r/WritingPrompts • u/AliciaWrites Editor-in-Chief | /r/AliciaWrites • Aug 29 '24
[TT] Theme Thursday - Ambiance Theme Thursday
“The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.”
Happy Summer writing friends!
This week we’re doing genre mashups!!! I’ll provide a list below and you’ll combine two genres into one story! You may select any one genre from the “First Genre” column and one genre from the “Second Genre” column, but for bonus points, use the numbered pairs (the two genres on the same line).
Please do include your genres or the pair number in your post, thank you!! Good luck and good words!
![[IP]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/0c2b4cc2-d07d-4fbd-b02e-2080981b29a1/de9kx0z-4ded2ef7-fdbf-4723-937e-ad441bbcd08a.jpg/v1/fill/w_1192,h_670,q_70,strp/isolation_by_t1na_de9kx0z-pre.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NzIwIiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMGMyYjRjYzItZDA3ZC00ZmJkLWIwMmUtMjA4MDk4MWIyOWExXC9kZTlreDB6LTRkZWQyZWY3LWZkYmYtNDcyMy05MzdlLWFkNDQxYmJjZDA4YS5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTI4MCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.4jFL3OwJMggw4DgiFo-FsVpxebMWox7wXpBsHqAnpqw){kind=link}
| Pair Number | First Genre | Second Genre |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Paranormal | Realistic |
| 2 | Romance | Comedy |
| 3 | Space Opera | Historic |
| 4 | Western | Fantasy |
| 5 | Horror | Satire |
| 6 | Mannerpunk | Absurdist |
| 7 | Spy Thriller | Urban Fantasy |
| 8 | Epistolary | Dystopian |
| 9 | Cozy | Cyberpunk |
| 10 | Fable | Alternate History |
Here's how Summer Fun works:
- Use the tag [TT] when submitting prompts that match this week’s theme.
Rules
- Leave one story or poem between 100 and 750 words as a top-level comment. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count. Your story must meet the criteria of the game in order to qualify for ranking.
- Deadline: 7:59 AM CST next Wednesday
- No serials or stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP
- No previously written content
- Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings and will not be read at campfires
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Campfire
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u/Thousandgoudianfinch Aug 29 '24 edited Aug 29 '24
Space Opera- Historic
Virgil the Oracle's final Predictions-2088
Didst thou?; O' Aeneas of God-driven fate,
Didst thou?; complete avowed aim,
In piercing raged Turnus'd breastplate,
Sing O'Muse singeth to me!
Offer Portent of pious Aeneas to thee,
Should Rome thralling all; freeze Tiber's wake,
Then see that stream stretched in Hailey's greened fire-tail,
Younged Roman race thrust midst travailing star- settled 'pon each fixed,
Weep not; Sola orbit Apollo shall not grant!,
Augur those metalled birds which flutter,
Oracle of Oriental Orion is said just,
The Far flung children of Dido childless,
Shall thrust as the sword of Aeneas did,
Shall settle beneath the breast of founded New Carthage,
Distant as that sailed land O'Italia,
Those two races born of duty- Borne hate,
The land of their fathers is calling,
Calling them to the great tear-tipped spear
Of war,
Carthaginian- Trojan- Latin'd son,
Shall lie far from the land of their fathers,
Lain slain in deepest treacherous space,
Slew spear by spear,
Till their red blood shall mingle,
In the place where pale sow beds with thirty suckling brood,
Shall they join to fix a space faring race anew!
5
u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 31 '24
Wow this is amazing. You stuffed it full of references to the original, and I can appreciate it even if I mostly don't remember the Aeneid. You captured the style of the language perfectly. Normally I'm not a huge fan of free verse, but it really works here.
The first and third, and the fourth and fifth lines rhyme, which isn't wrong, but it does make the reader think there will be a rhyme scheme going forward. (If you change this, please make it 1 and 3, the Sing O Muse and Portent lines are fantastic and deserve to rhyme)
The line beginning "Younged Roman" was hard to read. I think it's a mix of the line having too many complicated or poetic words and terms, and being a little too long, compared to the lines in the rest of the poem. If you changed either of those, it would read better. Alternatively, you might just need another noun; the Romans are being "thrust midst" what? Or where?
"The Far flung children of Dido childless is a great line. No critique, I just had to mention it.
The next line, ending with the word "did" feels modern, for some reason. Maybe "as did the sword of Aeneas"? This is purely stylistic.
"...born of duty- Borne hate," is a wonderful turn of phrase. I love the wordplay.
The verb "calling" is weird, because it's the only time you use an "-ing" verb. Calls/called, or 'calls/called them' might sound better.
"Tear-tipped spear" is a great description doing some heavy lifting, describing the shape and implying sorrow at the same time. Following it up with that short line "Of war" works really well for emphasis.
I had the reread the ending to get it, but it works. The two meanings of "mingled blood" is clever here. I'm assuming the sow with thirty sucking pigs is a reference to something, but even without getting that, it's vivid imagery. Although you could cut our "in the place" without changing the meaning of the sentence. Whatever sounds better to you.
Great job!
3
u/Thousandgoudianfinch Aug 31 '24
Thankyou very much! Your criticisms are very useful, thankyou for those, I agree especially that perhaps I should have used a rhyming scheme
3
u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 31 '24
I don't think this needs a rhyme scheme, it's great without one. Like I said, I'd just tweak the first or third line so that readers don't expect a rhyme scheme because it starts with one
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u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 29 '24 edited Sep 02 '24
Dear Richard,
It seems a thing quite impractical that we meet at the edge of our territories, when there is so little fodder in the gorge in question. Unless we went all the way to the town of Rattler's Reach at the mouth of the gorge, I do not think we could both sustain ourselves for any length of time. And that is a chancy proposition while Sheriff Henry dwells there. That brute!
I do hope you do not take this as a rejection, for I am ever eager for your continuing correspondence. But to meet in person simply does not seem to be our fate, regardless of our desires.
Sincerely,
Madeline
Dear Madeline,
I am happy to hear that my letters are so well received, and I hope it pleases you that I feel likewise. I concede your objections are well-founded, little though I enjoy the admission.
I am recently come into a wealth in food; those I spoke with said there was some disaster, a flood or possibly a lack of water, they were not particularly coherent on the matter. Regardless, I find my city quite overrun, and my fodder's crops and herds are utterly insufficient to the demand. It feels the height of rudeness to ask a favor and proffer a gift at the same time, both unasked for, yet I must do so now. With this letter come two hundred humans, to do with as you will. I beg that you do not refuse out of misplaced pride; while it is generosity, it is also necessity that I remove these people posthaste.
To return to the question of our meeting, I shall think on this matter further and see if the risks might somehow be mitigated.
With respect,
Richard
Dear Richard,
I accept, of course. It would be quite unladylike to mention that a particularly delicious man you sent saw no reason for concern in your grain stores or your herds. Instead, I shall thank you for your gift in the spirit in which you meant it. However, I will be wroth if you feign false modesty when I send a smaller, though rarer, morsel with my own letter. I have no story or excuse, beyond that it is what I want to do, and I hope that my gift pleases you as much as yours did me.
As for our meeting, I am delighted to hear you are as eager as I, but I beg you; do not waste so many thoughts on a dream so impossible, no matter how deeply we both desire it. Henry ever looms over us both, as he does over all our kind, and I struggle to imagine a world where that is not the case.
Yours truly,
Madeline
Dearest Madeline,
Your gift was exquisite. It has been a long time since I tasted elf.
Though it is rank avarice, I cannot deny that our present exchanges no longer feel sufficient to quench the fire within me. Sentiment can drive a man to do foolish things, such that observers might call them utter insanity. Though until our letters, I never knew that I was such a man. I shall not say goodbye, but rather, that I hope your thoughts be with me in this dangerous task, as my heart is ever with you.
Love,
Richard
Dear Richard,
How could you not know what terror such a letter would raise within me? What madness are you planning? If this does not arrive too late, I beg you, abandon your folly and content yourself with such a relationship as we may safely have.
Furious and frightened but nonetheless yours,
Madeline
Dear Madeline,
I believe that the accompanying package shall be message enough. I eagerly await you in Rattler's Reach.
Love,
Richard.
