Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “shade.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Shades of Magic
The graveyard was old and dark. No bright monuments or flowers festooned a new graves, dark and dreary as the night. Star followed Meldimeriel, the tiny fairy bobbing a bit ahead casting the only light in the gloom. In a unkempt section of the cemetery, they came to their destination. A simple soldier’s grave, centuries old untended, the meager headstone crumbled and decayed beyond recognition. Naught left for a marker but an ancient sword thrust into the ground, topped by an old helmet.
Meldimeriel bobbed up and down in excitement. They had found the grave they sought. Star gently laid her bow, quiver, and staff aside, pulling smaller items from the pockets of her cloak, herbs, salt, a small silver pentacle. With a sprinkling of herbs and salt, Star cast her circle, closing it with a whisper of magic. Raising her pentacle overhead, she whispered her chant.
From the grave a sullen grey mist slowly rose, hesitantly coalescing into a vaguely human form. The shade glared balefully at Star with a booming mutter “Release me.”
“I have questions,” Star replied, respectfully nodding to the ancient shade.
“ASK!” boomed the disembodied voice.
Star scuffed the circle with her boot disbursing the protective magic. She would meet the shade on his own ground. Gathering her courage, she stepped out of the circle.
The wolf eyed her suspiciously, his black fur matted from a dozen or more wounds. The girl fought fiercely, wielding her two small tomahawk blades with the controlled power of a master. Daerwyn watched her with burning eyes, what was she waiting for? She must know he was spent, why not finish him?
Daerwyn flinched as the girl drew back her arm and flipped the tomahawks in rapid succession. They somersaulted through the air before striking the trunk of a tree. He cocked his head in confusion. The girl sank to her knees, lifted her face to the sky and cried “NO MORE!” She knelt on the leaf strewn forest floor, head bowed. Daerwyn saw she was as weary as he.
She spoke softly “Kill me if you must Wolf, but your death will not come by my hand. I have seen enough blood spilled to last many lifetimes.”
Dear friends, as some of you know that our dear Hélèneused to do this Prompt and after her sad departure, I have felt that this gap needs to be filled. I have decided to take this challenge up and as a trial, I will post 4 challenges for the next 4 Mondays at 12:00 am PST, every Monday morning. And we shall see where to go from there. I hope that you will respond to your posts.
You can write a post on your blog and create a ping back to link to the original post. Write an original story, poem or a caption. You have six days to respond to the Prompt. I will try to reblog your response on my blog. There is no limit to words or format but keep it family friendly. I will do a round up next Sunday before the next Prompt is posted. Please tag your responses with #Whatdoyousee
Diana over at mythsofthemirror has a new challenge out for November: Write from the point of view of a creature that doesn’t exist in the “real” world.
The Rules: Don’t tell us what the creature is. Let us “experience” it through its thoughts and actions. Write a killer opening line and first paragraph. Hook readers so they’ll click over to your site to finish reading. Images are fine, but don’t include “the creature” in the image. The point is to “show” with your words. Aim for under 500 words, but honor your muse. Be creative. Keep it family-friendly. And most of all, have fun.
Here is my offering
Her hand on my neck is warm as she bows her head. The battle was difficult for one so young, so fragile. Her helmet falls to the ground as she buries her face in her hands. I listen to her silent weeping as fat teardrops plop to the ground. The other humans do not know, they cannot see. It is just us here in this glade, quite and obscenely beautiful in the aftermath. Continue reading “Myths of the Mirror November writing challenge – Sorrow”→
Sharah reverently touched the ancient wall. Old paint chipped and peeling made by methods long forgotten. “Caribbean Green” the elders called it. Colors were rare now, all structures sported the same dull gun metal grey finish. The wooden walls surrounded a strong and solid bunker, where the humans had made their final stand.
From here they had launched the Magnetized Pollution Concealotron, and thus burned the sky to ash. The invaders had been driven off, but the cost could never be forgotten. The nuclear winter that followed wiped out more of the earth’s population than the invaders ever had.
Dan is filling in for Linda for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, many thanks Dan and Linda, hope you’re having an awesome time. Here is out prompt for this week
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “ent” “ten” “net.” Use one, use two or use all three (bonus points for using two, double-bonus points for using all three). As Linda would say, use ’em any way you’d like. Enjoy!
It was a grand day for a hunt, Mollifett thought. The rain was gentle and coming straight down dampening the bed of moldering leaves that carpeted the forest floor. The hunting party already held ten quail in the transport net suspended from the floatiferator which hovered silently behind the hunting party.
Mollifett felt very grand on her Carousello Horse, with it’s shining rose gold wings and delicate amber mane. The Carousello Horses were the work of the great designer Dr. Thaddeus Barklay their automatronic structure was so like a live horse as to be indistinguishable but for their exquisite faery appearance. It was a lovely time to be in forest of Shershire. Soon they would find a stag or boar and head back to the castle for the feast.
As her friends and ladies followed along, Mollifett boldly took the lead. Ahead she saw movement, a large animal among the trees. Cautiously it appeared from behind the trees, wreathed in an ephemeral mist, Mollifett realized with a start that it was a Leorsoolee, a Snow Stag. She sat quite entranced until the spell was broken by the sharp twang of a bow string.
Jessie sat near the pond watching the ducks and geese gliding idly through the still water. She had just settled herself when she noticed Sam and Riley, the school bullies, approaching with menacing intent.
“There she is little miss witchy pants,” taunted Sam while Riley nodded his head.
“Yeah …. hehehe witchy pants,” Riley was not too bright.
Jessie rose to leave when Riley caught her by the hair. Jessie cried out in pain and anger as she turned back to her tormentors. She saw a substantial hank of her red hair hanging from Riley’s hand.
Jessie felt her cheeks begin to burn, her chest tightened and her throat closed in absolute fury. “You stupid, stupid goose,” she shouted “that HURT!”
“Anseris aequabis” Jessie shouted with a flick of her wand. Suddenly there were two white geese honking excitedly at her. Jessie smiled and hurried away.