily after her.
"Out," she snapped tersely over her shoulder as she left the room.
She heard movement behind her, and when she glanced back, she saw the wolf demon following her. "Well, I don't have anything better to do," he said with a smile. "So I think I'll go with you. After all," he added in a mock concerned tone, "it's dangerous for a lovely young woman to wander around alone..."
Evra resisted the powerful urge to backhand him in the face as she walked. "Don't patronize me," she said icily, not bothering to look back at him. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself. In case you've forgotten, I am the stronger one here."
She could just hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, excuse me, O Haughty One. Is this the thanks I get for an attempt at chivalry?"
"Chivalry is dead," she replied flatly as they emerged into the main room.
Kyrien sat at the desk there, with the raven Fuzen perched on one horn. She looked up from writing something to raise one delicate eyebrow at her subordinates. "Going somewhere?" She inquired dryly.
"Yes," Evra shot back bluntly as she headed for the trapdoor.
Kyrien eyed them in silence for a moment before shrugging and returning to her work. "Hm. Well, I trust you know the rules. No confrontations, no attracting attention, stay within a ten-mile radius of the base. Don't die," she added as an afterthought, not looking up from her paper.
Evra just snorted and pulled the trapdoor open. Zai smiled dryly at the young demon. "We'll try to come back alive, Kyrien."
"Please do," she said absently. "There's not much I could get done with half the team dead."
Evra paused to shoot a brief glare at her young leader before leaping down into the darkness. After a moment, Zairus jumped down after her, slamming the trapdoor shut on the way down.
The trip through the dark tunnels was short. Evra knew her way around these catacombs by now, and chose her path calmly and confidently. They walked through the darkness for only a few minutes before emerging from a natural cave entrance into the wide, grassy field they often used for training.
Evra strode out into the middle of the field without a pause, while Zairus lingered at the cave mouth, pale blonde eyebrows arching. "Oh? Came out here to train, did you?"
"Fly," Evra corrected bluntly, stopping in the middle of the field. "I came out here to fly." She closed her eyes briefly and allowed her wings to materialize. They unfurled gracefully from her shoulder blades, wide and soft and white as snow. A few ivory feathers drifted to the ground as she delicately flexed her wings.
"Huh." Zai shrugged and walked casually over to a tree at the edge of the clearing. "Well, knock yourself out. I'm going to nap. Don't cause any plane crashes."
The angel studiously ignored him. Spreading her wings, she took a few running steps forward and threw herself into the air. One powerful downstroke later, she was shooting skywards.
The rush of her swift ascent took her breath away, and she stroked harder, rocketing upwards. On a whim, she shifted one wing and began to spin slowly as she rose. She shifted it further, spinning faster and faster, until the scenery was flashing around her in a dizzying spiral.
A small smile came to her face.
All at once, she leveled out, hundreds of feet above the ground. She stretched her wings wide and rode an updraft, and her eyes drifted shut as she allowed the familiar sensations of flight to lull her. The wind buffeted her body and set her hair streaming behind her like a rippling golden flag. The brilliant sun bathed her in warm light, providing a pleasant contrast to the chill wind. She felt the ever-shifting air currents beneath her feathers, and flexed the supple muscles of her wings to catch the breeze.
For several minutes, she simply drifted, allowing the tranquility of flight to cleanse her of her built-up irritation and hostility.
Once she was feeling better, she slowly opened her eyes. Now came the real fun.
Tilting her wings, the angel set off at a smooth glide, lazily riding the air currents to gain a bit more altitude.
Then, abruptly, she snapped her wings shut.
Evra began to fall. Slowly at first, then building speed, she dropped from the sky like a stone. The wind battered at her face and shrieked in her ears, her hair and ribbons lashing madly around her in a crazed dance, her sapphire eyes streaming tears from the speed. She felt a wide, exhilarated grin creeping across her face as she plummeted towards Earth, spinning as she fell. The grass below swirled up to meet her.
At the last second, she snapped her wings open and stroked hard.
The result was a smooth, upward arc that brought her swooping mere feet away from the ground.
A peal of delighted laughter escaped her lips, and she soared higher once more, savoring the rush.
When Evra flew, she was a child once more, and the sky was her playground.
~~~~~~~~
It was several hours before Evra reluctantly considered returning to the ground, and a few more before she actually did it. By the time she alighted in the meadow again, it was growing dark. A satisfied smile lingered on her face, and her sapphire eyes glittered energetically. Her wings were tired, and ached slightly, but she didn't mind- it had been too long since she'd flown like that, and it was well worth the strain.
