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In with "Sourdoire Valley Song" by the Mountain Goats.
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Apr 26, 2024 07:17
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| # ? Apr 28, 2024 23:18 |
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In with Dan Deacon's Feel the Lightning. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kK-1axSGkXc
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Apr 27, 2024 02:01
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Aaaand signup now officially over! E: Quiet Feet fucked around with this message at 13:04 on Apr 28, 2024 |
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Apr 27, 2024 09:46
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Title: Love, Undying Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dOx510kyOs Words: 1898 It was finally time to offer my services to the Undying Queen. She who commanded armies of the living and the dead, she who brooked no dispute. She was powerful. She was terrifying. She was beautiful. She was eternal, and she needed a mage. She needed me, almost as much as I needed her. I am sure of it. I decided that a touch of drama was necessary. With a clap of thunder and a blast of displaced air, I teleported into her throne room. It was an ostentatious and dramatic gesture, one meant to display my raw power to all who witnessed it. Unfortunately, the only thing that witnessed my display was an empty chair. The throne room was dark and cold. Sheepishly, I opened one of the massive doors to the throne room and slinked out. Still, I was at her castle, I need only find her. This turned out to be a more difficult task than I thought. I was able to conjure storms of lashing rain and peals of lightning where there was a sunny day. I was able to make entire fields grow and bear fruit in an instant. I was able to shuffle heat energy around as easily as a croupier moves cards around the baize in a casino, and yet I could not find her. To be honest, I could not find anyone. This castle is a labyrinth. Room after empty room, no guards, no servants, nobody at all. I must have spent hours roaming the labyrinth of her castle, room after empty room, searching for her. While I searched I thought back to the first time I saw her, when I was just a young man, and she was the same eternal beauty. That first day when she sood imperiously over our lecture - I forget which class - I knew then that she was the one. No matter how long it took, no matter what, I’d find her and I’d offer myself to her. I remember her beauty, her stature, her large blue eyes, her sad smile. When she thought nobody was looking, her face always had a gentle sadness, a loneliness in her eyes. I burned to find the source of that sadness, to whisk it away from her, to make her smile truly. Finally, somewhere deep inside the castle, I came across a simple wooden door. As I grasped the handle, it swung open gently, on silent hinges. As I peered in, the Undying Queen herself was lounging across an overstuffed chair in a light shirt and shorts, legs kicking idly as she read a book. Next to her was a small table with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese. As I watched, she turned a page and reached for her wine without looking. She took a sip and gently put it back down. I swallowed to try and moisten my dry mouth. She was right there, as beautiful as the day I first saw her. “My Queen, I-” She squeaked in surprise and dropped her book. Jumping up from the chair she pointed a finger accusingly. “Who are you? How did you get past the guards?” I hold up my hands, partly to show that I am unarmed and partly to defend myself against any coming blows. “Guards? There is nobody else. I saw nobody in the entire castle.” She put her hands on her hips. “You weren’t supposed to notice that. You were supposed to see people everywhere, be constantly grilled about what you are doing, and where you are going. You aren’t supposed to be able to wander my castle at will, trying doors until you find me.” What was going on? I saw nobody. I’ll just press ahead. “My Queen, my name is Timothy. I’m a mage. I came to serve you.” Her eyes narrowed and she strides up to me quickly. She’s tall; taller than me, and her long leonid hair flows behind her. I catch her scent, it is warm and floral. As she bends down to my level, her face fills my vision, her breath on my cheek. All my life I have waited to be this close to her. If I were to die now, I would be content. “You are a mage? There hasn’t been a person worthy of that title in a century or more.” She rises to her full height. “Show me.” “P-pardon?” “You are a mage? Show me.” She crosses her arms, her smirk a wicked thing. If I fail here, I am dead. I take a breath, hold it a moment, and release. I close my eyes, and imagine what she would like to see. I reach out to her, and feel with all my power. My hair stands on end and I hear a crackle of energy, sparking like static electricity. Beads of sweat form on my brow as I concentrate, every muscle straining, I squeeze harder and my physical form starts shaking. I separate myself from my body and reach across the room. There, just out of reach. I can see her with my third eye. I dig deep for wells of energy that even I didn’t realize I had, and my ethereal hand touches her head gently, caressing her hair. Huh? Her name is Pamela. I wonder how many people know that? I’ve