Jump to content

Standing On The Literary Shoreline


Recommended Posts

Below, will be a paragraph I have written in a story called "Invisible." It is on my Livejournal, but I do warn against seeing it-- at least currently, anyway. What is to be done in this quest, is simply this: Read the first paragraph, and continue on the story from there. It doesn't have to be extremely long, in fact, it would be preferred it not be, because these stories will be read to Awiiya the Oak. This will be done at no specific time, but it MUST be done while he is awake.

[size="4"][b]In order for Applicants to fully be considered for the PenSword, they MUST be read to Awii when he is awake.[/b][/size]

Now, this isn't just an enter a story and hope for the best that it works, but rather, how it will be judged is by the following:
Originality, enjoyable story, thought provoking, layers of meaning, narrative technique, audience reaction [determined via forum poll], and ability to cause suspension of disbelief.

It does not have to have all of those, however it will help to make a well rounded story. The reason why it is best not to see the original story, is because you might draw from there what is already written, and it may inhibit your imagination. Remember, this is for you to give your own input on what will happen.

For those who I have personally showed the story to, they are not exempt from this. They have just an equal chance of writing a story as anyone else if they choose.

Prizes for the top winner will be [s]5 Credits[/s]. The Prize will no longer be 5 Credits, but rather Awii's PenSword as donated by him.
Others will be rewarding depending on the generosity of the sponsor/judge.
Deadline will be January 1st. [Because november is almost over and a good month should do.]

I look forward to your input!

[b]Please put your stories in this Thread and Ask your QUESTIONS in PM. Thank you. [/b]

Your paragraph:
[i]"The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself..."[/i]

Edited by Curiose
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring into the water, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to himself of the way in which all things will end.

Rain pelted his pale face, softly at first, but with growing intensity until the strength of the storm forced him to shield his eyes. He had watched the tempest approach over the tumultuous water, knowing that the lightning which reflected brilliantly upon its surface and the wind which drove its soothing waves would soon overtake the precipice upon which he stood. It was that eventuality – that foreknowledge of unavoidable circumstance – which occupied and provoked his thought.

‘Some things are better when observed at a distance than when experienced’, he mused as he sought the shelter of a small outcropping; no longer able to bear the ferocity of nature. And, with that thought fresh in his mind, he laid his head upon his arm, closed his eyes, and slept.

Wet with early morning dew, the man woke to a cloudless sky wherein moonlight battled that of the Sun before a diminishing audience of stars. He watched as, one after another, the celestial lights blinked out until the heavens shown as seamless and pristine as a fine blue silk. He squinted his eyes against the light of the dawn and marveled at the serenity of the hilltop. The man took a breath and filled his lungs with clean sea air, purged and purified by the night’s squall. A brightly colored bird sang sweetly to the comforting rhythm of gently slapping waves as it bathed in a pool which had filled with rainwater. The man wondered what was more beautiful: the previous night’s wondrous display of power and intensity or the vibrant vitality awakened in the morning after.

His thoughts were stirred anew as he turned his back to the ocean and descended the hillside toward his home. He had walked the path many times but this morning, though it maintained an air of familiarity, it was oddly different. The grasses and wildflowers which once lined the trail had become overgrown and now spilled into it. Its rocks, once jagged and porous, were smooth and worn. More than once he uncomfortably rolled his ankle as he attempted to navigate the rough passage, and he continuously glanced over his shoulder to get his bearings in relation to the stony cliff.

It was still early morning when the welcoming scent of hickory smoke tickled his nose. Rounding one more bend his house came into view, and he could see the wispy vapor of wood-fired logs which streamed slowly from its single chimney. As he neared, he could see that the place had fallen into slight disarray, and he wondered what part the storm had played in shaping the current state of the path and of his modest home. For the most part all was as he remembered, only dull and faded as an old picture left too long in the light of the sun.

