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Writing Prompt January 2009

This is part of the Writing Prompts series. Here’s how it works: Once a month, I post two words. Anyone who wishes may write what those two words inspire- poetry, prose, short story, song. Then, anyone who wishes may comment on those posts, offering encouragement and suggestions for improvement. After a couple weeks, open discussion on what other images those two words may inspire, in those mediums or even for a picture or skit. Hopefully, those who posted and recieved comments will improve their original work.

This month’s words are: fire and sea


4 comments for “Writing Prompt January 2009”

  1. A sea of flame roared, licking at the panes of glass protecting two single children, babies who would most likely be the sole survivors in this epidemic of fire. Soon, this was true. All were dead but the twins, Bianca and Jackie, the two were both about 6 months old, and had been sleeping at the time of the fire, in their chamber, where they were the only babies who were sleeping in their chambers, together.

    That is the start of a story. It is set in the future, where there is only one large town left, which is destroyed by a fire. Soon, an elf [[I like fantasy]] finds them, and raises them in an elf village, a place that humans didn’t believe in, an old wives’ tale among cities. Anyone can use this as a further writing prompt, I might finish it, although I normally do not have enough time to finish my stories that I make, as I am to busy.

    Posted by Sasha | January 10, 2009, 9:54 pm
  2. ((I feel like making this a sad sad short short story))

    Thin tendrils of smoke blew from the spot my foot had touched and I recoiled from the pain.The flames licked up and down my body and I hugged myself closer on the sandy beach,my cheeks smoldering as I cried.I slowly rose,the flames had flickered down to a dull blue instead a searing white.I stared down at my hands then at the ocean,the tumbling roaring ocean that beckoned me.I stood there for who knows how long,the moon made it seem especially beautiful tonight.What an ironic end,I thought as I took one last look behind me,the bluffs hid most of the view but I could still see the flames.”I’m sorry.”I whispered.I took a step back.”I didn’t mean it.”Another step back.”I’M SORRY.”I ran,headlong into the ocean.The water lapped up my flames,it drew them in and ended them.I could feel it draining me,but I kept running.I felt the last of my fire flee me and I dropped to my knees.My vision dimmed,then I fell deeper into the water.I’m sorry.

    Posted by Rincewind | December 3, 2009, 12:48 am
  3. The dove flies toward a fiery sunrise
    Just over the mountains, it seems to be
    All the wars the birds had faced
    Only a simple dove’s wish to be free
    Had the small birds quit the fight
    The vultures would have cleaned their wings
    But if the hawks had risked their pride,
    Perhaps the world would have seen

    Onward flies the dove
    Over the bubbling fountain-spring
    A sip of water only
    To heal the blade’s keen
    And yet the birds fight on
    Shooting down the dove’s peaceful kin
    If only to silence the siren song
    Of a peaceful life again

    Lo, ahead lies an ocean
    The sun’s hopeful glare mirroring
    The bird trills, joyful,
    That harmony might have been achieved
    But the sun remains so far away
    Like love, like hope, like glee
    And although the dove forever tries
    The dove will drown within the sea.

    Posted by Music | December 20, 2009, 5:03 pm
  4. ((Kind of short, kind of disorganized. I just made it quick to get myself back into writing so I could start role-playing again.))

    Fire bombards the sea, crashing down from above. This liquid fire sliding down the rocky precipices of the mountain above. The people of the small island run, screaming through the streets of their towns as they hopelessly try to avoid their own demise as the mountain they worshipped for so long brought about it’s fiery retribution. Men, women, and children throw themselves to the sea, hoping to be spared. The Young Ones, far yet from the age to swim, run to their parents and hide in their warm embraces. There are very few boats, and some have already been stolen. A single man is running towards the top of the volcano, an old, helplessly scared man. He is their holy man, their medicine man, the one they trusted to appease the gods. He has failed them. He runs, and runs, begging the gods to forgive them, to forget them, to end their rage and simply turn their backs. The people cry out, seeing this man of their Gods engulfed in flames, licking him, lashing him for his sins. Their holy, trusted man falls, and suddenly the mountain quiets. The shaking stops. The eruptions of fire, smoke, and brimstone halt and they gaze to the rising sun. Many fall to their knees and cry, kissing the ground upon which so many dirty men and animals had once walked upon. Their trusted, venerable connection to the Gods had sacrificed himself for the salvation of all.

    Posted by Areth | April 10, 2010, 11:59 am

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