She glanced around, and found Zairus lying in the grass beneath a tall maple tree, his hands comfortably interlaced behind his head. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths.
Evra stood over him for a minute, arms folded over her chest, looking down at him and debating whether or not to startle him awake. It would be a nice way to get back at him for defeating her earlier. But how to go about it...?
As she was considering her options, one of his gray eyes opened a slit and looked up at her. After a moment he closed it again. "That's not a very appropriate place to stand, angel," he commented dryly, unmoving. "You've given me a very clear view of something I wasn't all that interested in seeing."
Evra blinked. She looked down at her short, off-the-shoulders minidress. After a moment, she felt her face burning. Without a word, she raised one foot and stomped it hard onto Zai's stomach, or tried to. The demon must have expected an attack, however, and casually rolled to one side. Her foot crashed into the ground with a loud THUD.
"Touchy, touchy. That was your mistake, not mine," he said calmly.
"You didn't have to look," Evra shot back, scowling down at him, her cheeks flushed a furious pink.
He slowly sat up, indulging in a luxurious stretch. "Heh... Funny. So, how was your flight?" he added innocently in a wise decision to change the subject.
Her irritation leached away again, and she allowed herself a small smile. "Far more interesting than your nap," she replied, her tone uncharacteristically mild.
The wolf demon snorted, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the darkening sky. "So sure, are you?" He inquired pleasantly. "For all you know, my nap could have been fascinating. Much more so than aimlessly fluttering around for hours."
Evra stopped and stared down at him blankly. A few seconds passed. "... Aimlessly fluttering around?" She repeated flatly after her silence.
Zairus turned his head and grinned impishly up at her. "Oh, I'm sorry," he amended mockingly. "Did you have a particular destination in mind? You must have taken a trip to the grocery store, am I right?"
"Having no destination," she said emphatically, "does not make a flight 'aimless.' "
"Hm." He shrugged, smiling wryly as he looked back up at the sky. "I'll never understand you winged people. I can't imagine what you find so entertaining up there. Flying for fun seems like an awful waste of time to me."
Evra looked down at him in silence for a moment. "... That is because you have no wings," she said in an unreadable tone. "I pity you flightless creatures. To be chained to the ground for your entire lives, to never know the simple joys of flight... It must be a sad existence indeed."
He laughed then, getting slowly to his feet. "A sad existence? Just because we can't flit around in the air? Please. You make it sound like we're missing out on one of life's greatest pleasures."
She eyed the wolf demon wordlessly for a long moment. Then, suddenly, she turned away, walked a few paces forward, and knelt on the grass.
"Get on," she said abruptly.
For a moment there was no reply. Then Zai's voice came from behind her, slow and skeptical. "Oh, there are far too many ways to misinterpret that order. But I value my life, so I'm not going to list them. Are you feeling all right today, angel? You do realize that you're offering to let 'filthy demon scum' go for a joy ride on your back?"
"I'm in a good mood right now," she warned. "Don't make me rethink this offer. I cannot stand by and allow you to go on believing that flight is pointless or boring. So I will show you what you're missing." She gave her wings a light, impatient flap. "Hurry up. Before I change my mind."
There was another pause. Then a sigh, and approaching footsteps. "If it will keep you from lecturing me on this topic, I suppose." The footsteps stopped. When Zairus spoke next, his voice held a distinct note of amusement. "So how am I supposed to go about 'getting on,' then?"
Evra fought the urge to let out an impatient huff, instead settling for an exasperated eye roll. "Legs around the torso," she instructed briskly, "arms around the neck. Do not make this more awkward than it needs to be. We both know full well that no unfortunate implications are intended."
"Of course not," he said dryly. She felt his hands settle on her shoulders as he climbed somewhat awkwardly onto her back. She struggled to keep her balance- the wolf demon was heavy. She would have to take it easy on this flight, as her wings were already strained. "Arms around the neck," she repeated. "Gripping my shoulders will do you no good."
"You expect me to hold on to this twig you call a neck?" She felt his sharp black nail poke the pale skin of her neck, and her shoulder twitched irritatedly in response. "Too fragile. I'll snap your spinal cord, and that will leave me a hundred feet in the air with no angel and no parachute."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said flatly. "You should know by now that I am anything but fragile. If you try to hold on to my shoulders instead, the wind will rip you straight off my back, and I am too tired to dive after you. Will you hurry up already? I'm not going to stay out here all night."