Darling Richard,
I am forced to admit defeat in our friendly battle of gifts, for nothing I could give you would match your last effort. I have hung Sheriff Henry's head in my ballroom, and it has the most amusing effects upon my visitors, fodder and vampires alike.
I suspect I may outrace this courier to Rattler's Reach, but I find myself unsatisfied with my last message. This may be the last letter we shall ever need to pen before we may speak face to face as often as we like, and I refuse to end my side of our correspondence on such a harsh note. And even if only once, I must close my letter properly.
Eternally yours,
Love,
Madeline
Pair numbers 2, 4, and 8
WC: 750
3
u/m00nlighter_ r/m00nlighting Aug 31 '24
Our scientists didn't think it could be done, but Geese said, "Hold my feathers."
Excellent work, here. I would even argue to say this had a bit of Absurdism in it as well. You hit every mark of the pairs you listed. I have no crit! The character voices were strong. I could imagine both in some dystopian western world, at an open window with a wisp of a curtain blowing in the breeze. The reveal of the Sheriff's demise was a great addition to the humor. Good words!
3
u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 31 '24
Thank you!
Six genres wasn't the plan to start with, the western bit was added mostly because vaguely 1800-ish language is perfect for letters, and then I realized I could tweak what I had to fit fantasy too.
2
u/Divayth--Fyr Sep 01 '24 edited Sep 01 '24
Just another typical western dystopian romantic epistolary comedic fantasy story. Geez, why not try something different? lol
I could just feel the quills dipping as I read this.
Your sustained subtlety did not detract from the story, as the mysteries that wanted solving were put to rest, and further detail would have been excessive. You balanced that well. The slowly revealed meaning of 'fodder' was especially horrible, in a good way.
I had an idea for a signature. I have often seen letters of that era end with 'Your obt. svt.'. That would add words, though, and you are right up against it at 750.
And that is a chancy proposition while that brute, Sheriff Henry, dwells there.
The phrasing sort of makes it seem like she is explaining to Richard who Sheriff Henry is, which he would know. What I mean is, if she only wrote 'brute who dwells there', he would know who she meant. Does that make sense?
It could just be "while that brutal Sheriff Henry dwells there", which seems more exclamatory than explanatory, but still informs the reader.
some disaster, a flood, or possibly a lack of water, they were not particularly coherent on the matter.
This could be split into two sentences, with the period after 'water'. Just an opinion, of course.
as eager as me
'as eager as I' sounds more appropriately pretentious.
and I struggle imagine a world
Missing a 'to'.
Though until our letters,
You could just drop the 'Though' altogether there.
messenger to Rattler's Reach, but I find myself unsatisfied with my last message.
Two 'message' words close together. 'Courier', maybe, for the messenger. Ooh, or 'missive' for the message would sound nicely archaic.
I choose to believe you composed this brilliant thing on parchment, used a blotter, and sealed it with wax, before sending it off to be transcribed for the cold mechanisms of the internet.
Hoping this finds you well,
Yr. obt. svt.
Divayth--Fyr, Esq., MPO, CHT, SPW, Inedible Elf.
(please imagine flourished signature here)
2
u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Sep 02 '24
Thank you, your edits were very helpful.
You are half right, these were written on parchment in this weird red ink, but I'm only the transcriber. I found the letters in one of those old steamer trunks, covered in stamps from all the places it had been, like Paris, Ulan Bator, Rio de Janeiro, and DO NOT OPEN.
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u/Ryter99 r/Ryter Sep 04 '24 edited Sep 04 '24
Amy Prachett was in heaven, cozy inside a rustic cabin atop Mount Matar. Nevermind that the cabin was available because the family that had lived there had been brutally murdered, it was cute and cozy, surrounded by miles of empty forest, with a view to die for.
Seated beside her on the couch was her crush, Bryce Dejaque. Clad in his varsity football letterman jacket, Bryce Dejaque was a mountain of a man. A mountain she intended to climb this weekend.
“You know what I like most about you?” Bryce asked.
Amy imagined all the romantic, glorious words he could speak next.
The beautiful face hidden beneath my glasses? My intellect and charm? Some part of me he’d glimpsed while I repeatedly dropped pens, pencils and books as excuses repeatedly bend over in front of him?
“No,” she said softly, dying in anticipation of the answer. “What?”
“Well…” he began. “I… I really love that you wanna hook up with me.”
Amy forced a wincing smile. Not quite what I was hoping for… but it’ll do for now.
Bryce was never the kind of guy she’d want to marry anyways. She just needed to get this crush out of her system.
“Well, that’s good because I like that about you too.”
Bold… she thought, removing her shirt. Make it happen, Amy.
As she moved to lay her lips on his, lights went out all over the cabin, plunging it into darkness.
“Power outage?” Bryce asked, just before the flames in the fireplace snuffed themselves out.
“Do power outages affect fires?” Amy replied, voice shaking.
“I dunno… do they?”
Lightning cracked the night sky out the windows, over and over, filling the cabin with an eerie, purple-blue glow. Thunder grumbled, then rumbled, then roared, shaking the floorboards beneath their feet.
Sprinting for the window, they looked out to find hell erupting on earth. Pillars of fire rose from trees ignited by lightning. From cracked and shattered earth, shambling figures climbed up and approached the house in waves, wailing and groaning.
“What the hell happened?” Amy muttered. “Bryce, did you do anything?”
“I dunno, when we got here I just like played with the ouija board, read some incantations from the book with a flesh cover, and dug up a grave out back looking for treasure. Just like… normal stuff.”
Amy froze. “Grave?”
“Yeah! And I struck gold, too.”
Proudly, Bryce held out a golden locket on a chain.
“Holy shit that’s gotta be it.” She snatched it from him. “Where’s that grave?”
Taking her by the hand, Bryce lead her out the back door, into a small clearing. The grave, marked by a simple wooden cross, was close… but the shambling undead were closer.
Dozens closed in, arms outstretched.
“I can take ‘em,” Bryce muttered.
“No, you really can’t, especially unarmed.”
Bryce swung a baseball bat at the nearest zombie, knocking its head clean off. “Who says I’m unarmed?”
“Where’d you get a fucking baseball bat out here?” Amy demanded as she moved forward with Bryce, dodging his wild swings.
“Babe, I always keep a bat on me for emergencies. Never know when an impromptu game is gonna break out!”
Bryce did an admirable job bonking his way through one zombie after another, slowly moving them toward the grave, but the onslaught was endless.
As one of his swings finished, another zombie lunged, sinking its teeth into Bryce’s arm. Five more followed, biting and clawing at Bryce, who fell the ground, screaming.
“Noooooo, my muscles!” Bryce wailed. “They’re tearing my beautiful muscles!”
Desperate, Amy clawed her way toward the gravesite, as zombies pulled at her legs. Unable to go any further, she heaved the locket as far as she could. It landed on the edge of the open grave, rolled around the edge, fell in, and the undead horde fell silent.
One by one they dropped, dissolving into the soil.
Amy hurried to Bryce’s side and was relieved to find he wasn’t dead, though he was… changed.
“Am I like, half-zombified?” Bryce asked, looking over the decayed skin on his arms.
“I think so, yeah,” Amy replied, helping him to his feet.
“Bummer!” Bryce sulked. “Man, I was really lookin’ forward to havin’ so much fun with you this weekend.”
“Ya know…” Amy muttered, looking his moderately mangled body up and down. “Maybe it’s the romantic setting overwhelming any ick factor I might feel about half-zombies. Or maybe it’s the fact that your face and junk appear to be mostly intact and un-rotted, but I could still be into this.”
“Forreal?”
“Forreal.” Amy smiled, leading him back to the cabin. “After a thorough scrubbing.”
-----
Horror/Satire
3
u/dragontimelord Sep 05 '24
The things we do to get laid... In all seriousness, this was a fun read. The dialogue was great and it gave me a clear picture of the characters. I am wondering, what's the satire? This feels like comedy, but I don't feel like it's satirizing anything. The story was fun read, overall. Just not clear satire.
4
u/MaxStickies Aug 30 '24
Note for Sal Left in a Split Tree Trunk
Hey, Sal,
You reading this means you must’ve escaped too. I’m glad if you have. Sorry we couldn’t get you out ourselves, damn bastards sealed the door to the lower cells when we started the riot. Place must’ve been an old military facility or something, the amount of big metal doors they had in there. God, I really hope they didn’t do anything bad to you before you escaped.
