First off, I am thrilled to share the work of simplysimplymeblog, who accepted the Writing Prompt Challenge.
Remember, any time you’re inspired, please share what you create. You can either post it here in the comments, or on your own page, just be sure to link the post or my site so I know it’s out there. 🙂
A scenery so beautiful, that has become lost over time, it hides many stories of those who walked it’s path. Maybe it was of lovers, who enjoyed it’s peace and serenity, creating memories to share with those to come. Or of those who were parted by destiny, yet met here to maintain their promises, or of those who revisited in remembrance of lost lovers. The secrets it withholds shall be tied within its ageing beauty, as the old marks fade, the new emerge.
The secrets shall remain undisclosed, the mysteries unwritten, the abandoned scape still echoes the laughter and whispers of those who have gone …
Thank you again, Sobia for sharing your words!
I only wrote one flash fiction piece this week, because as I stated in a recent post, I was trying to make the deadline I set for myself for the rewrite of my pilot. I almost made it.
He knew from the moment they had met that he would eventually find himself here – standing in a cell the other had once occupied. They had been playing a game of cat and mouse for years, years beyond comprehension, so it was no wonder one of them had eventually found themselves in such a place. He had lost track of the other sometime in the Victorian era, this must have been where he disappeared. There had been rumor of the man who did not age; he was the inspiration for a number of myths and tales, because he had the unlucky fortune of being caught. It was discovering the source of those stories that had brought him here.
The world continued to move forward, yet this place held the remnants of the world it had once been a part of. It still smelled and felt like it had hundreds of years ago, when it was new. He stood in the center of it, feeling the warmth of the setting sun streaming in upon his face, and smiled to himself. There in the stone, a set of markings had been painstakingly carved. The game was on, again.
I’d also like to share a little snippet of the fanfic I wrote the other day at work. It’s a WIP. It hasn’t been edited or rewritten yet, so please forgive any errors. For those of you unfamiliar with this topic, I am not exaggerating, nor am I ashamed/embarrassed to admit, when I say, “I am obsessed with (the video game series) Dragon Age.” One slow day at work, I just randomly started writing fan fiction. 30,000+ words later…yeah. It’s one of my goals to write for the series, in any shape or form. Just putting that out there.
If you’re interested in reading what I’ve written so far, chapters one and two are available under the “Scribbles” heading. There’s some adult content in chapter 2, so you’ll have to click a link to a site that confirms you’re of age. 😉 It was my first attempt at writing, oh, let’s call it what it is, smut. It was so much fun! Don’t worry, the following is smut free.
To be a mage was to be a bit of a show off. While we cast spells, we are alight with magic. We flash with a rainbow of colors, imbued with powers from the Fade. We twirl our staves in a great display. For any mage, their staff is an extension of themselves. It helps to focus our hits, it directs with greater accuracy, but it also needs to bear quite a burden. I knew with each passing fight, I was not only developing new skills, but I was also capable of more than I had been before.
I was stronger and my mana drained at a lesser rate than it had even a few weeks earlier. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I outgrew my current staff, but while in the Temple of Sacred Ashes nearly overwhelmed by heretics and creatures of every variety, I cringed upon hearing a sound every mage must dismay at hearing.
I twirled, casting spell after spell, some deadlier than others, when I felt my staff shudder, and in the strange silence that follows any flurry of spellcasting, the inevitable groan of the staff splintering under its current burden. I cringed. Many of the senior mages in the Circle still had the same staff they passed their Harrowing with. As I was quickly learning with my ever-expanding cache of spells, I wouldn’t be so lucky.
As we had finally found a moment’s reprieve, I sat in silence, despondent at the state of what I regarded as an ally, or an old friend. We had been through quite a bit together, and I would be sad to put her to rest. I gently traced my fingertips along the fragmented edge, thinking back on the journey we had undertaken so far, and how we had arrived at such a strange place, a hidden temple, a ruin.
*A special thank you to rooster82 at DeviantArt for the stunning mage Warden, Devene Amell.