The wooden door swung easily on its hinges as he turned its knob and gently pushed his way inside. “My love”, he called softly into the room but he received no answer. Orange flames danced upon the embers of expired logs within the fireplace, and beside it a rocking chair sway slowly in the light which cascade through an open window. The man maneuvered the tight living quarters intent on holding his wife, but was stopped as he looked into her face. The young and vibrant woman of his memory appeared to have aged threefold. The man forced a smile and tried to ask what had happened, tried to consider what had transpired while he was upon their hill, but, if his lover was at all aware of his presence she showed no outward signs of it. He watched as, with tears in her eyes, the woman stood and crossed the room. Rushing to her side, he spoke words of consolation. “Everything will be alright. I’m here now. Everything is ok”. He attempted to take her hand, but somehow couldn’t hold on to the one he loved. As she moved away from him again, he was left again to his thoughts as the last of the fire was extinguished and the embers quickly cooled.

‘Things are better when experienced firsthand than when merely beheld’, he lamented as his widow sought the shelter of her bed; no longer able to bear the ferocity of nature. And, with that thought fresh in his mind, he laid his head next to hers as she closed her eyes and slept.

Edited by Malaikat Maut
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself. After all, who can resist that sweet caress of the wind, cooing violently against your skin, pulling spirit from salt and leaving you layered. I always wondered when I looked up there, gazed up at those cliffs, if I had other eyes, would that figure seem surrounded by endless particles, spots of escape? I was never granted the leisure of those thoughts for long though, no matter how many times it appeared. If you were lucky enough to glimpse it, you could only potter in your own mind for a split second before you would feel something boring into you, and it would distract you from whatever you were thinking of in an instant. Like someone tipping acid onto your foot when you were just about to say something offensive. Smart move. You'd find yourself waking up in a daze on the ground, scrabbling to your feet, you would stare up at the cliff again as the vague memory of what you were doing before drove your body, but there would be nothing there. I had done this dance so many times I knew it like I know eating chips without Mayo makes me wince. It's the texture.
A switch is flicked, your ears at first prick up at the sudden inrush of current almost as if you hadn't expected it, almost, your physicality defies you, but soon it calms recognising the familiarity.[/i] He appears in your sight. [i]You take a moment, the scenery is that same place you've been in each time, wooden floor, people, smart. You stand terified, a novice despite your frequent attendance, as you take the hand and ready the stance. You were selected to be opposite, and it would defy convention not to be, no matter how aggravating that is for the divergant.[/i] He takes your interest, and uses it. The lock is formed. [i]Here, in this room, your movements are not fluid, bedmates lost in the ether stepping on each other's toes.[/i] On the shore, at the cliff we may not move, but it is no different. I had tried hiding, I had been found. Running wasn't even an option. I had tried fighting, I had lost. Not trying wasn't even an option. I had tried calling out, but the outcome was never to my liking. Silence wasn't an option either. That nausia, the damage I contracted each time I dropped, the utter and absolute plexus soaking terror, it was nothing compared to my longing. It was nothing compared to his vision. It was nothing.

So here we were again, he and I. Standing so far apart, yet so close we might not even be distinct. I had tried in the past to walk that path that leads to his destination. To see that flickering right next to me. The walk was long, my thighs ached, and no reward was ever found. Just grass and rocks and the view. In winter, the sea froze over. I had been told by others that this phenomenon was remarkable, but it seems so mundane to me, so usual. I thought them mad, they thought me the same. This moment, the now, I fought off the sickness. I battled and stared wide eyed, not an easy task by far. This moment, I slid over the ice. I slid across it, in fluid motion mimicing the fluid beneath, until I reached the edge. The cliff stood above me, and it glared down mockingly with a jagged smirk. My skill from the dance between he and I was not wasted, it kept me from failing despite his ever-present gaze. I scaled the cliff. Inch by inch I progressed. Cut by cut I rose higher. When I reached the peak, he was still there. It was not a lost attempt this time, I had reached him. So close, the feelings that stare enduced pulsed like fear across all of me. Beat me senseless. After all my work, after all my climbing and staring, after my battle and my endurance, I peaked the cliff and the being...it never changed. For a moment, I was a god. That moment was a lifetime and a second. Controlled and emmaciated by sensation, a gust of wind drew my fingers from their grasp. The being remained as it always had been, no change as I descended. Such a blow to the body to be liquidised, and as I seeped out, a soothing sensation mixed with the icey surface, a buffer flitted beneath. That spotted spirit I had craved the view of, was not a sight, but an experience. It was beautiful.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself "How much more will it take to be forgiven?" Then it slowly moved away from the cliff and went to a deserted village back to it's rundown home. He opened the door to its house and made its way to make a fire to warm the inside of the house. While looking for wood to burn it noticed something was outside of its house. Pure malice was coming out of the stranger. It was seeking for retribution and glory in killing the one who is inside the house. "I know you're in there traitor. So just come out and let us talk." said the stranger. The so called "Traitor" went out on the strangers plea. "So what do you want stranger? Is there anything I can do for you?" the "Traitor" said while calmly walking out of the house. "I want your head. You disgraced us with what you've done and know I am here to do what is right." said the stranger furiously without any sign of remorse. The "Traitor" laughed with what it heard and said, "Do you think you are the first to come here? Do you think you are the first to challenge me? Well you are mistaken. I have defeated countless "Fallen" like yourself. You are no different from them and most certainly you have fallen deeper than myself." The "Fallen" angered and agitated struck the "Traitor" with full force but the "Traitor" evaded the blow and whispered something at his enemy, "Goodbye my kin." the "Traitor" said sadly and then the "Fallen" dropped dead at its feet. After the battle the "Traitor" made a grave for the one it killed and prayed for it.