"Huh... Well, whatever you say. Don't blame me for your impending paralysis." His arms wrapped around her slender neck and locked firmly in place. She slowly stood, wings spread at her sides for balance. The demon rested his head on his arm, the side of his face pressing lightly against her hair. "All right, then. Let's see this flight of yours," he said in a resigned tone. Then his tone changed, and she could hear the smug, entertained smile in his voice. "At the very least, I'll have something to brag about back at the base. Ah, I can just picture the reactions... It's going to-"
"It seems I haven't made myself clear on this yet," Evra cut him off forcefully, scowling as she flexed her wings. "Speak of this to anyone, at any time, and I will decapitate you, burn your body, and feed your head to the crows. No exceptions." She braced herself and gave her wings an experimental flap. "Now hold on, or this will be a very short flight for you. And from this day forward, you will never downplay the delights of the air again."
And with that, she took off running, and hurled herself into the night.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2012 9:31 pm
((Agh, neglected the challenge again. I know we don't have to update every day, but I feel guilty when I don't... Besides, I need to pressure myself a little if I ever want to finish this.
... On a side note, I seem to be writing an uncharacteristically large amount of relationship-centered pieces lately. I'm not sure why, as I usually avoid that sort of writing. I suppose it's good to expand my horizons a bit, though.))
Prompt: Can't
I Can't, So Don't
Don't try to make me change;
I can't leave myself behind.
Don't tell me why I'm wrong;
I can't let you change my mind.
Don't get any closer to me,
I can't afford to drop my guard.
Don't try to steal my heart;
I can't show you it's been marred.
Don't pay me compliments;
I can't abide your lies.
Don't say "look at me,"
I can't meet your earnest eyes.
Don't offer your support;
I can't accept it anyway.
Don't tell me it's all right;
I can't believe in "some day."
Why do you insist on this,
this fruitless, one-way bond?
I can't get too attached to you,
can't let my heart respond.
You know I can't be with you;
I think you've always known.
So why are you so stubborn?
Why can't you leave me alone?
Is it out of pity for
this broken, faded soul?
Or is it something different?
What's your motive? What's your goal?
You tell me that you care,
but why? How can that be?
I'm distant, quiet, wary;
what's to like about me?
I can't afford to love you,
though you can't seem to see.
Besides, someone as kind as you
deserves much more than me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 7:53 pm
((... I have such an awful case of writer's block, it's not even funny. So I'm just going to ramble aimlessly about a prompt and pretend it somehow counts as literature. Okay? Okay.))
Prompt: Personality
What is personality?
It seems like an easy question, doesn't it? Personality is you. It's who you are, it's what you're like. If you want to get technical, it's the specific behavioral traits that you possess. But it's not really set in stone, is it?
You can't tell me you behave the same with everyone. It would be a lie.
For example, you act differently around your parents than you do around your friends. You act differently with your boyfriend or girlfriend than you do with your younger sibling. (Or at least, I hope you do.) You act differently in a room full of strangers than you do with a group of friends and family. Don't you? My point is, bits of your personality change to suit your environment. How much is an act? How much is you, and how much is your mask?
If you're put into a situation that calls for certain personality changes, and you stay in that situation for long enough, those changes become permanent. You become the mask. That's happened with me personally so many times that even I'm not sure what my original personality is like anymore. It's unnerving, unsettling, disturbing. Do I even have a personality anymore? Or am I simply an empty shell behind a mask? Who, exactly, am I?
Have you ever had that problem before? If not, count yourself lucky.
If not, continue to be true to yourself. Never lose sight of who you are.
If so... Hey, it's not really so bad. We'll all find ourselves eventually; I imagine it's difficult to hide from yourself for very long.
So, hang in there. And keep looking.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 8:12 pm
Prompt: Siren
Summary: A brief glimpse of life through the strange, lovely eyes of a siren.
I drift.
The great light hangs brilliantly in the middle of the vast, arching blue sky- I can see it, wavering and distorted, through the sea's shifting surface so far above me. It sends soft rays of shimmering radiance filtering gently through the clear, sapphire water that cradles my supple figure.
