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Week 2 posts / Second Draft: Dust in the Wind
« on: July 24, 2021, 02:16:08 AM »
So i had to try very hard to trim 500 words without losing the voice which i found difficult lol. I think I've got it though *crosses fingers*
Heave.
Thud.
Heave.
Thud.
Breathe.
Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. The day was too hot to be reasonable. The grass was brown, the trees pale green and beige, even the sky was washed out. Dust hung in the air. What he needed was a good rain.
The river had dried up to a trickle and home was so far away. He could have used horses but animals had fled the area in search of some green land far away.
He grunted as he picked up the water bucket. If he didn't get back, his measly crop would die. He couldn't stop now. He must move. Xander heaved the heavy bucket, carried it as far as he could, then thudded it down again. His hut loomed on the plain at last. The two apple trees looked so limp, as if they'd crumble away into dust. Xander heaved the bucket the final stretch to the garden.
Shwish. He poured the water onto the small garden. Shwish. The water ran in rivulets, soaking into the thirsty ground. Potatoes, corn and the handful of beans done. The one tomato plant was nearly gone. He hoped that he could get one ripe tomato to save the seeds and try again next season. The rest of the water to the apple trees. The fruit he could dry out and save for a long time.
His mind finally faced things square on. He'd be alright physically, more or less. But then what?
Xander was alone with no way of knowing any other people around. The two graves behind the house held his two sisters. Poor souls. He protected them against the wolves that sometimes poked around. He protected them against the winter storms. He protected them against strangers.
He hadn't been able to protect them from disease.
First came the scorching fever. Then the sandpaper throat. They were barely able to rise from their beds to eat or drink. Whoever was strongest carried it to the others.
If only he had been near a town, perhaps he might've saved them. Xander shook his head. It was not the time for regrets. This is where his parents had raised them. This was where they'd died ages ago.
Shading his eyes, Xander looked up at the sky. No sign of any clouds. At least it had been months since the last Garquon ship had flown over. Xander hadn't seen one of the aliens in person, but he had certainly heard from his parents how they had taken over Earth and made it a dustbowl with their strange magic and the wars. Many humans now served under the Garquons.
Only a few made it out of the cities. His parents had been lucky enough to farm it out here. They had tried the river but the Garquons were too plentiful there. So the farm was set back here, where it was safer.
Xander rubbed his face. It had not been his parents' intention that he be chained to the farm like many of his counterparts were chained to their masters. Lately, he'd been feeling he should not be alone. If he could find a lady?
The problem, as always, was water.
Eyeing the baked ground, Xander considered, not for the first time, digging a well. Any water would be so deep in the ground. He'd tried before. Perhaps this time he'd strike it lucky.
When the sun rose the next morning, Xander got to work. He picked his spot and started digging. The earth cooled the further down he dug. He made sure he could still climb out; he didn't want to get stuck in a hole.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Further and further into the dirt he dug, shovelling what he could.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-CLUNK.
Stooping down, Xander used his hands to spread the dirt. His fingers found an unforgiving surface. A rock? Xander cleared the dirt away and pulled up a small square box, smoother than glass. He scrambled up to his house to inspect his find better. Small. Black. A tiny hasp on one side. It wasn't too difficult to break it open. Cautiously he peered inside.
Nothing.
Empty? Xander stared down into the space. He reached a finger inside to feel the bottom. Sand? Dust? Something he couldn?t see. His hand found a small rock. He gripped it and held it in the light. It shimmered, nearly invisible. It must be Garquon magic.
Stepping outside, Xander held the rock. He could see it a little better out here, but he still didn't know what it was for.
The rock thrummed. Startled, Xander tried to drop it but it seemed glued to his hand. Then it was gone. He'd absorbed it somehow. Flapping his hand, Xander tried to get rid of it. The more he flapped, the more the wind blew around him. The apple trees didn't move but his hair whipped in the breeze. The skin on his hands cracked, becoming like sand. It didn't hurt. He was blowing away on the wind. His body dematerialized into dust.
Xander didn't have time to yelp before he was gone. His mind stayed conscious and he blew across the field, ditch, abandoned road, all the way to the river. Panic ensued. He didn't want to fall into the river and be drowned.
At the bank of the river, his body reformed to a man's body. He was here again. Whole.
This was strong, powerful magic or a fluke. His mother had told once of a Garquon vanishing before her eyes. Was this it? And could he control it? He closed his eyes, picturing home. Once again, the strange sensations overcame, he crumbled and blew back home to rematerialize there.
He could travel as the Garquons did. Immediately all sorts of plans came to him. He'd be able to go where he willed. To the cities, even. Free his fellows. Bring back a wife home.
Power surged through Xander. Where there was one, there was usually another. And another. If he could find this magic, others could too. Or different magic. They could perhaps finally fight against the Garquons at last. Freedom's song rang in Xander's head. He could do this. He was only one man but there would be more.
They would be free.
Like dust in the wind.
Heave.
Thud.
Heave.
Thud.
Breathe.
Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. The day was too hot to be reasonable. The grass was brown, the trees pale green and beige, even the sky was washed out. Dust hung in the air. What he needed was a good rain.
The river had dried up to a trickle and home was so far away. He could have used horses but animals had fled the area in search of some green land far away.
He grunted as he picked up the water bucket. If he didn't get back, his measly crop would die. He couldn't stop now. He must move. Xander heaved the heavy bucket, carried it as far as he could, then thudded it down again. His hut loomed on the plain at last. The two apple trees looked so limp, as if they'd crumble away into dust. Xander heaved the bucket the final stretch to the garden.