And the next day came. The so called "Traitor" went to the cliff again and thought "Will I ever be forgiven?" And the never-ending cycle continued.

This story is about "Fallen Angels" or "Devils/Demons" the primary character, the "Traitor", is Lucifer and the "Fallen" are well "Fallen Angels" who want to get back to heaven at any cost.

Just wanted to clear that up.
And by the way this is fiction duh. x3

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself..."

How, just how did I end up here, in this barren, desolate piece of land?

He turned around. The wild vibrant waves made him remember something he did not want to remember- his own wild times. Silently cursing and muttering insults to the world, he went back into the little cottage he inhabited. Maybe not even a real cottage, but rather a shack.

If there had been any observer, he would have seen a scruffy middle-aged man wearing just his blue, striped pajamas with a mane of brown hair spilling out, wild and untamed, messy as it had been when he woke up. A beard across the face, a small mustache showing even, apparently he didn't shave for several days.

The man disappeared into the run down shack, which was worn down by the elements, a mere toy for the heavy winds, which would blow through every nook and cranny. Just next to the door there was a mail box, with a scribbled name on it. Watson it said with blue marker, the only one which had not run dry.

Inside the shack, barely enough furniture: An oven, a bed and a table crammed with papers onto it. Hidden behind the door was the cabinet, containing his clothing. And outside, next to the humming generator which provided the electricity was the fridge, filled with meals which were prepared in a few minutes, he didn't bother to cook.

Breakfast was a cup of coffee made on the small oven with a few stripes of bacon he found, he did not even remember buying it on his occasional trip to stock up on supplies.
A phone rang. The man turned around, then discovered his mobile behind a small pile of clothes and picked it up. He recognized the voice, and what was said gave him the chills.
"We need you. And you should know, they have found you, although you were in hiding. We'll be waiting at the usual place." Click. Tut...tuuut...tut.

Resisting the impulse to slam the phone into the wall, he dropped it carelessly and flopped onto the bed.

"How...HOW did they manage to find me. I was tired of doing this, I wanted to escape it, this endless nightmare. Every time I went to sea, I came back filled with images of blood and slaughter." Silently mumbling all this to himself, he shudders. "No more, the dreams...the screams...it haunts me. Nor did it pay the bills well, we came back almost empty handed most of the time..."

He stood up, stopping by a picture he hung up, since he was so nostalgic. It showed him and his crew, on their small ship. They would cruise the ocean, not too far off the coasts. Thinking back he smiled. He even got grazed by a bullet one time, that bastard managed to take a bit of his leg. The muscle healed, but it was still showing a clear dent. Thank god it was a clear shot, and he was able to clean it afterwards. Still, he had seen a man impaled by a harpoon...not a beautiful sight. Even now seeing bloody harpoons made him want to puke.

The man shook his head furiously. No, this was not the time to worry about such. He quickly took out an old kitbag and stuffed a few clean clothes inside, some hard cookies, no idea when they had expired, and the stash of money he had hidden under the loose plank in the southern corner.

He wanted to change his clothes, when he had an ominous feeling, a shiver crawling down his spine. He quickly went out and stepped onto a small rock, then began turning around until he saw it.
On the distant horizon...a ship. And it was coming nearer real fast. Too fast even, his own ship wouldn't be able to run away from it at all. He sighed. So was now the time to be caught by them, and suffer from the interrogations they would put him through? This small rocky island he was on, abandoned by humanity was his hope of hiding. Seems it didn't work.