only ever heard her referred to as the Undying Queen. What does she want? What does she wish for? I peer deeper still. There it is. A wish, far within her psyche. She longs for it. Home. I dig deeper. I get the shape of her wish, the feel of it. It doesn’t look like any home I know, but who am I to judge? Far away, back in my physical form, I can feel a sharp pain and a numbness in my chest. From where I am now it’s dulled and distant, but I know what it means; my heart has stopped. The shock of such a magical feat is too great for my comparatively frail form. I should stop concentrating, cease my casting, return to my body. I would live. But what then? I’d fail to grant her wish. No, I am in the presence of my love. The woman I fell in love with at first sight. I feel a slight twinge of worry from the rear of my mind. She’s a person, with wants and needs and feelings all her own. Even if I do this for her, even if I grant her wish, there is every chance that she won’t return my love, that she can’t return my love. I fell in love with the idea of her. With my mind’s idea of her. I relax my casting for just a moment while I ponder. Should I stop? Even if she doesn't love me, I love her. I will continue to grant her wish, even if it kills me. As I come to my final decision my psyche gasps with recognition. That’s how to do it. Quietly, softly I feel my physical hands and arms move in a complicated semi circle. My body feels a breeze pick up. A moment later, I feel the warmth of the sun. There’s a noise from the open window. Traffic. This early? The breeze picks up and I smell flowers in the wind. The queen gasps in surprise, and a sob escapes her lips. There’s a sound like cloth being ripped, but in reverse. I feel a buzzing on my wrist. What is that? What is going on? I reach over to touch the buzzing, and silence my watch. I open my eyes and look up at the white ceiling. A fan whirls overhead slowly, moving the still morning air. It’s morning already. I can hear the traffic outside of the open window. Pam leaves it open at night to bring fresh air in. I turn my head and she’s next to me, asleep. Carefully, I sit up and get out of our bed. The room is bright with the morning light, but she’s still fast asleep. She was always a night owl, not one for mornings. I pad into the bathroom and turn on the water for the shower. While it heats up (it seemingly takes forever) I brush my teeth. While I wash, I try to grab hold of what happened. It seemed so real, but like most of my dreams it fades into mist. Oh well. Here and now is what I have to worry about. It’s garbage day, I have to remember to put the trash out before they come by, otherwise I’ll have to figure out where I can put trash bags until next week. I towel off and walk into the bedroom naked. Pam is sitting up in bed weeping. “Pam! Hon! What’s wrong?” I rush to her side and hug her tightly. “What happened?” “No, no, it’s fine.” She sniffs and smiles. “It’s better than fine. You did it. I’m free. I’m home.” She looks around the apartment. She always wished we could paint it, but the landlord didn’t allow it so we hung cloth and fabric on the walls, giving the room kind of a palace bedroom vibe. “You found me.” Confused, I continued hugging her. “Of course I did. I’ll always find you. You might think I’m foolish, but all I want is you.” The Undying Queen looks around. Pam looks around, her blue eyes wide. She bends down and touches the bed, running her hand over the duvet. She gets out of bed, slowly, carefully as if the wrong step would cause something terrible to happen. She looks out the window and stops herself and takes a breath. “You did it. You can do it. Is it an illusion, or are we actually here?” “Of course we are, we’re in our apartment.” I look at her. She seems worried. “Are… you alright? Is something the matter?” “I don’t know. Do you remember the palace? The Undying Queen?” That stirs a memory. I was a mage, she was the Undying Queen, immortal and everlasting. I spent my life trying to become powerful enough to reach her, and I finally succeeded. “I think I do. I was - am? - was a mage? And you were the Undying Queen? I fell in love with you when I first saw you in college. I spent my life trying to gain enough power to get your attention, to get your favor. I made my way into your chambers, and you told me to prove myself to you.” She sniffed. “Then what?” “Then I reached out to create what you desired most, and then my alarm woke me up, and we were here.” I looked around at the apartment, tidy, small, a first place for a new couple. “It… was it a dream? The other world?” She smiles and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we’re here and we’re together.” She stands up and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some breakfast.” “That’s a great idea. Let’s go to that new brunch place. I love you, Pamela.” I bend down, and embrace her. She returns the embrace and sobs into my shoulder.
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Apr 27, 2024 15:15
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Quiet Feet posted:Aaaand signup now officially over! So I'm not allowed to enter? Ok lol.
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Apr 28, 2024 07:46
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Fat Jesus posted:So I'm not allowed to enter? Ok lol. No you're fine, I'm just stupid. E: seriously I somehow missed your post initially and am very embarrassed. 