Shwish. He poured the water onto the small garden. Shwish. The water ran in rivulets, soaking into the thirsty ground. Potatoes, corn and the handful of beans done. The one tomato plant was nearly gone. He hoped that he could get one ripe tomato to save the seeds and try again next season. The rest of the water to the apple trees. The fruit he could dry out and save for a long time.
His mind finally faced things square on. He'd be alright physically, more or less. But then what?
Xander was alone with no way of knowing any other people around. The two graves behind the house held his two sisters. Poor souls. He protected them against the wolves that sometimes poked around. He protected them against the winter storms. He protected them against strangers.
He hadn't been able to protect them from disease.
First came the scorching fever. Then the sandpaper throat. They were barely able to rise from their beds to eat or drink. Whoever was strongest carried it to the others.
If only he had been near a town, perhaps he might've saved them. Xander shook his head. It was not the time for regrets. This is where his parents had raised them. This was where they'd died ages ago.
Shading his eyes, Xander looked up at the sky. No sign of any clouds. At least it had been months since the last Garquon ship had flown over. Xander hadn't seen one of the aliens in person, but he had certainly heard from his parents how they had taken over Earth and made it a dustbowl with their strange magic and the wars. Many humans now served under the Garquons.
Only a few made it out of the cities. His parents had been lucky enough to farm it out here. They had tried the river but the Garquons were too plentiful there. So the farm was set back here, where it was safer.
Xander rubbed his face. It had not been his parents' intention that he be chained to the farm like many of his counterparts were chained to their masters. Lately, he'd been feeling he should not be alone. If he could find a lady?
The problem, as always, was water.
Eyeing the baked ground, Xander considered, not for the first time, digging a well. Any water would be so deep in the ground. He'd tried before. Perhaps this time he'd strike it lucky.
When the sun rose the next morning, Xander got to work. He picked his spot and started digging. The earth cooled the further down he dug. He made sure he could still climb out; he didn't want to get stuck in a hole.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Further and further into the dirt he dug, shovelling what he could.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-CLUNK.
Stooping down, Xander used his hands to spread the dirt. His fingers found an unforgiving surface. A rock? Xander cleared the dirt away and pulled up a small square box, smoother than glass. He scrambled up to his house to inspect his find better. Small. Black. A tiny hasp on one side. It wasn't too difficult to break it open. Cautiously he peered inside.
Nothing.
Empty? Xander stared down into the space. He reached a finger inside to feel the bottom. Sand? Dust? Something he couldn?t see. His hand found a small rock. He gripped it and held it in the light. It shimmered, nearly invisible. It must be Garquon magic.
Stepping outside, Xander held the rock. He could see it a little better out here, but he still didn't know what it was for.
The rock thrummed. Startled, Xander tried to drop it but it seemed glued to his hand. Then it was gone. He'd absorbed it somehow. Flapping his hand, Xander tried to get rid of it. The more he flapped, the more the wind blew around him. The apple trees didn't move but his hair whipped in the breeze. The skin on his hands cracked, becoming like sand. It didn't hurt. He was blowing away on the wind. His body dematerialized into dust.
Xander didn't have time to yelp before he was gone. His mind stayed conscious and he blew across the field, ditch, abandoned road, all the way to the river. Panic ensued. He didn't want to fall into the river and be drowned.
At the bank of the river, his body reformed to a man's body. He was here again. Whole.
This was strong, powerful magic or a fluke. His mother had told once of a Garquon vanishing before her eyes. Was this it? And could he control it? He closed his eyes, picturing home. Once again, the strange sensations overcame, he crumbled and blew back home to rematerialize there.
He could travel as the Garquons did. Immediately all sorts of plans came to him. He'd be able to go where he willed. To the cities, even. Free his fellows. Bring back a wife home.
Power surged through Xander. Where there was one, there was usually another. And another. If he could find this magic, others could too. Or different magic. They could perhaps finally fight against the Garquons at last. Freedom's song rang in Xander's head. He could do this. He was only one man but there would be more.
They would be free.
Like dust in the wind.
2
Week 1 posts / First Draft: Dust in the Wind
« on: July 20, 2021, 01:19:54 AM »
Heave.
Thud.
Heave.
Thud.
Breathe.
Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and peered around. The day was hot, too hot to be reasonable. The grass was brown, the trees pale green and beige, even the sky was washed out. Dust hung in the air. Xander sighed. What they needed was a good rain.
He put his hand back on his bucket of water. The river had dried up to a trickle and home was so far away. He could have used some horses but animals had fled the area in search of some green land far away.
Farther than he could with his own two feet.
He grunted as he picked up the bucket again. If he didn't get this back, his measly crop would die. The apple trees would perish. He couldn't stop now. He must move. Xander heaved the heavy bucket, carried it as far as he could, then thudded it down again. It might have been better to carry less water, sure, but then he'd have more treks to make. He did it once. And once was enough - he'd been more exhausted by the end of the day from the endless multiple trips. With the bucket as full as this, he only needed about two. Sometimes three if he was unlucky and spilled the precious drops.
His hut loomed on the plain at last. Almost there. The two apple trees looked so limp, as if they'd crumble away into dust. Xander heaved the bucket the final stretch to the garden.
Shwish. He poured the water into his ancient looking water can, then onto the small garden. Shwish. The water ran in rivulets then soaked into the thirsty ground. Potatoes done. Corn done. The handful of beans done. The one tomato plant was nearly gone. He hoped that he could at least get one ripe tomato, not to eat, but to save the seeds and try again next season.
Then the rest of the water to the apple trees. The fruit he could dry out and save for a long time.
His task done, Xander straightened up, his back sore. As long as the river didn't dry up completely, he should be alright. He could hold out.