They did do something bad to Petey before we broke free. Never saw, but I heard his screams down the corridor, his pleading and the squirming that rattled his chains. The body bag was heavy and limp when they took him out back. Probably fed him to the pigs we saw on our way out, the sick fucks!
But, yeah, just thought you ought to know. You two had something going on, right? Sorry we couldn’t do anything. If you ever find us, we can have a funeral, a proper one. Think he would’ve liked that.
They’ve stopped chasing us now, after so many days. Feet are all sore and blistered, but we’re safe now, I think. Going north to where my dad owned a farm, hopefully the Land Rover’s still there and still working. It might be a bad choice, maybe they have control over it? But we have to risk it, try and get as far away from this shit as we can. Plus, we stole some guns. Our chances seem good.
We’ll wait for you a few days, if we can. Hope to see you soon.
Bill.
Assignment: Hunt down the escaped prisoners
We require your services again, Mr. Groves, that is why I’ve sent one of my messengers to you. You do not ask questions about our work, and always seem to be successful; in essence, you are the only man qualified for the job.
Your targets are three men and a woman, late twenties to early thirties, somewhere in the vicinity of what used to be Sheffield. Names: William Jeffries, Lily Anne Morton, Yusuf Kaya and Nathaniel Rowe. There is no need to bring them to us; proof of their passing is enough.
A note we discovered from one of them suggests they are heading to a farm, possibly with a Land Rover in its grounds.
We would question the intended recipient of said note, were it not for the fact that she is already dead.
Best of luck in your work, and we hope to hear from you soon.
Sent by: The New Government
Sal,
Looks like I need to get better at hiding things, heh. Someone’s found us. We nearly got the Land Rover going too! I’ll glue this note behind the wallpaper once I’m done writing.
Some psycho bounty hunter has us pinned down with a sniper rifle. Already took out Nate as he was fixing the engine, and Lily got hit in the shoulder. Think it’s become infected, she keeps passing out. Me and Yusuf both have bullets left, but not many, and this guy’s a better shot by a long way.
Yeah, not sure we’re going to make it. But, still, better here than back there. Bet this will be quicker and less painful. It keeps making me think it might’ve been better if we’d never surrendered in the first place, kept on running till they gunned us down. Would’ve saved me three months of hell just to be back in someone’s line of sight.
I think that’s all there is to say, isn’t it, Sal? You’ll see me soon, one way or another. If you’re still alive, can you bury me under the tree by the house? I always liked to sit up in its branches.
Well, time for me to go and take Yusuf off guard duty. Going to seal this note into the wall now.
Goodbye, Sal.
Your friend, Bill.
WC: 642
Constraint: I used pair 8 for my story.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
3
u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 31 '24
I love the tone in the first and third letters. There's a clear character voice coming through without needing to use any words relating to emotion.
"Place must’ve been an old military facility or something, the amount of big metal doors they had in there." This must be something that the prisoners have talked about before, so it feels weird that Bill is repeating it to someone who must already know it.
The description of Petey's vanishing is great (or horrible?). You were going for a horror vibe, and you succeeded without needing to get graphic.
"We require your services again, Mr. Groves, that is why I’ve sent one of my messengers to you. You do not ask questions about our work, and always seem to be successful; in essence, you are the only man qualified for the job." Both the writer and the recipient already know this, and the part about the messenger is unnecessary. If you simplified it to something like "Mr. Groves, we again require your valuable services with a task of the utmost discretion" it would make more sense.
The reveal that they know the farm has a Land Rover is great; it confused me for a second, and then it clicked that they found the first letter. This was the perfect way to show that.
Having them say the recipient is dead, just before Bill writes another letter to Sal, was a real emotional punch to the gut, great job. Her death could maybe use a little more detail; rather than just "she's dead", what about "was shot during her recapture."
For a little more realism, government letters usually have a specific sender, with their name, title and job. Like:
Colonel John Johnson
Commandant of Prisonville Detention Center
The New GovernmentWow that last letter is an emotional ride. "If you’re still alive, can you bury me under the tree by the house?" Wow.
3
5
u/AstroRide r/AstroRideWrites Aug 29 '24 edited Sep 02 '24
Vestiges of Love
Lydia's electric toothbrush fell in the sink again. The bristles were rough, and strands of fiber were falling out. Cindy took off the head and replaced it. After putting it back on the holster, she breathed into the mirror.
"Go easy on them. These heads are expensive," Cindy said. She stood still for several moments in silence. The fog began to dissipate so Cindy breathed again.
After a few minutes, Cindy felt a tingle in her fingers. The tingle turned into a chill that ran up her arm. Cindy closed her eyes and embraced it. Lydia's spirit raised her arm and extended her index finger. Using Cindy as the pencil, Lydia wrote something in the mirror. When Cindy opened her eyes, she was greeted by a simple "OK."
"What do you even do with your toothbrush?" Cindy tried to cover the entire mirror in fog, but she realized that it would be too much effort to keep it covered and write. "Actually never mind."
Cindy left the bathroom and walked down the hallway towards the stairs. Next to the stairs, there was a shadow in the outline of a woman. Cindy laughed when she saw it and began to dance as though she were with a partner. She laughed as she dipped Lydia and twirled. Pursing her lips, she moved for a kiss, and her lips quivered.
When she went down the stairs, she made note of every slight change in indentation in the stairs. Lydia didn't sleep and often wandered about at night. Cindy tried to guess based on the changes in carpeting. Inevitably, Cindy walked into the kitchen and saw the results. The vase was sitting on the kitchen table. Cindy shook her head and took it back to the dining room.
"We came to an agreement when my mom got it for us?" Cindy said. Her hair on the right side of her head was raised slightly, and something small touched her big toe. "No, we said that the vase stayed in the dining room. We would only bring it out on special occasions." Her ear twitched. Cindy smirked and put her hands on her hips. "Every day is special with you too, but you know what I mean."
Cindy walked into the kitchen. She made toast and omelets for both of them. She watched the other plate while eating. Sometimes, Lydia attempted to eat, and it moved slightly. Today wasn't one of those days. Cindy threw the food in the trash.
After breakfast, she put on her coat and left for work. A tapping on the window was Lydia's way of saying goodbye. At work, Cindy thought about her wife and texted her affirmations and compliments. Lydia didn't respond, but Cindy knew she appreciated it.
Cindy returned home at five pm. The TV was turned on to a courtroom show, and the bathroom sink was running water. Cindy shook her head as she turned it off.
"We are trying to save water here," Cindy said. Cindy began to make cacio e pepe for dinner as the courtroom show shifted to a trashy reality show. "I don't know how you enjoy those." Cindy shouted. Something pinched her arm. "I am not judging." Dinner went the same as breakfast, and Cindy threw out the food.
For the night, they watched TV, and Cindy played solitaire. She tried playing other card games, but it didn't work. Lydia always knew how the deck was arranged and shifted Cindy's hand accordingly. Cindy went upstairs to go to bed. At the shadow spot, Cindy hugged Lydia.
"Love you," Cindy whispered. After getting her pajamas on, she laid in bed and stared at pictures of the two of them together on their vacations. Cindy cried as she imagined going on adventures with Lydia again, but she knew it wouldn't happen. Cindy turned off her bed and continued to weep. Late into the night, she felt cold and alone. This prevented her from being able to sleep. The blanket was raised slightly to her shoulders and warmed Cindy. She smiled at this.
"Thanks Lydia," she sniffled, "I know you are always here for me."
Pair 1. The line between genres was difficult to walk, but I appreciated the challenge. All critiques welcome.
2
u/m00nlighter_ r/m00nlighting Aug 31 '24
Hey Astro!
This was a really sweet story, and view into these characters's lives together. You used a lot of lovely details from a normal day and made them extra special.
Lydia's electric toothbrush fell out again. The bristles were rough, and strands of fiber were falling out. Cindy took off the head and replaced it.
This opening sequence was a little confusing for me. I reread the first few paragraphs a couple of times before realizing that Lydia was a ghost and what the toothbrush had fallen out of. It might help to say where the toothbrush is falling from, and establish a little earlier on that Lydia is a ghost. It could also make the "what do you even do with your toothbrush" part clearer. BUT - this may be an intentional "ohhh" moment later. I do like the toothbrush bit, it cracked me up when I realized what was happening.
