|
|
Post by Thorn on Sept 4, 2020 17:53:46 GMT -5
Here's my piece for the week! Writing for the prompt Undisturbed, Until Now. For millions of years she had slumbered beneath the mountains, biding her time, wondering through dreams how the big-stomping-lizards and the small-scuttling-things were doing. She could no longer feel them, no longer reach out and feel that interconnectedness. Perhaps they were no longer there. Perhaps they had simply forgotten.
Then. The briefest brush of conscience against her own, a soft-small-hand placed against hers of hard craggy stone. Deep pools of magma flared into life- eyes. They churned and bubbled as she adjusted her focus, making it narrower-narrower-narrower, honing in on the tiny fleshy being crouched atop one of her limbs.
This being of flesh was not like the lizards, with their rough scales. It was like the smaller scuttling things, but...bigger now. Only patches of fur. Had the rest fallen off? Had the heat seared it? Pink skin and dark hair, maybe a thing slowly cooking, but looking at her, she felt. Definitely looking. She took a while to figure it out, but it seemed the tiny spots of blue- disappearing every few moments- were how it perceived her. She willed the being to speak. And I started to dabble at my own prompt- Starry Eyed- but barely even made a start on it. It struck me that my D&D character from an Umberclutch one-shot, who was a planar traveler, would have loved the market we visited in Umberclutch maingame, which is full of people and goods from all over the multiverse. “You’re being awfully quiet, Del.”
“It’s like having a little bit of every place I’ve ever visited,” they said, moving quickly, taking it all in. “That’s almost not an exaggeration.” My prompt for the next week is: back and forth |
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Sept 4, 2020 18:35:33 GMT -5
Week 4 prompt: "I forgot I had this"
|
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Sept 11, 2020 21:38:14 GMT -5
Here is my piece for ' I forgot I had this'! Would have edited and refined it, but ran out of motivation to do so. “I forgot I had this.”
He didn’t want to admit he didn’t know what it was. “Uh it’s...very nice.”
“It was my mother’s,” she clutched the vase-like object to her chest, eyes fluttering closed.
“Wasn’t she...?” he let the sentence hang.
“Yes. This was her prized possession. Above all my sisters, she wanted me to have this,” she tapped the pale probably-ceramic with one perfectly manicured nail.
“You must miss her very much.”
“Sometimes,” she slid the object back into its box, settling it amongst that dark velvety fabric. “Sometimes I think I hear her voice still. She wouldn’t have liked that I married a human, you know.”
“Does it matter?”
The fiend grinned. “Not anymore.” New Prompt: 'something borrowed.' |
|
|
|
Post by June Scarlet on Sept 11, 2020 21:58:03 GMT -5
|
|
|
|
Post by Breakingchains on Sept 11, 2020 22:13:06 GMT -5
I'm late on week four but anyways my week five prompt is "Anywhere but here"
|
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Sept 11, 2020 22:16:33 GMT -5
Nothing from me this week as I'm preoccupied with various things, though I may go back and do some prompts later.
For now, this week's prompt:
Ah ha!
|
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Sept 18, 2020 15:07:10 GMT -5
Week 5 results! I only did 2 prompts, as my mind is kind of all over lately. My writing probably reflects that. Don't expect Masterful Work. One prompt I did was Morph-A-Word, in which I got: said-sing-freed. However, I... really don't like what I wrote. I like the idea behind it, but it came out really contrived. Basically, it was about two criminals taking a millionaire hostage and getting the passcode to their vault, which turns out to involve singing. But it turns out to be a trick because the criminal who knows music theory 101 and is trusted for this type of information somehow doesn't know music theory 102, and the criminal who knows to cover all their bases somehow didn't think of loopholes. My other fic is for "Something Borrowed", though I ended up taking it loosely. It features Amani, and you can read it here. |
|
|
|
Post by Breakingchains on Sept 18, 2020 15:27:25 GMT -5
Feel like both of these are a little bit meh in the execution but here they are anyways: "Anywhere but here": Where the horse and carriage took you, no one knew.
For many hundreds of years it had been considered a myth, until these past few months. Coming out of the fog and only ever after dark, great ornate wheels solid and real on the cobblestone, to collect whomever it passed by. No one ever heard what the driver said, and no one ever declined their ride. They stepped amicably up into the seat and then they were gone. Heaven, hell? Distant lands? Straight into the ground? No one knew.
These were her thoughts as it rolled up beside her. He leaned out, graying salt-and-pepper eyebrows that heightened the curious burn of his eyes, like windows into fire.
“Where to, miss?”
She looked at the cold foggy streets lit up by gaslight, felt the chill against her velvet cloak. She looked at the bags in her hands, at the perfect golden bracelet her husband had given her for Christmas, at the trappings of the life that kept her safe and warm.
She stepped into the cab.
“Anywhere but here.”
