Prompt-of-the-Week Club

[Sporty]

I keep trying to write my story, but this idea has turned out to be rather simplistic and it just doesn't feel right so I keep losing all motivation to get anywhere past the very beginning. Bleh

Squid, yours is clever! Sky-pirate monsters dreaming themselves into our world, eh? Nifty And even though it isn't quite the same kind of story, I just kept getting a Monsters Inc. vibe from the whole thing, heehee.

[Deleted]

Aww, that's okay. At least you tried!

Thanks! The sky-pirate thing didn't even come into play until the very end and I was like "wait, if Mrrk is dreaming, what does he do during his waking hours?" I also wanted to make it clear that he was rethinking his life, which would have been probably too subtle if I hadn't included that last part. Also I just wanted to play around with alien sky pirates on a gas giant planet.

The Monsters, Inc. vibe was partly intentional, honestly. In my initial conception for the piece I was thinking "what if it's monsters' job to hide in closets and scare children" and then I was like "Wait. That's Monsters, Inc." So I gave it my own bizarre twist. Like what the movie would have been if I had written it.

So... anyone want to venture a prompt for this week?

[Breakingchains]

Promptness.

I wanted to give up on it, forget it ever existed. But that's hard when it's keeping me awake every night.

Y/N?

[Deleted]

Sounds good! This should be fun; I'm trying to think of what I can come up with for this one.

[Sporty]

Oh my gosh, I've already got an idea for that prompt. It's really more of a "hey I can/want to make an alternate interpretation of that prompt" idea than an actual plotline, but I've got a gut feeling that I'll have better luck this time than with the previous prompt XD Good idea!

[Deleted]

Look out, world! It's Monday!

Like Sporty, I decided to take mine in a bit of a different direction.

Trigger warning: vomit references.

SPOILER: Click to show

Claire woke up to someone prodding her shoulder, none too gently.

“Mom? Moooom.”

“Nnnggghhh.” She smacked her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth and rolled over, her son’s silhouette barely visible in the dark. “What is it, Matthew?”

“Whitney threw up over the side of the bunk bed. A lot.”

“Oh. Great.” Claire rolled back over and tried to hide her head under her pillow. She knew letting Whitney go to that birthday party was a bad idea. The girl had come home with an enormous slice of artificial-pink cake, and a treat bag full of candy. And then eaten it all after her Spaghetti-O’s dinner.

That did not sound like it was going to be fun to clean up.

“Mom?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Claire tried to will herself to get out of bed. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. 2:03. “Augh.”

“Mom?” Matthew’s voice became increasingly pleading and insistent.

Claire twisted back over, clutching the sides of her pillow with an impatient scowl. “Yes, Matthew, what is it?”

“I stepped in it.”

She buried her face in her hand.

Based on a true story, actually.

[Breakingchains]

Oh, yuck. xD; I'm trying to think of something else to say, but still coming up with "Yuck"... which probably means you did a nice job.

Mine went straight back into speculative fiction territory again. I'll never write anything normal. xD

SPOILER: Click to show

  It hums. Which makes it even weirder that the others keep denying it exists.

  If it was silent, I could understand. It’s hard to see with your eyes. Even harder to acknowledge what you've seen. But it also hums. Makes a sound, just sitting there, somewhere between a bell and a buzzsaw, a sound that goes right into your head in order to root itself somewhere around your molars and starts thrumming in your brains and then it never stops.

  It’s small, and it’s green, and it hums. That’s basically all I can tell you about it. It doesn’t have a form, not really, and when you pick it up you feel nothing—it’s weightless, with no texture or temperature. No surface at all, no physical essence. But it hovers and glows and you see it almost the same way you see clear water in a glass, just refraction of light. All you see is the green light and the lines of your fingers warping through a prism that isn’t there and the beams displacing in a different way every time, and the walls of the room trying not to bend to it and barely, barely succeeding. It shouldn’t exist, and I’m not sure why it does, and nobody else can see it or hear it or feel it staring at them like it’s trying to suck their thoughts from their eye sockets…

  So I put it in the drawer. The third time Dad threatened to send me back to the ward, I put it in the very back and left it there. I wanted to give up on it, forget it ever existed.

  But the ringing keeps me up every night.

  I can’t tell you where I found it. I’d get arrested. But I couldn’t have stayed away. Because it sucked me in like a whirlpool and all I can figure is it chose me, called to me, and now I’m the only one who can perceive it. I’ve got some kind of mission. It’s trying to speak. But it can only ring.

