- This topic has 39 replies, 5 voices, and was last updated 1 year, 1 month ago by
.
-
Posts
-
Hi, I decided to do the Inktober challenge, but I didn’t want to clog up that forum with writing snippets. I’ll post my snippets on here so others can read them. I’m not looking for hard critique or things like that, but I wanted to share Inktober snippets for people to read and this seemed to be the place to do that…. if not, oh well. Just point me in the right direction.
Prompt 1: Dreams
William raised his white flag and vowed to always remember. His eyes spilled tears as his people were slaughtered in the name of Empire. The screams of his people rang across the hills and moaned down into the hollows. The ground gave no rest for the slain. All around fire licked away at his dreams and consumed his family’s heritage.
William stumbled through the smoke as he was prodded by the steel of the enemy. The whole earth was covered in bloodshed. It was the blood of his family, his brothers, and father. The earth opened its mouth for his mother’s body. Each village and home was filled with weeping, but their enemies gave no mercy. His own arm dripped with crimson.
But still he carried his flag.
He watched through hollow eyes as the men and boys were gathered in groups. The soldiers prodded them into the forest away from the witnessing eye. The trees hid the murderous scene below, but the autumn leaves dripped red.
A sob rose in William’s throat as his friend was pushed into the next company. Their eyes locked, and then he was gone. He crumpled to his knees and begged for the nightmare to end, but he was yanked to his feet instead. He was shoved into a crowd and he stumbled and dashed his knee against a rock. He cried out in pain as the flag slipped from his fingers. The soldier behind him snatched the pole up and cracked it against William’s head.
“Stop!” A shout rose over the din. A commander pushed through the crowd and snatched the flag from his soldier. “What are you doing?!”
“He- he’s-” The man stammered,
“A boy!” The veins on the commander’s neck bulged and he in turn whacked his soldier. “I will not have my men be murderers and persecutors of children!”
“But Sir- all the dangerous-”
The commander stooped and cradled William’s crumpled form. “Does this child look dangerous to you? Is he a threat to the Crown?”
“N-no-”
“Then how do you excuse your heinous action?”
The soldier fell silent, his cheeks red.
William stirred and his blood-stained face winced in pain. The sound of tearing filled his ears and a moment later his eyes focused to see the commander bent over him, wiping his face with a corner of the flag. His eyes were mirrors of anger and grief.
“What is your name, child?” He whispered as he tore more shreds from the flag. He gently cupped William’s arm and began to bind the bleeding gash.
“William.” He croaked.
“How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“Is anyone from your family still alive?”
William shook his head. He winced in pain and closed his eyes until the nausea passed. “They were all murdered- even my sisters- my brothers were all that were left.” He coughed as smoke filled his nostrils. He pictured the ruined field behind him. “They fell this morning.”
The commander gave him a sympathetic smile and rose, bearing him in his arms. William drifted into unconsciousness as he was carried through the field of carnage to safety.
Here you go!
Prompt 2: Spiders
William blinked in the dim candlelight that spilled across the chamber. A pungent mix of smells filled his nostrils and he found the source of it in an arrangement of medicinal bottles beside his bed. He froze. He no longer had a bed or home. It had all burned.
Dread creeped up his spine and he staggered to his feet. The floor beneath him rocked and he buckled to knees. A hand grabbed him from behind and he shrieked.
“William!” A male’s deep voice called his name. He thrashed against the man’s arms, but found he was tangled even more. He broke free and crashed against the bed frame, sending a shockwave of pain up his right arm. He crumpled into the man’s arms and gasped for breath. “William!” The voice was foreign and he broke down in sobs.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” He choked out, blinded by his own tears.
“Child, look at me. It is alright. I promise I won’t hurt you.” The man’s voice soothed as strong arms cradled his bent frame. The arms held him firmly, but gently. He recognized the gentleness.
“Where am I?” He whispered as he stared at the hard grains on the floor. He was lifted and his body was shifted so they could look straight in the face. It was the commander. A jolt of fear hit him and he panicked. He struggled to break free as the man stood and carried him back to the bed.
“William, please, listen to me. Calm down, child, no one is going to hurt you.”