I float peacefully in those azure depths, my lithe muscles relaxed, my brilliant aquamarine eyes half-lidded with sleepiness, my lovely chestnut tresses waving gently about me like glossy seaweed. On a whim, I languidly raise one slender arm to reach for the light, long fingers outstretched. For a few minutes I amuse myself dreaming of actually holding that bright golden orb in my hands, swimming slowly across the sky with it. Perhaps I would stop in the middle and go backwards, delighting in the confusion of the beings below. Or perhaps I would dive back into the sea, bringing that lovely warm glow with me, its gently wavering rays billowing behind me like a great luminous cloak.
Heh... "Cloak." I learned that word from the land-walkers. It's a type of what they call "clothing." They cover themelves up with it. What a funny little quirk. They're such entertaining creatures.
At some point I grow bored of my musings. I suppose I should find something else to do. I pause for a long, luxurious stretch, feeling my powerful muscles flex beneath the rippling, multicolored scales of my long, lovely tail. Then I lash that tail and go shooting through the calm waters.
I wander aimlessly for a time, traveling easily beneath the ever-shifting waves above. I find a coral reef and weave through the colorful structures for a bit, challenging myself to see how fast I can go without bumping into the sharp coral. A while after I've moved on, I come across a large school of vibrant yellow fish. They see me coming and scatter frantically in all directions, darting away into the shadows of the waves.
They are creatures of the sea- if they could not recognize danger so quickly, they would not still be alive.
After a time, I hear something intriguing. The sound is faint and muffled by the waves, but my ears are sharp, and I pick up on it immediately. It is a single voice, raised in song. Not one of my people- this is the voice of a land-walker. I can tell by its coarseness. My people have voices smooth as silk and sweet as nectar. Or, at least, that's what the land-walkers have compared them to. I personally haven't the faintest idea what "silk" or "nectar" are, but I must assume that they are smooth and sweet enough to be worthy of comparison to my spellbinding voice.
I feel a vague stir of interest. I drift upward, curious. Soon I reach the shimmering veil of the surface. Slowly, silently, I allow the upper half of my head to emerge into the dryness of the air.
I am floating beside land now. There is a small dock protruding into the water- it looks old and ramshackle, as though no one is around to maintain it. On that dock sits a young man. I have never been particularly good at judging the ages of these creatures- they have such brief lifespans, it hardly matters either way- but this one looks to be in his adolescence. Thirty...? Forty? But no, I don't think their youth lasts that long. Silly creatures. In any case, it doesn't matter what age he is. He is young, and rather pretty for a land-walker. His hair is dark, his eyes are green, his skin is pale, his body lean. He is singing. It's a song I've heard before. The song is meant to be loud and boisterous- one of the tunes they call "sea shanties," I believe- but the boy's voice is not loud, and his tone is not bold. I would normally approve of this change, but while his voice is not loud enough to be considered boisterous, neither is it quiet enough to be considered gentle. It is, in fact, somewhere in the middle, and this gives it a rather flat quality that irritates my music-sensitive ears. I feel a sudden, strong urge to correct his careless volume problem. But, of course, that would involve showing myself, which would involve everything that naturally comes afterwards. I mull this over for the space of a few breaths.
It has not been long since my last meal... But I suppose I could fit another.
And besides... I am bored.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 10:39 pm
((... You know what? I move into college the day after tomorrow. At this point, if I skip a day or two, (or three... or four...) so be it. I'll catch up eventually. This might wind up being the 400 day challenge for me. Ah well.))
Prompt: Fantasy
Elysse was ready.
She stood in the Field of Awakening beside her traveling companions, garbed in light armor gilded with gold and sapphire, her sword gripped firmly in her hand. The weather was gorgeous- warm, but not hot, with a cool breeze sweeping the meadow and stirring the tall grass. She spent a few moments staring up at the peaceful, untroubled azure sky, steeling herself for what was to come. Then she drew a deep, slow breath, squared her shoulders, and turned to her friends. "Are we ready?"
Lyzel shot her a confident smirk, casually shuffling through his arsenal of wickedly curved daggers. "Who, me? I've been ready," he replied offhandedly, amber eyes steady and reliable as stone.
Yulia gave him a look that implored him to take things seriously for once. Then she looked back at Elysse, silver eyes grim behind her glasses. "This will be our most perilous battle yet," she said gravely, clutching her thick spell tome to her chest. "But if we can weaken the Daemon enough, my Cleansing Light spell should be able to finish it off. I am fully prepared to play my role today."
Eryn returned Elysse's questioning gaze with his honest blue eyes, and she could see the fear just beneath the surface. "I'm ready," he said, his voice quavering just slightly as he held his staff in a white-knuckled grip. "I've been getting stronger. I should be able to heal anything that's not a mortal wound."
