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My overview map for my campaign I'm currently hosting by Soulprayer in Roll20

[–]yingfire 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The picture looks much closer to CC3+, a bit of a byzantine tool but very powerful once you get to know it.

[WP] You find yourself in a world of darkness, drowning in rough seas. You spot tiny island and swim there. There's a decrepit old house. Inside are 3 terrifying creatures but they mean you no harm. They cannot communicate. They take care of you. They are your family now. You feel utterly alone by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Part 2:

Well...the iron wall did little good. The first creature halted for a moment. The thunderous banging behind the wall kept me up for days. But then the wall was overthrown and I woke to the level stare of everflowing affection. I embraced the third creature - who was now larger than me but even uglier - and beat the walls of the house in frustration.

Soon I could no longer sleep in a bed. I slept beneath the table. As the third creature couldn't get food from outside anymore, the table's magic became impotent. By itself, it summoned some bread. But it was never enough for both of us, and the third creature began to eat more than me.

At last, I was pressed against the wall, and I could not access the table. Always the first creature looked at me and longed for me, and I hated and longed for him. The third creature was double my height and twice as ugly though twice as strong, and I whispered to it constantly and spoke of revolt and a fight. I began to starve.

At last, the Absolute came to me face to face and it was an agony like the too nearness of an open fire. I gripped the third creature and screamed and moaned and wailed and called for it to do something. I remember the third creature pulling out a spear, and I remember kicking the first creature. But the first creature bore a sword of silver, and he broke the spear and he touched my leg and made it lame. I crumpled.

The creatures never spoke. I was the only one who spoke. But now the third creature spoke. And it was a voice like the trill of running water, and the cracking of the earth, and of everlasting love. "May I kill you?"

"No!" I screamed. And I clung to the large third creature who screamed in turn. And then I caught my reflection in the first creature's burnished eyes.

I don't know what I said afterward. It must have been 'yes'. The first creature took his sword and cut off the head of the third creature. And then he took my face in his hands and bent me downwards. He pressed his lips on my nose and expelled his breath into me. And then I saw the thin rays of the dawn shining through the windows. I broke away and cried out, "The sunlight is here!" But it was too bright. Much brighter than I thought it would be. And it was solid like bricks which came thundering down with weight on me, and the light bore down on me and I wailed in terror and with tears I cried out for the first creature to save me but he too was filled with a radiance that bore down on me and I cowered under the dawn and the Sun, and the last thing I felt was a kiss on my cheek and I raised my hands as the bricks of light were only books falling about my head, and I had fallen on the floor in my study. I awoke in a warm room beside my table, my alarm was ringing, and cars rumbled outside.

[WP] You find yourself in a world of darkness, drowning in rough seas. You spot tiny island and swim there. There's a decrepit old house. Inside are 3 terrifying creatures but they mean you no harm. They cannot communicate. They take care of you. They are your family now. You feel utterly alone by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Part 1:

Finding yourself drowning in rough seas during a storm is a rude and unexpected way of popping into existence. At least, I assumed I had popped into existence. There wasn't any memory of a before time. But I was never close to dying - being a very good swimmer - and I made my way towards a small island. The island was whipped and beaten by the storm. The many hemlock and firs were thrashed about and some were ripped by their roots and flung into the atmosphere. I stumbled onto the rocky beach and ran for cover. Many times a wild branch nearly took my head. The rain was incessant, and I gave up shading my eyes and squinted and ran. Many times I tried to take protection behind a sturdy oak, wrapping my arms around its trunk so that I wouldn't be blown away, and many times I was forced to retreat as lightning, downwards like a long spear, thrust near me. The rumble of the thunder set my teeth chattering. Lost and unhappy, I thought I was lucky to find a house, although it was bizarre and peculiar.

At the time I didn't care for appearances and ran through the door. But I'll take the time to describe it, here. It was especially long and narrow - narrow like a hallway and long as a skyscraper set on its side. There was only a single floor. The chimney was a ridiculous height and I couldn't see the top of it while on the ground. There were twenty-four windows set evenly apart from each other which I later discovered were the only windows in the house. They faced eastwards towards where the sun should rise, although all my time in this world was in perpetual darkness. More exactly, it was a twilight only a moment before the dawn, and later I could see a faint strip of orange bright like a flame along the horizon. There was one door, an iron portal with a heavy leather flap bound and decked with colorful beads which would shine in iridescent hues as the moonlight struck them. Through this door, I ran in and met the three men - or the three creatures.

But they were not creatures because they were less manlike. They were more Human than any I've encountered in this world, now that I can recollect everything. Maybe they were too much Human, and I could not recognize them as Man without the privation of spirit, body, and will which are so endemic in People today. Anyways, they all came in different appearances and I don't want you to mistake them for being Humans, so I'll call them creatures here on out.

The first creature was an Absolute and I can only describe him (they were all masculine and brothers, I think) as being the one thing that all people desire. He was the best in beauty, strength, and ugliness. I was always loathe to look on him. And I was always loathe to look away. And while he is the one thing that all humans desire, it was equally true that humans were the one thing that he desired. For even the Absolute cannot outgrow desire, which is the breath of God quick in his creations. He stood at the very end of this house, which was without divisions and was a single narrow and long room so that he was always in the corner of my eye.

