Since I take two creative writing courses, I'm supposed to do a lot of free-writing. I decided to share these snippets with SARP. I'll leave the prompt before the piece.
Feel free to comment on these snippets. I usually write about the Raiken.
In this OP, I'll post a couple. In other posts I may post one or a group.
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Prompt: Priest, Wanting something against their normal. (Had to pick a person from a list, priest was one.)
Jeelul stood at the altar, twisting a tail of his robe in one hand, "No no no, can't do that." The male glanced up at the stained glass lining the ceiling, all depicting the great Roshya heroes. Sunlight trailed in through the windows, lighting the floor in with a wide array of colors. He was alone in the massive chamber, rows of benches in front of him.
The priest glanced back, towards the massive obelisk of onyx. It was engraved with all the teachings of his order, "That would be... greater than heresy! But it is the truth..." Jeelul took a seat, burying his head in his palm, groaning loudly, his call echoing throughout the hall, "Should they even know? Would it be right to shatter their dream?"
Jeelul glanced down at the small book in his other hand. It was bound with leather and yellowed with age. Within its pages described a much... different teaching than the one inscribed upon the obelisk. He had found it buried deep in the church's archives. He didn't even think the others knew that section existed. Overcome with curiosity, the priest had sat down under some candlelight, poring over the old pages. He could barely understand the text, it was written in an old tongue, but it detailed something that contradicted everything they had believed in. If only the people knew.
The priest stood up slowly, resolved, “They must know.” Jeelul made his way to the door, his strides filled with confidence. As he exited, he was met with cold metal pressed against his chin, “You know too much.” The book fell to the ground, blood soaking into its pages.
===
(Write as hero) The closest I came to murder was when...
Siyo slowly cracked an eye as he awoke, glancing around his small room. They had been lucky to find somewhere to rest after the rebel raid. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and many more weren’t in the best condition. He let loose a long yawn, slowly sitting up against the wall. As he did so, he felt a strange tingling on his hands. He glanced down, horrified to see that streams of blood were running freely across his palms, coating them in deep orange. He tried using his blanket to remove the blood, but he found that not a single drop had been wiped away. He quickly rolled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom, letting water run free into the sink.
With each passing moment, he grew more and more horrified, the water wasn’t washing any of the blood away, the deep orange glared back at him accusingly. A voice spoke behind him, “I had a family, younglings. I fought for my people and you fight for the wrong side…” Siyo froze, slowly turning to see one of the rebels he had shot during the raid. Multiple holes were punched through his body, blood running endlessly onto the floor. It wouldn’t take long for the entire room to be coated in the sticky liquid. Before Siyo could say anything, the rebel disappeared, but another replaced him just as fast. For what felt like ages, Siyo saw warrior after warrior, all inflicted with great wounds, all repeating the same lines. He yelled out for hours, asking them to stop, but they never did. Eventually he lacked the energy to protest.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He roared out loudly, throwing a punch and screaming, “I DID WHAT I HAD TO.” He was surprised to find that he was back in his bed and Nystris was sprawled out on the floor, slowly getting back to his feet. The black-scaled male regarded Siyo with worry, “Did what, Commander?”
===
(Antag) I am waiting for… (In this case, Siyo is his own antagonist.)
Siyo slowly awoke to pain wracking his body and mind. How far had he fallen? With great protest, he managed to crack an eye, glancing up at the hundreds of broken branches above him. He was dimly aware of the calls and cries of the jungle around him. He laid his head back, trying to dismiss the pain. He didn’t feel anything broken, but his body was surely beaten and bruised. He tried to raise his head and sit up. He immediately fell back, his head spinning and his body screaming for rest. Within moments, he blacked out, losing himself to forced sleep.
Siyo awoke with a start, the pain from his fall had seemingly evaporated. He looked around, confused why his body had healed so rapidly. What immediately set him at unease was the darkness surrounding him. Rakavasu was never as dark as night. Not even under dense foliage. A loud scream tore him from his thoughts. He recognized the pained scream, it belonged to Isel. He rushed blindly through the trees, branches snapping and leaves slapping him in the face, discouraging him. No matter how far he ran, the screams never seemed any closer. After hours of this endless run, the roars of pain from his other packmate’s joined Isel’s. He ran and ran, his legs pleading for him to stop, the burning pain of exhaustion raced through his body. Eventually he collapsed, his body unable to continue. Yet, the screams continued, they all pleaded for him to come, to help.