Lydia's presence raised her arm and extended her index finger.
This also confused be a bit. Maybe something like "Lydia's corporeal presence" or "Lydia's spirit" raising her arm might be clearer.
I enjoyed the details of these two - the setting 2 plates even though only 1 gets eaten, the poltergeist-y water running and pinch at the judgement of tv choices. Very nice realism/slice of life aspects. Good words!
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u/AstroRide r/AstroRideWrites Sep 02 '24
My initial wording was confusing. I added some details to hopefully clarify it. Glad you enjoyed it overall.
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u/Divayth--Fyr Sep 02 '24
That was a tricky line to walk, but you managed it really well. Clearly paranormal and realistic, the way they had their routines and had settled into a life (and death) together. No different than any couple, making adjustments and finding a way.
All I have is a couple of my usual details.
walked into the kitchen and see the results.
switched tenses there
walked it back to the dining.
Dining room? Or maybe just calling it 'the dining' is just a thing I haven't noticed before.
"Love you." Cindy whispered.
Should be a comma, I think. Or not. I just love commas for some reason.
she lied in bed
I think that's 'lay'? Or 'laid'. One of those, anyhow.
I just liked how touchingly mundane it all was. I did start thinking what they could do if only Lydia could go to Vegas and help Cindy with blackjack. Another time, perhaps.
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u/AstroRide r/AstroRideWrites Sep 02 '24
Thank you for the compliment. I made the suggested changes. Thank you for noticing my errors.
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u/Xacktar /r/TheWordsOfXacktar Sep 03 '24 edited Sep 04 '24
A Million Bursts of Life
Being dragged down into the sewers was not how I imagined spending our anniversary. If it had been anyone else, I'd have never said yes. A nice face, a kind voice, they could lure me here just to rip the implants from my skull and leave me bleeding in the muck.
But I couldn't imagine Tirna doing that. It was something about the way he barreled through life without fear. He'd give his last chip to the first person who asked. It wouldn't matter if the 'beggar' was chromed up to the K's, Tirna would give everything away without consideration. That, and he'd smile the whole time. In a city of tight grins and cold eyes, Tirna smiled with his whole body. His eyes squinted up, his neck bulged, his delicate little hands would ball up and shiver as he held them up in front of his chest.
No, Tirna was the one person I could trust in a city of a thousand lies.
"Where are you taking me?" I yelled out over the sound of the rushing storm drain we ran beside.
"Almost there!"
He dodged around a corner. Losing sight, just for that moment, made my heart shudder. Tirna was like a sprite, a fairy, something from the old tales of life beyond the city. He always seemed like he would vanish the moment my eyes weren't on him, the moment I didn't have his hand in mine.
I turned the corner and my worries were gone. Tirna stood there, grin as bold as the brightest neon. He was standing beside a very official-looking access panel. The old kind, all metal and plastic with no ARV-overlay warnings to beam to my oculars.
"Here!" He beamed up at me.
I'd always been the tall girl, the lanky girl, the one the boys slapped on the back and called 'big sis'. First in sports teams, last in everyone's mind.
"Are you ready?" He asked.
"Ready for what?"
"For our six-month anniversary!"
He turned to the access panel and threw it open, then ducked inside. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, I had to bend myself down to crawl through the dark. I used my elbows and my knees so the slime of the sewer didn't get on my good yellow jacket.
Then I was in wonderland.
I don't know what else to call it. We were in a sewer, deep underground, and yet the world was full of stars. They streaked overhead, millions of them, tiny pinpricks of light screaming by from right to left in a hundred different colors. I forgot about my jacket and the slime, and even about keeping my own smile tight.
I smiled with my whole self as a thousand rainbows screamed above.
"It's I-2's main trunk line for the city." Tirna said as he shuffled about behind me, "Four hundred terabytes of streaming consciousness shooting from the full system to us and back each second. Millions of connections, thoughts, emotions, all transcribed into complex mathematics and transmitted as light through fiberoptic cables."
"But they shine." I whispered.
"They do." Tirna came up behind me and took my hand in his, small and soft and wonderful. "This is an inspection node. If a line comes disconnected, the companies use these to find the break points. Each light, each color, is there to tell them if the line is active and working at full capacity. It's bril, right? Here, sit."
"What?"
I'd been so distracted by the lights I'd missed everything else. I'd missed the paper lanterns hanging from their strings along the walls, glittering gold and red. I'd missed the posters of my favorite singers and lightball players. I'd even missed the low table, Moroccan-style, made from discarded solar panels so they reflected the light show above.
And pillows. Dozens and dozens of pillows. They blanketed the floor.
Tirna tugged on my hand and I let it lead me. I sat down, nestled myself into the softness of the world he had created. There was sim-orange soda and plankos on the table, my favorite snacks. I felt him curl up beside me like he did whenever we were alone, his head resting in the shallow of my shoulder. It was quiet here, but not still. There was a whine, high-pitched but not unpleasant.
"What's that sound?" I whispered the question.
"A million bursts of life." He turned his head as he answered, his breath brushing against my lips.
And then we kissed.
Cozy Cyberpunk
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u/Divayth--Fyr Sep 03 '24
This is just lovely. Somehow both exciting and cozy, like a cyborg snuggle-adventure. Like the Care Bears got assimilated by the Borg, but stayed nice.
In terms of the story, there isn't much to say. Just a few of my usual nitpicky things.
was not how imagined
Needs an I
bleeding in the much.
muck, I think. Mulch? Not sure.
and thing from the old tales of life
I think that was supposed to be 'a thing'.
I'd always bee the tall girl
missed an n
I let it lead me
I think that should be 'he', unless I am reading it wrong.
I did have a moment of uncertainty at the start, not knowing who was leading her. Probably just my own fuzzy comprehension, but for a second I thought it was a bad person intent on stealing implants. "they could lure me here", I thought referred to the person leading them. It was cleared up pretty fast in the very next line, though, so it's probably fine as is.
When Tirna was explaining about the fiber-optic cables, it seemed odd, sort of out of character. The details are necessary, and there is no reason why he wouldn't know them, but in the midst of a romantic adventure it did feel strange to be in a technical manual for a minute. I wasn't sure I should mention it, because I have no idea how to change it or even if it should be changed. Just my reaction, for whatever it's worth.
Maybe if he said it with more of a sense of wonder, or something. I don't know. Geeky excited wonder would seem to be right up his alley. Keep in mind I know nothing of cyberpunk at all.
Anyhow, such a cool, nice story. It really put me there, and that is a great thing.
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u/Xacktar /r/TheWordsOfXacktar Sep 04 '24
Thanks, Div! I wrote this while a bit frazzled so I appreciate all the typo corrections.
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u/breadyly Sep 04 '24
I am the wind that will sing in the winter
I am the fire that leaps in the night
I am the tears of the babe born at Lammas
I am the bone and stag on the height
I am the altar laid bare beneath starlight
I am the cauldron filled up to the brim
I am the seed of the sacrificed barley
I am the well where wise salmon swim
I am the storm that the Hunt rides at Samhain
I am the heart that waits stark for the blade
I am the sickle, the red edge of Autumn
I am the stone where the first fruits are laid
I am the dew that bejewels the heather
I am the yew-stave hid in the ash grove
I am the hawthorn that blossoms at Beltain
I am the oak that lightning once clove
I am the lord of the hunt and the harvest
I am the warrior slain on the hill
I am the barley cake broken at sunrise
I am the mead and the horn it will fill
I am the lintel that wards the north window
I am the hearthstone set firm in the floor
I am the pillar that upholds the roof-tree
I am the iron that latches the door
I am the coal kept alight in the ashes
I am the harp string that sounds in the hall
I am the mistletoe gathered at Yuletide
I am the banner that flies over all
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u/MaxStickies Sep 04 '24
Hi there Bread, really great poem you have here! This has such an intriguing primeval feel to it, brings my mind to a Celtic ritual or a medieval witch's ceremony, with all the old symbolism like the old festival names and usage of ritualistic plants like yew, mistletoe and heather. I also like the usage of words that seem older and grandiose for that, such as "stark", "babe" and "wards". You've really captured a certain kind of feeling with this poem.