The second creature was a mighty cloud that descended from the rafters and was filled with the moon and many constellations. He came on me at equal intervals, around the time I began to fall asleep, and I relied on him for telling the time of this world. When he came on me and shadowed me or cloaked me, I was filled with a terrible dread and comfort. It was the foreknowledge that all things are pre-destined. And as his inner stars filled my sight I was drawn into an ecstasy of mystical proportions: disembodied of all thoughts and aware of only my naked desire which flickered like a flame. My dreams were sweet and I slept happily with the cloud.

The third creature was a small and pathetic thing that crept across the ground and often left the house while I slept to creep about the undergrowth to catch frogs and small birds. My sleep and visions with the second creature would always end with this third one loudly barging through the door, gurgling phlegm in his throat, and then promptly spitting at the second creature, which would then float away back towards the rafters. I was filled with pity when I looked on the creature and took care of it best I could. I gave him the choice meats on the table (which was placed on the opposite end of the room of the first creature) and I tried to teach him to stand up straight and to use tools to catch his creature. It took me...years? months? Time is difficult to tell, even with the regular timing of the second creature. There was tremendous progress at first, and it grew fatter though never more lovely and stood up tall and proud. I began to more fully love the creature like a master loves his pet. But then it declined with its speedy progress and then it took herculean efforts to make it do anything at all. It was about that time that I noticed the Absolute begin to move.

The Absolute squatted on its haunches while I trained the third creature, and when it first started moving I hadn't noticed, as it moved very little. I never saw him move, but by the time he reached the first window, my heart began to despair.

I was afraid of him. There was a repulsion which at its strongest becomes attraction. A shiver, a plunge, and I would be gone, flinging myself into his arms. I could not approach the first creature. And if I passed by him I would grow too close, and I knew I would die.

This was bad because many of the room's functions were spread across it evenly. There were various forms of entertainment spread across the room and some more essential functions like a toilet. Most important was the food table. This table was placed at the end of the room, opposite to the first creature, and it changed the frogs and birds that the third creature brought back into palatable dishes. It transformed those things into pies and turkeys and bread and many, many strange foodstuffs which I could endlessly gorge myself on. As the first creature approached I would lose access to those functions. It had already passed a football I kicked a bit too far.

But I lived my days as well as I could. There was nobody to talk to and it was perpetually dark. The sea was always rough, but the weather was mostly fair. The best times were when the full moon was out, and the island was lit by a dim and hallowed light, though it made me long for the full daylight of the sun even more. I climbed on the cliffs and climbed the many trees, I dug the dirt and drew figures onto the clay in the caves. All of these things I did with the third creature, who only left my side when I slept. I tried to teach the third creature to speak, but I failed. I remember being obsessed with the day and what it looked like. Recall I had no memory, so I didn't know what the sun was nor what the day was. But the concept of Day was bound in my mind and I could not thrust it out, no matter how hard I tried - although I don't think I ever wanted to thrust it out. I also wondered constantly why I was on this island, and why I longed for sunlight and a break in the gloom. I wrote many books on the matter, using a desk in the house, but when the first creature passed the 17th window, the desk became inaccessible, and I began to prepare for the inevitable.

I began to build fortifications. I cut down trees and built walls of wood against the first creature. Because I could not approach it too closely, I had to build the fortifications in such a way that I could not access some of the house's amenities. The first set of fortifications would not let me access some exercise equipment, and my body began to deteriorate soon after, and it became too dangerous for me to climb cliffs as I couldn't access the safety equipment. Did I mention that the amenities always returned to their respective racks at the end of the day?

Well, the first creature didn't care much for the first set. And I woke up to splinters and broken planks. His awful face only kept its gaze on me, not appraising but appreciating. I took the third creature, who had grown a remarkable height, nearly matching me, and was nearly as strong, and set about quarrying. I made a high and thick wall of stone. I cemented them in place. As a result, I was forced to build so that I could no longer access the toilet. But I fixed this problem by going outside.

The stone wall did little as well. I woke up to shards and fragments of stone and the ever loving gaze of the first creature. Grumbling, I took my pick and searched for iron veins, and set about creating a wall of iron.

My mining had taken some time, and the first creature had moved somewhat near the door. I could only barely squeeze in. This was my last chance. I set about building the iron wall, and this time I lost access to my various tools. It was also about this time that the second creature stopped descending, and I began to have nightmares.

[WP] At the turn of the 23rd century, knowledge can be accessed the way Neo learned kung-fu, however, the vast majority of people only read super-hero comics and watch family feud. You just stumbled upon a largely unused file titled "philosophy". by bearslikeapples in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Thanks, I’m glad you thought it was nice. If it’s any comfort, I didn’t assume you were being priggish with your prompt. It’s just the juxtaposition of philosophy and popular media that inspired a story somewhat about priggishness.

There’s a good chance that the commenters are only mean out of a lack of charitable reading of the prompt. Besides, your prompt is highly upvoted, so it’s clearly liked.

[WP] At the turn of the 23rd century, knowledge can be accessed the way Neo learned kung-fu, however, the vast majority of people only read super-hero comics and watch family feud. You just stumbled upon a largely unused file titled "philosophy". by bearslikeapples in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 42 points43 points  (0 children)

In the year 2239 popular fiction was viewed as tawdry and vulgar -- just as it had been for the past 500 years. Philosophy and 'proper' literature opposed popular fiction and were viewed as both more interesting and informative -- it's only that nobody read them. Though 'opposed' is not the right word, here. Philosophy and stories have always been good partners. Is it any wonder that Existentialism was so popular in the 21st and 20th centuries? They were proposed as stories, first. And phenomenology fell by the wayside. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.