A voice laughed at him mockingly, seeming to come from the forest itself, “Aren’t you going to help them? What are you waiting for Siyo? You aren’t strong enough, is that it? Then lay here and die, like all the other weak and broken warriors before you.” Darkness enveloped him, the screams echoing as he passed out.
Sometime later, he became aware of the world around him, the pain of his body immediately greeting him, reminding him that he was far too injured to do anything. He grit his teeth and shook his head, trying to ignore the pain, “I can’t wait. They need me.”
===
Prompt: Event in past week (Challenge, incorporate simile/metaphor comparison)(Usually write in 3rd person limited. Using first person.) I rarely EVER write in first person.
The air was charged with tension. I glanced down at the field again, where my tapped lands and spent creatures only solidified the sense of weakness. My turn had been productive, garnering the attention of the three other players of the table. With every clever play and board-advancing spell, I drew the ire and suspicion of my peers. Inevitably, this had to come to a close with the words, “Pass turn.”
With the crisp sound of a card being drawn, the opponent on my left drew for turn. Thus far, he had done little to disrupt my plans. His deck was built for the late-game, designed to bring giant creatures to the battlefield. After placing a land, he simply passed the turn, biding his time or perhaps saving something? I didn’t know.
The opponent diagonal to me grinned, drawing his card and announcing the triggers on his upkeep. He drew an additional card while all of us were permitted to do the same. After a moment of studying his hand, he called for inspecting graveyards. My heart sunk. My deck was built around the graveyard, filling it with far more creatures and spells than any of my opponents. If he had anything that targeted my favored zone, I would be finished. With a flourish, he tapped his lands and threw down a Necromancer’s Covenant. There it was, a card designed to destroy a graveyard player’s deck. I let out a long sigh as he announced his target, me. Before I finished counting the creature’s in the graveyard for the spells effect, the player to my left tapped his lands and threw down a counterspell. I laughed and set my graveyard back while the two fought over why it was done. It was clear that I was winning at this moment, but the politics of the game ensured that I would favor my newfound friend, for this game at least.
But all was not finished, the counter did not stop the card completely, it instead gave me three turns to win the game or hide my graveyard once more. With a nod, I untapped my lands and set about doing the former…
(Game of Magic, Commander Format, with friends. Was doing very well until one of them attempted to exile my graveyard. Luckily, the other player did not want the caster to gain the advantage of my graveyard and countered the spell.)
===
More soon!
Feel free to comment on these snippets. I usually write about the Raiken.
In this OP, I'll post a couple. In other posts I may post one or a group.
===
Prompt: Priest, Wanting something against their normal. (Had to pick a person from a list, priest was one.)
Jeelul stood at the altar, twisting a tail of his robe in one hand, "No no no, can't do that." The male glanced up at the stained glass lining the ceiling, all depicting the great Roshya heroes. Sunlight trailed in through the windows, lighting the floor in with a wide array of colors. He was alone in the massive chamber, rows of benches in front of him.
The priest glanced back, towards the massive obelisk of onyx. It was engraved with all the teachings of his order, "That would be... greater than heresy! But it is the truth..." Jeelul took a seat, burying his head in his palm, groaning loudly, his call echoing throughout the hall, "Should they even know? Would it be right to shatter their dream?"
Jeelul glanced down at the small book in his other hand. It was bound with leather and yellowed with age. Within its pages described a much... different teaching than the one inscribed upon the obelisk. He had found it buried deep in the church's archives. He didn't even think the others knew that section existed. Overcome with curiosity, the priest had sat down under some candlelight, poring over the old pages. He could barely understand the text, it was written in an old tongue, but it detailed something that contradicted everything they had believed in. If only the people knew.
The priest stood up slowly, resolved, “They must know.” Jeelul made his way to the door, his strides filled with confidence. As he exited, he was met with cold metal pressed against his chin, “You know too much.” The book fell to the ground, blood soaking into its pages.
===
(Write as hero) The closest I came to murder was when...
Siyo slowly cracked an eye as he awoke, glancing around his small room. They had been lucky to find somewhere to rest after the rebel raid. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and many more weren’t in the best condition. He let loose a long yawn, slowly sitting up against the wall. As he did so, he felt a strange tingling on his hands. He glanced down, horrified to see that streams of blood were running freely across his palms, coating them in deep orange. He tried using his blanket to remove the blood, but he found that not a single drop had been wiped away. He quickly rolled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom, letting water run free into the sink.
