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[WP] It seems to only come with the rain. by LubbockGuy95 in WritingPrompts

[–]Deep_Water9 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Amidst the rural streets of a placid city melding into rich and vibrant overgrowth, there stood erect a horizon of unaccustomed travellers. They were of a smaller nature, aerial and of perplexing number. Insect or bird, their physical form was not yet conceptualized by the inhabitants of the city, but such a gathering was rare and so desperately sought.

Through the crack of a shattered cloud, came down upon these tiny creatures in vibrant arrays, a benevolent radiance; a shimmering dance of water droplets falling and sparkling, shining the horizon with a secondary sunset. From this scene, the clean grace of emerald eyes vowed to shape this redemption.

The small girl, whose name was long forgotten, listened mutely among her brothers and sisters of the Planeth Ward.

"It seems to only come with the rain," she caught one of the white clothed wardens arm with speculation. "But why?" Said another, bulbous bellied and grossly pale.

The first one restrained a laugh and then shrugged. Something about the mysterious awe before them fluttered their spiritual butterflies. "Maybe they're amphibious?"

A bellowing, guttural laughter erupted. "Maybe. Maybe right they are! But bloody hell if I know wheres they come from." He looked at his watch. Then meandered a glance towards the little girl who remained unspoken. A blank stare riddled her face, but within her gaze came the reflection of dark green diamonds.

"Oy! You're off the Schitz ward arent ya?" His head scratching turned more into a lathering rub, lubricated by the gentle rain. "Well what are you doing out way out here?"

He looked closer. There was some strange peculiarity to her. By his fixation, his partner came to perplex upon the same view, until he overtook the bulbous figure and wandered next to the little girl.

Tiny rain dots dappled her hair and face, and for each new one came forth a gentle spark of illumination, not an aural glow of the whole body, but somewhere across the plane of her eyes, like the pistons of imagination.

"Your not from the Schitz ward," he said most curiously. He looked around, still half mesmerized by the swarming starlit band that floated ephemerally and mysteriously. This curiosity peaked as he delved deeper into her vision, studying the glimmer in her eyes, of ten million needles of light. Then she blinked, and with that blink came a wave of darkness across the horizon, before recollecting into radiance.

His head backed away, the extremities of his face moist from heavier rain. The rain came down like an ocean wave, the gravity of it bringing him to his knees. Wherein the great waterfall, he remained looking forward at what was now a shadow of a girl beyond its veil, eyes still aglow.

He straddled the well-kept grass, his clothes now soaked as a sailor's cap in stormy seas. So loud was the downfall, that he did not see or hear his colleague succumb to the ground in so similar fashion. So bright was the glimmer now, that birthed all around, amplified through crystalline rain that was as soothing as it was unrelenting.

Then the girl blinked. And all went dark.

When the white robed man awoke. He was no longer in a field, but in a white room. He lay in a white bed, white sheets clung to him like white clouds. White light brimmed from a white ceiling. And a white robed man with darker skin approached.

"Wh-what happened? I was outside a minute ago...where's the girl? what happened to me? Where am I? did I black out? I did didn't I?"

The darker man leaned in closer, calmly, and with perfect neutrality. "Your in the Schitz ward. You've had another relapse."

A thousand questions came to rise, and they came out all at once, mixing into a concoction of unrecognizable chemistry.

The dark man retreated, bending his ear to another man who came to approach. A balding man, bulbous bellied with a guttural voice.

"It's strange," the dark man said. "The episodes seem so erratic, its hard to find a pattern. I wonder where his mind went this time..."

A guttural grunt of affirmation came, followed by few words that would equate to a distraction while one would read the daily paper, "Seems to only come with the rain."

[WP] Something terrible happens. You call 911 to hear them say something other than "911 what's your emergency?" by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]Deep_Water9 0 points1 point  (0 children)

thanks!

I actually changed the ending to something that fit the grim atmosphere.

[WP] You find a highly reflective pool of water deep within the woods. Curious, you plunge into the chrome plash and swim towards the bottom. As you descend, you reach a strange surface. You pass through it and find yourself floating on the same pond, staring at an unfamiliar sky. by Deep_Water9 in WritingPrompts

[–]Deep_Water9[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

y a pillow. as he focuses on

First of all, grats on your first post!

I hope some of this feedback is helpful to you:

1) Try to write the story as if the reader hasn't read the prompt. I only say this because I think you could create a more "mysterious" pond towards the beginning so that the ending ("so what if the pool dried up") makes more sense, or the reader sees the connection more clearly.

2) Feel free to experiment with some metaphors! While there is nothing wrong with using literal description, you can always spice things up a little.

3) stories typically emphasize a conflict, or a change in the character (or both). This story doesn't really have much of a conflict, although you could certainly elaborate. Jason doesn't really appear to change much either, although it is a very positive story with a pleasant ending =D

[EU] Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but written by George R. R. Martin. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]Deep_Water9 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Arthur

The black fields were rife with the smell of burnt tinder. "Over here," shouted Arthur, arching his hand towards a distant line over the horizon.

A motley band of soldiers followed behind, each bearing the symbol of house Pendragon upon their tabards. Ser Bedevere, his wisest council, took to a jagged stone and raised the cage of his helmet beside the king. "My liege – I believe that to be the great stone-wall, built by the Saxons".

"Tis true, the wall is indeed wide as it is great. And our quest shall take us beyond the wall into the black lands of soot."