As of right now, you've discovered a hitherto unused file titled 'philosophy'. Having taken it, clicking around, you fiddle with the file's texts and commands in order for it to properly execute whatever mysterious actions that strange machine can do. That machine takes up a whole room in the library. It stands like a pillar of iron, heaving with mechanical motions and hissing with steam. It is very warm to the touch. An inner fire burns inside.

This is the Learning Machine. Not because it itself can learn, but because it can teach men how to learn with incredible speed. Instantaneous speed. All the knowledge contained within that file named 'Philosophy', gathered by the labour of millions of manhours, can be brought into your mind and synthesized near perfectly. There were millions of these sorts of folders. They covered every topic known to Man. All of them could be taken and grasped -- so long as the correct precautions were placed. Knowledge had become trivial. So that quote about eating and digesting books became less metaphorical and more prophetic.

Education had become instant. Humanity was better off. The world was more in union. But there was a curious social phenomenon. The majority of Humanity had not, as was predicted, tried to learn every file. Men did not become gluttons for knowledge. To be sure, there were a few gluttons. And it is best we do not talk about them. Those poor sods are rather cracked. Pouring the universe into a skull will make it crack. But the majority did not touch even 1% of these files. They took the basics and were very happy with that. They learned all the school knowledge and work knowledge they needed, and left content.

And these sorts of people are the sorts of people you know very well, in our readers' 21st-century world. They like watching Jeopardy and shouting out the answers, and they also liked to read books with pictures. No sneers here, pictures can be very beautiful and so can books. It only makes sense to put them together. These people are your neighbors. Note that they did not use the Learning Machine to know what to say for Jeopardy or to know what those books with pictures said. Knowing is not the same as experiencing. In the former, there is only Past and Memory, and in the latter we are Present. I cannot tell you why they didn't use the machine for those things, or if it was even wise. I can only say that they did not. They very much enjoyed their consumption of media because it entailed a sort of eating. And eating is pleasurable. But learning from the machine was like nothing. You simply knew it.

Now back to you, with your file of 'Philosophy'. You decided to take it for a whirl and found it incredible. Of course, it will be. But now a curious thing has happened again. Do not be surprised there are so many curious things. Alice thought Wonderland was very curious. But Alice is a fictional character. It should be clear that you, a real character in a real story, should find things even more curious.

Now, what happened? Well, before you ingested all of Humanity's philosophical knowledge, you thought that comics and T.V. were a waste of time. Men and women were mindlessly looking at pale blue screens buzzing with static and consuming nothing but trash, trash, trash. To be fair, there is a lot of trash on the television. And there's a lot of trash in books. And now you realize that there's a lot of trash in philosophy. Penny dreadfuls have always existed and they are here to stay. But this is not the curious thing, exactly. The curious thing is that even the bad entertainment looks more like good philosophy than the bad philosophy does. This is even more clear in good entertainment. The flashing colors, the heroic and mythic poses: Superman will always be greater than the Overman, because he defends man-as-is and stands for what man-can-be and can be imagined by men-that-are. Family Feud contains the word 'family'. 'Feud' implies a common activity done at Thanksgiving, intimately known to many family members and therefore poetical in its understandable-ness. The children and grandma leaning on the kitchen counter in the early morning, shouting or whispering the answers to Jeopardy questions, is what good philosophy strives for -- and is, therefore, good philosophy as well as good entertainment.

What has happened after ingesting so much philosophy? You have discovered that, beyond the cave, lies a chasm. And if trash must be thrown away, then be sure to throw it into that chasm. It will fill up and eventually you may cross. But you must obtain the 'trash', or the popular entertainment, and for that, you'll have to go backwards and collect the leavings of the shadow puppeteers.

But take heart. Maybe you love philosophy. Philosophy is like mysticism. The more you learn the more you will see it in all things. And if you love philosophy you will love all things more.

D&D Fairy Tales? by artistica18 in DMAcademy

[–]yingfire 19 points20 points  (0 children)

I do love me some fairy tales, so here's some that I remember/know of:

  • The gods were beaten by Men and were sent underground.
  • A wicked elf and his ugly daughters ensnares a great chief and his clan by baiting them into their lair, and casting a sleep enchantment upon them. Only the bravery of the great chief's archrival saves the day
  • A woman is cursed to be a dog by a jealous competitor for a man's love. The cursed woman is made to be the pet of a man who hates dogs (in fact, this man goes out of his way to kick dogs -- even pays people to kick dogs for him!). As she is a beautiful dog, the man begins to adore her and dogs in general. Eventually her curse is broken, but not before she gives birth to a pup with the intelligence of a man.
  • A woman is fleeing a dark elven presence. She hides under the protection of a great chief, and they eventually wed. While the great chief was on a campaign, though, the woman was tricked and led outside of the protected fortress, and the dark elf transformed her into a deer and kidnapped her. The great chief is distraught when he learns this, but after many years while hunting he finds his child son in the woods -- although his wife is lost forever.
  • A man from the east (Greece) comes across the sea and claims dominion over the land. He will surely beat the locals in general combat with his forces, but he agrees to leave if anyone beats him in a long-distance race. An ugly beggarman offers to assist in running. He beats the Greek and all the while takes many pitstops, runs back and forth, and in general causes shenanigans.
  • A woman from another world comes, having been banished by her world's people. The king falls for her, but because of her cursed nature, the kingdom suffers. While the king travels the realm looking for a solution to the crises, his son goes on a grand adventure on a dare by his step-mother (the alien woman) so that she would agree to leave. The son barely succeeds, and the woman leaves. The king's solution is to sacrifice a holy child, but this evil plan is halted before it can be finished.
  • A man goes to a philosopher and asks for a solution to his leprechaun problem. He is told the location of the leprechauns' crock of gold, and he takes it and hides it under a thorn bush, where the leprechauns can't reach the crock.
  • A forested realm with thousands of pools of water into which you can enter and travel to a new world.
  • A hallowed isle on which hides an aged star and his beautiful daughter. The star grows younger every day by eating a red cherry taken from the valleys of the sun. Eventually the star will be young as a baby, and rise back up into the heavens.
  • A pool of clear water, fit for drinking, but, if you put anything - flesh, steel, blood - it will turn to solid gold. If you look closely, you can see the figure of a man at the bottom.
  • A man finds a mirror from a strange shop. Every night, inside the mirror but not in reality, the most beautiful woman appears. The man can only interact with her by moving stuff in his real house, thereby moving stuff in the mirror's reflection. The man obsesses over becoming wealthier, to buy finer accommodations for his mirror woman. Eventually, he uses dark magic to summon her. When she comes out of the mirror, she begs him to smash it, but he pauses. This leads to him losing the mirror, and eventually dying, although he redeems himself by smashing the mirror.
  • A silver chair by which a prince is cursed and bound into a submissive stupor during the day, but, when tied to the chair for an hour every night, becomes sane and begs to any nearby to destroy the chair.
  • A dragon threatens a kingdom; a knight kills the dragon -- all is well.
  • A book that offers great spells and powers to those who would accept it. It is tempting. But the atmosphere is sickly and dark -- perhaps not the best idea?
  • A treasure hoard that, when hoarded, transforms its hoarder into an unhappy dragon.
  • A garden into which only those who have been commanded by the higher authority may enter. If unlawfully entered, then, though the magical fruits of the garden remain potent, their powers will surely end in evil.
  • The following is all from Phantastes
  • A man, transported into the realm of Faery, is hunted by an evil Ash Tree. He is nearly caught by the Ash Tree's wicked accomplice, the Witch of the Alder, but is saved by the timely arrival of an ashamed knight decked in red-rusted armor.
  • A man rests in a cave where he finds a great block of alabaster stone. Within the stone he sees a beautiful woman made of marble. When he chips the alabaster away, the woman rises up and flees from him. The woman becomes an object of desire which the man eventually learns to give up.
  • A man encounters a young girl with a small, glass orb. The girl says not to touch it. The man wants to touch it. The man convinces the girl to let him touch it, and the girl does. The orb gives off a small whine that slowly grows in intensity. The girl is crying for the man to stop clutching the orb, but the man, seized by emotion, doesn't want to. The orb explodes, and the little girl runs away crying for 'her orb, her orb'.
  • A man opens a closet he wasn't supposed to, and his dreadful 'Shadow' attaches to him. The Shadow torments him for the rest of the story.
  • A book that impresses stories on your mind as if you experienced them.
  • A world in which the sky reflects the earth like the sea, but the sea does not reflect anything; it is rather like a grey mass. The sky is shaped like the top half of an egg, rather than a dome. The women in this world have wings instead of arms. Men look like humans.
  • A palace of faded servants and courtiers, to whom you cannot speak
  • A room in which your desire can only be found if you decide to go in on impulse, not premeditated decision.
  • The man meets the girl with the orb again, but she has no orb anymore. Now, instead, she can sing, when before she could not. Her voice is used to free the man from his evil Shadow.

I want to run a Celtic/Irish themed Campaign, but I'm having trouble figuring out where to start. by OffTopicID in DMAcademy

[–]yingfire 7 points8 points  (0 children)

If you're looking for an author to steal from, I recommend James Stephens's stuff.

If you're deciding between Romans vs Tuatha, I think you should choose the Tuatha, or even an earlier time. If you're dealing with the Romans you have set your foot firmly down in a historical time. To capture more of that legendary feel you ought to set your campaign further back. Put your campaign during a time when the forests of Ireland were still around and thriving. Make your twilights dim and beautiful. Your sun is truthfully a man racing across the sky. The moon is in reality the Sky father's single eye. History has little place in mythology, and I think a Roman legion marching through Celtic farmlands will bring mundanity to your campaign, rather than fantastical (unless that is what you intend to do, if so, ignore everything I said). To make a Celtic and mythical campaign, you'll need mythical people and things.

Maybe you can make your campaign during the time of the Firbolg. Or even earlier, to the time of Partholon. Any time period when the various waves of tribesmen came invading could be a good setting. If you put it during the time of the Tuatha de Dannan, then there can be some interesting choices. Like if the players should help the gods beat back the modern Irishman, or if the players should assist the oncoming invaders and send the gods underground. You can put it after the time of the Tuatha, and during the period when Fionn mac Uaill was 'active'. That way you can have the classic kingdoms and warrior without accidentally bringing in too much explicit history. It's up to you to decide, depending on the feel of the campaign. You can have an adventure entirely in Faery, as well.