  I’ll wait for it. And when it tells me what it is I need to do, then I am going to do it.

  Then maybe I can sleep...

Really rough, but eh. I think I might take this and expand on it because my brain is wanting to go places with it.

[Deleted]

xD Sorry. It was the first thing that came to mind, and I wanted to do something short because I've been expending most of my energy on this series. (Which, by the way, is coming along really nicely thanks to your help.)

Ooh, yours was really cool. I love the imagery, it's very vivid, and delightfully unsettling. It almost sounds like a miniature black hole or something. I think the concept definitely has potential.

Any prompts for this week?

[Breakingchains]

Oh, no, it's fine. x3 And thanks! Haha, I totally was not even thinking of a black hole, but now that you mention it... I really have no idea what it is, though.

I'll give someone else a chance to chime in, but I could do another prompt if no one else wants to.

[Deleted]

That's all right, I should probably take a turn.

I was always searching for it.

Maybe not the most interesting prompt ever, but eh.

[Twillie]

I'm going to try to post a story by the end of this week! I've got a draft right now, and hopefully I can fix it up in time!

[Deleted]

Awesome, I'm excited to see it! I've got mine written up and I'm quite pleased with how it came out. I want to submit it to the Times, so critique would be really appreciated when I post it.

[Deleted]

It's that time of the week again!

SPOILER: Click to show

That Great Hunger


Isengrim pawed through the undergrowth, the scent lingering in his nostrils. The Werelupe slinked through the shadows, dropping to all fours, his shoulderblades rippling up and down through his dark fur. He was on the trail.

“Milord.”

“What is it, Suhel?” Isengrim did not have to see the other Werelupe to know she was there. Her scent was unmistakeable, and his quivering ears could pick up every time her bare paws stepped on dead leaves, her bone-crafted armour brushed against branches, or she simply breathed quickly.

“Aren’t we too far away from the keep?” A pause. “I believe this is Hubrid Nox’s territory, sire.” They spoke in low, low whispers. Even though their quarry was far out of earshot, in the Haunted Woods, there was a good chance other things could be listening in. Maybe even the Woods itself.

“I’m hungry,” Isengrim growled. “They’re carrying food.”

Her eyes flashed red in the dark. Suhel was closer than he’d estimated. “You know what that warlock will do if he catches us in his domain. We lack the magicks to contest his claim to this land. We have food enough at the keep.”

“I want this food,” the Werelupe King insisted. They’d been following for hours the aroma of something salty and savoury and mouthwatering all at once. It had peaked his interest as soon as he smelled it. From there, the hunt was on. It was true that he tasked his thanes with collecting tribute to sustain him and add to his hoard, but he was a Werelupe, after all, and the thrill of the chase would never die for him.

He lifted his muzzle, his lips parting. A new smell. “Fire,” he breathed. “They’ve lit a fire.”

“Which means they’ve stopped,” Suhel concluded, sounding relieved.

Isengrim snorted in response, and they kept moving.

A hearty campfire blazed in a clearing, and Isengrim watched it through the thick of the leaves. Around it sat a red Grarrl, a yellow Skeith, and a blue Eyrie, laughing merrily and eating fresh fruits.

“Man!” the Skeith said, its tone revealing it to be female. “Great camping trip, huh?”

“Yeah, the Haunted Woods was an awesome idea!” the Eyrie agreed with a nod, his long tail waving.

The Grarrl swallowed his apple whole, stem and all, then turned to look over his shoulder. “Hey, Eli! Can we dig into the pizza now?”

“Sure thing!” A tall, lanky creature stepped into view. Isengrim’s ears tilted in confusion. It walked on two legs, and was furless except for a patch of close-cropped, curly black hair on its head. Its skin and eyes were dark, and it had small ears, no snout, no tail, and hands with four fingers and a thumb. And it wore clothes. Its small feet were bound up in leather boots.

“What is it, milord?” Suhel asked, just as confused.

Isengrim closed his eyes. Somewhere deep inside his mind lurked a tiny seed of memory, buried under the ages. He let out a breath and pulled it up.

“All right, my very own Neopet!”

His first memories were of a face, young and excited.

“Okay, so you’re a Lupe. That’s cool.”

Love.

“How do I make Neopoints? Aw man, I gotta feed it? Where do I get food?”

Wasn’t he loved?