He went back into the cottage and rummaged through his desk, shoveling the paper aside until he saw his passport. Quickly picking it up, he changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater.

He went out again and saw the ship coming closer..several miles per hour. It gave him a fright, how would he suffer, repent for what he had done according to the eyes of his enemies?

As it drew closer, he began reflecting upon his bloody past. There had been many fights. Great idealism, until it clashed with realism. It didn't end well, blood spilled. People got injured. He sighed. How did the world thank it to him? Like this.

Brooding, in a dark mood, he just sat down and took out a pipe from a small drawer, stuffed it and lit it. Smoking, he waited until they had arrived. Since he was in such a depressing mood, he just sat there and smoked, puffing smoke rings into the air. He heard the motor of the ship being reduced to a mere stutter, and heavy footsteps. Not even bothering to look up, he heard heavy footsteps and suddenly felt a huge hand on his shoulder.

A familiar voice said: "Hey there bud, how's it been going, ya old bastard?" The hand gently turned him around, and he faced a tall, imposing person, hairy and generally built like a bear.
"Wha.." Having been surprised, his pipe fell out of his mouth and laid on the ground, forgotten for the moment. "Carlos, what are you doing here!? I thought it would be the police getting me ready for the court and shipment into jail."

Upon hearing this, Carlos broke out into mighty, roaring laughter. "No my friend, the charges were dropped. They got silenced, if you know what I mean." Carlos' eyes glinted mischievously.
"We figured you might want a lift off this place, Martha is down there in the boat as well. Pack your stuff, we're heading out, save the talk for when he got some good rum." Walking back already, Carlos grinned to himself, leaving a dumbfounded man behind.

"They dropped the charges..but..how?!"

He just stood there for several minutes recovering from the shock until he heard Carlos yell. Then he quickly picked up his pipe, took his small bag and left whatever was left in the cottage. He would come back later to sort it out. For now, his freedom at sea awaited him. Probably only until he would get caught again...but that was another time to worry about.

When he stepped onto the boat, into the hug Martha gave him, he knew he was back. Back in the dangerous world of protecting the whales.

Back in the glorious wild times of saving the animals of the sea.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A bit more info on the prize I'm now offering:

The PenSword has a long history behind it. It was created originally for my work in the Archivists, a reward provided by Pamplemousse. The description attached to the item is "A dagger with the handle shaped as a pen. Markings on the blade say "He who uses both the sword and the pen is mightier than all," and there is a drawing ready for it (when I get the credits to attach it).

The use of the item goes beyond aesthetics, due to an enchantment by Rendril. The item slashes through the air and cuts out the echoes of words said by one person. That is, if somewhere were being obnoxious and I would like their words to vanish, I use the item and I can no longer hear their words. All other can hear, though.

Finally, you will be required to tell the story directly to me when I am awake. There won't be an official time where all gather and read out loud, so you may find me whenever I am awake. If you would like to set a specific time to tell it, contact me in game closer to the time.

Direct any further questions to me. I have not read any of the above stories yet (I'm saving them for when you read them to me!), so I am very much so excited to hear your words as they come out of your own mouth.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as
if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming.
Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down
upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself the future and what her
future would look like and if she should.. even have a future.

Time seemed to slow down for her as she was deep in thought. The sound
of waves crashing upon the banks of the cliff drowned out all
the noise to be heard, other than the wind rustling the leaves of trees behind her.

It was an overwhelming sound, such a sound provoked her senses of smell, touch, and hearing.
and she thought ,"The waves are powerful today.."
She softly shut her eyes and took in a deep, melodramatic breath of the
salty sea air that was brushing her face and blowing her hair back. She tried her best
to take in as much of the fresh air as she could.

The sky above her shined radiantly in a light shade of blue. She thought
to herself as she gazed up towards the sky ,"It is.. beautiful." A sharp pain
seemed to come out of nowhere. She was struck by it, it felt sharp but it was
a hollow pain.

Her hand clutched her chest as the pain seemed to have come out nowhere,
or rather from deep within herself. It went so deep into her
that she even questioned if it was real because nothing had happened.
Her body shivered, a taste of bitterness flooded her mouth.
She dropped to her hands and knees with her face
staring at the rocky bottom of the cliff.