His mind refused to go to the thought he had, but then he faced it square on. He'd be alright physically, more or less. But then what?
Xander was alone with no way of knowing any other people around. The two graves behind the house held his two sisters. Poor souls. His sweet sisters that he was supposed to protect?
He was a strong young man. He had protected them against the wolves that sometimes poked around, searching for prey. He had protected them against the howling winds and winter storms. He had protected them against a stranger that dared try to kill them all and take their land.
He hadn't been able to protect them from disease.
First had come the scorching fever. Then the sandpaper throat. The pure weakness. They had barely been able to rise from their beds to eat or drink. Whoever was strongest carried it to the others.
Jada and Lyra died. He lived.
If only he had been near a town, perhaps he might have been able to get medicine or help. Xander shook his head. It was not the time for regrets. This is where his parents had raised them. This was where they'd died ages ago, when the three siblings were still children. What had happened to them, he still didn't know. Probably the Garquons.
His mind drifted back to the present. If only he could move on from this meagre existence. Shading his eyes, Xander looked up at the sky. No sign of any rain clouds, or any clouds at all. At least it had been months since the last Garquon ship had flown over. Xander hadn't seen one of the aliens in person, but he had certainly heard from his parents how they had taken over Earth and made a lot of it a dustbowl with their strange magic and the fights that had occurred with the humans. Many of the humans now lived under the Garquons, serving them.
Only a few had made it out of the cities and lived where they could. His parents had been lucky enough to be able to farm it out here. They had tried the river but the Garquons were too plentiful there. So the farm was set back here, where it was safer.
Xander sighed and rubbed his face. It had not been his parents? intention that he be chained to the farm like many of his counterparts were chained to their masters. Lately, he'd been feeling that he should find a way to be able to roam and return to his safe place. Perhaps with a lady, so he wasn't alone the rest of his days.
The problem, as always, was water.
Eyeing the baked ground, Xander considered, not for the first time, digging a well. The problem was everywhere was so dusty for so long, any water - if it was there - would be so deep in the ground.
He'd tried it before. His father had certainly tried. Perhaps this time he'd strike it lucky.
The rest of that day was spent making shovels and structures for digging. Perhaps a bit closer to the apple trees than the last attempt, surely the trees must be getting even a trickle of water.
When the sun rose the next morning, Xander got to work. He picked his spot and started digging. The ground got cooler the further down he dug. He made sure he could still climb out; he definitely didn't want to get stuck in a hole.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Further and further into the dirt he dug, shovelling out every bit he could.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-CLUNK.
Xander stopped, puzzled. His shovel had hit something hard. Stooping down, he used his hands to spread the dirt about. His fingers found an unforgiving surface. A rock? No, a box. Xander cleared the dirt away and pulled up a small square box, the thing smoother than glass. He scrambled up to his house to inspect his find better. Small. Black. A tiny hasp on one side.
It wasn't too difficult to break it and open the box. Cautiously he peered inside.
Nothing.
Empty? Xander stared down into the space. Just in case, he reached a finger inside to feel the bottom. To his surprise, it felt like sand. Dust. Something he couldn?t see with his own eyes. His hand found what felt like a small rock. He gripped it and held it in the light. It shimmered, nearly invisible. It must be Garquon magic; he?d heard of them using strange things. He turned it over in his hand, trying to work out what it did.
Stepping outside, Xander held the rock. He could see it a little better out here, but he still didn't know what it was for.
He felt weird. Strange. The rock thrummed. Startled, Xander tried to drop it to the ground, but it seemed glued to his hand. And then it was gone. He'd absorbed it somehow. Flapping his hand, Xander tried to get rid of it. Who knew what dangerous thing it did?
The more he flapped, the more the wind blew around him. He stopped and took stock of his surroundings. The apple trees didn't move, but his hair whipped in the breeze. He looked down at his hands and the skin cracked, becoming like sand. It didn't hurt. He was blowing away on the wind. His entire body dematerialized into dust.
Xander didn't have time to yelp before he was gone. His mind stayed conscious and he felt himself blowing across the field, ditch, abandoned road, all the way to the river. Panic ensued. He didn't want to fall into the river and be drowned. Could he drown?
Right at the bank of the river, his body reformed from the dust to a man's body. Xander patted himself down. He was here again. Whole.
This was strong powerful magic? or a fluke? His mother had told once of a Garquon vanishing before her eyes. Was it this?
The next question was: could he control it?
He closed his eyes, his mind picturing his humble home. He wished he could go back. Once again, the strange sensations overcame, he crumbled and blew on the wind back home to rematerialize there.
What magic! Xander's heart leaped in joy. He could travel as the Garquons did. Immediately all sorts of plans came to him. He'd be able to go where he willed. To the cities, even. Free his fellows. Bring back a wife to his hut.
Most definitely he could bring water to his far lickety split now.
Power surged through Xander. Where there was one, there were usually another. And another. If he could find this magic, others could too. Or different magic. They could perhaps finally fight against the Garquons at last. Freedom?s song rang in Xander's head. He could do this. He was only one man but there would be more.
They would be free.
Like dust in the wind.
Thud.
Heave.
Thud.
Breathe.
Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and peered around. The day was hot, too hot to be reasonable. The grass was brown, the trees pale green and beige, even the sky was washed out. Dust hung in the air. Xander sighed. What they needed was a good rain.
He put his hand back on his bucket of water. The river had dried up to a trickle and home was so far away. He could have used some horses but animals had fled the area in search of some green land far away.
Farther than he could with his own two feet.