Quiet Feet fucked around with this message at 17:11 on Apr 28, 2024 |
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Apr 28, 2024 12:55
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Chasing After Endless Windmills Prompt: Muse - Knights Of Cydonia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_sBOsh-vyI Word Count: 1812 Even though this was Daniel’s first time seeing me, a small spark of recognition flickered in his eyes as I gripped his hand. In every time and in every place, love had brought me to him. The only thing preventing our happy ending was our imminent demise. We were dangling at the edge of a bridge. Below us, I heard the thunderous crash as the train fell into the ocean. I fought against gravity, desperate to pull Daniel up to safety. I looked down, and he tried to nod politely, while also clutching my hand with all of his strength. The drat boy would always put manners ahead of survival. Daniel found leverage against one of the rickety wooden support beams, and I heaved us up to the top of the bridge. I laughed in triumph as we both lay exhausted. Daniel looked at me, a stranger he had just met, with trust in his eyes. “Madam, you shine more than new horseshoes! The way you punched and-,” Daniel’s own enthusiasm cut him off as he did his best to mime my fighting prowess. I didn’t know what to say to the man who had saved me in my younger years. I finally had the chance to return the favour, but he wouldn’t know it. All I said was, “Ain’t amazing as you.” The wind shifted and I smelled ichor and brine. I froze. If love brought us together, time and time again, I shuddered to think what force tore us apart. From above one of the crashed train cars, a man, dressed in a fine black suit approached us, gun in hand. “This needs to end. With his death.” The man said, pointing the gun at Daniel. “How many times do we need to do this?” He lifted the gun. Aimed it at my love. Daniel moved to shield me. drat idiot didn’t even know he was the target. I flung myself at Daniel, pulled him back. Then I heard the harsh crack of a gunshot. I felt the sensation of a blazing hot spear piercing my shoulder. Spasms of pain coursed through my body. All I could focus on was holding onto Daniel and the howl of the wind as we fell. The water below us churned like a hungry maw. I held Daniel, for the first and last time. I turned as we hit the water and took the brunt of the impact. Pain lanced across my ribs. I screamed, only for water to fill my lungs. Somewhere in the commotion, I had let go of Daniel. I frantically looked for him. He was above me, miraculously still alive, and frantically searching for me even as I sank. I tried to swim, but my legs refused to move. Only the deep, dark blue water saw my efforts. That same old feeling of despair washed over me, and then I felt something drag me down. I let it pull me down towards the sea floor. I let it pull me back to the familiar despair of the dark… --- I emerged, dripping and soaking wet, surrounded by endless twilight. I looked up, and saw naught but the shadow of a giant snake flying in the sky. In front of me was a make-shift camp with a ten-woman tent, a single white horse tied to a post and a blazing campfire. I was unharmed in body, yet torn asunder in mind. I approached the make-shift camp, where three women were by the fire. Two of them were too busy arguing to notice me, while the other woman raised her head in greeting. I nodded, and sat by the fire, grateful for the momentary rest. I knew the three other women here, and knew that each of them had failed in their own way. We all wore a long duster, a cattlewoman’s hat, a knife on our belt, and a gold wedding ring. We all had the same face. The two youngest — you could tell by the gleam of hope in their eyes — were now playing rock-paper-scissors to determine the winner of their argument. The silent one, who sat beside me, had a rough time of it. Blood stained her bruised knuckles and she looked tired as sin. “How long they been butting heads?” I asked “Five minutes or so.” “Did they realise we always pick rock?” “Did you?” “Nope.” This could take hours. Daniel always said I was as shocking as Tesla, and as strong as Sisyphus, but was as stubborn as his mother’s mule. “Stop it,” I said to the two greenhorns. The youngest of me whirled, “One moment I’m at the world’s fair, where my husband is showing off his experiment. The next moment I’m knee-deep in whatever this poo poo is. Where is Daniel?” “Dimension is on pause while we sort ourselves out.” I motioned to the endless twilight that surrounded the camp. It clung to the light of the fire, like thick molasses. Off in the distance, you could see thousands of flickers of flame, each of them another campfire with another set of figures surrounding it “Gotta decide who tries to save Daniel this time,” Rough-me drawled. It took the greenhorns a few seconds to come up with a solution, and they said it so confidently, they revealed just how new they were to this. “Rock paper scissors,” they said simultaneously, holding out their hands. “Oh gawd no,” Rough-me said. The youngest of us would not be deterred. Hands on her hips, she squared up against the naysayer. “Scared you are going to lose?” I remember when I was that headstrong, so sure of myself. Failing your husband a couple dozen times gelds the bull. “We got a system to figure out who leaves. It’s called seniority.” Rough-me said, drawing out the last word. The two rock-paper-scissors mes had to be two or three cycles old. Their dusters were unmarred, their eyes still had that naive gleam of hope. The only one that might give me a run for my money was Rough-me. I eyed her. She stared back. “Whoever has the most marks on their arms leaves and tries to save Daniel,” I said. “If you stay, you get a mark and get to try again.” The youngest me argued, but in the end we all knew this system was the best—I knew because I had been in their shoes before. “What if we lie?” Young-Me asked. Before I could respond, Rough-Me spoke up. “Old Hundred won’t allow that.