“Man, these games are boring. I can’t figure this out at all.”

Who was he? Did he even have a name? And the hunger grew, grew all the while.

“What? Oh, yeah. I thought it was gonna be cool but it’s kind of confusing. I dunno.”

The hunger gnawed and curled its cold fingers around him and told him he was not loved.

“Yeah. I think I’ll go somewhere else. I’m tired of this.”

He was not loved. And he ran from his tears into the wilds and the Woods did not consume him, it tempered him like fine and hardened steel.

And he became king.

“It’s an owner,” Isengrim breathed, trying to shove the memory back into oblivion. “They’re weak and cravenly things.”

“So that’s what they look like,” Suhel commented.

The owner reached into a bag and pulled out a flat, white box. He opened the lid and immediately the scent of something warm and cheesy flooded the area, making Isengrim salivate.

His eyes widened as the owner lifted out triangular shapes dripping with cheese and meats, and handed them to his Neopets. The Grarrl took a slice with a hearty laugh, and the boy hooked an arm around the Eyrie’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug and ruffling his azure feathers.

Isengrim let out a snarl. “I want it.”

“Milord!” Suhel took on a scolding tone. “We must wait until they’re asleep!”

“They’ll eat it all before then!” the Werelupe King whined. Already the Skeith was on her second slice.

The Eyrie’s ear tufts twitched. “What was that?” She looked in the Werelupes’ direction.

Isengrim bared his fangs and leaped out into the open, startling the four. He crouched low, digging his claws into the bare dirt, his tail lashing. “Give it to me!” he barked. “Your food! Give me all of it!”

The Grarrl stood up. “Make us,” he grunted, showing his rows of sharp teeth.

Acceptance of the challenge. Just what Isengrim was waiting for. He grinned. “With pleasure.” Behind him, a dozen more Werelupes rose out of the Woods, eyes afire. They stalked forward.

The owner and his Neopets shrank back. “Whoa, hey, guys, you can’t just—“ the Skeith began.

Isengrim flattened his ears and leaped, spearheading a wave of baying beasts that crashed into the clearing in a flurry of claws and teeth.

“Run!” The owner swung his leg over the Eyrie’s back and the little group took off into the trees.

A couple of Werelupes chased them to make sure they wouldn’t come back, while Isengrim, Suhel, and the rest set to work collecting their spoils.

The Werelupe King appropriated the rest of the pizza for himself, enjoying every delectable bite as the cheese dribbled down his chin and he got tomato sauce all over his fur. But as he ate, he thought. The memories would not stay down, and the lonely longing returned. He was owned, once. He tried to forget, oh how he tried. But he could not.

“I want an owner,” he announced on their way back to the keep.

“Milord?” Suhel tramped next to him. They made less of an attempt to be stealthy now, although caution was always wise in the Woods at night. “What purpose would an owner serve you? You already have vassals to do your bidding. Your network of contacts stretches across Neopia.”

He glared at her. “Do not question me, Suhel.” She could never understand the rasping hunger inside of him that could not be sated by food alone. “Keep an eye out for an owner on your hunts, all of you.”

“Owners rarely venture this far into the Woods, sire,” another Werelupe reminded him. “And we dare not breach the limits of your domain.”

“Aye, we’ve pushed it far enough as it is,” Suhel muttered, glancing over her shoulder. Her hackles rose. She had good reason to fear Hubrid Nox. They all did.

“Another one will come,” Isengrim rumbled.

Mist swirled around him as dawn approached. The taste of the pizza had already faded from his tongue. He wanted more. He would have to figure out later whether or not it was worth the trouble to try to reach his contacts in Neopia Central, which was where he guessed that family had come from based on their speech. Running things into the Woods was a business that demanded hefty pay, and Isengrim was loath to let go of what he had accumulated. It legitimized him, and more importantly it made him feel powerful. In control of his life.

They reached his castle on the cliff and he sent his runners ahead to announce his return. His kingdom was small, yes, but it was his. The guards on the ramparts watched him and welcomed him back, and as he passed through the thick doors and into the great hall, he let out a bone-freezing howl of fierce greeting.

He’d found this old fortress ages ago, already abandoned and broken-down, but used as he was to sleeping on bare ground, it was a vast improvement. And any proper king had to have a castle.

His hunting party dispersed to cluster with the other Werelupes, bragging and brawling over food. Isengrim sauntered to his throne, leaning back on the fur-covered bone, and looked out on his thriving realm. He wanted an owner. That need had been reawakened in him and it would not be put to rest.