He grunted as he picked up the bucket again. If he didn't get this back, his measly crop would die. The apple trees would perish. He couldn't stop now. He must move. Xander heaved the heavy bucket, carried it as far as he could, then thudded it down again. It might have been better to carry less water, sure, but then he'd have more treks to make. He did it once. And once was enough - he'd been more exhausted by the end of the day from the endless multiple trips. With the bucket as full as this, he only needed about two. Sometimes three if he was unlucky and spilled the precious drops.
His hut loomed on the plain at last. Almost there. The two apple trees looked so limp, as if they'd crumble away into dust. Xander heaved the bucket the final stretch to the garden.
Shwish. He poured the water into his ancient looking water can, then onto the small garden. Shwish. The water ran in rivulets then soaked into the thirsty ground. Potatoes done. Corn done. The handful of beans done. The one tomato plant was nearly gone. He hoped that he could at least get one ripe tomato, not to eat, but to save the seeds and try again next season.
Then the rest of the water to the apple trees. The fruit he could dry out and save for a long time.
His task done, Xander straightened up, his back sore. As long as the river didn't dry up completely, he should be alright. He could hold out.
His mind refused to go to the thought he had, but then he faced it square on. He'd be alright physically, more or less. But then what?
Xander was alone with no way of knowing any other people around. The two graves behind the house held his two sisters. Poor souls. His sweet sisters that he was supposed to protect?
He was a strong young man. He had protected them against the wolves that sometimes poked around, searching for prey. He had protected them against the howling winds and winter storms. He had protected them against a stranger that dared try to kill them all and take their land.
He hadn't been able to protect them from disease.
First had come the scorching fever. Then the sandpaper throat. The pure weakness. They had barely been able to rise from their beds to eat or drink. Whoever was strongest carried it to the others.
Jada and Lyra died. He lived.
If only he had been near a town, perhaps he might have been able to get medicine or help. Xander shook his head. It was not the time for regrets. This is where his parents had raised them. This was where they'd died ages ago, when the three siblings were still children. What had happened to them, he still didn't know. Probably the Garquons.
His mind drifted back to the present. If only he could move on from this meagre existence. Shading his eyes, Xander looked up at the sky. No sign of any rain clouds, or any clouds at all. At least it had been months since the last Garquon ship had flown over. Xander hadn't seen one of the aliens in person, but he had certainly heard from his parents how they had taken over Earth and made a lot of it a dustbowl with their strange magic and the fights that had occurred with the humans. Many of the humans now lived under the Garquons, serving them.
Only a few had made it out of the cities and lived where they could. His parents had been lucky enough to be able to farm it out here. They had tried the river but the Garquons were too plentiful there. So the farm was set back here, where it was safer.
Xander sighed and rubbed his face. It had not been his parents? intention that he be chained to the farm like many of his counterparts were chained to their masters. Lately, he'd been feeling that he should find a way to be able to roam and return to his safe place. Perhaps with a lady, so he wasn't alone the rest of his days.
The problem, as always, was water.
Eyeing the baked ground, Xander considered, not for the first time, digging a well. The problem was everywhere was so dusty for so long, any water - if it was there - would be so deep in the ground.
He'd tried it before. His father had certainly tried. Perhaps this time he'd strike it lucky.
The rest of that day was spent making shovels and structures for digging. Perhaps a bit closer to the apple trees than the last attempt, surely the trees must be getting even a trickle of water.
When the sun rose the next morning, Xander got to work. He picked his spot and started digging. The ground got cooler the further down he dug. He made sure he could still climb out; he definitely didn't want to get stuck in a hole.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Further and further into the dirt he dug, shovelling out every bit he could.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-CLUNK.
Xander stopped, puzzled. His shovel had hit something hard. Stooping down, he used his hands to spread the dirt about. His fingers found an unforgiving surface. A rock? No, a box. Xander cleared the dirt away and pulled up a small square box, the thing smoother than glass. He scrambled up to his house to inspect his find better. Small. Black. A tiny hasp on one side.
It wasn't too difficult to break it and open the box. Cautiously he peered inside.
Nothing.
Empty? Xander stared down into the space. Just in case, he reached a finger inside to feel the bottom. To his surprise, it felt like sand. Dust. Something he couldn?t see with his own eyes. His hand found what felt like a small rock. He gripped it and held it in the light. It shimmered, nearly invisible. It must be Garquon magic; he?d heard of them using strange things. He turned it over in his hand, trying to work out what it did.
Stepping outside, Xander held the rock. He could see it a little better out here, but he still didn't know what it was for.
He felt weird. Strange. The rock thrummed. Startled, Xander tried to drop it to the ground, but it seemed glued to his hand. And then it was gone. He'd absorbed it somehow. Flapping his hand, Xander tried to get rid of it. Who knew what dangerous thing it did?
The more he flapped, the more the wind blew around him. He stopped and took stock of his surroundings. The apple trees didn't move, but his hair whipped in the breeze. He looked down at his hands and the skin cracked, becoming like sand. It didn't hurt. He was blowing away on the wind. His entire body dematerialized into dust.
Xander didn't have time to yelp before he was gone. His mind stayed conscious and he felt himself blowing across the field, ditch, abandoned road, all the way to the river. Panic ensued. He didn't want to fall into the river and be drowned. Could he drown?
Right at the bank of the river, his body reformed from the dust to a man's body. Xander patted himself down. He was here again. Whole.
This was strong powerful magic? or a fluke? His mother had told once of a Garquon vanishing before her eyes. Was it this?
The next question was: could he control it?
He closed his eyes, his mind picturing his humble home. He wished he could go back. Once again, the strange sensations overcame, he crumbled and blew on the wind back home to rematerialize there.