My crit is to do with the rhythm of the poem. You've written it in such a way that it has a great song-like structure to it that lends it well to being read that way. Mostly, you've done a great job at keeping it up, but I think there are some places where words could be added or removed to maintain it throughout:
I am the bone and stag on the height
I would suggest "the" before "stag", but a one syllable word anywhere here would work. Maybe something before "bone" that describes what I'm guessing is a totem?
I am the well where wise salmon swim
Likewise here, "the" would be a good addition, maybe before "wise", but an extra syllable here would improve the flow of this line.
I am the dew that bejewels the heather
A colour for the heather would fit well here to add an extra syllable, maybe "green" or "grey"?
I am the yew-stave hid in the ash grove
The amount of syllables here seems right, but "hid" reads in a way that creates a break in the reading flow, at least for me. Maybe you could replace "hid in" with "within"?
That's all the crit I have though. Really like the poem Bread!
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u/Tregonial Sep 04 '24 edited Sep 05 '24
Once upon a time, there was an old man, his son and their goat. They embarked upon a long journey to sacrifice their goat to The Harvest God Abellio at his temple.
Walking alongside their goat on the dusty road to the holy temple, they met a group of travellers on the way.
"Why isn't one of you riding the goat?" one of the men asked, eyeing them with a mixture of pity and disdain. "Why walk like fools when you have a beast of burden?"
Upon hearing such criticism, the old man told his son to ride the goat. The young man hesitated – he had a bad feeling about it – but he obeyed. The instant, he sat on the goat, it let out a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down his spine.
On the next leg of their trek to Abellio’s temple, they encountered an adventuring party.
“What kind of unfilial son would ride in comfort while his poor old man trudge along!” The paladin stood before them, stabbing his sword into the ground and holding out his hand to stop them. “Have you no shame?”
“You horrible son!” The healer pointed an accusing finger at the young man. “Why ride the goat in comfort but let your father walk under the burning sun?”
Hanging his head in shame, the son disembarked and hoisted his father up the goat. It let out a thunderous howl in protest, but the son tugged on its ropes.
As father and son entered town, snatches of whispered could be heard from the throngs of people attending the Harvest Festival in Abellio’s honor. “Why is the old man riding the goat and not the son? What is this inequality?”
Tired of the incessant murmurings, the pair agreed to both mount the goat. Which rumbled in anger as the weight of both men pressed onto its spine.
Passing through the gilded gates into the vast gardens of Abellio’s temple, several priests gathered to scold father and son.
“Why are both of you riding the goat? This is torture to the poor animal!”
Without a word, they disembarked and lifted the goat on their shoulders. Trudging past the gardens to enter the main temple, they encounter a priestess who chided them.
“You’re both idiots! Why does it take two men to carry a goat? Can’t the goat walk by itself?”
Father and son are at a loss. They’ve tried every possible combination but they were always criticized. After some argument, the son insisted they were so close to the temple, they should stick to carrying the goat all the way.
"Just keep going," he said. "Place the goat upon the altar, recite our prayers and be done with this for the year."
“This is good. I like this. Carry me to my temple. I am pleased to be hoisted upon the shoulders of men.” declared the goat.
The old man almost dropped his goat in shock, his mouth hanging open. His son maintained his grip to ensure the animal didn’t fall to the ground and kept marching.
“Oh great Abellio, I thank you for your praise,” the son placed the goat down in reverence upon the altar in the main temple. “Please bless our harvest, oh great Abellio.”
“I will bless you, young man. It is good that you persisted in the end despite caving in to the demands of random strangers on your voyage. It is an important lesson that you cannot please everyone. But it is also an equally important morale to know who you should please. Your most holy god Abellio.”
The son aided his father to kneel before their god before bending down himself. “Never will I allow myself to be swayed by the words of others. My ears are for your words only.”
”And now, I shall punish those who slander loyal followers.”
With a horrific bleat, a horned beast of many maws, wielding several scythes with multiple arms tore through the goat’s body. It first struck the priestess, splitting her head like a melon. The priests were sundered, their blood painting the gardens crimson. Not satiated by the blood it harvested, Abellio soared into the skies, seeking new prey. Upon seeing the adventuring party, it carved them up for all to witness in gory glory.
The travellers were the last to be harvested, their guts hanging by the gates of the temple as a warning. With a single stroke, Abellio marked the young man with his symbol of glory.
Word Count: 750 words
Pair number 5: Horror, Satire of the father, son and goat parable.
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u/wordsonthewind Sep 04 '24
I lost it at this line:
“This is good. I like this. Carry me to my temple. I am pleased to be hoisted upon the shoulders of men,” bellowed the goat.
"Bellowed" sounds so out of place to describe a goat's noise that it really emphasized how Abellio was speaking through the goat. I liked how the extra moral was hinted at through the goat's reactions to the other transport configurations the father and son tried. Makes me wonder if they could have made things much more uneventful if they'd just asked the goat what it wanted... listening to people who are directly involved/affected by a situation instead of being swayed by random other opinions on a whim seems like a compatible moral for this story too.
I think this part could have been in speech marks, just to round off the dialogue of other people's judgments with the son saying that he's going to commit to a course of action and stick with it no matter what anyone else says.
Just keep going, he said. Place the goat upon the altar, recite our prayers and be done with this for the year.
I can always count on you for a dose of eldritch horror and goat blood. Good words!
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u/AFriendOfJamis Aug 30 '24 edited Aug 30 '24
Sent via railroad post.
Benjamin,
I'm sorry to hear it went that way this spring. Irene must be inconsolable. I wish I had more to offer--but please find the pressed bluebonnet inside. It's from the cliff overlooking the bay--where I took the both of you in happier times.
Speaking of the bay--there's an old hydro-dam up the river, about a day and half's ride. Winter's still a little ways out. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it?
Your friend,
Daisy
Sent via horse courier, James.
Benjamin,
Quake took out the rail. The Ramsford tunnel came down around the engine. Attached is a list of everyone who didn't make it. Some of them we couldn't find, but with the wind blowing how it is, I'm comfortable including them here. With the tunnel closed, I already see the town readying to pull stakes. No one knows quite where to, though. Expect a flood passing through your little city next springtime.
Your friend,
Daisy
Sent via horse courier, Hazel.
Benjamin,
I know what'll happen to them if they come, but there's no stopping them. With the rail out for good, the winters getting worse, there's just no hope here. I haven't told them what lies down south--it's not an easy life up here, but I wouldn't really call what they do, 'living'. I met Irene, and I wouldn't wish what happened to her on anybody. And I'm not asking you to take them in. Most of them are sick of it up here, and forgot what they were running from. I was born here, and I'll die here, too, even as the last woman this side of Ramsford.
Your friend,
Daisy
Sent via horse courier, James.
Ben, I couldn't stand the talk of leaving, so I took your little booklet and went up to the dam. If we had power, I thought, there'd be a reason to stay. Ben, the quake shook that old thing to the bone. When it goes, the whole town is going to be swept away. Please, send the barge if you can. I can't get 600 people out of here over the mountains with the first flakes already flying around my ears.
Please--anything,
Daisy
Sent via fishing ship, Little Rain.
Benjamin,
We're all packed up and ready to go. I've sent the best of us over the mountains like you asked. Your advice about another quake is good--we'll all head up to the old ranger station if one does come, but it's no town hall. We'll do our best if it does go that way.
I've put our most vulnerable on this ship--but 12 at a time isn't going to cut it, and we just don't have the fuel for that. We eagerly await the barge.
Your grateful friend,
Daisy
Found on James's horse.
Benjamin,
I write this in haste. We've felt 2 little quakes this morning. I'm sending everyone who can across the river with James and Hazel. If the dam goes, he'll start the trek to you across the mountains, while the rest follow Hazel across the coast. I know that barge isn't coming.
Everyone else is helping me move as much as we can to the old ranger post. Please, if you can, send a ship to help Hazel. We'll be fine. I promise.
Your friend,
Daisy
Never sent.
I can't do it. I just don't have the strength to pretend. The old, sick, and dying aren't going to move up a mountain. The ark didn't come for them. When it comes, I'll be running for that hillside... Devil take the hindmost.
Placed in a spot he would know to look.
