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Writing Prompt #1 (Musical Influences): Lupine by MisterLies
7 years ago
**REUPLOAD**
Summer is coming to a close in the northern hemisphere, and that means I'm back in college with less time on my hands. Although going forward it might be difficult, I wanted to start doing some daily practices of writing, and what better way than in a journal for fans of my character(s). I know I probably won't get a big response with these, but they're mostly for my benefit so I can start doing something that I enjoy, but lack the motivation to actually do (honestly, this is a category that's quite extensive in my life).
Format: Relatively simple, the title shows the number and where the prompt has come from. I'm hoping to at least do a minimum of 700 words for each of these. Will they be furry related? Some yes, some no. I do like me some abstract writing, so we'll see. This is also why i found it better if i did these in a journal, rather than full submissions. So, without a further ado..
"Such a dark night it was, and I'm not talking of the rain." His breath stifled as he spoke, his eyes glistening in the dim glow of the quiet inn. The only sound was the quiet mutterings of fellow travelers, and the soft whistle of the wind coming into the inn from an unpatched hole. “I only escaped my own campsite from the skin of my teeth.” He stammered quietly, some of the patrons turning back to their drink, “My wife… my kids… the only things that mattered to me… they were all taken just a few nights ago.” His voice was that of a true sage. He was someone who looked like he’d fall down and die at any minute, and maybe that’s why everyone wanted to listen to his to his tall tale.
I don’t remember much that the old man spoke sadly. I’m not exactly one of those heavy drunkards who has an iron liver; and so, after a few drinks I passed out. The following morning, as I made my way out of town, I felt the drip of something foreign upon my forehead. Looking up, I saw the same old man, laying on his stomach upon a branch at least 15 men high. His eyes and skin were as white as the snow that started falling. His throat had been gashed, as well as other regions on his torso, as if one of the big cats got him while the rest of us were sleeping off the alcohol. The world is so cruel, I thought. It took so much from this man, and gave nothing in return.
But alas, my travels had to continue, and after weeks of wandering from town to town, I begin to feel as though taking a pilgrimage this far up north may have been a bad idea. I never felt right living in the swamps of the south, though everyone else didn’t seem to mind. Each day in that wretched place was a curse given unto me by the gods, and so I seeked knowledge as to why they’d do such a thing. So, there I was in the north, freezing myself to death to talk to the various deities who i figured wanted me dead. Soon enough, I found myself camping with some fellow adventurers. I was merely there for alchemical purposes on their journey since they couldn’t afford a proper healer. Gotta get paid somehow, I supposed. The night they were supposed to raid some bandit camp, it poured rain. They knew their chance would come the next night, as they figured the light from the moon would help them not get lost, and so they decided to take the thugs after another night’s rest. The soft patter of rain made them drift to sleep rather quickly. However, that night plagued me with nightmares. In it, sounds of distant screams filled my head. To any onlookers within the dream, they seemed more like sounds of cheering and laughter. But, I knew better, for I was the one causing them. I kept hearing their cries for the gods as the rain penetrated into my dream. The rain was sent directly from the gods themselves unto me. They wanted me to feel sorry for what I had done, for the lives I ended within the dream. Weren’t the tortured screams enough? I pleaded in my mind. After all, it was I who would soon sit in silence, my hands uncontrollably shaking and dripping with blood. My eyes cleared as nature's tears mixed with life's essence, making a diluted concoction of consciousness. I did not ask to open my eyes on this night, and see that I was awake the whole time. The pilgrimage was a success, but left more questions than answers. Truly, I was enslaved by nature itself, left to wander in the woods as the nightmare I thought I was dreaming myself to be. As my consciousness returned to me, and I saw those adventures bodies contorted in such an unnatural way, I further understood that this world can be cruel, I thought. When it does give, it does so in punishment.
The moon above was still gleaming as if it was smirking snidely at my existence. "It's all you" echoes through my head. This was my fault, my decisions that lead to this moment. Another scream, another gasp, a gash upon her throat, her last breath almost serene. Outside this abandoned building, i hear the wolves express their own sorrows, joys, afflictions to the mistress of the earth. It's almost a mechanical sound now, monotonous in structure, length, pitch, and tune. Can they not feel the anger i feel? The pain? The rain continues, drones on, more screams and more silence awaits.