What magic! Xander's heart leaped in joy. He could travel as the Garquons did. Immediately all sorts of plans came to him. He'd be able to go where he willed. To the cities, even. Free his fellows. Bring back a wife to his hut.
Most definitely he could bring water to his far lickety split now.
Power surged through Xander. Where there was one, there were usually another. And another. If he could find this magic, others could too. Or different magic. They could perhaps finally fight against the Garquons at last. Freedom?s song rang in Xander's head. He could do this. He was only one man but there would be more.
They would be free.
Like dust in the wind.
3
Week 0 posts / First Impressions WIM 2021!
« on: July 17, 2021, 03:30:37 AM »
My literal first thought was to facepalm myself like this dude in the picture 
I've sat on this for a few days and even asked a few friends about it. Pretty much everyone had no clue at all LOL. I see smoke or dust from this man's fingers. Magical dust, perhaps? I cannot tell his expression, perhaps he's purposely hiding. The dark cloak is intriguing, but the dust intrigues me more.
I think perhaps I shall write something to do with that dust...
I've sat on this for a few days and even asked a few friends about it. Pretty much everyone had no clue at all LOL. I see smoke or dust from this man's fingers. Magical dust, perhaps? I cannot tell his expression, perhaps he's purposely hiding. The dark cloak is intriguing, but the dust intrigues me more.
I think perhaps I shall write something to do with that dust...
4
Week 4 posts / Universe of Time - Final Draft
« on: August 30, 2020, 04:59:00 AM »
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS 
(okay yes that was totally an excuse to use that emoji)
I was a bit surprised on the edits and had to think of how to use them well. I added more thoughts from my character and sectioned out into more paragraphs and added a bit here and a bit there lol. And without further ado:
It didn't matter if I never returned to my own people. I was an old man by now. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet. My trek to the old shack in the mountains had taken much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. I clutched my battered journal in my hands as I made my way to the lowly shack. This book had magically appeared at my door when I was but a lad. It had been a constant companion through the years to my journey's end here.
I gazed at my surroundings. The hut was nestled high above civilization where vistas stretched further than I could see. The wind carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. It sighed among the granite tors and rustled along the tall grass. A small bird perched on a dancing flower sang a bewitching love song to his hidden mate. For a brief moment, I desperately missed mine, but she was long since gone into the past, though I carried part of her forever in my heart.
To my surprise, the weathered door of its own accord. I peered in. The place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, nowhere to draw water, no tables. I puzzled over this. From everything my studies showed me, everything was provided. All the notes in my worn journal pointed to this fact. I checked the worn pages once more though I knew what it would say: I needed nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith was what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I drifted to sleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon appeared, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in endless space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plummeted out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water.
But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A kaleidoscope of fish followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths where whales sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past, but I was not afraid. I felt his voice rippling through my body and my very bones.
Water is fluid and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water, and I rose to the surface. The blue dragon faded away as a new landscape opened before me.
Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked.
A hill nearby shuddered, manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise. Eternity rested in his face. I laid my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet swirled around us but did not harm us. His voice crackled in my head like a river freezing in a cold snap.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me, sweeping away the cold vision. A flaming dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. He showed me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. Walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers.
It was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and strive to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity.
I sat up, panting. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and my hands trembled. I stood shakily and gazed out the window.
One thing I knew: I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood the lessons. In fact, I had lived all these lessons. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went into the pages.
Once they were chronicled, my journal came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds.
The book dropped from my hands, and the pages became miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced by the Time dragon herself. My book would be found by the next worthy man, some young lad not yet grown. He?d find it at his own door and his journey would begin. I pressed my forehead against her snout and listened for her words.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled. I was ready.
(okay yes that was totally an excuse to use that emoji)
I was a bit surprised on the edits and had to think of how to use them well. I added more thoughts from my character and sectioned out into more paragraphs and added a bit here and a bit there lol. And without further ado:
It didn't matter if I never returned to my own people. I was an old man by now. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet. My trek to the old shack in the mountains had taken much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. I clutched my battered journal in my hands as I made my way to the lowly shack. This book had magically appeared at my door when I was but a lad. It had been a constant companion through the years to my journey's end here.
I gazed at my surroundings. The hut was nestled high above civilization where vistas stretched further than I could see. The wind carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. It sighed among the granite tors and rustled along the tall grass. A small bird perched on a dancing flower sang a bewitching love song to his hidden mate. For a brief moment, I desperately missed mine, but she was long since gone into the past, though I carried part of her forever in my heart.
To my surprise, the weathered door of its own accord. I peered in. The place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, nowhere to draw water, no tables. I puzzled over this. From everything my studies showed me, everything was provided. All the notes in my worn journal pointed to this fact. I checked the worn pages once more though I knew what it would say: I needed nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith was what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I drifted to sleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon appeared, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in endless space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plummeted out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water.
But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A kaleidoscope of fish followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths where whales sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past, but I was not afraid. I felt his voice rippling through my body and my very bones.
Water is fluid and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water, and I rose to the surface. The blue dragon faded away as a new landscape opened before me.
Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked.
A hill nearby shuddered, manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise. Eternity rested in his face. I laid my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet swirled around us but did not harm us. His voice crackled in my head like a river freezing in a cold snap.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me, sweeping away the cold vision. A flaming dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. He showed me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. Walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers.
It was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and strive to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity.
I sat up, panting. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and my hands trembled. I stood shakily and gazed out the window.
One thing I knew: I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood the lessons. In fact, I had lived all these lessons. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went into the pages.
Once they were chronicled, my journal came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds.