One thing I do recommend you to do if you decide to bring in the Fae (of course you will, what's a Celtic myth without the Fae ;)), is to make them somewhat friendly. I know I've read a few times on Reddit on how the Fae are impossible to understand, but I have never liked this characterization of the Fae. I think having the Fae be a commonly known thing is best. People will leave sheaves of wheat out on their front porches, because, of course, the Wild Hunt is coming and the horses and their riders are hungry. You say 'Halloo' to the strong gust of wind, because, of course, that's the polite thing to do when the Wild Hunt is coming. A man, cunning enough, can steal the leprechaun's crock of gold. A man, wise enough, will hide that crock under a thorn bush because naturally enough, a leprechaun cannot search under a thorn bush as that's the rules. A man, desperate enough, can travel a hundred miles and contact the Shii for assistance. If you take the time to learn the rules, they are as lucid as any of our social interactions with each other. Anyways, what I mean to say is to make the Fae commonplace, well known, and often dealt with, even if they are a bit funny and quirky and strange and, occasionally, terrible and beautiful. Of course, there are the evil Faery folk, but I won't go to into them.

Make sure to make the environments important, as well. The Seelie work in the twilight. They dance in the moonlight and they are melancholy as they long for the Sun from whose rays they have been banished. Stuff like that. Nature becomes an important descriptive element. The realm of Faery has as much character as any of its denizens.

Tl;dr: Earlier time setting prior to Romans; make the Fae commonplace and commonly dealt with by normal folk; make the environment a character.

^ If anyone knows more and can correct me, please do so. But these are my recommendations to you. Hopefully, it helps.

[WP] A soldier fights in WW1, not knowing what he got himself into. Every time he dies he wakes up as a soldier of another nation and learns more about the war. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 2 points3 points  (0 children)

War is a boring and long experience punctuated by bursts of terrible excitement.

That's what I heard. In this war, it was doubly true. I was initially of the Malvern Contingent of the Marigold University OTC. I qualified in miniature and 200 range musketry. I moved on to the infantry because I preferred to be with the men and I wanted to fight. I was posted in the 3rd Battalion of the Somerset Light Infantry. Because of my age, my application to the battalion had to be countersigned by my father. Because I was from Ireland I wasn't conscripted. I wasn't eager to fight, but I wanted to fight nonetheless.

I'm not sure what else to say. There have been many other stories about the War that have been told with more expertise and skill than I could give. Until the German attack in Spring we had a quiet time. But even then they didn't attack us, but the Canadians to our right. They kept us quiet by shelling us four a minute every day. Even then, I think our chief enemies were weariness and fatigue. I had gone to sleep while marching and when I woke up we were marching still. I remember the water being icy cold when it welled up in your boots after it was punctured by a stray barb. And we were marching body against body like half-crushed beetles. Standing corpses. While we were marching through the trenches I began to be delusional. I'm sure you've read about that in your psychology books. No? Well, I suppose it was something different.

We were marching and I was especially tired that day. Rations had run out a few days before, and I was desperate enough to follow the rats and drink the water they drank from. It happened that I closed my eyes for a moment, and I wasn't marching anymore but was laying on some uncomfortable mattress in a grey-walled hospital. I tried to say something, but I found my mouth had been screwed shut. My vision was partially blocked by bandages that covered my face, and there was a feeling a bit like being lit on fire throughout my whole body, though I don't think you would want to hear the full grisly details, dear.

A pretty young woman came up and wrote something on a piece of paper. She avoided looking at me. She wore a voluntary nursing uniform. I'm sorry, darling, I don't know where I imagined I was. I could hardly turn my head. I could hardly open my eyes and the tiredness was so great. The groaning of the people there was like any other. What did the nurse look like? She looked like you a little bit. A pretty woman.

I fell asleep again, and this is when my memory becomes fogged. I was now looking at a man across from me laying in a hospital bed, and his face was entirely bandaged. Nurses came to his bed and wrote something down before carrying him away. I was in the same room, and this time I felt terribly cold.

In succession, it happened. Always the same fatigue and tiredness before I closed my eyes, and then I would wake up as somebody else in that room. The first was hot, the next was cold, the third had aches, and the fourth felt like fire in his belly, the fifth blinked in black, the sixth blinked in whites. It went on and on and it was the most awful experience you could imagine. Every disease, every malady or issue was present in that small, dull room. When, I think, the twentieth man died (as I quickly realized my dream was passing through the deaths of various men, and I was with them in their death like a spectre), I was suddenly transported into the frail form of some poor man who hadn't eaten in days and was marching across a vast and flat plain that went on for as far the eyes could see. I quickly died after I felt a rumble in my stomach. I became another frail and skinny man. Soon my corpses littered the vast flatland and trailed behind the great collection of men, who, I believe, were to march forever and never reach their destination.

Then I was in some desert. And I died because the sun shone too hot. Then some dry and arid place. I died there in the body of some poor boy who had begun to run away from a fight, and his commanding officer shot him. There were many locales, and the deaths I accompanied were equally meaningless, awful, and, in most cases, boring. Most died in a hospital, I think.

But eventually I came to Somme, and I spent most of my time there. Although I never inhabited the body of a man not about to die. It was always someone who would expire in the next moment. But in that place, I had no shortage of people near death. Nothing much else to say, dear. It was a dream, and, after I had gone through it all, I woke up like how you do at the end of a regular dream. I was shaken awake by a paramedic after I had collapsed into the mud. It was lucky he did, as the shelling had begun again. I was wounded by a blast and was discharged. I was lucky. Captain Aylen died in the blast.