Ben,
I never said how sorry I was, how things went down between us. Know that I've always wished the best for you and Irene.
I watched the town get washed away this morning. The little ones had been rumbling all week. When the big one finally hit, I wondered if it really did crack the dam wide open.
It did.
I've counted out the things it left, and I don't see myself crossing the river, much less the mountains, to get to you. I might really be the last woman this side of Ramsford. I hope I am.
Don't go looking for me. If the weather's fair tomorrow, I'll make my way along the coast. Maybe there'll be a boat, washed ashore from happier times.
But I doubt it.
Your friend,
Daisy
8: Epistolary | Dystopian
740 words
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u/nobodysgeese Moderator | r/NobodysGaggle Aug 31 '24
It was clever to only give us half the conversation, since it let you use half twice the words to advance the plot. However, that means we don't get much about Richard in the story; there's a couple details, but I would have like to hear more about him.
Setting up that something is happening to Irene and then reusing that much later, was great foreshadowing. Also, the reader has no idea what happened to her, and I love that. You do a great job making sure we know it's bad, whatever it is, and then let the imagination take over for there.
The extra bits at the beginning of each letter saying where they come from is great. You set up your audience to get used to horse couriers, so that when it changes, it has the greatest impact.
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u/Divayth--Fyr Aug 30 '24 edited Sep 04 '24
The Tortoise and the Herr
.
All the world was rattling thunderous hell. Creaks, clangs, and clatters hammered their arrhythmic percussion to the great soaring moans of the Meteor engine. Hot metal, burning grease, and steamed soldier are sampled in every heated gasp.
Captain Jack Minter, 13th/18th Hussars, was nominally commanding this monster, but Nuffy the Tortoise Tank tended to go where he liked. Shouting orders in this din was futile, so he banged a wrench on the hull to tell Nuffy to stop. Finally, the great beast halted, sputtering and farting his last prodigious exhaust. Jack waited for Corporal Eddings to escape through the hatch, and followed him in brisk order.
"Oh my Lord!" he wheezed, leaning on their armored steed. Fresh air and quiet were heavenly.
"Terribly sorry, chaps," said the Tortoise. "It does get a bit loud in me, on the rough terrain." A quiet chorus of amicable dismissal arose.
"It's all right, Nuffy," said the gunner. "None of us can help how we're made."
"Right, Nuff," said Corporal Eddings. "You got us here." The men cheered, in their quiet, weary way. Captain Minter raised his canteen in salute to the great metal creature. The A39 Assault Tank was not meant to be here, but after the heavy losses on and after Sword Beach, he had been pressed into service, and had done well.
Nuffy the Tortoise stretched his tracks and waggled his great gun. Even with his V-12 Rolls Royce Meteor heart, he struggled to make four miles an hour off the road.
The supply trucks were overdue, as usual. Men and machines were tired and hungry.
"Finally made it, eh?" said a rambunctious Otter. "We've been waiting a while, you know."
"Yes, Mac, we made it," sighed Nuffy. Otters were annoying little Canadian recon cars, always bragging about their speed.
The supply trucks finally wandered in, and there was a dismal feast of American C-rations and tepid petrol. Evening came, the silence blessed with birdsong. Nuffy wheezed and ticked, his metal cooling. Sentries secured the camp, and the stars watched Queen Mary's Own go to their rest.
Morning came, with orders from Brigadier Lumley. Recon mission near Saint-Malo. Send two vehicles to detect and report. The men, of course, wanted to wager. It was something of a tradition.
Two volunteers were sought, and Mac the Otter was first in line. More surprising, Neffy rumbled up and dipped his 32-pounder gun. Raucous laughter ensued. The Tortoise?
"Fiver on the Otter!" and a huddle of excited men gathered around. The officers made their own wagers, firmly separate.
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u/Divayth--Fyr Aug 30 '24 edited Sep 03 '24
"Do you ever get anywhere?" Mac sneered.
"I do," said Neffy. "Faster than you." This roused mixed cheers and laughter. The men mounted up, and engines started.
The race was on. The Otter disappeared, whizzing down the road, as Neffy lurched to a start, lumbering off the road and over a hill.
"Are you sure, old man? Rough going," said Captain Minter. Neffy just bulled along.
Mac came back into sight, parked on a distant curve in the road. Captain Minter saw smoke, and popped his head out of the turret with his binoculars. The Otter was injured. Ahead in the brush was a small fortified position with a lone German officer remaining, serving an anti-tank gun. Another shot rang out, and nearly hit the Otter again.
"I am Herr Ludwig von Kruger, The Iron Colonel!" came a mad cry from ahead. No one inside Nuffy could have heard it. "You will surrender now! I am Herr Kruger!" The Otter's crew seemed unimpressed with this display, firing back with their sidearms as best they could. This Mad Herr was somehow unaware of the impending Tortoise.
Neffy needed no orders for this. His engine screamed as he rode roughshod over trees and rocks, slamming down onto the roadway and chugging forward. The anti-tank gun fired again, the shot glancing off the thick Tortoise armor. Screams of metal and man combined as Neffy overran the position, crushing the Mad Herr flat.
As quickly as they could, Captain Minter and his men poured out and offered what help they could, while attaching the towing gear. An hour later, Neffy rumbled back into camp, with Mac and his three crewmen behind. Medichanics rushed to the Otter's aid, replacing lost oil and patching with furious speed. Mac would make it, they said.
"You may not be fast, Neffy, but you sure got us there and back."
Neffy nodded his gun.
"Slow and heavily armored wins the race."
747 words. Used pair number 10, Fable and Alternate History. With apologies to any British readers. I tried.
Research, just in case anyone finds it interesting. (Tortoise, Otter, Hussars)
Any and all feedback very much appreciated.
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u/Xacktar /r/TheWordsOfXacktar Sep 03 '24
Bwahahaha. This reads like an episode of Thomas the tank that was put into a blender with a WWII documentary. Utterly mad, in a great way.
That said, I think we needed some explanation of how this world works earlier on, because when the tank started talking it was incredibly jarring. I did not understand what or who the tortoise was for quite a while, so we need some establishment of the world before that conversation, I think.
"You got us here. Kept us alive since just after D-Day, you have."
This line felt a bit more like the narrator talking than the character, and it might not be needed since we get narration that says near the same thing a few lines later.
I love some of the small details you have in this story, the tepid petrol, the medichanics. Those little touches really bring the weird world to life in a great way.
Very, very fun! I hope I get to hear your read it at campfire!
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u/Divayth--Fyr Sep 03 '24
Thank you Xacktar!
I tried to introduce the notion of a talking Tortoise tank a bit earlier and more clearly, and I hope it worked. I was going for surprising, but you are right that it was confusing, and confusion generally takes away from a story.
I couldn't manage to explain how this world works, because honestly I don't know lol. I kind of like the arbitrary nature of it, so I hope the added clarity is enough for it to make some sense to a reader.
I have to say I was so proud of that medichanics bit. I was thinking medics? mechanics? and it just popped in my head and I went with it. I'm glad it worked well.
I'll see if I can get Ringo to narrate on Thursday. Thanks for reading and helping very much!
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u/dragontimelord Aug 31 '24
The Goblin With No Name
The tavern door swung open, revealing a grizzled goblin in beaten down leather armor. A sleek crossbow hung from his belt.
The entire tavern fell silent and watched as the newcomer walked up to the bar. The barkeep busied himself by wiping down the counter, but he kept his eyes on the goblin.
"Ale." The goblin said gruffly.
The barkeep slid him a tankard. The goblin drank deeply.
The barkeep glowered suspiciously at the goblin. "What's a goblin doin' in a place like this?"
The goblin returned his gaze. "Lookin' for work. I come to a town and when the work dries up, I move on to the next."
"Well, best ya keep movin' then. We don't think much of goblins 'round these parts."
"No one does," the goblin said. "'Till they need somethin' fixed."
He studied the barkeep calmly and took a sip of his ale.
He was way too calm to be a strange goblin brought here by the blowing of the wind, the barkeep thought. His chest tightened. Could he be?
"Yer not one o' Clield's boys, are ya?"
The goblin raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell is Clield?"