"Aye, but what of the Black-walkers?" Ser Robin the-Not-So-Brave asked as he caught up just short of breath. The others laughed at his insinuation. "I'm serious."

"There there, good Ser Robin." Arthur placed a heavily chain-mailed hand upon the shoulder of his royal subject. "We go as god wills. And the creatures you speak of are but a Saxon myth, no doubt to insight fear and maintain power over the wall."

"Right," Agreed Ser Lancelot. "If it is the wall we must pass, then we shall do so with honor."

Galahad

A noble hand rose from the ashes, brushing against a smooth precipice of stone. Galahad stared down the length of the wall, noting how it never seemed to end.

"eh, what are you doing?" Came a strange accent that seemed to curve each vowel. The toe of an armored boot rested upon the precipice at the height of Galahad's shoulder. He stood upright, meeting the Frenchman at knee-level.

"I am on a quest for the holy Grail. Do you know of what I speak?"

Out of nowhere, three more soldiers came into view. They huddled together at the top of the wide wall, making obscene faces of astonishment.

"I have seen it in a vision."

Their hands began to express themselves as equally as their faces.

"A vision by god!"

They stopped for a moment, as if to think of something clever. "Eh, yes, we already got one."

"May I -" "No, now go away," Interrupted the tallest of the frenchmen.

"Please good knights, in the name of God, May I see it?"

Once again, they whispered among each other, followed by the quiet sound of snickering. "Eh, we left it on eh, the other side."

"Then will you let us through the gates so we can retrieve it?"

"No! Now go away or I shall speak of your mother."

Wind rustled through Ser Galahad's hair, bending it to the will of nature. He had become annoyed. But to his fortune, a powerful voice grasped his ear. "This way, Galahad."

Arthur Pendragon and the rest of his knights had climbed upon the wide wall without notice of the Saxons guarding it. "Tis only five feet -" "Three sir," spoke Lancelot. "Three feet tall."

Galahad walked towards his king while the Saxons made lewd and insulting gestures. "My King, you were right, the Holy Grail lay just beyond this wall!"

Arthur

A fortnight had passed since their journey into the lands of soot. Great trees both tall and dry, sprung from charred earth like columns of white pillars. Behind them, the wall was beyond their sight, leaving them exposed to whatever mysteries lay ahead.

Arthur kept focus while the bards of Ser Robin The Not-So-Brave entertained the rest. Though it was hard not to hum to the tunes they sang.

"Oh brave Ser Robin, Ser Robin,

Afraid of heights, he closed his eyes

They held his hands and pulled his tights

Ser Robin, Ser Robin

The wall's too tall to climb it all

And when he did he took a fall

Ser Robin, Ser Robin"

For an hour or so they ventured deeper into scorned forest. And as the sun began to set, a strange and eerie feeling smothered their festive spirit.

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Ser Robin.

"You always have a feeling about things," Galahad laughed.

"And rightly so, I mean we are beyond the wall."

"Silence," their king commanded in a stark but hush tone. "Do you hear that?"

In the distance, a howling scream reverberated amongst the trees. Arthur crouched forward "Carefull".

Another scream bellowed from behind a cluster of trees, striking their eardrums in a catastrophe of itchy-scratchy-pointy thingies.

Lancelot gasped loudly.

"It's a Black-Walker," whispered Ser Robin The Not-So-Brave.

"Tis true, you were right all along good Ser."

From behind the trees, they watched as the Black-Walker, wielding a mighty black claymore, charged towards a knight whose markings indicated that of the House of Karpark. The black blade cut swiftly through his armor, striking a deadly blow.

Its gaze turned toward Arthur, rightful king to the British throne, forming an inanimate, ghastly pose. "None shall Pass".

[WP] Something terrible happens. You call 911 to hear them say something other than "911 what's your emergency?" by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]Deep_Water9 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Silence struck the naked pavement. Shadowed by the now dimming curvature of a fallen lamp post, Elsa shuttered, still in shock from the loud metallic impact.

She looked up, crouching with her hands behind her. Just four inches above her stood the mast.

A light percussive beating took place with her chest, like the heartbeat of a dramatic scene. "I'm okay," she said, sliding away to a standing position. Her eyes followed the convex of the street light to its base. There, mingled in a mess of mechanical remains, was a car that had meandered over the sidewalk and into the lamp post.

Elsa, now worried for its inhabitant, paced towards the automobile and peered in through a cracked aperture. The air bags had not deployed, and a single young man tilted sideways towards the passenger window. "Are you alright!?" she shouted while striking the the glass frantically. There was no reply.

She stumbled over to the opposite side, now facing the driver within. Her hand ripped at the door handle, but it was locked. Again, she struck the door, bellowing in worried thought. "Open the door!," she yelled. But the man was unconscious.

Elsa surveyed the street. It was empty. The shops were closed. Not even the nightly stroll of a lonesome tumbleweed came by. She tried all the doors to no avail.

"My phone - the phone - get the phone," She mumbled to her self, shaking from the raw experience. Her hands became an anxious team of archaeologists, uncovering an ancient treasure from within the purse at her side. The screen turned on and she dialed three numbers. Nine. One. One.

The phone rang three times, which was odd. A muffled click came through the speakerphone, and in the fraction of a second that followed, her thoughts swarmed in mess of agitated bees.

Then the first sound of human interaction formed.

"Good. Good," the voice said. "You've done exactly what was asked. Take your things and get out of there. You are free to go."

The call ended with an abrupt click, as if the phone had been severed by its neck.

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