The book dropped from my hands, and the pages became miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced by the Time dragon herself. My book would be found by the next worthy man, some young lad not yet grown. He?d find it at his own door and his journey would begin. I pressed my forehead against her snout and listened for her words.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled. I was ready.
5
Week 3 posts / Universe of Time - Draft 3 CP Edits
« on: August 18, 2020, 12:08:21 AM »
My two CPs made reeeally good suggestions and I was even able to cut down my words EVEN MORE and that meant I had space to add things (including putting in the journal back in the beginning because i forgot i cut it out oops)
My journey to the old shack in the mountains took much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. The hut was nestled high above civilization where vistas stretched further than I could see.
I breathed in the wind that carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear it sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a bewitching love song. It didn't matter if I never returned to my own. I was an old man. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened and I peered in. The place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, nowhere to draw water, no tables. My brow crinkled in puzzlement. From my studies, written into my battered journal, everything was provided; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I drifted to sleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon appeared, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plummeted out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A kaleidoscope of fish followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths where whales sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is fluid and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. I found myself upon a white landscape. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shuddered, manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I laid my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet swirled around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me. A flaming dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. He showed me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. Walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers. It was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and strive to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I sat up panting. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat and my hands trembled. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. One thing I knew: I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood the lessons. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went down into the pages. Once they were chronicled, my journal came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The book dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced by the Time dragon herself. I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man. I pressed my forehead against her snout and listened for her words.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
My journey to the old shack in the mountains took much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. The hut was nestled high above civilization where vistas stretched further than I could see.
I breathed in the wind that carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear it sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a bewitching love song. It didn't matter if I never returned to my own. I was an old man. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened and I peered in. The place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, nowhere to draw water, no tables. My brow crinkled in puzzlement. From my studies, written into my battered journal, everything was provided; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I drifted to sleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon appeared, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plummeted out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A kaleidoscope of fish followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths where whales sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is fluid and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. I found myself upon a white landscape. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shuddered, manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I laid my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet swirled around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me. A flaming dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. He showed me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. Walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers. It was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and strive to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I sat up panting. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat and my hands trembled. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. One thing I knew: I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood the lessons. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went down into the pages. Once they were chronicled, my journal came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The book dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced by the Time dragon herself. I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man. I pressed my forehead against her snout and listened for her words.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
6
Week 2 posts / Re: Kindred: a self-edit in two-to-three stages >_>
« on: August 15, 2020, 10:22:28 PM »
I adored this, the rhyming was
Great job! It's a very fun folktale take on the prompt!
Great job! It's a very fun folktale take on the prompt!
7
Week 2 posts / Re: Ethereal Child -- Second Draft
« on: August 15, 2020, 07:50:58 PM »
Oooo. This is wrought with suspense and mysteriousness and something dark lurking within. Great job!
8
Week 2 posts / Universe of Time - Draft 2
« on: August 13, 2020, 02:51:05 AM »
It seem to take FOREVER to whittle this down to under 1k but I've finally done it! And without further ado:
My journey to the old shack in the mountains I'd aspired to all my life. It'd been much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. The hut was nondescript but nestled high above civilization, the vistas stretched further than I could see.
I breathed in the wind that carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear it sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a bewitching love song. It didn't matter if I never returned to my own. I was an old man. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened and I peered in. I saw the place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, no place to draw water, no tables. This puzzled me. From my studies, everything was provided; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I was asleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him, appeared. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plunged out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A multitude of fish of all kinds and colours followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths. I saw whales, who sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is soft and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. I found myself upon a white landscape. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shook and trembled and manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I put my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet fell around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me. A burning fiery dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. I saw before me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. If you do not let it burn you, you will walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers and I saw it was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and struggle to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. Now I knew I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went down into the pages. Once they were chronicled, my book came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The journal dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced with the Time dragon herself. I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man. I reached my hand and laid it on the dragon's snout.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
My journey to the old shack in the mountains I'd aspired to all my life. It'd been much labour, much soul searching, much questing over the years. The hut was nondescript but nestled high above civilization, the vistas stretched further than I could see.
I breathed in the wind that carried the scent of flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear it sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a bewitching love song. It didn't matter if I never returned to my own. I was an old man. I had nothing left but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened and I peered in. I saw the place was bare, save for a bed and chair. There was no food, no place to draw water, no tables. This puzzled me. From my studies, everything was provided; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I was asleep as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon, glittering with stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him, appeared. I grabbed onto a shining scale and he took me into the skies. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of Mercury and the joy of Saturn. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
After the dragon spoke, I plunged out of the heavens. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse. The wrinkled sea crawled, then the waves crashed and rolled. A splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, caught me. A multitude of fish of all kinds and colours followed him. I nestled in his forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths. I saw whales, who sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is soft and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. I found myself upon a white landscape. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shook and trembled and manifested into a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I put my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet fell around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one's soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
Everything melted around me. A burning fiery dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The desert air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. I saw before me belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea. The sand melted away to form brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. If you do not let it burn you, you will walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. Blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark moved under my fingers and I saw it was no tree at all but a dragon, all green and brown, his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree myriad flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts lay nearby. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and struggle to reach the light.
I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. Now I knew I could not have made this journey earlier. I would not have understood. I took my battered journal and wrote. The sky dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon in the lush green land, all went down into the pages. Once they were chronicled, my book came alive. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The journal dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons. They merged together to form a new dragon. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced with the Time dragon herself. I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man. I reached my hand and laid it on the dragon's snout.
