Sunday, January 26, 2014

Write an ominous description of the most terrifying door you possibly can. (Inspired by the works of Lovecraft)

The made of a weak, brittle wood painted in white. It could be any old door on any old house, instead fate had dictated that it would be an old door in this old house. Through the spectral green glow of his handheld camera the door was all that he could see. Without the camera he couldn’t even see it. As he took a step forward the door began to rattle, the doorknob looking as if it might fall off, revealing a malevolent eye that would then know he was on the other side of the door. The camera was getting hard to hold onto, a combination of sweating and shaking threatened to fling his only light to the floor and shatter it. Then he would be alone, in the dark, with that door.
The door rattled from impact again. A long wood splinter got knocked off the door. He wanted to turn back but couldn’t. His balls were sweating. The door rattled one more time before he reached for it.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Write a page of dialogue between two teenagers and the devil they have managed to accidentally capture. (Inspired by Brimstone Angels)

“What have you done?” The thing’s voice was like knives on a chalkboard. It ran at the edge of the circle and went it met the boundary it was forced back with a minor explosion. Derek and Tom jumped back, Derek fell over a log.
Derek sat up on his hands. “Holy shit it worked!”
“Yeah, but Derek, this ain’t no leprechaun.” Tom grabbed the book and checked the instructions. They had done everything right. Why hadn’t it worked.”
“Let me out of here before I kill both of you.” The thing struck at the barrier again and again, each strike causing a spark.
“Now hold on a minute,” Tom said, flipping through the book.
“How do we get rid of it,” Derek asked. “Can we send it back to where it came from or something?
“Oh, I see. Leprechauns live in Ireland. This is some type of devil native to the American southeast.”
“That’s fine, how do we send it back.” Panic edged Derek’s voice.
“Break the circle,” it suggested, a grin crossing its toothy maw.
“Do we look stupid?” Tom shut the book. It was time for a bluff. “I have the power to send you back, or I have the power to cause you lots of pain. It’s your choice whatcha git.”
The devil looked to be thinking it over. “I will grant you one favor in return for releasing me.”
“Three,” said Thomas.
“Five,” said Derek.
“One,” said the devil. “I can grant you the love of someone you desire, riches, or answer any one question you want to know. What will it be?”

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Week 9: Write an epic battle speech for an outnumbered people fighting to protect their homeland. (Inspired byKing Henry V)

The sun shined down into Gaston’s eyes, but there was no mistaking the numbers, they were outnumbered at least 70 to 1. His men were good, all of them were seasoned warriors. The stood in formation, waiting for the charge. Their calloused, gnarled hands shifted on their spears, the great round shields bearing the eagle standard faced toward the enemy. They had to hold out the day. If they could then it was possible help would be coming; if his runners had reached the capital, and help was sent. They were three big ifs.
“Are you going to say something to the men, m’lord.” Aric came up beside him. His one good eye showed his concern, mirroring Gaston's.
“Aye, I better. I won’t have it said that I neglected my duties as a commander.” He took Aric’s hand in one of his and with his other hand clapped Aric on the shoulder. Their eyes met. “Whatever happens today, Aric, I was wrong to mistrust you. You've been a truer second and a better friend than I've ever known.”
The old man looked back at him. “You have done your father’s name proud, and you've done your king proud. If any commander can win this battle for us, it’s you. I am not afraid.”
Gaston nodded and turned to face his men. He banged his mace on his shield and their voices and chatter died down. “My fellow warriors! My brothers!” Gaston looked over to Aric and then back to his men, “My heroes! Today we stand in a place many others have stood. Time and time again the wolves have come to threaten our home, and time and time again brave men have been the only thing that stood between the wolves and our families. Ulrich!” At the mention of the legendary king’s name his men cheered. “Graydon!” Another cheer. “Stormcraw!” An even louder cheer. “These were some of the men who said no! They would not back down!” A steady beat of spears on the rocky ground began. “We will not step aside because they tell us. We will live free! We will determine our own fate! And we will protect what is ours!” The steady beat of the spears increased in volume. He hoped the bastard wolves could hear it and know fear. “When the bards tell of this day, I would not have them call it ‘Gaston’s Victory’ but rather the ‘Victory of the 3rd legion.’” Another cheer. “We’ve come a long way, we’ve beaten the wolves to our home, and now it’s time to beat them back like the squealing pups they are!”

The men raised their spears. They were ready to go. It was time.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Week 8: Write a romantic fight scene between two assassins—one hired to kill the other, only to find they have instant chemistry (Inspired by The Book of Jhereg)

She was called by some the Black Widow. In apt name at best, she wasn’t wanted for killing husbands. Her name was only known as Jade. The sketch Kiltz had been given of her showed a beautiful woman, perhaps in her early to mid twenties. She had long dark hair, and green eyes according to the description. Like Kiltz, she was an assassin, a good one two, but he was prepared for a fight if it came to that.
He pulled out his trusty longbow. Her job should be completed by now, and any moment she would be coming to her hideout. Kiltz heard her foot falls and drew back his bow. He hoped the first shot would do the trick, a moving target was hard to hit, though he wasn’t your average shot.
A figure, slender and graceful, ran across the rooftop, her foot caught on a loose shingle but through an effort of athletic skill and balance she cartwheeled forward.
“Impressive,” he muttered under his breath. That he soon learned was a mistake, the sound of his voice must have reached her, despite the noise of the city below. She looked up and he looked into her eyes, her startling green eyes. No human alive had those eyes. They irises looked more like emeralds than blood vessels. She saw the arrow, and then saw him. Her look of shock changed to a smirk, he knew he would not be able to hit her with the arrow, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.
His moment’s hesitation allowed her to draw out a ball shaped object, she threw it to the ground and it began to smoke. She was totally obstructed from view. Kiltz couldn’t let her go, he crawled out the window to follow her.
“Looking for someone?”
He turned around to see Jade standing beside the window. Her green eyes, that dark hair, those pouty lips. She was beauty, she was danger. Staring at her was like being picked up by an eagle and carried over the lakes, forests, and mountains. The trip would be dangerous, yes, but it would be the most beautiful danger there could be. She had a small crossbow pointed at his heart. “Yes, I’m looking for the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes upon.  Have you seen her?”
“Can’t say that I have,” she conceded. A dangerous but somewhat amused smile played across her lips. “What’s she look like?”
“Let me show you,” with an expert motion Kiltz sidestepped out of the line of fire and drew out a hand mirror he used to see around corners. He flashed the mirror to her as she let loose the tiny wooden quarrel. “See her now?”
She didn’t answer, she only drew her knife, a wickedly long and thin blade. At the same moment he had drawn his, a straight dagger made from the fang of a giant serpent. The blades met, causing a clang of metal on bone. The snake fang was as strong as steel, something she had obviously not expected. She stared at him, her lips pulled back in a sexy snarl. it was his turn to smirk. They pushed off each other and stood back. They stared at each other, measuring each other up. He didn’t want to kill her, but he was now committed, and besides, one did not cross the Bel’iscone if one wanted to survive.
The two assassin’s came at each other again, knives still in hand. This time however, she went low like a viper. One booted foot came up and caught him unexpectedly under the jaw, throwing him off balance. He knew he was lost as his vision swam and he fell back against a window. She could now finish him off easily. There was a small sound and threw the fog of dizziness he saw her jump to the nearest building. She had spared him?

“I hope we see each other again,” she said. She pulled out a kerchief and tied it around a quarrel. He thought she was about to shoot it at him but instead she shot it beside him, the quarrel burying itself in a wooden plank, the kerchief smelled of rosewater. With that she was gone. Yes, they would see each other again.