Daily Prompt

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Daily Writing Prompt! Brought to you by Leviathan Ever find yourself stumped on what to write, or ideas to making your posts a little bigger, pleasing, or just something you can approve of? Well, I can't help you there, but I can make this thread. As of today, and hopefully daily as much as possible, I will be finding a picture or image online and posting it here. In doing so, anyone reading is now obligated to write something about the image they see. For instance, a Fire Engine could easily be the story of a team of fire fighters on a day off, or perhaps it's something vague, more reference or allusion than a physical fire-extinguisher-on-wheels. The purpose of this thread is a simple one, to get you trained to spontaneously write, to write on a schedule (I hear personal rituals do wonders), and above anything else, get something written down just for the sake of accomplishment. We're talking short stories or poetry, even self-written song-lyrics. Whatever it is you want to write about, write about it. And then you post your creation here. If this goes well, I might try to fight the founders for an Award for so many consistent days of results or so many stories written here. I personally believe a little poke can help you think up the next greatest tale you've ever told. So, let's try it! Keep in mind that these posts are not associated with your PCs IC by any means, thus there is no grades or rewards to be had. This thread is simply for your own benefit, for your own pleasure, for your own growth, and perhaps a few bragging rights. Daily Prompt Post Count Redd - 8 Spirit Frostfawn - 2 Shoshana Re Menehat - 5 Current Consecutive Daily Prompt Count Redd - 0 Spirit Frostfawn - 0 Shoshana Re Menehat - 0 .

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 1 - July 11, 2014 By ChrisCold

[Braeth Frostfawn]

The jungle was gone. The human jungle, the boxes of steal and rubber to carry the people from their annihilated homes to their meaningless places of earning money. Money, a bizarre concept to nature itself. Did money even get acknowledged, did it even exist? Well, surely not now. In fact, very little of the human world existed. Mosser stepped casually through the once proud city. The ground, that painfully worthless cement, shattered and crumbled to pieces. The earth had finally reclaimed what was rightfully hers. Everything. Everything except Mosser. His hand gently brushed against the gargantuan roots that had punched their way straight through the man-made highway. He could feel her pleasure, her quenched thirst, her fulfilled vengeance. Mother Earth, she was a wrathful mother, she was not kind to her children, but it was time they met their fate. For centuries they raped the earth with machines, executed her babies without respect or justification. They took her home, pushed her down, and tried to bury her. Yes, it was time the Earth became a green planet, not a concrete maze of lingering smoke and ash. It would be centuries more before the all existence of mankind was gone. But Mosser saw it. Mosser saw the coexistence of all life, the symbiosis of the entire planet and all its denizens. A single tear rolled slowly down his grizzly face and was given to Mother Earth. He saw everything that would come, and it was worth it, all the death, destruction, retribution.

[Redd]

x

Day One - July 11, 2014

As she stood there, her feet parted to spread her weight evenly over the jagged branch that she had somehow managed to climb, so then she wouldn't fall. Her shoulders fell in dismay and her gaze dropped to view the dead, thorny carpet that spread out in front of her. It might as well be carpet made out of thorns, for she had made a long and arduous journey to climb up this one branch alone, just to try and gain a view of hope, of any life that may be present in this god forsaken land. However, after the death grip that she had held, in order to gain this, what she had once thought, to be a precious advantage, she began to feel that her efforts had all been for naught. What had she done in order to have angered the gods? What had she done, to deserve such an unending prison of thorns and an ever abundance feeling of loneliness?

Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she was tempted to throw herself forwards, off of this branch. If she did that, would it be the last that she would see of this prison? Would it end her suffering, her loneliness? If she continued, pressed on and didn't think such heavy thoughts. If she continued to hold onto a speck of hope, would it free her? Would it give her wings in the end? The young woman's tired eyes slid closed as a captive sigh passed her lips. This was what judgement for being a kelvic looked like, this was what civilization looked to a wolf. This, was what the desperate need for a companion and love looked like, a thorny prison, personally designed for the one person to suffer. A jungle of thorns, prepared to stab her at any moment, should she slip and fall.

x

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"Even when the rain falls,
You & I will stand tall."

x

[Spirit Frostfawn]

There it was. That little figure standing high up in a tree, on a great twisting branch of one of the giant trees. It looked so small there, so innocent, so weak. It didn't move, it just... stared, stared at something. It looked so easy to catch, too. To swoop down and pick it up, gobble it up in one big bite.

But that wasn't what Bat was supposed to do. No, he was a good Bat. He listened to Father. Good Bats did that, after all. They didn't eat the little things, as much as they looked like tasty bugs. Bat could go for a bug. No, he was supposed to watch. Watch and watch. He wondered why this thing was so important. The bug thing. It didn't do anything, it just wandered around. It was boring.

Bat yawned, gripping his branch tighter so he didn't fall off. He didn't mind falling. Sometimes falling was fun... but he was supposed to stay still. He watched, the bug didn't watch. It was simple, very simple.

The thing moved and Bat watched closely, big eyes tracking every movement. It turned, turned all the way around... and stopped, facing the foliage where Bat was hidden. Bat wondered why it stopped. Then Bat saw the big pink mouth open, take a step back, and...oops. Fall. It fell. Bat sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't supposed to let the thing die, either. He was supposed to watch it. How could he watch a dead thing?