But he would have to wait, for just the right opportunity and the right owner.

And when he found them, he would never let them leave him again.

It turns out I really liked my interpretation of the Werelupe King in the series I'm working on, and I wanted to further explore his motivations for his actions in said series, especially since they're not actually discussed a whole lot there. I think he's really a pretty tragic character who thinks he knows what he wants but has no idea how to get it aside from brute force. Suhel also makes a very brief appearance in the series, although she isn't named. And she's growing on me, too--for some reason I seem to really like the combination of an emotionally confused male leader of a pack of monstrous beings and his pragmatic, sisterly female second.

I want to submit this to the NT (probably after the series is done running, so this has something to tie into), so critique would be appreciated.

Also, prompt for this week, anyone?

[Twillie]

As these characters are from a story I've already started developing, I should probably give their backstory.

Delano (place holder name, though she is a girl) is a human hybrid. She's related to a humanoid species that has a special connection to the energy in color, called soul (basically every name and term is a placeholder). This humanoid species is dependent of soul, something they can also harness and manipulate, Delano having similar abilities. She is just as dependent, and her body provides soul just like theirs. However, a flaw that resulted in being half human, Delano has every color but green. As she does not live in the native soul forest, she has to find a green source daily so as to survive. Coincidently, her family knows another hybrid, Percy, who only has green in his system. He's not dependent to soul, and as he produces an abundance of green, he can provide for Delano all she needs. He also takes this as an opportunity to start a relationship with her, and everyone but Delano is satisfied. She soon starts to search for her own source of green as a result. 

It's a story in the early stages of development, and this is sort of an exercise to flesh the character's out some.

SPOILER: Click to show

 No one else is here. I had made sure of it, having checked each neighboring room. The kitchen stands as solitary as me. No one needs to see me. I wouldn’t bear to stand in anyone’s company now, if only just because of the efforts it took to be alone. When I had checked behind Percy’s bedroom door, his reading had consumed him. It was a fragile concentration he held, though, in such a quiet atmosphere. The journey to the stairs had been long and arduous, with each step carefully placed and balanced in weight. I had checked for any bum spots on the floor, any possible risks of making noise. He set a radar hearing on me. The last image of his hair and clothing had stuck in my vision; the vibrant greens had compared to faded photos. I don’t care. I had wanted to be alone.

I shouldn’t be alone, though. My heart races now, kicked out of its lethargic lull with fueling fear. My arms shake and my feet struggle to stay steady on the tiling. With a hand to my spinning head, though, I lead myself to the sink and remind myself to stay calm. To be here is exactly the plan. Brushing back my frizzy, greying bangs, I check once more for any signs of company.

I pull the scarf from my pocket. Handmade from relatives—human relatives, unfortunately—the length of both my arms, and fabricated with a deep, earthy green. Its color is its only hope. It wraps around my neck swiftly, both ends clasped tight in my fingers. Wearing it, feeling its coarseness near my face, does nothing. Twirling with it, smelling it, tasting it, all bringing me no results. The walls’ yellow fades from me as the scarf tumbles down my torso.

Outlines begin to blur, confusion rents at my head, and the counter catches me as I dizzily stumble back.

A sensation very similar to drowning…

I shake my swimming head, trying to force away voices from the past. A lurch in my stomach forces my arms around my waist, and the kitchen turns ever more dull, colors fading from view like water washing away paint. My hands meet the counter again, though, and my knuckles turn white. I grit my teeth. Resolute in thought, I think to myself that I’m alone now, and I’m still not done.
No time is wasted as I open the cupboard door, searching for the next piece of my plan. Shaky hands grab the right cup and force it under the sink, a moment later pressing it to my mouth as I start to drink.

My mother’s special mug: a souvenir from the forest, a reminder of Dad. Traditionally crafted and painted with every color. My fingers stroke its green stripe. Straight from advanced craftsmen, having using ancient techniques with each of their creations. Surely to have special properties, as I had planned. Although the cup had already emptied, I keep my lips pressed to it. I feel nothing though, as much as the colors touch me. Desperate lips keep a lover’s hold on the mug. Hopefully to have any special properties… Hot tears threaten to break behind my eyes.

“Hey there, Delly-pie! How are you, sugar sweets?”