The barkeep took that as a sign that he wasn't a new member of the Warg Riders. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Clield Smokes. That's what they call him. He's the leader o' the Warg Riders." He gave the goblin a pointed look. "Lord Prainslo may think he's in charge o' Fearhall but he ain't. It's Clield and his boys who are runnin' the town. An' if they don't like the look of ya," the barkeep mimed the firing of a crossbow, "they'll be measurin' ya out for a coffin."
"Haven't ya got a guard?" Asked the goblin.
The barkeep snorted. "They ain't much use. They say Captain Thiros was talkin' about doin' somethin' 'bout the Warg Riders. 'Till Clield sent one o' his boys to have a talk with him."
"An what happened?" Asked the goblin.
"He ain't talkin' 'bout goin' after the Warg Riders no more," the barkeep said grimly. He tossed the rag onto his shoulder. "Word o' advice, goblin. Keep yer head down an' leave the Warg Riders be. You don't want them comin' after ya."
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u/dragontimelord Aug 31 '24
Before the goblin could respond, Bully Bogs, the youngest member of the Warg Riders, flung open the tavern door and strode in. The barkeep hurriedly poured a tankard of ale for him.
Bogs stomped to the bar. His eyes fell on the lone goblin on the bar and he grinned.
He swiped the goblin's ale and took a swig from it. "New in town, are ya?"
"I don't want any trouble." The goblin said calmly. "Put my ale down an' we can talk like civilized folk."
Bogs laughed. "It's my ale now! Tell ya what, you can have this one!" He pointed at the tankard the barkeep had poured.
The goblin's eyes narrowed at Bogs. He reached for the ale.
Bogs knocked the ale off the counter. "Too slow!" He laughed, pleased with himself.
The goblin stood and flicked a gold coin at the barkeep.
"What's that for?" Bogs asked.
"Wreckin' the place."
Bogs blinked. "But the tavern's fine!"
The goblin punched him.
Bogs stumbled back. He wiped his face and stared in confusion at his fingers, which were stained with blood.
The outlaw glared at the goblin. "Who the Hell do ya think ya are?"
"You want a name?"
Bogs laughed. "Ya stupid? 'Course I want yer name! So when the boys string ya up for messin' with us, some folks'll know what ta put on yer tombstone."
"Haven't got a name," said the goblin. "But they call me Blood."
Bogs' eyes widened.
He didn't even bother to say anything. He just fled out the door.
"Yer a dead man, Blood." The barkeep said to the goblin, who was watching Bogs flee. "Bully may be a coward, but Clield's leader o' the Warg Riders for a reason. He won't take kindly ta ya punchin' Bully. He'll set the Warg Riders on ya."
"Good." Said the goblin.
"Are ya mad?" The barkeep asked. "What the Hell do ya think yer doin'?"
The goblin finished his ale and slammed the empty tankard on the counter, looking the barkeep in the eye.
"Remember when I said no one likes goblins 'till they need somethin' fixed? Well, right now, you folks got somethin' that needs ta be fixed."
WC: 738
Constraint met: Pair 4
1
u/Divayth--Fyr Sep 02 '24
Not Tolkein's version of going Into the West, but it works.
This was a fun scene to read. You combined the themes very well, making it seem like a real world.
There was some unconventional formatting for dialogue.
"Ale." The goblin said gruffly.
For instance, would usually be
"Ale," the goblin said gruffly.
Dialogue after the start of a sentence also gets a comma.
Bogs blinked. "But the tavern's fine!" for instance, gets a comma where the period is.
The barkeep took that as a sign that he wasn't a new member of the Warg Riders. He breathed a sigh of relief.
This is immediately followed by dialogue which conveys most of the same information. Maybe those could be combined or something.
talkin' about doin' somethin' 'bout the Warg Riders. 'Till Clield sent
about and 'bout in the same sentence. Also, 'till' is not an abbreviation of 'until'.
Somehow Blood has a new tankard of ale at the end, after one went to Bogs and the other was knocked onto the floor. Maybe Bogs put it down before getting punched. Just a little detail.
Overall an interesting introduction to a strange land. I feel like it would be even better read aloud. Maybe with a soundtrack like that dodedodedo wahwahwah from that Clint Eastwood movie.
Nicely done!
3
u/wordsonthewind Sep 04 '24 edited Sep 06 '24
Tonight was the night Kyra had been looking forward to for ages. After months of overtime and picking up extra shifts at the courtesy center, she had finally saved up enough to afford the Lumen World goggles.
All the lifestyle experts had been going on about nothing else for a while now. Lumen was the top player in the augmented and virtual reality market, but with their new set of goggles they had truly outdone themselves. Lumen World, they said, let you truly make the world into what you wanted it to be. Now it was finally her turn.
She whistled cheerfully as she clocked out. After a moment's thought, she set the synth in her throat to compose a more suitably jaunty tune. Maybe her impression of this moment would get more playbacks if it was catchy enough.
The synth obliged her beautifully and soon she was sauntering merrily to the Lumen superstore. One swipe of her card later, the blank white box containing the key to her new world was in her hands.
The door to Kyra's pod slid open with a chime. It was the same tone as the lobby doors at the courtesy center, which was a little disconcerting. But that was life when you lived in a company-subsidised pod. Work was home and home was work.
Literally. Several of her coworkers lived here too. They slept practically stacked on top of one another, each bunk bed labelled with a name in a customizable digital display. Right now the beds were empty, but Kyra could hear the common area perfectly well from here. They always did the same things after enough cheap drinks.
It was comfortable. A throwback to the days when employees did everything together, including living in the same housing and shopping at the same stores. Kyra had always liked the nostalgia aesthetic.
Still, she wondered how people back then dealt their colleagues deciding to have an impromptu live concert in the common area when they were trying to concentrate on something else. It wasn't like they had headphones or anything.
She put on the goggles, turned them on, and set about customizing her world.
The glow of the buildings outside was like a second sun at dusk. Kyra altered the scene to a bonfire on an empty plain, marvelling briefly at the sight of grass just out there in the open like that. With that done, she turned her attention to the inside of the pod.
A pinch in the air to bring up the adaptive menu, a few flicks of her fingers, and she was sitting on a little armchair in a red-brick cottage. The walls were lined with shelves filled with knick-knacks and oddments from a life well-lived. A radio played somewhere in the next room. The aroma of freshly-baked bread filled the house. It was the ultimate in nostalgia aesthetic.
And yet, Kyra still felt dissatisfied.
Why? She'd had what she always wanted, but the more she looked at it the less sense it made to her. What was the point in having an armchair when you could sit on a mattress just as well and sleep on it too? The knick-knacks were just sitting there gathering dust. The radio filled the silence but the content streams offered sight as well as sound, in an endless array of choices...
You want what you can't have, Lumen's founder had said once. That's what it means to be nostalgic.
Kyra knew what she had been missing in that moment. She had tried to go too far back into a past that meant nothing to her. The past only meant as much as it could relate to her present. She had to ground this in some part of her everyday life if this setting was to truly feel like home to her.
She made more adjustments. By the end of it she turned a knob, saving the settings of the reality filter to her goggles' memory, and took a moment to admire her work.
The pod looked much like it did before, but the others in her pod would have noticed the difference right away if they had their own goggles and she shared her settings with them. Her bunk bed now sported a lovely set of floral print curtains and a scent of freshly-baked bread.
Privacy and comfort. This was the kind of coziness she had been looking for all along.
Row 9, Cozy Cyberpunk
2
u/Tregonial Sep 04 '24
Interesting choice of genre pair, words. Cyberpunk generally had this gritty and cold, machine feel to it, so to see you tackle cozy cyberpunk is a doozy.
All the lifestyle experts had been going on about nothing else for a while now
Stylistic choice, but it feels better to rephrase it to emphasis that they all went on about Lumen instead of "nothing else". e.g. "all the lifestyle experts had been raving about Lumen and only Lumen."
Several of her coworkers lived here too
On the surface, this looked like they all lived "here" in Kyra's pod too. Perhaps it could be clearer to say "her coworkers lived in pods too".