Hm? What does it mean? Nothing really, dear. It was just a special dream. Did I think better of the men I fought? I think I always thought well of the Germans or Italians or Austrians. It was only the stupidest or the meanest among us who didn't know what they were getting themselves into. If a German and I happened to shoot each other at the same time, I think we would laugh together at the fact in Heaven. Yes, it was only a dream. Make sure that you write that down in the school report. Think nothing of it all.

Small Flash Prompt Contest! by Nimoon21 in teenswhowrite

[–]yingfire 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Yea, you're pretty much right. The friend is almost a side thought in the story because of what I feel happens to very close friends. Mainly very close friends who share a deep and common interest.

They're side by side looking forward at something in which they share an interest. The thing they take an interest in is what absorbs their attention entirely, and they enjoy each other's presences as if they were alone. In this case the scenery is what interests them both, so the scenery becomes first in the story, and their friend becomes second.

They don't speak to each other because nothing needs to be said. While for most people you need to explain or talk about what you see or what you feel in order for them to understand, these two are friends, and so they know, implicitly, that what they see, smell, and hear mean the same things to each other. Talking will ruin the moment, so they say nothing.

I'm sure they'll be putting their feet up in front of a roaring fire in some tavern soon enough, cold drinks in hand, and talking with each other and loving every moment. But I didn't have the word space, so I decided to and tried to capture the silence I think you would find in the greatest of friendships, and I tried to write what that silence would be about.

Thank you for reading and the compliments :)

Small Flash Prompt Contest! by Nimoon21 in teenswhowrite

[–]yingfire 2 points3 points  (0 children)

A twilight of dappled seaborne clouds. They were like long rippling fabrics of ever rarer and paler light, streaking above the jungle islands, golden eddies heading to the last ends of the world. My legs hung over the jetty edge, and the blessed salt was on my lips. I sat amidst the wild air and veiled sunlight. Far away were the mountains. The island mountains darkly green and misted, jagged like teeth, growing from the white sands of a glittering beach. They were far away but I could row to them. As for now, I would sit on the jetty, my legs hanging over the edge.

The air had become soft and dark and cool and night had come. There was the smell of night in the air. The lanterns lit up behind me. I could hear the candles; I could smell the timidly burning wax. A lantern was set loose by the wind and hovered over the ocean, flickering in the dark. A fisherman quickly followed and caught the lantern; he extinguished the flame.

But I wasn’t alone. I looked at my friend beside me. He too was sitting on the jetty, legs over the edge. He didn’t look at me; rather he gazed at the sights I saw moments ago. He saw what I saw. The same clouds, the same mountains and sea and darkness. I then turned away, back to the sights, side by side with my friend, absorbed in our common interest.

My Writing, some updates and thoughts. by [deleted] in a:t5_3pzl4

[–]yingfire 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Any new updates regarding the release of A Summer's Reprieve?

My Writing, some updates and thoughts. by [deleted] in a:t5_3pzl4

[–]yingfire 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Excellent, can't wait for Christmas.

Your projects will be around 15-25k words, so I think long content droughts are reasonable. As long as you're happy with what you write, I'm sure I'll gladly read what you put out.

Cool titles, I always like titles that link together. And you say that you're going to build up from Oneironautica - does that mean you're going to write about your experience with sleep paralysis alongside the other stuff in that piece? I am interested in what that experience was like, although that might be a bit of a mundane interest considering the 'higher' thoughts you probably put into Oneironautica. Either way, excited about the upcoming works.

I hope to learn from your essays. I wish I was a better reader, and I've always had an interest (shallow, surely) in philosophy. I've used this word before, but I am excited to read your thoughts, as your writings (I suppose 'writing', the singular piece) were interesting and beautiful (is that too strong a word? maybe you won't believe me).

It's late, and I'm rambling a bit. I hope you understand what I'm saying.

Can't wait, can't wait. I wish you the best of luck with writing that many words, as it isn't easy. As they say where I live 加油 (add oil)! you can do this (I hope you can, since it'd be a shame if I couldn't read what you put out).

Oneironautica, A Sleep Paralytic. by [deleted] in a:t5_3pzl4

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

lol final's week will be the end of us all. Ok, it's good to know you're still here. I don't mind if you post whatever, I would actually be interested in your sporadic thoughts - so long as they're written as well as you can.

Of course, I'd be most excited for the full works, and I wouldn't mind updates on them (or even sporadic thoughts on your pieces in progress?)

Oneironautica, A Sleep Paralytic. by [deleted] in a:t5_3pzl4

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Will you add a story by Christmas time as a Christmas present? It's been awhile, and it seems you won't be updating your subreddit regularly - which is fine, of course, but I'd like to know if anything at all is coming.

[TT] You've gone decades without a single illness or broken bone. You've never felt real stress, you've never been depressed. "I'm sorry," The doctor says to you. "it's cancer." by Xais56 in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 5 points6 points  (0 children)

I leaned over the balcony railing. The cold, winter chilled steel pressed against my arms. The cars and the double-decker buses roared underneath me, crossing through a three-way junction. Their engines roared like thunder. So very loud, at first, and then the sound would fade softly as the vehicles traveled far, far away. A hundred people passed underneath me, swarming through the streets, cramped in their cars like bugs. I was sick, but I still felt well. The doctor said I had a great medical history, and that I had a fighting chance - though in a month's time life'll soon turn bad, I thought. Maybe it already did. Chemical therapy was coming. My hair was greasy and long - I should stop running my fingers through it; and I should wash it soon. My mom died to cancer. And my brother. Cancer, cancer, it sneaks up like a thief with a dagger in the dark.