I make my surprised jump into as casual a gesture as I can. I see Percy standing at the kitchen doorway, a book still occupying his hand. As he sees me as well, confused creases on his face almost overshadow his smile. I lower the mug to my chest.

“I was just getting a drink,” I tell him, keeping my gaze down.

“Well, why don’t I get you some more if it’s empty, pumpkin—” Percy freezes as he reaches out to grab the cup.

With alarm, his hand pushes my chin up. Unwillingly I reveal my fading irises, a clear indication of my condition.

“Do you need refreshing?” Percy’s voice goes high with concern.

“I-I’m fine,” I am hardly heard, my voice trailing away in defeat.

“No, no,” Percy says, “Here—”

I fall into his arms, his lips meet mine, and my head explodes. Color blinds me with the force of the sun, forcing my eyes to shut tight. A drenching wave of energy drowns me, invading every inch of my being. My heart picks up double time, and no thought in my mind survives. Everything is replaced with just whiteness: whiteness and an incessant ringing. Then, like being pulled out from a raging river, Percy breaks away, and I’m left breathless and helpless in his arms. My repulsion barely has room to breathe beneath the shock that puts a cold sweat on my forehead.

Weakly, my lids open to face a brighter day. I try not to squint as Percy’s overwhelming green greets me.

“There, feel better, cupcake?” He asks with a horribly white smile.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I needed,” I mumble as he strokes through my colorful hair.

That Great Hunger

SPOILER: Click to show

This read was really enjoyable, and perhaps thought provoking as well, at least with the flashback. I know that I felt a grain of guilt when seeing that kid abandon his first Neopet, just because it reminded me of all my forgotten accounts. Many other readers would probably have the same reaction, something you probably planned, as this relatability definitely contributes to the emotion and sympathizing of the lead. This is also something rather important as the lead isn't the most appealing person. It gives him proper motivation and characterization.

The descriptions are also quite vivid. I really enjoyed the line "bone-freezing howl of fierce greeting." And although you don't go into great detail of the surrounding's appearance, an eerie and suspenseful mood is still created. Just you're writing style as a whole flows real well and makes an easy yet effective read.
Overall, I think this story holds up real well

There are a few things I'm wondering about, mainly with Isengrim's sudden desire to have an owner.

But as he ate, he thought. The memories would not stay down, and the lonely longing returned. He was owned once. He tried to forget, oh how he tried. But he could not.

"I want an owner," he announced on their way back to the keep.

The fact that Isengrim wants an owner again is emotional and stands firm with the plot, but this transition between his thinking and conclusion feels rushed. Right now it feels more like the description is telling rather than showing. Perhaps as there's symbolism between hunger to loneliness, comparisons could be made between Isengrim's indulgent eating and a strange hunger in him that can't be satisfied, rather than have him just think explicitly about his loneliness.

"Aye, we've pushed far enough as it is," Suhel muttered, glancing over her shoulder. Her hackles rose. She had good reason to fear Hubrid Nox. They all did.

Does the mention of Hubrid Nox have an underlying importance to it? I'm just curious, because with Suhel's constant worry about him, it makes it feel as though Hubrid Nox will make an appearance in the story. The threat of him provides good motiviation for Suhel in the beginning, but if he doesn't play much else of a role, it might help to minimize mention of him.

Even though their quarry was far out of earshot, in the Haunted Woods, there was a good chance other things could be listening in.

I only bring this sentence up because of that comma after Woods. Does it need to be there, because right now the sentence's flow is a bit choppy.

Also, maybe as a prompt this week? I see something on the horizon.

[Deleted]

Very interesting concept! I love all of the intense description, you do a really great job of letting us get inside Delano's head and understand her feelings. It was easy to sympathize with her. And man, Percy is a creep. <_<

Thanks for the feedback! Good to know it hit the mark. I'll work on the stuff you pointed out. Nox was thrown in there because I like the idea of the Haunted Woods not having any overarching unification in government, merely spheres of territory/influence with vague borders. Hubrid is (or, well, was before his death) one of the main spheres, and Isengrim had his own tiny sphere until the events of the series, after which he and his pack relocated to Meridell, which is where they are in the Darkest Faerie video game. In this short story I wanted to give the impression that even though Isengrim is a king, his kingdom is not all that large or powerful, and they're really small fries compared to other powers in the Woods, so they have to exercise caution (and they've probably had plenty of run-ins with other Haunted Woods powers in the past as they established the boundaries of their territory).

Thanks for the prompt! I'll see if I can come up with something this week.