Summer is coming to a close in the northern hemisphere, and that means I'm back in college with less time on my hands. Although going forward it might be difficult, I wanted to start doing some daily practices of writing, and what better way than in a journal for fans of my character(s). I know I probably won't get a big response with these, but they're mostly for my benefit so I can start doing something that I enjoy, but lack the motivation to actually do (honestly, this is a category that's quite extensive in my life).
Format: Relatively simple, the title shows the number and where the prompt has come from. I'm hoping to at least do a minimum of 700 words for each of these. Will they be furry related? Some yes, some no. I do like me some abstract writing, so we'll see. This is also why i found it better if i did these in a journal, rather than full submissions. So, without a further ado..
"Such a dark night it was, and I'm not talking of the rain." His breath stifled as he spoke, his eyes glistening in the dim glow of the quiet inn. The only sound was the quiet mutterings of fellow travelers, and the soft whistle of the wind coming into the inn from an unpatched hole. “I only escaped my own campsite from the skin of my teeth.” He stammered quietly, some of the patrons turning back to their drink, “My wife… my kids… the only things that mattered to me… they were all taken just a few nights ago.” His voice was that of a true sage. He was someone who looked like he’d fall down and die at any minute, and maybe that’s why everyone wanted to listen to his to his tall tale.
I don’t remember much that the old man spoke sadly. I’m not exactly one of those heavy drunkards who has an iron liver; and so, after a few drinks I passed out. The following morning, as I made my way out of town, I felt the drip of something foreign upon my forehead. Looking up, I saw the same old man, laying on his stomach upon a branch at least 15 men high. His eyes and skin were as white as the snow that started falling. His throat had been gashed, as well as other regions on his torso, as if one of the big cats got him while the rest of us were sleeping off the alcohol. The world is so cruel, I thought. It took so much from this man, and gave nothing in return.
But alas, my travels had to continue, and after weeks of wandering from town to town, I begin to feel as though taking a pilgrimage this far up north may have been a bad idea. I never felt right living in the swamps of the south, though everyone else didn’t seem to mind. Each day in that wretched place was a curse given unto me by the gods, and so I seeked knowledge as to why they’d do such a thing. So, there I was in the north, freezing myself to death to talk to the various deities who i figured wanted me dead. Soon enough, I found myself camping with some fellow adventurers. I was merely there for alchemical purposes on their journey since they couldn’t afford a proper healer. Gotta get paid somehow, I supposed. The night they were supposed to raid some bandit camp, it poured rain. They knew their chance would come the next night, as they figured the light from the moon would help them not get lost, and so they decided to take the thugs after another night’s rest. The soft patter of rain made them drift to sleep rather quickly. However, that night plagued me with nightmares. In it, sounds of distant screams filled my head. To any onlookers within the dream, they seemed more like sounds of cheering and laughter. But, I knew better, for I was the one causing them. I kept hearing their cries for the gods as the rain penetrated into my dream. The rain was sent directly from the gods themselves unto me. They wanted me to feel sorry for what I had done, for the lives I ended within the dream. Weren’t the tortured screams enough? I pleaded in my mind. After all, it was I who would soon sit in silence, my hands uncontrollably shaking and dripping with blood. My eyes cleared as nature's tears mixed with life's essence, making a diluted concoction of consciousness. I did not ask to open my eyes on this night, and see that I was awake the whole time. The pilgrimage was a success, but left more questions than answers. Truly, I was enslaved by nature itself, left to wander in the woods as the nightmare I thought I was dreaming myself to be. As my consciousness returned to me, and I saw those adventures bodies contorted in such an unnatural way, I further understood that this world can be cruel, I thought. When it does give, it does so in punishment.
The moon above was still gleaming as if it was smirking snidely at my existence. "It's all you" echoes through my head. This was my fault, my decisions that lead to this moment. Another scream, another gasp, a gash upon her throat, her last breath almost serene. Outside this abandoned building, i hear the wolves express their own sorrows, joys, afflictions to the mistress of the earth. It's almost a mechanical sound now, monotonous in structure, length, pitch, and tune. Can they not feel the anger i feel? The pain? The rain continues, drones on, more screams and more silence awaits.