Morph-a-word ("red," "lore," "ring") The ring was gold, with red enamel. The boy fidgeted with it as he left the caves, squinting in the evening light as he walked sweating out onto the path. The caverns were beginning to be picked clean; every so often one could still find some small treasure or another, left behind by the colony of small dragons that had been driven out when the village was first established. It was not uncommon yet to find an item with some lore around it, some legend or magic stolen from some or another king or hero. Items you could pitch as legendary tended to fetch a better price, at least if the scholars could tell you what they were.
The ring was a bit oversized for him, and he turned it over in his palm. Not his greatest find—that was still the beautiful magic dagger that hung above his mother’s mantelpiece—but not too shabby. He slid it onto one narrow finger, admiring the gem in the dying light. Then he gave it a tug.
That was funny.
He couldn’t get it off.
|
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Sept 18, 2020 17:13:59 GMT -5
Nothing from me this week, but I have a prompt for the next!
New Prompt: Further than any.
(this one comes from a recent messenger convo. xD)
|
|
|
|
Post by Breakingchains on Sept 18, 2020 19:11:30 GMT -5
Adding a new prompt: lost in translation.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Sept 18, 2020 19:30:07 GMT -5
Week 6 Prompt: Grab Bag
|
|
|
|
Post by Breakingchains on Sept 25, 2020 19:49:39 GMT -5
Grab Bag. Not a complete piece this week, but hey She tipped the bag, and the dice tumbled out from it, a large handful of them in a dozen different hues. She poked a red one experimentally; it felt like any other playing die, just perhaps a bit heavier.
“Sorry, these do what now?”
“Don’t jostle them, please. They’re enchanted with powerful time magic. When thrown, they cast a random spell out of any of the thousands created throughout human—”
She picked them up in one hand and tossed them. They clattered across the tabletop. With a pop of light something appeared in her hand. It appeared to be a nice quality socket wrench.
“Cool,” she said.
“Please don’t do that,” he said. She was already tossing them again. This time when she pulled back her hand from the throw, her nails were suddenly painted.
“I guess out of every spell ever cast, most of it’s gonna be silly student stuff, huh?” She said. “Oh, but there was that one guy in the history books who tried to like, destroy the world—”
This time when she went to toss them, he snatched them out of her hands. This week's prompt from me is fall colors. |
|
|
|
Post by Thorn on Sept 25, 2020 20:16:25 GMT -5
I didn't write anything again this week, but will contribute a prompt for the next!
Prompt: swan song.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lizica on Sept 27, 2020 23:15:42 GMT -5
I feel like I’m cheating somehow on multiple levels, because I’ve only read a small handful of the great stuff from this thread so far, and also this is technically last week’s prompt, and also it’s not Friday any more? I dunno, should I have waited until next Friday, am I doing this right, I’M SORRY, aaaa But uh, anyway, this past week, I’d been really feeling the itch to write something, but didn’t know what, and only on Thursday finally had the bright idea to just check this thread and see what you all were up to. Brainstormed that night in bed and eventually wound up with this. (I need to stop editing it, so please accept me flinging it at you. x'D) From Thorn’s “Farther Than Any” and also a bit of Moni’s “A Glimmer Seen From the Corner of Your Eye.” Here, at the very edge of the universe, was a seam.
It stretched out impossibly high, impossibly low, impossibly wide to either side of me, impossibly immense and yet also impossibly innocuous.
The quiet, dark void of space simply echoed forward as it does, but subtly turned inwards at its edge, looped back upon this perfect seam. It was like a mirror’s surface that at first glance did not seem to reflect anything. It appeared at most merely as a soft flash from the corner of my eye, as if the minute action of tilting my head either which way revealed an imbalance of color, or a flicker of abnormal starlight that would flee the moment I turned directly towards it.
I reached out to the seam, the muscles in my fingers tense and tight, as if they were being outstretched after long disuse.
As my hand trembled before the edge of the universe, I remembered, briefly, the words of my great aunt, her last warning before I left.
Two drops of watercolor, separated only by their own surface tension, she whispered. If you break their surface, the colors blend and bleed into each other, forming color anew. This will forever change your palette--for even if you try, you will never again fully separate the two spheres from one another.
But the universe could never be reduced to a single simple metaphor. And how could my great aunt possibly know anything about it? After all, I was the one here. I was the one who had gone farther than anyone else.
I reached out to the seam, the muscles in my hand tense and sure, as if they had been anticipating this very moment for all their days.
I reached out, and my longest finger brushed the glassy surface. I felt only the electricity of expectation in my fingertips as I drew them along the seam. The mirror-like plane readily broke and thrust apart, as easy as piercing the oily bubble surface of a stagnant pond.
I thought only to make a hole large enough for me to pass through, but all along the outer rim of my vision, reflected starlight burst and refracted in a rainbow of popped seams that reached out farther and farther from what I could ever possibly see.
But this time, I did not turn to look.
I strode forward through the broken seam. Likewise belated, but in the spirit of the thread, here's a possible prompt from a Dhruv Visvanath song I've been listening to: " Written in the Air." Keep doing awesome things. <3 |
|