Thoughts of her lover, a man lost out at sea 4 months back, flooded her mind as she
creeped up towards the edge of the cliff, her breathing was heavy now,
and tears welled up in her eyes. They felt like bursting.

She mumbled, under her heavy breath. She had been panting the entire time.
Her voice was dark now, her face glowed red, but
inside her spirit was tearing itself apart. " I want to be with you. Let us
not be apart longer my love. How long has it been, since the waves
dragged you to the bottom of the seafloor. " The words sounded as if
they were forced out of her lungs.

And then she yelled out to the sea, to the angry, powerful sea with all the strength
she could muster. "How long was it?.. Since
the ocean parted you and I? No more!.. No more!" Her voice
was strained, but the sound was omnipotent.
Her fist pounded the ground, her tears she was trying so hard to suppress were dripping
down from her eyes.. to her cheeks,
, to her chin, then down to the clash of the waves with the cliff side. The explosion of her
voice suddenly seemed to mirror the strength of the waves, but it was shriller.
While she was shouting even the ocean seemed to calm.

And then.. there was silence. Only the sounds of the boundless waves
again, hitting the banks of the cliff. She forced a smile on her face
and whispered ,"I.. I am ready to be with you again, my dear, my love.."
A tear trickled down her cheek, from the corner of her eye.

She paused as if unsure of herself, "I.. i am not ready." And she teared up again,
she twisted herself around slowly and she fell to her knees as she trembled.
A chill came over her. "I'm sorry.." these were the only words she could utter out, though many flooded her mind.

As she whispered those words the cliff broke. Her body fell, though she
was motionless. Her eyes stared out at the sky as she was falling and she
said nothing. No scream was bellowed out of her mouth.
But a smile creeped on her face, stretching her lips only
slightly. Then, she reached the bottom, and she couldn't have felt happier to see her lover.


(I formatted it the way it is because... i felt it would be easier to read.
It is fairly short And i hope you enjoyed it.)

Edited by adiomino
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

It seems there was a misinterpretation on the time stamp.

If you want to be considered for the judging of you piece, and to be eligible for the Pensword, YOU HAVE TO read your story to Awii before January 1st, 2011.

If this has caused any trouble for any of you, please contact myself or Awii to set up a date of which would be best for you to read to him. THIS IS ONLY FOR THOSE WHO CANNOT MAKE THE DEADLINE.

We cannot be held responsible for laziness, or forgetfulness.

Thank you.

Edit: My apologies on the sudden changes. :c I'll do my best for all of you to get your chance.

Edited by Curiose
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself of nothing as its gaze pierced beneath the surface of the water and began to idly imagine what might lie below. It took a step back and shifted its gaze to the sky as two birds soared past, dancing in the gale that blew off of the cliff and down into the froth as the waves smacked against the stone, sending heaps of white up and over the sheer rock and about the feet of the lone figure. It minded it not, all of its attention upon the two birds above it. The birds themselves flew together, up and over one another, sometimes back to where they had once gone before flying forward again. They repeated this dance as the figure stood stock still, watching the display before it. It stood there, alone, the sole witness to the ritual the birds were performing before it, and of which it itself was exempt- a ground-dwelling creature and unable to fly. None the less, it watched with rapt attention as the birds now began to dive at the rough waters, never leaving the side of the other, and came back up into the air again as if no element in creation could affect it. The figure took a step forward, closer to the ledge in order to continue its observation of the birds. As its foot began to hit the edge, a cluster of stones broke away and plummeted down to the bottom and into the sea, nearly missing the pair below. The splash was immense, and the birds squawked in alarm before ceasing their play and speeding for the sky, soon out of sight. The figure was left there, alone, and staring wide-eyed into the sloshing waves below. The water had settled some, the winds passing and no longer stirring it, and the figure flinched. Why had it settled? Did the waves not know that it had lost two priceless creatures from its midst? Did it not know that this looming figure had been the cause?