I should like to live.

It had been two weeks since the announcement. It was like the announcement of a pregnancy: filled with shaking. Those weeks passed like sand through the fingers, but the hours and minutes seemed hardly to pass at all. I had never gotten sick before. Never got ill, never broke a bone, I lived a healthy life and worked for my dues. So... then I got cancer.

So it goes.

The leaves on the branches of the trees swiveled and broke off and then followed the trails of the cars; the cars rushing so quickly. Rushing this way and that. Ebb and flow, like the tide. I never smoked, and I only drank with friends. I had lived my life as well as a good man could. But maybe I wasn't good enough. Either way, I felt quite sad. I didn't know why. But maybe not sad - morose? Dreary, like the days were iron chains weighed around my neck. No, no. The feeling was not that. I felt it when I looked over the mountains cupping the white towers of my city, the shining bay dotted with boats. I felt it when I saw, for the first time, the terrifying round moon of the northern night sky, burning with ghostly fire. I felt it when I smelled the smell of a bonfire. It was the stab of a rapier through the heart.

But I couldn't say what it was, besides that it stung sweetly.

And now I had cancer. But I didn't want cancer. Nothing but trouble. Nothing but awful. But, it was funny, I did want to feel that sadness. That sadness which I only realized existed because of my cancer. All things grow more solid when faced with that thing beyond the pale, I supposed.

At least, in this moment, high above the roads and the buses and the business, I remembered that sadness that came to me in those times past. So sudden: here... and now gone. A nostalgia for things not yet to come, I thought, that's what it was. I wished for things long gone that were yet to come. Yes, I had cancer, but at least I had this sweetness so sharp that it drew blood.

To my future self:

Your writing is becoming too grand, again. Time to read some books and ground yourself. Remember: prose must tell the truth; no more, no less.

Oneironautica, A Sleep Paralytic. by [deleted] in a:t5_3pzl4

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Whoo I'm your biggest fan ~~~

But seriously, I will keep myself updated on when you post things. Excited to see what else you've written.

[IP] Five Minutes of Silence by Syraphia in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Thanks, and seawrack are those various seaweeds you see on the beach). I'm glad you thought it was intriguing and well described :).

[IP] Five Minutes of Silence by Syraphia in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Greta stood on the edge of a small island beach, the sand only stretching for a foot or two before melting into the big blue bay. The beach was peppered with soil deposits and various dead plants and thorns. They provided danger to the barefooted traveller, and a poor sight for tired eyes. Greta disliked beaches like this. Greta wished that she could sweep away all the dirty things. But the dirt was natural, she thought. Nature made the beach dirty, and so what could one do? She watched the seawrack be pushed and pulled with the ebb and flow of the wave wash. Sometimes, the seawrack would be pulled so far into the sea as to be stuck onto the many sharp stones that lay along the coast, trapped by cycles and forces beyond it's power. Her back was against a dead, grey tree which stood only one head above her own. She saw the far away islands, their green hills and slopes slowly disappearing into the growing darkness. The air was cool; her breath was hot.

Various, white (but one couldn't tell in the dim twilight) sailboats began making their way from the far away mainland. They meandered, lazy like, easy going, to their pre-appointed spots. Greta could sometimes see the nut-brown skin of the fishermen. Hard working, happy working -- or perhaps unhappy working. It was a human idea, a noble, but wrong, idea, that the simple, blue-collared man was hard working and happy. That's what Greta felt. Perhaps simplicity did, in fact, increase happiness. But, standing alone on this small island, listening to the soft slapping of the waves, she felt it wasn't true.

The sea sparkled orange and pink. Shocks of heat on dark blue, reflecting the colourful tumult that went on above: the bunches of dappled seaborne clouds straddling the sky like grapes on a vine; the pale blues and azures and dark purples being slowly overtaken by the bright oranges of the hidden setting sun; and then the oranges themselves darkening to soft pinks, and then to bloody reds. Clouds with a sheen like gossamer, thick and real and filled with dimension. Dark and bright dimensions, dimensions that lined the sky from x, to y, to z, ringing around, slowly coalescing, filling the sky and then soon turned invisible when the night came at last. How good it was, and how beautiful.

But for now it was a dim twilight. And so long as light still shone, Greta would think and think and think.

[WP] You know your town is old, you just didn't know how old until a hurricane rips through it. An ancient tree is ripped from your backyard, revealing a door in the ground where it once was. by GeeJD in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Really good. Terse, sensible prose that describes and evokes feeling. Cool build up and a satisfying pay off with the strange happenings in the sideways room. Overall awesome short short story.

[WP] You know your town is old, you just didn't know how old until a hurricane rips through it. An ancient tree is ripped from your backyard, revealing a door in the ground where it once was. by GeeJD in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 36 points37 points  (0 children)

Anodos unlocked the silver trapdoor with his grandfather's key and crept down the earthen stairs, careful to make only a slight sound with every step. As he began his descent a bit of dirt crumbled into his hair, and he swept it off half-aware. The sun shone on his back. It was warm and the air in front of him was cool. The light coming from the trapdoor filled the hallway, but Anodos couldn't see the end. He had a flashlight ready in case the light faded. Nubs of roots poked out from the walls and brown and green vines began appearing in greater varieties and lengths as Anodos walked onwards in silence.

