Daily Prompt

[Shoshana Re Menehat]

Nothing made you rethink your Halloween costume (as many sorority girls would likely be able to confirm) like an early frost. Winter had come freakishly early that year, pissing little Joey right off. He'd waited for weeks to dress in his Avatar costume, and for what? He was going trick-or-treating anyway, no way was he going to pass up on all that candy.

Determined, Joey began marching down the sidewalk, without his coat, despite his mother's wishes. "Joey!" she called after him, he could hear her voice muffled by the house's walls, though approaching. He continued on. No, he wasn't going to wear a coat. Avatar didn't wear a coat, it wouldn't look cool. That was when the first of the snow began soaking his cloth shoes. Well, that was kind of cold. But now it was a matter of pride.

"Joey wait!" He was nearly at the end of the drive by this time, he heard the car start up and the garage door open. Snow crunched beneath the tires. His mom was smiling at him from the driver's side window, wearing sunglasses to protect her from the still formidable glare of sun reflected by the snow. "Let's go get that candy, ninja guy," Mom never remembered what his costume was.

A gust of cold wind slapped him in the face, Joey was secretly happy she'd decided to come out this time. "Mom, it's an Avatar costume," he protested moodily as he opened the door. "Can we get Steven?"

"Oh, Avatar," his mother corrected herself with a smile. "Buckle up!"

[Braeth Frostfawn]

It was a journey, to be sure. The man, older than his looks pretended to be, sat on his knees, the world about him was cold, the air was thin, the pain, excruciating. He sat there, however, adamant, strong, in thought. No, not thought, in peace. His mind was clear, empty, his breathing was slow, calm, his body was cold, but he felt none of it. "It's snowing on you?" His master once told him. "No, it is only snowing. To say it snows on you, is to be selfish when you simply are not important." It was a strange concept to many, but it made sense to him. If it is hot, then be hot. If it is cold, then be cold. Well, that's where he was now, beyond cold, yet, and quite honestly, in danger. His body was surely going to give into hypothermia at some point. But, not yet. Death, yes it was possible, yes, he was meditating on it at that very moment, but no, he didn't fear it. He was a devout man, believed so strongly in his moral code, his religious texts, his mental and physical training, that he simply knew he was doing it right. The legend goes that he sat there for days, meditating in that frigid cold. And he became enlightened, realizing that his death meant he would join the great spirit, and possibly he would be born anew, wiser, better, and more compassionate than he was now. This realization made him smile. Then, he fell asleep, and joined the great spirit.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 14 - July 25, 2014 By Selenada

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Few truly understand hatred like those of bitter rivals. I don't mean rivals, like that girl on the soccer team that has recently tied your number of goals, nor that boy you're playing that online game with, that you'll never see again in your entire like. No, I mean rivals, like Vanessa and Scarlet. Vanessa and Scarlet had grown up together. They lived in the same upper class neighborhood. They both had considerably wealthy parents. They both were very intelligent and creative and beautiful. It was difficult to think that two girls who had everything they could want, could find room to hate on each other. But, they did. In everything, they competed, fighting tooth and nail to come out on top on whatever it was they did. Piano? The first to master every classical piece was the superior musician. Sports? The faster swim time, the favored ballet performance, was the greater. Art, however, was Vanessa's passion. It was one of the few things that she didn't really care about competition. It was a true hobby. Something she just loved to do, for herself alone. Except that when the two girls went to school, first year of college and they had both gone into a much revered art program. All year long, Vanessa and Scarlet painted and crafted, sculpted and drew, took pictures, made videos, and so on. They did everything, and in fact, now that they had matured, and Vanessa cared more about her passion for painting more than beating Scarlet, Scarlet seemed to also drop the desire to compete. They legitimately became friends. First year flew by, second year was lightning quick. Third year, don't blink, it would pass you. Then, final year, and their class was to put on an art exhibit. Everyone was to put up their absolute best project on show. Vanessa did a wonderful piece of art, a painting of a woman, who stretched across three separate canvases, was resting in three different poses, yet each was connected at the shoulder, with her arm in the same position. The anchor to the piece that brought it all together. Needless to say, her Professor praised her for it. Yet, when it came to Scarlet, whose work was simple, smaller. A painting of a woman with what looked like her head split open and something, flowers or nature or something along those lines, was pouring out from it. Vanessa thought it was cute, but it wasn't as elaborate as her own. It wasn't as well done. It didn't take as much effort. It wasn't as creative. Later that night, when they were at the exhibit, her Professor took it on himself to usher guests towards Scarlet's work. He saw something, he said, in every inch of that work. Hours passed, and though her art was appreciated genuinely, it was overcast by Scarlet's. Vanessa had to get away, stepped into the bathroom and locked herself inside. She cried, hard. She had given everything to this, her art, and she knew that it was merely a thing for Scarlet, nothing of great importance, just something to fill her time. Why did he see hers as better? She couldn't find an answer, and she just broke down in frustration. It had been a long time since she bawled this hard. It must have been a long time, because by the time she stepped out, everyone was gone except a single old janitor shuffling slowly through the halls. Vanessa stepped back into that room, and gazed at Scarlet's picture. That disgusting crude piece of shit. Vanessa, without considering her actions, reached into her pockets, took her car keys, and tore through the canvas paper. Once, twice, three times. Those jagged keys cut into the surface of the picture until it was mutilated, unrecognizable. Vanessa took a step back, her breathing was harsh, hallow, her face soaked in tears of frustration. Now, her art was undoubtedly better. Nobody could disagree.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 15 - July 26, 2014 By ODS-Photography

[Braeth Frostfawn]

You ever have that one love in your life? You know, the love, even though she may not be the prettiest, she may not be the ideal one, she may not be as fun as something else? Well, I have that love. A love that, for some reasons that completely defy logic, exists? Perhaps it's the way that, when I hold her, everything feels alright. The way that when I run my fingers across her neck just feels right. The way she makes those funny little noises as you play with her. Have you ever loved a guitar this intensely? I do.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 16 - July 27, 2014 By myINQI