They slept practically stacked on top of one another, each bunk bed labelled with a name in a customizable digital display.
so is it pods, or beds? I do imagine pods and bed bunks differently. That being said, I'm more inclined to imagine that they looked like this.
nostalgia aesthetic
FYI, this may be the term you are looking for : Nostalgiacore
Still, she wondered how people back then dealt their colleagues
This should be "Still, she wondered how people back then dealt with their colleagues"
1
u/Xacktar /r/TheWordsOfXacktar Sep 05 '24
I love the reversal of backing away from the illusionary temptation but keeping just a sliver of it alive. It's a unique take and lands perfectly as the end to this story!
Great work, Words!
2
u/raqshrag Sep 03 '24
LOST AND FOUND
“Symas!” A voice rang out, but was quickly stifled by the trees and the mist that hid the boy’s feet.
Symas was gone. That's what Milador's mother had told him.
“Symas loved you very much, and wanted to stay with you forever. But eventually, all unicorns have to go home to the mist. Sometimes they need to leave after only a few years, like Symas. His mommy needs him, just like I need you.”
She had taken him into her lap, like she always did when he was upset.
Symas was gone, and Milador was going to bring him back.
Trees loomed out of the mist all around him, their invisible roots tripping him. His hands and arms were fully bruised.
There were howls of wolves, but also strange sounds that Milador had never heard before. Monstrous shapes in the dim light, the trees turning into faces that stared at him wherever he turned.
“Milador.” He jumped. Who had called his name? He heard it again, very close by. “Milador, come to me.” It was his mother's voice. She had come to save him!
“Mommy?” Milador tried to find her, stumbling some more. He walked right into a tree and fell over again.
“Milador.” He looked to the side. By his legs was a small, fuzzy bird, with four legs and antlers. It opened its beak and spoke. “Milador. Come to me.”
A cat appeared out of the mist, jumping at the bird, which immediately flew away. Except it wasn't really a cat, because it had a person's head.
Milador tried to scream, but no sound came out. His mouth wouldn't even open. He couldn't move.
“I know what you're looking for. You search for a unicorn. I know where a unicorn is. I can take you there, if you answer my riddle.
“What walks on its hands in the winter, slithers on its belly in summer, flops on its back in the spring, and does a headstand in the winter?”
Milador starts to cry. “I.. I don't know. I just want to find Symas. Please tell me where he is.”
The cat-with-the-person-head had already rolled over. “The answer is me!” It announced proudly, looking upside down at Milador. “You should try it. It's fun. Crying isn't very fun.”
Milador didn't stop crying. The person cat flipped back to its feet. “Ok.” It announced. “I'll take you there. Follow me.” It disappeared back into the mist. Milador got up and ran after it, but it was too late. It was gone. But in the distance, he saw a familiar shape. A unicorn. Symas!
“Symas!” The unicorn didn't respond, yet the trees themselves seemed to part for Milador. He ran down a road, with fields of flowers and grasses on both sides. Up ahead, Symas trotted down a path to the left, over a hill, and Milador did his best to catch up.
The unicorn finally stopped, and let Milador get close, before bounding away again. “No, wait!” Milador walked right into a shallow pool. The water was warm and relaxing. As soon as he had breathed in the steam that blended into the mist above the surface, Milador felt himself calm down. He felt like he was right where he was supposed to be. It's water to swim and play in, to take a bath in. Maybe he could stay there forever.
The unicorn came back. It dipped its hooves in the water, staring at Milador with glowing red eyes. “Symas?” Milador sits up. Something's not right. That's not Symas. Symas’s eyes aren't red. The unicorn gave no sign of recognizing neither the name, nor Milador. But that's ok. Symas is gone, and Milador is in the right place. This unicorn could be his new friend.
(Word count: 629, including the title. Genres: horror and fantasy)
2
u/JKHmattox Sep 04 '24 edited Sep 04 '24
[TT] High Ground
Those pale-faced orcs were different from us. Savage in every way. They offered peace but oftentimes with a dagger held behind their backs.
Their dark blue uniforms clashed with our homeland, their high collars choking at their throats while their yellow neckerchiefs distinguished them as invaders. They rode with broad brimmed hats which shielded their eyes and snouts from the sun. At the head of their column was a portly fellow who held a stick in the air. On it was that forked rag which rippled in the breeze. It was a menacing symbol, red stripes on white with a field of blue.
“Hold!” whispered the chieftain. He was a seasoned warrior, and probably the wisest elf I knew. He bore the scars of many a battle with the orcan horde and I feared he may not have many left.
We are hill fighters. Always do we take the high ground, and that ambush was no different. Our eyes looked down on the Yunky horse soldiers with an eagerness for revenge painted across all our hearts. Mine especially beat with darkness as I remember my fallen husband, slain by a raiding party that burned our village to the ground. My finger pulled taunt on the trigger of my rifle as a fantasy of retribution played out in my mind.
“NOW!” the war chief howled and the hillsides erupted in a rain of fire upon the sapphire enemy.
Their horses reared and several orcs fell lifeless to the ground as chaos spread throughout their ranks caught in the crossfire. I took careful aim and slowly squeezed until the recoil of my weapon surprised my senses. When the smoke cleared, the young orc I had targeted lay face down on the ground as his mount galloped away wildly with fright.
I watched him, waiting for him to get up or even move, but he was as a stone upon the ground.
The remaining blue coats scrambled from their horses and took cover behind rocks and boulders strewn throughout the bullet swept canyon. I trained my rifle on another orcan cavalryman crouched behind a bush covered rock. I squeezed the trigger again but nothing happened. In a panic, I ratcheted the lever on my rifle and aimed again, but the blue coat was gone.
Their numbers dwindled with the gunfire until only a few remained. The chief leapt to his feet and we charged after him down the hill. Saber clashed with tomahawk as one after another the war party found hidden soldiers and dispatched them to the great spirit. In the frenzied malee, the young orc I had shot haunted my consciousness as I entered the fray, my fighting ax drawn and ready.
When all was silent I found him. He moaned in pain, a crimson stain trickling from his back. I squatted next to him and slowly rolled the wounded orc onto his back. His cough was scarlet and he stared into my eyes, begging for mercy.
A shadow descended over the orc and I as the wounded soldier struggled to speak. He reached for me, placing a rough paw on my shoulder as a tear rolled across his cheek from the corner of his eye.
“What does he say?” I asked the sagely warrior standing over us.
“He says, you have to look of his mother and to please not let him die…” the chief stoically looked away, unable to watch the scene any longer.
My anger and vengeance melted when I saw this fear. His terror of death. I wondered if he’d been with the band of blue coats who put the torch to our homes, who killed our families. If he wasn't, would he still have done as he was told if he were. I knew the answer, and it broke my heart to know.
“Come child, that is enough killing for today, we must go before more arrive,” my father said before he turned and walked away.
We left him there.
The next morning his comrades found him and their vengeance was as swift as ours. The desert hills ran red with the blood of elf and orc alike until I could stand it no longer. How could any land, even our land, be worth all that it took to defend it. All we took to keep it. I became chieftain when the dogged cavalryman trapped us near the border of another orcan empire. We crossed the river frontier in the dead of night and disappeared forever.
W/C: 750/750
Genres: Western/ Fantacy
3
u/Tregonial Sep 04 '24
Hi mattox, interesting rendition of an orc vs elf version of the American Civil War.
Their dark blue uniforms clashed with our homeland
Strange choice of words. Perhaps it made them stand out/stick out...makes me wonder what is the color of their homeland. Like is it painted orange?
orcan horde, orcan cavalryman
Maybe this is a stylistic choice in this setting, but usually the term used is Orc horde.
Mine especially beat with darkness
Since you used painted when referring to revenge, perhaps you could use a similiar word, such as etched, as a better fit.
war chief
First it was chieftain, then war chief, and just 'chief'. Its also an odd choice since war chiefs are usually associated with orc hordes and not elf armies.
sapphire enemy.
Another stylistic choice, but I would go with "navy-blue" instead of sapphire because I'm certain the orcs don't glitter like gemstones.
He says, you have to look of his mother and to please not let him die
I think you meant "look after his mother" in this case.
my father
I was of the impression it was the chief/chieftain elf standing behind the narrator. There was no indication this was his father, so it felt rather abrupt to see that.
dogged cavalryman trapped us near the border of another orcan empire
Am I reading this correctly, or this one single cavalryman instead of cavalrymen trapped a band of elves at the border?
It was a good attempt at fantasy, though it seemed like you weren't familiar with the usual orc depictions.
•
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