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start with this fable.” She continued, “Old Hundred has tried to save Daniel a hundred times and more,” she said with a reverent tone in her voice. “She’s the one that can never get it right. The one that never gets her man.” “And she watches over us and comes down with flying horses to help us.” I interrupted her before she could go on. “I’ve never met her.” She lifted her eyebrows in response to that and responded with a single word. “Fine.” With that settled, I barked commands to the group. “Everyone, lift your sleeves. Show off how many times you’ve done this.” The youngsters looked confused and used one hand to show how many times they have been at it. Rough-Me lifted her sleeves to show a similar collection of black marks.. She casually said her number, “fifty seven.” I grinned at her and lifted my sleeves. “Count ‘em and weep.” She was persistent; I gave her that. She came over and counted each of the marks on my arms. Counted them twice even, and then swore. “drat, sixty-five.” My momma always said to be humble, but I couldn’t stop a lazy grin from forming on my face. I snuffed out the fire, and dipped my hand into the ashes to grab a glowing piece of charcoal. It was warm to the touch, but didn’t burn me.I used it to mark a line across each other me’s arms. After everyone had gotten their marks, Rough-Me instructed the youngsters to get into the tent. “Take care of ‘im,” Rough-me said as she closed the flap to the tent. “Good luck in the next round,” I replied, and untied the horse from the post. One by one, the campfires in the infinite twilight winked out. As they did, the ground rumbled. Across the twilight, a lone rider rode forward, a silhouette of white dashing across the dark. Other riders emerged from the gloom and followed. From the sky, the giant snake crashed down behind the riders. It chased after them, ground torn asunder in its wake. The sound of a thousand hooves stomping the ground came closer. A cacophonous beat that still held meaning: Forward. The rider raced past me, barely giving me a look. I took a breath, hopped on my horse, and rode alongside them. Behind us, the snake opened its maw and surged forward. I turned my head to look. Other riders reassured their horses, then closed their eyes as the snake consumed them. In its maw, I saw glistening fangs and teeth, along with thick purple veins. Even this far away, in this stampede, I could hear the echoes of wars, of humanity’s triumphs as those mighty veins pulsed. Blood didn’t pulse through those veins, but rather history. The snake roared in pain as it bled purple, blue, all hues, and in its wounds I saw wondrous worlds and terrible worlds. And in those worlds would always be a Daniel. I patted my horse, reassured it everything would be alright, then closed my eyes. I touched my wedding ring. For better, or for worse. My vow. A simple verse that I would see through. The smell of ichor and brine assaulted my senses, nearly knocking me off my horse. We raced forward, a futile effort, as the snake opened its maw and engulfed us. I grabbed at the knife at my belt and tore blindly at one of its veins. Blood, ichor and worlds poured out, surrounding us. I rode through the veins of history; I felt the incendiary fires of a bomb that burns people’s shadows into walls; I heard the cries of joy a husband makes when he realises he will be a father. Then a harsh light pierced through the dark, piercing my closed eyes. I raised my hand to block out the light as my vision blurred. I found myself in a dusty plain, ahead of me, a town where the buildings stretched miles in the air. A new world. A new time. My horse gave a small ninny, as if to reassure me everything was all right. My wedding ring around my finger gave a little tug to the east, where I saw off in the distance, a train hovering over tracks in the ground. It was time to chase after Daniel.
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Apr 28, 2024 18:24
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| # ? Apr 28, 2024 23:18 |
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Song : Barbara - Rémusat Not a day goes by (302 words) The first time she saw the mimosas bloom from the window of her hillside villa, she thought of the last time she would see them ; and the last time she did, she thought of that first time, years before. She was forty-seven, her mother’s age when she died, and her last radiography had shown the cancer had spread to the other lung. But medicine had made progress; she still had some time. The villa was small and comfortable. She could spend sunny, calm days there, enjoy one last day after another. It would be a fine place to rest. All she could see from her window was the flock of short-lived pink flowers on their heavy boughs, and the sea far below. The first time she had bathed in the sea, a different one, it had given her a rash behind her knee; every time she scratched herself during the train ride back home, her mother had slapped her, seventeen times in all. The first few times, because scratching made it worse ; and eventually, out of principle. She remembered her eyes, smoldering with rage and indignancy before each slap, and with haughty triumph after it. She could hear her own children below, on the terrace, and she did not know what she could tell them. She wondered how much fear and pain her mother had hidden from her. Not a tear. The shadow of the house lengthened on the mimosa boughs, just a little. It would be hours before nighttime. But already the starless sky was taking on the rich dark hue that had made her wish to settle there, with her family and her regrets. It was her home now. Not her country, though; but then her country no longer existed. She coughed. The heady, indifferent, eternal odor of mimosas surrounded her.
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Apr 28, 2024 20:32
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