With each passing moment, he grew more and more horrified, the water wasn’t washing any of the blood away, the deep orange glared back at him accusingly. A voice spoke behind him, “I had a family, younglings. I fought for my people and you fight for the wrong side…” Siyo froze, slowly turning to see one of the rebels he had shot during the raid. Multiple holes were punched through his body, blood running endlessly onto the floor. It wouldn’t take long for the entire room to be coated in the sticky liquid. Before Siyo could say anything, the rebel disappeared, but another replaced him just as fast. For what felt like ages, Siyo saw warrior after warrior, all inflicted with great wounds, all repeating the same lines. He yelled out for hours, asking them to stop, but they never did. Eventually he lacked the energy to protest.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He roared out loudly, throwing a punch and screaming, “I DID WHAT I HAD TO.” He was surprised to find that he was back in his bed and Nystris was sprawled out on the floor, slowly getting back to his feet. The black-scaled male regarded Siyo with worry, “Did what, Commander?”
===
(Antag) I am waiting for… (In this case, Siyo is his own antagonist.)
Siyo slowly awoke to pain wracking his body and mind. How far had he fallen? With great protest, he managed to crack an eye, glancing up at the hundreds of broken branches above him. He was dimly aware of the calls and cries of the jungle around him. He laid his head back, trying to dismiss the pain. He didn’t feel anything broken, but his body was surely beaten and bruised. He tried to raise his head and sit up. He immediately fell back, his head spinning and his body screaming for rest. Within moments, he blacked out, losing himself to forced sleep.
Siyo awoke with a start, the pain from his fall had seemingly evaporated. He looked around, confused why his body had healed so rapidly. What immediately set him at unease was the darkness surrounding him. Rakavasu was never as dark as night. Not even under dense foliage. A loud scream tore him from his thoughts. He recognized the pained scream, it belonged to Isel. He rushed blindly through the trees, branches snapping and leaves slapping him in the face, discouraging him. No matter how far he ran, the screams never seemed any closer. After hours of this endless run, the roars of pain from his other packmate’s joined Isel’s. He ran and ran, his legs pleading for him to stop, the burning pain of exhaustion raced through his body. Eventually he collapsed, his body unable to continue. Yet, the screams continued, they all pleaded for him to come, to help.
A voice laughed at him mockingly, seeming to come from the forest itself, “Aren’t you going to help them? What are you waiting for Siyo? You aren’t strong enough, is that it? Then lay here and die, like all the other weak and broken warriors before you.” Darkness enveloped him, the screams echoing as he passed out.
Sometime later, he became aware of the world around him, the pain of his body immediately greeting him, reminding him that he was far too injured to do anything. He grit his teeth and shook his head, trying to ignore the pain, “I can’t wait. They need me.”
===
Prompt: Event in past week (Challenge, incorporate simile/metaphor comparison)(Usually write in 3rd person limited. Using first person.) I rarely EVER write in first person.
The air was charged with tension. I glanced down at the field again, where my tapped lands and spent creatures only solidified the sense of weakness. My turn had been productive, garnering the attention of the three other players of the table. With every clever play and board-advancing spell, I drew the ire and suspicion of my peers. Inevitably, this had to come to a close with the words, “Pass turn.”
With the crisp sound of a card being drawn, the opponent on my left drew for turn. Thus far, he had done little to disrupt my plans. His deck was built for the late-game, designed to bring giant creatures to the battlefield. After placing a land, he simply passed the turn, biding his time or perhaps saving something? I didn’t know.
The opponent diagonal to me grinned, drawing his card and announcing the triggers on his upkeep. He drew an additional card while all of us were permitted to do the same. After a moment of studying his hand, he called for inspecting graveyards. My heart sunk. My deck was built around the graveyard, filling it with far more creatures and spells than any of my opponents. If he had anything that targeted my favored zone, I would be finished. With a flourish, he tapped his lands and threw down a Necromancer’s Covenant. There it was, a card designed to destroy a graveyard player’s deck. I let out a long sigh as he announced his target, me. Before I finished counting the creature’s in the graveyard for the spells effect, the player to my left tapped his lands and threw down a counterspell. I laughed and set my graveyard back while the two fought over why it was done. It was clear that I was winning at this moment, but the politics of the game ensured that I would favor my newfound friend, for this game at least.
But all was not finished, the counter did not stop the card completely, it instead gave me three turns to win the game or hide my graveyard once more. With a nod, I untapped my lands and set about doing the former…
(Game of Magic, Commander Format, with friends. Was doing very well until one of them attempted to exile my graveyard. Luckily, the other player did not want the caster to gain the advantage of my graveyard and countered the spell.)
===
More soon!