Come. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
9
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft: Putting the Tertiaries to Rest
« on: August 08, 2020, 05:09:10 PM »
This was great! I really enjoyed the tables turning and the snarky comments. Good job!
10
Week 1 posts / Re: First draft - untitled
« on: August 08, 2020, 12:25:12 PM »
I love this! The dialogue is spot on and funny, the tension is palpable, a great story! I enjoyed this one!
11
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft -- Exiled
« on: August 08, 2020, 12:20:41 PM »
Oooo I really loved this, it's very fairy tale like, and I hope she gets out and free!
12
Week 1 posts / Re: CITY WITHOUT LIGHT - K. J. Harrowick
« on: August 07, 2020, 11:06:12 PM »
Oooo I'm very intrigued! So cool!
WHAT HAPPENED TO DRAGONS?!
But he seems a formchanger of sorts. This pleases me. *nods*
Can't wait to see where you go with it next!
WHAT HAPPENED TO DRAGONS?!
But he seems a formchanger of sorts. This pleases me. *nods*
Can't wait to see where you go with it next!
13
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft: Space Goats
« on: August 07, 2020, 03:56:38 PM »
LMAOOO!
First Cows then Whales, now Goats. I loved the light hearted feel to this and my favourite line was "Cat got your tongue?"
Awesome as usual, thank you for the smile!
First Cows then Whales, now Goats. I loved the light hearted feel to this and my favourite line was "Cat got your tongue?"
Awesome as usual, thank you for the smile!
14
Writer & Editor Bios / Amber Scott (Blueroan) - Fantasy, Romance, Science Fiction
« on: August 07, 2020, 02:18:28 PM »
Name: Blueroan, penname Amber Scott
Preferred Pronouns: She/her
Bio:
I am a librarian by day and a writer by night. I'm also taking a course to be a dog trainer! I've been writing since college and I started out with fanfiction. I currently have over a million words posted on Archive of Our Own. My debut novel His Heart's Song will hopefully come out this fall, or at the very least, this year! It is the first of an 8 book series and I have far too many other projects on the go!
What type of stories do you write?
I love to write fantasy, though I also write romance, sci fi, and dabble in poetry.
What are you working on right now?
My main project is my debut novel, i'm working on the third draft. My side projects are my two fanfictions, one for Hunger Games and one for Star Trek!
My Writer In Motion Project:
Fantasy
Published Books:
None yet, but this year if all goes well!
Connect With Me:
Discord: Blueroan#8419 (best place to reach me)
Twitter @blueroan18
Preferred Pronouns: She/her
Bio:
I am a librarian by day and a writer by night. I'm also taking a course to be a dog trainer! I've been writing since college and I started out with fanfiction. I currently have over a million words posted on Archive of Our Own. My debut novel His Heart's Song will hopefully come out this fall, or at the very least, this year! It is the first of an 8 book series and I have far too many other projects on the go!
What type of stories do you write?
I love to write fantasy, though I also write romance, sci fi, and dabble in poetry.
What are you working on right now?
My main project is my debut novel, i'm working on the third draft. My side projects are my two fanfictions, one for Hunger Games and one for Star Trek!
My Writer In Motion Project:
Fantasy
Published Books:
None yet, but this year if all goes well!
Connect With Me:
Discord: Blueroan#8419 (best place to reach me)
Twitter @blueroan18
15
Week 1 posts / First Draft: Universe of Time
« on: August 07, 2020, 04:09:13 AM »
I hiked to the hut in the mountains. It had been a journey of many years, much labour, much soul searching. The place didn't look like much but nestled high above every city and town, the vistas stretched further than I could see. I peered at my journal. Yes, this was my destination, for the lowly hut matched the ancient sketches in my book.
I breathed in the wind, which carried the scent of the nearby flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear the wind sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a love song, the melody bewitching.
There were things to be done. I had no idea how long I'd be here, or even if I'd ever return to my own. I was an old man by now, so it mattered not. I had nothing left now but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened of its own accord, to my surprise, but I plucked up courage to step in the door. Glancing about, I saw it was bare save for a bed and a chair. There was no food, no place to draw water, no tables, no cupboards. This puzzled me. From my studies, all was supposed to be provided for me; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed more of. There was nothing to do but wait for the sundown before I could sleep. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I was asleep just as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon, glittering with the stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him, was my first guide. I grabbed onto a bright shining scale and he took me into the skies with him. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of the darkness but the joy of the light. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space itself.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
As soon as this thought entered me, surely from the Dragon itself, I plunged down out of the heavens. The black dragon vanished and I screamed. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse below me. The wrinkled sea crawled and when I was closer, the great waves crashed and rolled. A great splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A great blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, swooped around me and caught me. A great multitude of fish of all kinds and colours followed him. I nestled in his great forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths. I saw whales, who sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is soft and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
The water pulled away from me as soon as he spoke and solidified. A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. As soon as I did so, I was upon a white barren landscape. Yet it was beautiful. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me, white and pure. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shook and trembled. I soon found it was not a hill at all but a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I put my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet fell around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one?s soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
The snow melted around me with a sudden heat. I turned to see an inferno blazing before me. I blinked. When my eyes opened, a burning fiery dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. I saw before me great belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea, and at last the melting away of sand to brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. If you do not let it burn you, you will walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. I stood upon my feet and blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark was warm to my touch and moved under my fingers and I saw it was no tree at all but a great dragon, all green and brown. His hide was bark coloured and his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree all manner of flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts resided near him. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and struggle to reach the light.
The earth dragon's voice faded away and I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I think I had, for my soul was far from me back in the realm of the dragons. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. All the universe had been laid open for me. Now I knew I could not have made this journey as a young man. I would not have seen what I had and understood it.