Elysse looked carefully between them for a moment. Then she allowed a smile to creep across her face. "We can do this," she said firmly, green eyes glittering with fondness for her friends. "We've taken on greater challenges than this before, and we've come out on top every time."
"Actually," Yulia put in helpfully, "as I said earlier, this will be the most per-"
"I have faith in you," Elysee went on quickly, shooting the mage a reproachful glance. "As always, it's an honor to fight by your sides. If we work together, we're capable of so much... So let's put our power to good use. Shall we go?"
"Yes," Eryn replied determinedly, visibly pushing his doubts aside. "Let's do it."
"And let's do it quickly," Lyzel added dryly, "so that thing doesn't burn down another city while we're listening to heroic speeches." So saying, he gave Elysse a pointed look.
She couldn't quite keep the pout from surfacing on her face. "I'm just trying to raise our morale," she grumbled, turning away. She shrugged her armored shoulders and started across the field, her friends at her heels. In the middle of the field sat a large, mauve-scaled dragon. When Elysse reached it, she patted its flank fondly, drawing its luminous orange gaze to her. "How about it, Kaeres?" she said with more cheer than she felt. "Will you take us to the Daemon?"
It looked at her for a long moment with those fathomless, cat-slit eyes. Then it turned its face away and spread its great wings.
"All aboard," Elysse said brightly, clambering onto the serpent's back. Her friends followed, and once they were all on, the dragon raised its great wings and brought them down in a powerful stroke.
And they began to fly.
Elysse held on to the creature's spines as it climbed into the brilliant blue sky. The wind rushed around them, making the warrior's long, dark braid lash wildly behind her like an angry snake. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Yulia sheltering her spell book in the folds of her white and silver robe, holding on to her glasses with one hand. Eryn clung to the dragon's scales, his face pale, clearly trying very hard to avoid looking down. Lyzel, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. When Elysse looked to him, she found him looking right back at her, eyes serious. She looked back at him and gave him a reassuring nod before turning forward again.
For several minutes, they soared through the air in grim silence. Then Elysse heard Yulia's clear voice calling out over the roar of the wind. "Over there. To the East. Do you see that?"
Elysse gazed towards the East and felt her heart sink. She could just make out a plume of gray smoke rising in the distance.
"What? It should have taken that thing at least another day to reach Valehaven!" cried Eryn's thin, horrified voice over the gale.
"With any luck, that's not Valehaven going up in smoke," Lyzel called grimly. "It could just be uninhabited woodlands. Let's hope that's the case."
They fell back into dreading silence as the dragon soared closer to the smoke. Soon they were almost directly overhead. Elysse squinted down into the smoke as the dragon began to descend. "Guys? You see that?" She called warily.
"Oh, God," Eryn's choked out. "Is that...?"
"Elysse," Yulia's voice barked out with sudden urgency. "It's-!"
"Alyssa!"
The girl jumped in her seat, banging her knees on the bottom of her desk in the process. Her glasses slipped off her nose from the sudden movement and went clattering to the desk atop her half-finished worksheet. But she didn't need them to see that the faces of every student in the room were turned towards her. She could feel Mr. Hawthorne's glare on her skin. "Miss Redwood," he said pointedly, "I asked you a question."
She felt a furious blush creeping across her face. "O-Oh... Um..." Everyone was staring at her. She heard a snicker somewhere off to her left, and fought the overwhelming urge to sink down in her chair like a child and pray for invisibility. "I-I... I'm sorry, Mr. Hawthorne, I didn't..."
"Of course you didn't," he sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently against his folded arms. "You were off on cloud nine again, daydreaming. But daydreaming won't get you any closer to passing this class, Miss Redwood. Unless you were pondering the practical uses of geometry...?"
There were muffled giggles throughout the room, and in spite of her best efforts, Alyssa sunk a little lower in her chair. "S-sorry, Mr. Hawthorne," she mumbled, face burning, as she stared intently at the floor.
He gave another sigh before turning to the rest of the class. "Would someone else like to answer the question Alyssa ignored?"
"Twenty-three pi," someone chirped helpfully from the back.
"Wrong," Mr. Hawthorne said firmly, shifting his gaze to the other student. "But that's a common mistake. You see..." He turned back to the board and began scribbling formulas, talking as he went.