“Where am I??” His voice rose in volume as he was dumped onto the blankets. He reeled, but the commander steadied him.
“William,” The commander began gently, “you have been staying with me the past two days. You are not well, and I wanted you to be cared for properly, so I decided to take you with me.”
“You mean I’m not-”
“No. It’s all gone. There is nothing left of the village.”
Something inside William snapped. He sunk into the blankets, stunned. “Nothing?”
“There is nothing.”
William stared until his eyes hurt as the words penetrated into his soul. “Were there any survivors?” He murmured.
The commander gave a nod, “Not all of them have left-” he hesitated, “but don’t expect to find- to find your family. It has been confirmed that all of the men are dead, and there are few women who are old enough to be your mother.”
William stood shakily as the commander offered his arm. “I- I can at least try.”
“I am truly sorry for your loss. War is a hard beast and many have been caught in its jaws.” (or “War is a hard beast and does not respect the innocent.”)
William nodded absently and allowed himself to be led down a corridor and out beneath the cold, roiling sky. He waited obediently as the commander left him to arrange an escort. He seated himself on a stone bench and his eyes wandered over a spider’s web cleverly crafted in the bows of a bush.
His spirit was too broken to cry.
Prompt 3: Path
William stumbled down the ruined path that threaded through his village. Desolation greeted him at every turn. Not a single house had been spared. The homes of his friends were now ghosts of charred stone and timber. The people were equally ravaged. Each face was lifeless, their eyes dim without mirth.
He staggered through the sparse crowd and called the names of his siblings. His voice was only a whisper and the ghosts gave no reply. Each survivor tended to their own ash heap in search of hope, but the salvageable items amidst the wreckage were few.
William’s breathing quickened as he came in sight of his own home. It was nothing more than a shell of stone, charred beams, and broken glass. He sank against its blackened threshold and bowed his head. He cupped the grey flakes. A tear splashed and a small plume of soot swirled in his hands. A whimper grew inside him until it became a wailing sob as the ash slid through his fingers. He doubled over in agony and pounded his fist against the charred remains of his childhood.
Tears mingled with the grey dust until an ashen paste coated his skin. He stood and staggered inside but no longer recognized his home. His fingers slid through the ruin and pulled out a shard of blue pottery. Faint swirls and flowers were embedded in the piece. It had belonged to his mother. William clutched it to the point where his palm bled. His tears blinded him as he stood in the remnants of his heritage.
Sobs shook him until he couldn’t breathe. He closed his tear-filled eyes and curled himself up in the dead embers. His sobs grew into desperate coughs yet he no longer cared. The pain of his loss engulfed him and sucked him into its chokehold.
His family was gone.
Splinters webbed across his soul and the weight of loss pounded him against the blackened stone. He stared up at the sky as the clouds began to break. The clear blueness mocked him. William turned his face away and fingered the broken pottery. Its beauty was darkened by the heat of the flames and it glistened with blood and ash.
Awww, I really like this! It’s so sad though. What setting is it in? Like time period, fantasy world, real world, etc.
I rolled the log over and underneath was a tiny little stick and I was like, "That log had a child
It’s set in the late 1700s to early 1800s. The microstate is fictional, but there will probably be events in the story that are real. It’s set in Europe. There are lots of stories of small clans, microstates, and mini nations that were conquered by larger clans and nations. That’s how a lot of Great Britain came together. I’m pulling from those stories, but the name of the place and the family is fictional.
Prompt 4: Dodge
William craned his neck out of the window to watch the towers and spires of London creep by. The architecture filled him with awe and momentarily chased away the panic of his situation. He was in the heart of the British Empire. The clamor and people around him were the machine that drove armies- armies to his home. He watched in fascination as crowds flowed around the buildings and through the streets, each person going about their own business. He had never seen so many souls. A newspaper boy dodged in front of the carriage and dipped his cap in apology before scuttling off with an armload of prints.
As London paraded by he mulled over his situation. The commander had insisted that because of William’s state of orphanhood, he should come under his care. He explained that his wife had died and left him with no sons, and William would be an added blessing to his household. Deep inside he doubted it, but he knew there was nowhere else to go. His family was gone and no one else would want him. He had reluctantly agreed to the deal, ignoring the inner urge for caution.