There was only one thing left to do. I took my battered journal. I wrote what I had seen. The space dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon of the lush green land, all went down into the pages. As soon as I had finished chronicling it all, my book took on a life of its own. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The journal dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons I had seen. They merged together to form a new dragon altogether. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth among my people. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced with the Time dragon herself. And I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man who came here. I reached my hand and laid it on the dragon's snout.
Come with me. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
I breathed in the wind, which carried the scent of the nearby flowers, haunting and sweet. I could hear the wind sighing among the granite tors, and a small bird singing a love song, the melody bewitching.
There were things to be done. I had no idea how long I'd be here, or even if I'd ever return to my own. I was an old man by now, so it mattered not. I had nothing left now but the sun and the rain, the stars and the earth beneath my feet.
The weathered door opened of its own accord, to my surprise, but I plucked up courage to step in the door. Glancing about, I saw it was bare save for a bed and a chair. There was no food, no place to draw water, no tables, no cupboards. This puzzled me. From my studies, all was supposed to be provided for me; I would need nothing but the clothes on my back and faith.
Clearly faith is what I needed more of. There was nothing to do but wait for the sundown before I could sleep. I went inside when the golden sun was ribboning across the sky with the promise of tomorrow in its arms. I was asleep just as the moonbeams danced a ghostly waltz across the hard wooden floor.
And I dreamed of dragons.
A black dragon, glittering with the stars, whose tail drew the Milky way with him, was my first guide. I grabbed onto a bright shining scale and he took me into the skies with him. He showed me without words the stories written across the galaxies, the despair of the darkness but the joy of the light. The stars twinkled, the comets passed, the bright planets glowed. There was no I, no me, just a being lost in the immenseness of space itself.
There can be no Shadows without Light. There can be no Light without Darkness.
As soon as this thought entered me, surely from the Dragon itself, I plunged down out of the heavens. The black dragon vanished and I screamed. Faster and faster I fell toward a blue expanse below me. The wrinkled sea crawled and when I was closer, the great waves crashed and rolled. A great splash without pain, and I was in the water. But I was not alone. A great blue dragon, all fins and shiny scales, swooped around me and caught me. A great multitude of fish of all kinds and colours followed him. I nestled in his great forearms and found I could not drown. He took me down to the depths. I saw whales, who sang their eerie music to the watery void. Silvery sharks zoomed on past but I was not afraid.
Water is soft and forgiving, yet it cuts through rock. The ocean depths are not to drown but to let us swim in the wonder of the world.
The water pulled away from me as soon as he spoke and solidified. A coldness swept through the water and I rose to the surface. As soon as I did so, I was upon a white barren landscape. Yet it was beautiful. Snow glittered as diamonds all around me, white and pure. Shades of blues and greys and whites met my eyes wherever I looked. A hill nearby shook and trembled. I soon found it was not a hill at all but a great ice dragon, his scales whiter than the cleanest snow, his eyes blazing turquoise and eternity in his face. I put my hand on his snout. He drew the storms with him, for hail and blizzards and sleet fell around us but did not harm us.
The storm in one?s soul does not subside until one sees the beauty of the snow and ice within.
The snow melted around me with a sudden heat. I turned to see an inferno blazing before me. I blinked. When my eyes opened, a burning fiery dragon stood before me. His eyes were rubies and his body all the colours of fire: red and gold and orange and blue and purple. The air was stifling hot, yet he took me into his embrace. I saw before me great belching volcanoes, the blue fire dancing in the marsh, St. Elmo's fire racing over ships, wildfire ripping over the shadow-haunted woods, the cold fire of the sea, and at last the melting away of sand to brilliant gems and precious stones.
Fire is not an enemy but a friend. If you do not let it burn you, you will walk through the flames and emerge a gem that none can destroy.
The world turned green. I stood upon my feet and blades of grass grew high. Trees shivered out their leaves. Rich soil, damp and sweet to my nostrils, stretched as far as I could see. I laid my hand upon a nearby tree. The bark was warm to my touch and moved under my fingers and I saw it was no tree at all but a great dragon, all green and brown. His hide was bark coloured and his eyes golden as the corn in tassel. When he unwrapped himself from his tree all manner of flowers burst upon his scales. All manner of birds and beasts resided near him. His footsteps shook the world itself.
The tiny seed knew in order to grow it must be dropped in dirt, buried, and struggle to reach the light.
The earth dragon's voice faded away and I opened my eyes. I was once again in the hut, feeling as if I had travelled all eternity. I think I had, for my soul was far from me back in the realm of the dragons. I stood up shakily and gazed out the window. All the universe had been laid open for me. Now I knew I could not have made this journey as a young man. I would not have seen what I had and understood it.
There was only one thing left to do. I took my battered journal. I wrote what I had seen. The space dragon in the heavens, the water dragon in the seas, the ice dragon in the snows, the fire dragon in the burning desert, the earth dragon of the lush green land, all went down into the pages. As soon as I had finished chronicling it all, my book took on a life of its own. The freshly inked pages ripped out and circled around my head like small white birds. The journal dropped from my hands and the pages became tiny miniatures of the dragons I had seen. They merged together to form a new dragon altogether. She was shadows and smoke and light and rain and grass and fire.
I knew then.
I was dying.
Nevermore would I walk the earth among my people. My soul was bound for infinity. I had been graced with the Time dragon herself. And I was ready. My book would be found by the next worthy man who came here. I reached my hand and laid it on the dragon's snout.
Come with me. The past is a road to the future, and the future is past. We will be nothing and everything. Come.
I smiled.
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