Alyssa silently thanked the student who had taken the attention off her, quickly shuffling through her notes to catch up. She'd never been particularly good at paying attention, but her lack of concentration was twice as bad in any math-related classes she took. It wasn't her fault- numbers were boring, pointless, bland. They couldn't capture her attention for more than a few minutes at a time. The only thing that could hold her interest for hours and hours on end were books- specifically, books about fantasy. She delighted in reading of mythic lands and urgent quests, powerful monsters and valiant heroes. She couldn't get enough of fantasy. And so, she simply spun her own stories when she ran out of written ones.
It wasn't her fault that first period geometry was the best place to do it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 16, 2012 8:01 pm
Prompt: A Bad Decision
Only now have I realized
that I've opened up
and made myself vulnerable
to the deepest of pain.
I let someone slip
through the c***k in my armor--
I'd tried to protect my
broken heart, but in vain.
I'd been foolish before,
trusting all who came near
and allowing them into
my soft, fragile heart.
It had caused me such torture,
tasting bitter betrayal
that I knew I should have
seen right from the start.
And now I'm repeating
that grievous mistake,
and trusting someone
with my truest self.
I know all its dangers,
and how risky it is,
but I simply can't help it--
I'm not built for stealth.
It's naiive and foolish,
but just being myself
around somebody else
feels unbelievably nice.
But she now has the power
to destroy me completely--
I can feel my fear rising
as I walk on thin ice.
So much could go wrong--
be it distaste or betrayal,
disappointment or envy,
disagreement or spite.
I forswore close friendship
for a very good reason--
It's so hard to tell what is
black and what's white.
I'm frightened, so frightened
of what might be coming,
and whether or not
I'd survive it at all.
But it's too late to go back--
I'm now out in the open.
All that's left is to see
whether or not I fall.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 24, 2012 7:56 pm
Prompt: Sacrifce An Offering Her creamy skin was powdered pale, her dark hair styled with easy grace. A careful hand daubed subtle color onto her somber face. She’d been arrayed in splendid clothes and painted like a craftsman’s doll so that, like a crisp white snowflake, she’d look fair in her fall: The fall she knew was close at hand, that spiral of merciless fate which offered her up as a ransom to coldly gleeful hate. Dimorr was the creature’s name, the demon god her people feared, the one who forged the ritual to which they all adhered. And she’d been chosen for this role, this cruel, corrupted sacrifice that plagued her home for centuries at such a heavy price. Why her? Why now? Why give in to such evil, frightening demands, and place an innocent young girl into those wicked hands? She knew they feared, but so did she, and she would suffer for it most. And yet, they’d rather give her up than face this fearsome ghost. Blind terror, dread, and frustration clouded her mind and heart and soul, beneath which cold, accusing rage smoldered like icy coals. Before long, she’d stand all alone atop the altar, charred jet-black by past offerings to Dimorr and never come back. Now she waited, brown eyes grim and dull with muted fear and rage for the tender year of seventeen to be her dying age.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:42 pm
Prompt: Soundtrack
She was alone,
weary and cold,
with not a soul in the world
to worry for her.
The shade of the trees
hid her pale, scrawny form
but the shadows were not deep enough
to conceal her piercing blue eyes,
shining vividly in the darkness,
peering out from beneath her ragged black bangs
like icy floodlights casting a blinding glare
of muted despair,
silent wails,
and anguished accusation
onto any being they beheld.
She sat beneath a willow
and envied it harshly
as only a child can do,
fiercely jealous that a silent, mindless thing
could weep
as she wished to.
She was a lost wraith in those woods,
eerie in her tattered white sundress
and milky pale skin,
the sad origin of many a ghost story.
Lucy, some called her,
the wandering ghost
of a child murdered
in the indifferent woods,
ever searching for her killer,
burning silently with desire
for revenge.
To others, she was Alice,
the spirit a girl who had strayed into the woods
in spite of her parents’ warnings,
never to return
from those jade depths again.
But to the analytical, the cynical,
the ones free of superstition,
she was known only as
the Listener.
That was all they knew of her,
and they did not like to speculate
any further. She was simply
a strange child
who slept bathed in sunlight
and walked moonlit paths,
who listened.
All who saw her
observed this quirk.
At the slightest sound,
the eerie waif would close her eyes
and tilt her head back,
as though straining to catch
the melodies of a distant chorus.
As though
the bright flutings of a bird
and the hissing patter of rain
and the forlorn cries of far-off wolves
were the
soundtrack
of her misery.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
