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Fantasy Indies Prompt Day 19 - Saturday Snippet
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The Disinherited Knight Imagine: the whistle of words in the ancient, as voice, when silence as a mantle embraced our songs, and hearing your heart was the tangible choice. Beneath the beech tree our swords shall rejoice: I’ll ride to the lady where my oath now belongs. Imagine: the whistle of words in the ancient, as voice. The day we shall name the wind’s whispers as noise, our tongues will have cast thorns of reason through wrongs; and hearing your heart was the tangible choice. I sail on this draft, where sand waves rejoice; my horse is of paper, its lengthy condition prolongs— imagine: the whistle of words in the ancient as voice. There is no time left among peers but invoice: our time is now sold in worn leather thongs; and hearing your heart was the tangible choice. The kings of this age have speeches of poise— their manners are scrapers of wood made old toys. Imagine: the whistle of words in the ancient, as voice, and hearing your heart was the tangible choice.
Script available in PDF or Final Draft format
Wendy Darling in Dido on the Edge. She wears a tattered coat, flying goggles and a warm smile. She extends her hand toward us.
#HorrorWritersChat - Background: a silhouetted torso and head with hands raised and pressed against the screen.
A movie poster for “HELL IS WORK” a hand with white painted fingernails holding a shiny apple. Reflected in the apple is a silhouette of a businessman’s shadow with demon horns in the background there is a graph of financial decline over a burning silhouette of the Cleveland skyline. The tagline at the bottom says “HELL IS EMPTY AND ALL THE DEMONS ARE IN POLO SHIRTS”
Script available in PDF or Final Draft format
"I had hoped I would find a copy of their holy book," Henet, finding their drink empty, leaned forward again and reached for the bottle, "but apparently no library or university in the city has one." "One of the greatest annoyances I have ever been forced to endure." A powerful voice echoed out from the dark. Thel, God of Knowledge, Magic, and Education strode out from the gloom behind Melic. He appeared human, tall and thin with sleek black hair to his shoulders, a thin mustache over his lip paired with a pointed goatee, and eyes sunk deep into the back of his face. He wore white professors' robes, which were probably the inspiration for the garment, and carried several books and tubes for storing large documents in his arms. Henet placed his glass down and stood to bow. "Lord Thel." For his part Melic smirked up at the other God from his seat, twisted his hand to conjure another glass, and asked, "Drink?" Thel came around the back of Melics couch and sat, laying his burdens down on the floor while Melic poured wine into the glass and handed it to Thel. His brother in Godhood swirled the liquid for a second before throwing his head back and draining half the glass in a single pull. Melic had refilled his own glass and raised it to Thel. Henet did as well, but was beginning to sway in place and seemed unable to keep their eyes fully open. Star Wine was strong stuff, even for an Elf. "It would seem your pursuits are something important," Thel had a rich voice, something in it compelling you to listen, "for you to have summoned not one, but two Gods here tonight." "I certainly had not planned on this," Henet stared down into their glass, rolling it in both hands. "But since I have you both here, I do have a few questions. If I may?" "Ask, ," Intoned Thel.
A brown graphic with a skeleton holding a sketchbook on a messy desk. It says: Sustember 19 Share a Snippet. Prompt: "quiver" or "shiver" Please COMMENT, LIKE, and SHARE others' posts. All genres welcome, so long as you're using suspense or surprise!
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Background: A photo of a bramble with a white flower and blurry green foliage. Foreground: Two yellow text boxes, a larger centred one and a smaller one beneath that which reads: "Photo by Ivar Leidus". Large Box Text: September 19th While endings are often melancholy affairs, some are celebrations. A good example of a "happily ever after" is The Tempest by Shakespeare. Tell us about a whimsical ending you love. #WhimsicalWriters
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Script available in PDF or Final Draft format
Seitei no Kawazu Frog At The Bottom Of The Well There is no sin thriving on these hands Nothing on these hands I don't have Not even love Not even strays And I don't have to explore these emotions All of these strays, all of these frogs Making eggs Frothing in the well Sliming in my well And they poisoned my entire point of view. Stray frogs on my hands, former friends I had no clue Talking about me saying things that are untrue! Poisoning my well while they are all stuck in there. Gomenasai, their love have sent me to nowhere! All these frogs, all these strays, all these frogs, all these strays, all these frogs, all these strays— STUCK IN THERE!! All of these strays I once called I once kept I once called, my dear friends all frothing deep in my old well! A thousand eggs all filled The lies that they shilled! So tight was their embrace I'm running out of air! All of these frogs I once kept I once kept I once kept as my friends but they changed, new legs bursting forth! My new rule for myself is to purge all of these strays From every part of me, My head, my fingers, my toes, and my stomach! There is no love writhing on these hands Living in my head I don't have Not even care, Not even Empathy— The frogs in the well All of the entrails, all the frogspawn Churning legs None of their names All of their foam Have spilled into my pristine, cold floor All these frogs, all these strays, all these frogs, all these strays, all these frogs, all these strays— DIE IN THERE!! All of these strays I once cared I once paid I have grown so distant away from me because of their lies! Secretions rubbed off of me A neurotoxin! Mouth foaming as I breathe long enough to say this: All of these ingrates these tumors these strays I have known to be friends I thought they were but I'm shaking off! My new rule for myself is to drain them from my well, Out of my eyesight, my taste buds, my flashbacks, sensations of peace. Viscera out of my well! Watching them multiply Th
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“Okay, thanks. Now where can we find the Caverns of Terror?” Gallara asked. “That one’s easy.” Rilben quickly walked to a different part of the library and floated down a big leather tube, then pulled a map out of it. Alakshi looked over his shoulder. “Here we are,” he said, spreading the map on a nearby table and pointing at what was clearly a drawing of Caldera. “And here’s where the Caverns are. It should only be a few days’ travel from here, depending on how you travel.” “Great, thanks,” Zedenko said, and whipped some parchment out of his bag to sketch the map. “But beware,” Rilben said gravely, as if he hadn’t heard. “The way will be fraught with danger.” “Naturally,” Gallara sighed. “Yup. You folks have any more questions?”
#7SyllableSquad Sept 13 Falling Sept 14 Tiptoe Sept 15 Fragile Sept 16 Beneath Sept 17 Leave Sept 18 Know Sept 19 Louder
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