The shape began to silently panic. How did the waves not know? How were the waters unaware? Did they not see the dance? The feathers in the wind? It brought its hands to its face. Did it not feel the difference? Or did it simply not care? How could it not care? A whimper of a gasp escaped the mouth of the figure as it fell to its knees, still looking over and down at the waves as its hands left its face and began to grip the dirt and the rock at the edge of the cliff. Did it mean that the water did not see the figure either? Suddenly it grew mad. It would not be ignored. It opened its mouth to shout at the waves, but as it did, the winds whipped up the froth of the sea, shook up the waters, and sent the waves once more hurtling over the rocks and high over the head of the figure now below. The mouth of the being transformed into a perfect O as the waves fell, dropping froth from its edges, and crashed down upon the figure, wrapped itself around it, and as the cliff-face broke free under the pressure of the water, the figure, now plummeting downwards, looked with stinging eyes up at the sky through its blanket of salty seawater. Two birds soared by as it alone fell into the water, and into light.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Well this is all very strange!

It's after January 1st, to be technical. The deadline after that date has, I believe, not yet been set. But if you want to get a jump on it, you can read it to me anytime starting a few days ago.


Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs--  angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself that the cliffs beneath its feet might crumble under the onslaught, but standing right on the edge nonetheless.

Dark masses of clouds covered the sky, tossed by the same screaming winds that were whipping the ocean into a frenzy. Lightning shattered the gloom again and again; the constant sound of thunder could barely be heard over the waves. Every few minutes the figure muttered Words that glittered as they fell from its lips, plunged into the waters, rose and tore across the skies, strengthening the storm whenever it threatened to weaken.

It didn't last. First a brightness appeared at the horizon, then the waves slowed. Someone else was Speaking. The figure -- now, in the growing light, revealed to be a man in worn, salt-stained clothes -- settled back on his heels and watched his storm blow away, the dark clouds being shredded until daylight shone through.

One great wave swept towards him across the calmed ocean. Nestled in its curl, he knew, was a woman, murmuring her own Words to the deep waters. Soon her familiar figure stood in the swirling waters at the base of the cliff, her cloak drenched, a wide-brimmed hat covering the dark tangles of her hair.

"Did you see how far it spread?" he called down to her, grinning. "Amazing how little it takes to--"

Her voice lashed out at him once again. "A day, a whole day wasted putting your little experiment to rest. Did you realize you nearly swept away an entire town? Don't play with things you don't understand."

"How else can I learn?" he shouted, not so much grinning now as baring his teeth. "And would you rather I played with you?"

With that, he launched himself over the cliff. His first shout blasted towards her, was swamped by a sparkling curtain of water tossed up by pure reflex. His next pierced through, but her voice rose, a throaty growl, and slapped the power aside. No matter. He'd planned for this. Two Words in quick succession and the air around her thickened, darkened, reached out towards her...

She wasn't there.

He didn't expect the tug at his feet, the wrenching pull that dragged him down. Choking on salt water, he spat Words as best he could, and barely managed to pull himself to the surface. Fighting with all his strength against the painfully cold deep-ocean current that shouldn't be here, so close to shore, he watched her rise from below the choppy waves and glide away.

She paused and looked back over her shoulder, just for a few seconds, before moving on. His chest ached, not just from gasping for breath, as he watched her. Salt water stung his eyes.

"Don't play with things you don't understand." That's what she'd said, before. If she said anything now, he couldn't hear it over the slap of frigid water.

Would she ever have different words for him?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs-- angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure peering superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself...Or perhaps not. He was not much of a thinker, he knew, but maybe that was what allowed him to achieve what he had achieved. Memories of his past deeds flashed his mind, almost immediately drowning under the mighty ocean of his long years of training. No place or time for pride.

He raised his head and watched as the enemy fleet, hundreds of battleships with dark sails, calmly approached the bay, as a Leviathan that knows his prey has no escape. Moving his head to his left he saw his scanty forces scurrying around at the shore, preparing for the challenge to come, and admired the dim hope they had.

He reached for his blade, and immediately calmed himself and analyzed the situation more coolly. He was not a thinker, but he was an amazing strategist. It was hard to count over a hundred, but he knew his hundred archers could shoot six hundred arrows in a minute, and that more then half of them would fly true. He turned his head again, this time to his right, and saw the very reason they were about to risk their lives for. Six meters ahead, a golden woman stared at him. She smiled, and even a thousand oceans could not stop him from admiring her beauty. Her long curly hair, almost touching the ground, shone brighter then the sun, her slender body covered with a elegant white dress moving elegantly as she walked towards him.