Letting out an irritated snort, Bat pushed himself up and off the branch, to fall, and catch.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 2 - July 12, 2014 By roarysea

[Braeth Frostfawn]

The last time they had spoke, they fought. Fought, actually might not be the best word to explain what happened. He blew up on her, he pointed fingers, threw in her face everything she did to him, how she used him, abused him, neglected him, lied to him. He called her things, "lying bitch" and "selfish whore" were among them, and only a small portion of his extensive harsh vocabulary. And now, here he was, standing in her home. He had outlived her, it was to be expected for a very long time. She had been sick since she was young, cancer. It was outstanding she survived as long as she did, but that didn't make her an angel. On the contrary, she made Victor go through hell. Now, Victor stalked through the empty house. It was clean, one of her few redeeming qualities. The windows and countertops had accumulated dust, something she would never had allowed if she wasn't confined to her bed, and eventually stopped breathing. Unconsciously, Victor ran his index finger across the surface of an end table, tracing a semicircle next to the base of an old lamp, probably an heirloom of her mother's. Victor gave the den a final glance over before moving on into the next room. He should have left, but his nostalgia was pushing him onward. The bathroom. It was fairly well-sized for a smaller sized home. And this room had its fair share of memories. He remembered when they were just barely twenty-one, both of them, they had a night out on the town, came home beyond drunk, and found love in this very room. It was wild, passionate, and short-lived. Victor stepped awkwardly around the tiled room, as if to avoid the very place where they had wrestled that night, like he was preserving the memory physically. Reaching over the sink, he turned the knob. No water came. Goosebumps infected his skin. Moving away from the watercloset and across the hallway led him to a bedroom. Her bedroom. It had always been hers as long as he could remember. Even after her mother passed away, she kept the same room she grew up in, turning her mother's into a guest room. Victor was hesitant, hand resting on that brass doorknob. He had an eerie thought. 'What if she's in here, and I just barge in on her?' Impossible, her funeral was three days ago. But it was a spooky feeling. The door squealed as it slowly opened. He poked his head in to find the room barren. He sighed softly. That was good. He wasn't sure how he would act if something strange was here. He stepped in timidly and began to look the room over. This was the room the two of them got in a fistfight at the age of sixteen. Her mother was tough for an older woman because she charged in there in a matter of seconds and threw Victor out of their house with such ease that he swears to this day he got whiplash. Now though, he couldn't even remember what it was they were so fired up about. It was probably some backstabbing thing she did. She had a talent for doing things that broke Victor's trust. He sighed as he turned. He should go, Vanessa would be wondering where he was pretty soon. He moved towards the door only to be stopped in his tracks. Something was under his foot. Bending over, he snagged the object off the floor. It was a small yellow bouncing ball with a crudely simple smiley face staring at him. Victor stared at the toy for a long time before dropping to his knees. His best friend was gone. His true love was gone. His oldest and dearest and closest friend was gone. The last time they had spoken, he had released years worth of rage over their childhood on her, and she just took it with a lowered head and silence. That wasn't like her. But he understood it all now. She just wanted to fix everything that she had done, everything that Victor did to her. And all he wanted to do was stay mad, stay blind. Never had he cried so hard in all his life, clenching that tiny rubber toy to his chest. That toy itself held so many memories, and not a single one was bad. It was the last piece of her that he had now.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Day 3 - July 13, 2014 By erenarik

[Spirit Frostfawn]

A storm, a storm was coming, and Ive needed to get out of it. There were two more waypoints before shelter... and it had taken him so long just to get to one of them. The big crystals were obvious, especially in this flat wasteland, and he could see them from miles away... but it also meant they were miles away, miles and miles and miles. So far. He didn't think he'd be able to keep on walking until the next shelter, his trusty staff or no... and he had to get out of this storm.

Ive rubbed the grip around his hand nervously as he stared around, considering his options. He didn't want to leave the waypoint, leave its radiant glow... it felt safe, safer than out on that empty plain. His only danger out there was the storm, but it still frightened him. It wasn't a normal storm... the clouds were too big, and they smelled... strange. He knew the way the air smelled when it was about to rain. This wasn't it.

A crack of thunder hit the air and he shuddered, flinching away from the sound. He'd missed the flash of light that had come with it, but he knew... any moment, the rain would come. The heavy, torrential rain. He swore he could hear it now, thundering onto the ground... but that was a lie, too. All he heard was the wind whipping through his ears, promising a bad night... a very, very bad night.

He stared around, looking for something, anything to get him away from the horror that would soon come. The rocky ledges around would provide no protection from the skies above. In his desperation he turned to the stone he was leaning on, the base support for the giant crystal waypoint. If he could only hide in there, hide with the crystal... but it was solid rock. It would be useless.

He drifted a hand over the rough surface anyways, as if he would find a hole there. When he felt something, something different and strange, he froze... not daring to look at what his hand was grasping. He'd felt its shape many times before... who hadn't? But here? Here, on this rock? No... it wasn't possible. It was just a deformity.

He tried, tried just for the sake of trying. Another crack of thunder made him jump away, accompanying a flash of light ahead. He turned the handle...

...And opened a door.

[Braeth Frostfawn]

Standing above all When she calls, all will hear her Power of the world