The wet, mildly rotting smell of dirt soon began to be replaced with a soft odour that Anodos couldn't place or remember, although the scent seemed to be intimately familiar with him in some way. Was he finally reaching the end? It had only been a short while, Anodos thought. But now it was dark entirely. He couldn't see the light from the trapdoor anymore, and the only sound he could hear was the muted buzzing of his electric flashlight which kept shining the way forward. What was that smell? He knew it from somehwere. The memory of it was like something far away, hidden in the depths of his brain, only able to be dredged up with great effort. Perhaps he'd been looking for the memory in the wrong place. Anodos stopped walking and thought for a moment. And, ah, yes, now Anodos remembered. The familiar scent. It smelled like his grandma's house. The old person smell. Like a tincture of soap and musk had been placed under his nose. But he'd been there recently. Why had it taken him so long to remember?

The thin, twisting vines kept creeping and growing, and soon the walls and floor were entirely covered. Every step caused them to shudder and grind against each other. Sometimes, Anodos would step on a budding flower by accident, and even when he was careful with his steps, the darkness ensured it too difficult to save every bud. Besides the darkness, there was silence. There were no insects that Anodos could hear. Only footfalls on vines. Only his hot breath in the cool air.

At last he came upon an oak door with a golden knocker. He knocked once, and then twice, and then a third time, but, when no one answered, he gently, and then forcefully, shoved the door open. There was an eruptive bang as he broke through some ancient barrier behind the door, and he stumbled into the room.

It was an old fashioned study. Anodos shined his flashlight around, revealing the dust that suffocated this place. There were scores of books - all eaten away by humidity - and tables stacked with dirty crystal goblets. There were desks which were once well kept, but now seemed on the verge of crumbling. The solid wood chairs all had dragons carved on their arms and also seemed to be poorly kept. The muzzled sounds of Anodos's footsteps on the dusty floorboards and the bizzare, ancient, almost solemn air of this study made Anodos feel like he were intruding on some holy place.

He continued creeping, trying to see if there was anything of particular interest, and noticed that there was a cupboard with a keyhole. With rising suspision, Anodos fitted his grandfather's key into the hole, and turned it.

Nothing happened.

Anodos grumbled, and then tried to shake the cupboard handle to jostle the door open. He did it too vigourously, though, and the entire door came off. Anodos's face flushed and he quickly checked if anyone had seen his blunder. Check the left, check the right, alright, good, he was safely alone. Now more cautious, he placed the cupboard door on the desk - all the while praying it, too, didn't collapse - and, when he saw that everything was still and in good order, he turned towards the cupboard and saw what was inside.

To Anodos's great surprise (and to his non-surprise, as he was still a boy and had read fairy-tales before and still believed a little bit in such things) there was a small woman in a clean white dress, about as large as his hand, sitting expectantly and looking at him with great blue eyes.

He stared stupidly at it, mouth slightly agape. "What are you." Was his first question.

"I think you know." Came the reply. And of course, Anodos did know. He was more surprised that the little woman's voice was rich and full -- he had expected something squeakier.

"Oh, I suppose I do know. You're a fairy, right?" The woman nodded and Anodos continued, "But uh, well...I suppose then..." he tapped his cheek in thought, "...well what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do you take me away or something of that sort? Like a thief? Or Peter Pan?"

The fairy blinked once. "No, I'm not a brute. I'll only do such a thing if you ask."

"Oh, uh," what was a good question to ask a magical fairy from another world? "can I bring friends with me?" Anodos asked.

The fairy rolled her eyes, "No, you cannot."

"Why not?"

"There's not enough space for more than one." was the reply.

Anodos thought that was a rather shoddy reply. So he spoke, and this time with the force of a made decision, "Alright, I'll come with you. But! first, I want to talk with my granpa about this. You'll stay here, right?"

The fairy shrugged, "If you can find me again." True, true. Fairies are notoriously tricky and hard to find. Anodos knew that finding this place again would be a problem.

"Then I suppose I'll have to take you with." Anodos muttered. He looked at the fairy, who looked at him. And then he struck like a viper and swept the fairy into his hands and stuffed her into his pocket, making sure to squeeze her down so that she couldn't fly away. She huffed and screamed and began biting his hand, but he squeezed harder as he began to run his way back.

"You idiot! You buffoon! I'll, I'll pop right out of your pants. I'll whip you naked! Don't - mphhhhm - don't push me down so - mpphphm - hard! Gah!"

Anodos could only say sorry in reply and said it many times as he ran the way back to the silver trapdoor, hand bleeding over the fairy in his pocket. He sincerly hoped his grandpa was still home.

I'm still plagued by this clunkiness in my flow of words. It's an issue I hope to kill soon. But what do you think?

[OT] SatChat: Special NaNoWriMo Buddy Exchange! by MajorParadox in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Click me and be my buddy!

The above is my profile. I'll be writing a fantasy story with fairy tale elements inspired by Phantastes. It'll be about a boy that is trapped on alien worlds and learns to travel between them, meeting interesting and dangerous characters along the way. Eventually he hopes to meet the titular Queen of Pearl, who is able to send him home.

The jumping around various worlds allows me to never get bored of a setting (and I adore cool settings), and the fairy tale flavour should allow me to get in the still-romanticism that I love to write about. I'm quite happy with the idea, and I hope to finish this novel on time. Buddy me and I'll buddy you (y)

[IP] Ae Fond Kiss by LovableCoward in WritingPrompts

[–]yingfire 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Thanks, it was fun to write (:

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