He immediately got to his knees. “I apologize, goddess, for our army is not blessed with numbers. But I ensure you we will make up for it with our spirits”. She smiled warmly, and the old warrior felt his soul getting lighter. ”It is I who must apologize, my dear king. I have brought this misfortune on your people, and there is nothing I can do to assist you”. As her eyes glistened with tears, he rose and stared fiercely into her honey colored eyes, his own burning with a fury he never felt before. ”I am Solais, King of the Sun Kingdom of Heratica, and I will crush all those who cause the daughter of the sun sorrow!”

At that moment a knight strode in followed by an enormous dark horse with flaming hooves and mane, a simple leather saddle set on his back. “My lord, the time has come”. The old king kneeled again and kissed the goddess hand gently. ”I ask for yours and you father`s blessing, goddess, for we may need it”. The goddess smiled softly and laid her hand on his forehead.” And you shall have it, my dear king”. He rose again, now a different fire burning behind his eyes.

He climbed effortlessly on his horse, turned and trotted toward the shore, leaving a flaming track behind him. The scene on the cliff`s edge was already buried by the many strategies storming in his mind, an easy achievement when not on her presence. He rode towards the future battlefield, unsheathing his blade for the last time. His heart was at ease, for he knew what needed to be done. And Solais, The sixth king of the third dynasty of the Kingdom of Heratica vowed for his soul that he would ensure it to be done.


Edited by Krul The Storyteller
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The time has come for the stories to be read to me. So far, the majority of people who have posted here have succeeded in doing just that, with Malaikat Mut and Aysun still to go. The deadline for reading to me is two weeks from today.

In addition, if you write a story between now and then, you may still read it to me and you will be considered for the reward. This quest is more about literary skill than deadlines - I trust that you can follow directions, there is no need to test that.

The reward will be given to who I think had the best story. Yes this is subjective, but keep in mind it's a personal item that should be passed down according to the rules of the original owner (namely, me).


Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

The waves were pounding, crashing on the cliffs, and above them stood a young girl.
She looked back, detached, at the howling mob that had driven her here, and time itself seemed to slow.

As she watched, the members of the mob seemed to fade away until they were naught but etchings in mist.
The torches they carried seemed to dance like merry will-o'-the-wisps, leading the bearers teasingly onward,
down path and through thicket then disappearing in a flash, leaving the follower hopelessly lost and forsaken.
She giggled a bit at the idea and how the symbolism would be lost on the crowd behind her.

As she turned back, her thoughts drifted yet again to her violin, that most precious of her possessions.
She regretted that never again would she create such beautiful music, and she looked down at what awaited her.
Still caught in that almost timeless moment, she became aware of a music which she had never before noticed.

The rushing waters seemed to sway in a hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by the crashing cymbals of the rocks.
The melody eternal called to her, the ceaseless interplay of wave and rock, swirling and
beckoning her to join them, to become an instrument in a song greater than she could have dreamed.

And she jumped, her body hurtling down the cliff side, splashing amongst the waves and currents.
Her awareness instantly fled her body, but her body remained, and eventually nestled between two boulders.
The boulders steadied her, the waves parted to make way for her, letting her join in their music.
Long after she was naught but a skeleton, her remains were one with the seas and their everlasting song.


(As to the beginning being different than the guidelines.... Creative License!)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Awiiya has stated, Z has won the contest. There were a few other good pieces, however his stood out the best. Below is the story that I have written in which sparked this quest. Do enjoy, and maybe you'll be surprised at how different things end up.

The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure staring superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself that those waves could whine and cry all they want, or perhaps a more morbid line of thought flittered across its lashes.

Teasingly, a step was taken forward, disregarding the knavish edge where the grass hung precariously over. Once more, the waves crashed, angry and coercing to the body standing above them. Unfortunately for the waves, their power and brutish charisma worked not against the cliff in their want. It was upon the figure’s own wishes to fall forth slowly, apathetically into the arms of the lapping waves.