“What do you think?” The commander smiled stiffly as William pulled his head back in.
“I never knew the world was so massive.” He whispered, eyes round.
The commander chuckled and rubbed the edge of his greying hair. “Do you like it?”
William glanced out the window thoughtfully. “The excitement is nice, but there is no quiet. There is no… silence.”
The commander shifted and gazed across the buildings. “True, but here, boy, there is power.”
William shuddered. The carriage rattled down a street lined with mansions and William gaped. “What are those?”
The horses stopped before a whitewashed residence. “This is your new home.”
William slipped up the steps behind the commander as a stone settled inside his chest. He was ragged and dirty, and stepping in such a magnificent place was surely a sin. He rubbed his fingers anxiously as a maid opened the door. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of him but she pursed her lips and ushered them in. The commander laughed as a tall slender figure darted down the staircase and flung her arms around him. He squeezed her tightly and released her. She beamed up at him, but her eyes drifted to William in confusion.
“Papa?”
The commander gently pushed William forward towards the girl. “Marie, meet your new brother.”
Prompt 5: Map
Marie stepped back a pace, stunned.
“Did my message not arrive?” The commander frowned.
“No Papa.” She breathed, her eyes locked on William. She hesitantly stepped towards him and after a long pause, hugged him. He stood, rigid and unprepared for her embrace. She drew back for a moment and attempted a smile. Marie was slender, with pale skin and rich chestnut hair. She pulled a wavy strand from her face and smiled expectantly.
“What is your name?”
“William.” He whispered, staring at anything but her.
“Well,” She laughed nervously, “what do you think? H- having a sister?”
William tried to mask his grimace but the emotion inside choked him. He blinked and tried to breathe past the knot in his neck. “I think- I think-” His panicked eyes met the commander’s. “We- can be siblings.” His fist clenched as he held back his tears.
The commander laid a hand on William’s shoulder and squeezed too hard for comfort. “Marie, we can explain the situation later, but I believe it would be best for William to get settled down a bit and to get clean.”
Marie nodded and her fingers twisted in knots. She dipped her head at William. “I’ll see you later…. brother.” She disappeared quickly down a corridor and the room filled with silence.
The commander prodded William up the staircase and to the left corridor. He cupped his hands and shouted, “Irene!”
“Coming right quickly, Sir!” A voice with a slight Irish accent rang out. She rounded the hall and stopped before the pair, beaming. She was a comfortable lady perhaps in her fifties with a white apron tied around her dress. Her dark hair speckled with wisps of grey was tucked underneath a cap and her blue eyes greeted William in welcome. “Well now, young sir where did you come from?”
“Nelindar.” He whispered tremulously.
“And what happened here?” Irene cupped his right arm and peered at the long wrappings.
“I hurt myself.”
Her eyebrows raised and she looked at the commander. “Well now, what all is going on?”
The commander sighed, “I found him… after one of the battles. No one is left from his family, and I knew he would be safe here. I mean to keep him.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes and Irene covered her mouth in her hands. “Oh, Sir-” She trembled and her eyes grew moist. “do you really mean it?”
“Yes and we need to get him situated as quickly as possible.” A dark shadow crossed his face. “It has been a hard week and William needs to rest.”
Irene bobbed her head and was soon off. The hall quickly became a flurry of motion as Irene called for maids and barked out rapid orders. William stumbled dizzily after her as she led him to get a bath. As he passed by a door he snatched a glimpse of an ornate map that dominated the wall of an open room. Scrawled in bold were the words ‘Mediterranean’ but before he could see anything else he was pressed on.
@hybridlore
Here is the snippet series if you want to read it. I’m a few snippets late in updating it because my sibling who doubles as a proof-reader/editor was procrastinating.This is a really cool idea! I like how you’re telling a story while still using all the prompts in order. Great job so far!
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
Thanks! It’s been a good mental break from my more permanent WIP. In many places I’ve hit writer’s block or points where I completely lack motivation and brain energy. Writing the House of Nelindar has helped with that.