It was early fall, a bloom of colors stretching across the lawn of trees to add a touch of outdoors in the strangulation of urban construction. Some of the trees vainly clung to their healthy green, instead of falling prey to even the tiniest flush against their leaves’ veins. Others boldly wear their red and orange tints.
People walk busily, lazily, aggressively or apathetically from place to place; a swarm of similar people claiming to be a separate identity. From afar, a bag is picked up, books are hoisted inside while the bag drifts away from its place to inside the doors of a school. People constantly thrust out from the mouths of the door, leaving the bag to the side, resting on the ground. In the break of the fleshy tide, the bag dragged itself inside, scuffling across the linoleum floor into a classroom. There it sat, beside a desk untouched until the bell rang and class resumed.

When the bell rang again, the people swarmed out, buzzing, some stinging the backpack to the back of the line as it waited patiently to pass through. It walked through, and it went to its previous spot, sitting, and waiting until another came along. Not a bee, but a human. She smiled and waved, walking towards the boy who sat by the tree reading a book. Raising his face from his solemn expression, he smiled and waved back, calling her over inaudibly.

The two sat, talked until the sun went down and she went away and slowly, the boy faded away. All the items drawn out of the bag were put back in, and the bag dragged itself home.

Winter set in, covering everything. All traces of the trees, the leaves, the humming people. It was quiet, but loud enough for open ears to hear. A locker slammed, a door shut, and people laughed their inane laughter while the halls cleared and people ignored all sign of life. It was only until later when a Janitor came by to stumble upon a back pack stuffed inside his closet, which fell forth with a thud to the ground. Raising a brow, the Janitor grabbed his things and shut the door, moving on to his business.

The bag wandered through the halls haphazardly, stopping only at a phone booth. It sat there for a good while, not moving, but waiting. That’s all it could possibly do. From the far end of the corridor, the girl returned, running to the boy and checking his face, his hands, arms, chest for any sign of cuts or bruises. He was fine, he smiled, but they never spoke of the scars inlaid elsewhere.

Together, they walked in the snow, leaving their paths, despite only one being seen. One gloved hand stretched for the other one, naked, and frigid but far from reluctant. It was dark, and she must go, and as thus did only to leave but a memory of what was there before she left.

Spring drifted lazily to conquer the winter, melting the snow, revealing what was so deeply buried through the entirety of the season. Leaves began to unfurl, and flowers began to blossom, sending the bees out once more to buzz and look at the pretty little shades of color.

The bag stalked throughout the school, hiding behind the many different species of bee preparing for war, treaty, or indifference. It saw someone whom he knew very well, and went towards her, but was not accepted. She looked at the bag, and that’s all she saw. In contempt, she looked backed to her other bees and continued what they were talking about, moving away from the bag as it stood there.

Later in the day, the bag sat on the grass by the track, watching the people run past. Shortly after, a small herd of people came by, buzzing angrily at an intruder being near their precious queen, and took the matters to their own hands.

Worn, the bag let itself fall pitifully to the ground from the edge of the dumpster, a sound of decision ringing in the air. It sat there for some time, and went to the road to hitch a ride to the beach where it used to go when in better times.

It stared at the waves below, watching them roar with pleads and beckonings, whispering sweet promises as the spray reached up the cliffs. People looking at the sight stared, thinking nothing of seeing the bag there.
The waves were crashing, pounding against the cliffs angry as if demanding the walls to fall into its body, hungry and consuming. Above, staring at those waves, was a figure staring superiorly down upon those waves, perhaps thinking to itself that those waves could whine and cry all they want, or perhaps a more morbid line of thought flittered across its lashes.

Teasingly, a step was taken forward, disregarding the knavish edge where the grass hung precariously over. Once more, the waves crashed, angry and coercing to the body standing above them. Unfortunately for the waves, their power and brutish charisma worked not against the cliff in their want.

At last the pain would be gone, the people would remember him.

He was about to take his fall, when he heard a familiar voice calling behind him. The figure turned his head, and took a step back. She was alone, but she was crying, no longer smiling. The girl saw him for who he was, and took him in her arms and pulled him away from the edge. At last, people saw the boy and rushed up the hill to the cliff, worrying for his safety. Once more, their hands clung together, the bag staying at the edge of the cliff to be swallowed by the waves while the boy moved on, clinging to his lifeline.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

This topic is now closed to further replies.
  • Forum Statistics

    Total Topics
    Total Posts
  • Recently Browsing

    • No registered users viewing this page.
  • Upcoming Events

    No upcoming events found
  • Recent Event Reviews

  • Create New...