Prompt 6: Golden
Soft rain plinked against the windows as William curled deeper into the blanket around him. He had received a hot bath and now found himself buried in an oversized shirt and breeches. It was the smallest pair that had been found, but he still felt quite odd in his new articles of clothing.
A soft knock echoed from the oaken door and Irene stepped inside the darkened sunroom with a smile, bearing a tray of hot tea and steaming barmbrack bread.
“Hello luv.” She set the tray down on a table and busied herself with the tea. The aroma of the bread filled William’s nostrils and he gave a small sigh. Irene gently served his cup of tea and sat down beside him. He drank it gratefully and relished the added treat. When he finished his cup he stared down in it and watched a grain of tea swing back and forth in the depths of the polished china.
“Now,” Irene pulled some fresh wrappings from the deep recesses of her pockets. “let us have a look at your arm, William.” He reluctantly let her undo the bindings. The deep gash no longer bled freely, but angry red ringed the stitches that crossed his arm. Irene paused as a gasp escaped her lips. “Oh child,”
William bit his lip and his left fist clenched the blanket he had pushed aside. “I’m alright.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and she unplugged a bottle beside her. She dabbed the liquid inside the wound and pain shot up his limb. William hissed and clamped down on his tongue. He grimaced as he tasted blood.
“Tell me what happened, William. This wasn’t just caused by an accident…” Her voice died and she blinked away fresh tears.
A lump welled in his throat and he tried several times to speak, but it was fruitless. Instead he watched silently as she cleaned his arm. His knuckles grew white as he tried to ignore the pain. Soon fresh wrappings fit snuggly around his arm and he expected her to rise and leave but she stayed. Irene closed him in an embrace and held him as tears slid down his face.
“You are so brave, William.” She murmured and stroked his hair. He shook his head and choked down the cry building inside him.
“I’m not.” He buried his face in her comforting shoulder.
“But you will be.” She whispered back. A golden warmth tingled inside his blood as she held him close. Her motherly love touched the fractured hole where his own mother had been and it was both painful and healing. She kissed his forehead and he let out a shuddering, weary sigh.
Prompt 7: Drip
William began to refer to London as ‘The Land of Constant Dripping’. It had rained the night of his arrival, it had poured the next day when Irene and the commander took him clothes shopping, and now as he looked out the windows of his new room the city was bathed in drizzling fog.
Marie slipped in beside him and William gestured at the mess. “How do you not get bogged down by this?”
“It isn’t always rainy,” She shrugged, “and when it is I drink more tea.”
“It isn’t a soft, nice rain.” murmured William, “You can’t go playing in it. The water isn’t clean.”
Marie smiled, “This isn’t the country, Will.”
A humph escaped his lips and he leaned against the window pane. Likewise she followed him, her elbows resting gently. “Tell me about Nelindar. What was it like? Did you have many siblings? Why is Papa so evasive when I ask him about the war?”
A single drop slid down the glass and William fixed his eyes on it as the memories played in his mind.
Andre bent before him, his eyes searching William’s face. “No matter what happens today, Will, don’t ever let the enemy find out who you really are. Don’t let them know that you are a Graeson.”
William glanced as his other two brothers gathered the men. He nodded and swung his legs on the edge of the stump. “I won’t let them know.” He whispered. Furrowing his brow he added, “But what is going to happen to us?”
Andre’s fist clenched but he released it slowly. “I don’t know, Will. I honestly do not know.” He smoothed back his little brother’s hair and gently hugged him. “But whatever happens, don’t forget us.” Andre turned away and slung his gun across his shoulder.
“Andre!” William scrambled off of the stump and ran after him. His brother turned and firmly pushed William away.
“Go, Will. Get out of here.” Andre’s voice broke and the gun slid down his arm. He cupped William’s face and pleaded. “Hide, and don’t come back for us. You need to leave.”
“Andre-” William buried his face in his brother’s shoulder. “But what if I can’t find you again?”
Andre smiled and wiped a tear from his face. “We’ll find each other again-” he whispered, “someday.”
The memory faded and William pressed his fingers against the window pane as the ache clawed deeper into his chest. Andre was gone. His favorite brother and closest friend would never come back. He was dead.
His fingers closed into a fist and he leaned his head against the cold glass. Its chill sank into him and his knotted shoulders relaxed.
“Will you believe me if I tell you the truth?” His whisper was soft and hesitant.
Marie gently squeezed his hand. “How can we be close friends without the truth?”
A puddle of fog laced the window as he sighed. The heaviness remained but a soft ember of assurance and trust brushed against the horrors he concealed inside him.
To the world and to Marie he had been orphaned by the war, but inside his identity remained. He was William Henry Graeson, the youngest son of Lord Harold Graeson, Pendragon of Nelindar. He buried his name deep but with the wavering hope of it one day being resurrected.
So he told her the truth while leaving his deepest secret behind. He was simply William and she was Marie. No titles of nobility stood between them as they watched the rain together. Pressing his hands against the window he began with what he loved most and passion filled his eyes.
“Nelindar was home.”
Prompt 8: Toad
Water still dripped from the boughs of the trees but even the wetness of the earth could not contain William indoors. He embraced it. The yellowed leaves of autumn skipped across the pavement and the last wavering blades on the ash tree swirled and spun, longing to be free. William clasped a handful of the delicate seeds and tossed them into the wind. They spun as the air current cast them into the sky and then they gently spiraled to the puddles below.
A smile tugged across William’s cold cheeks and he bent down to pluck a pair of twin seeds floating in a miniature lake. The reflection of a trapped boy shimmered in the water, but when he touched the face with his fingers, the mirage vanished.
Recalling his father’s words from several month’s past, William bent towards the broken reflection and studied it. “I really do look like Andre.” Ripples dispersed as his breath disturbed the water. He held it, and the mirror returned. His light brown hair framed his face in much the same way as his older brother’s. He and Andre had the same green eyes, but his face was like his mother’s. He smiled hesitantly, and even that confirmed his hereditary roots. No matter what the commander would make of him, he still had the attributes of his family. A genuine smile slipped through the throbbing ache in his heart and reflected in the boy below him.
Impulsively, he leapt up from the cobblestone and wandered through the naked brush that autumn had left in its wake. Each twig and swelling rose hip became a subject of his scrutiny and fancy.
He found a massive wet leaf draped over a stone bench and washed the grime away in a puddle. He punctured the opposite end of the leaf with its stem and filled it with acorns. His basket failed and as the nuts spilled to the ground William heard the deep, familiar croak of a toad. He espied the grubby creature and pounced upon it. Satisfied with his capture, he retraced his steps and wandered through the door of the back kitchen.
“Auntie Irene!” William called as her head raised to find him. “Look!” The toad wriggled through his fingers and croaked as she and the cook turned to gape.
William lost his grip and the creature leapt on the counter and landed in a fresh batch of flattened dough.
“William!” Irene shrieked, “Get it out, get it out!” She raised a ladle and smacked it down where the offensive creature had perched a moment before. The toad sprang across the table but William caught it and shut his fingers fast.
Wide eyed, his gaze flickered between the housekeeper and cook. Their shocked faces told him he had done a grave thing. A strange noise escaped Irene’s lips and she doubled over, hiding her face in her apron. William’s heart skipped a beat, but then he realized she was laughing.
“Oh child,” She moaned between fits of laughter, “whatever on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”
William shuffled his feet and gestured with his cupped hands. “I- I meant no harm.” Color filled his cheeks and he dared not breathe as the cook’s heavy stare held him fast. He edged backwards to the adjacent door and dashed the last few steps. He blindly ran past the hedge and slammed into a body. William stumbled backwards and clamped his hands tighter as his eyes met those of the commander. The man raised his grey eyebrows in amused surprise.
“What is in your hands, William?”
“A- a toad.”
“Was it shrieking I just heard from the kitchen?”
“Indeed, Sir, it was. I am terribly sorry. It won’t happen again.” William hastily dumped the unsavory toad in the grass and wiped his hands on his trousers before realizing that too, was improper. The commander patted him on the head before resuming his interrupted walk.
“Just remember, William,” he called, “out-of-door pets stay out-of-doors.”
“Yes, Sir.”
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.