Writing Challenge

[DarkWarrioress]

Guess what? It's Wednesday again.
Here you go people, have at it.
I am looking forward to reading what you all have written.
Enjoy!





​

 

[DarkWarrioress]

​

She felt the Calling and had come to answer it. She walked among the Stones, touching them reverently. Each time her fingertips touched stone she heard a whisper. She couldn’t hear distinct words, just… a hushed sort of whisper.

“Voices of the Past,” she whispered.

Looking around she moved to the center and found a place to sit. Then she laid down and closed her eyes. Her world shifted. She saw the Circle of Stones as they once were. There were others there as well, each dressed in robes. They were holding hands in a large circle around her, chanting. The chanting lifted the airs on her body. The chanting got louder. There was a hum. It, too, got louder, to the point it almost hurt her ears. She thought she was floating in the air. Somehow lifted by those chanting below. Their chanting filled her. The sun shone down on her body and warmed her skin. There was a gentle breeze that blew over her. The humming started some sort of vibrations within her. It flowed throughout and touched her soul in a way she had no explanation for. She just remembered floating higher and higher then her soul seemed to splinter into the Universe.

When her eyes opened, all was as before. The silence was golden. The peace in her soul was undeniable. She sat up and looked around. Surely a dream. But was it? For on her inner arm was a mark. It looked burnt into her flesh. She blinked and looked around again. What had really happened here?

 

[DarkWarrioress]

​

It sat on the forest floor. Just waiting for the person it was meant for. How many seasons had it seen before it was found? Just a small bottle, filled with a blue colored liquid, corked. A white bow dressed it up some. It waited. And waited. Seasons came and seasons went. It had patience. A great deal of it.

One day, a woman entered the forest, on a walk and stumbled upon the bottle.

“Oh, how pretty.”

She picked it up, dusted it off and turned it this way and that, studying the liquid within. It took her moment to unstopper the bottle and sniff at the contents. Cautiously, she put the bottle to her lips and tipped it just a little. The liquid was cool to her tongue and just a little tingly on her tongue and lip. She let the blue liquid pour across her tongue before she swallowed. It didn’t taste bad at all. It tasted like, bubble gum. She didn’t want to drink too much and quickly stoppered it again. Holding it in her hand, she started on her way once more. She only got a few feet away before she collapsed into a pile on the forest floor, the bottle rolled from her limp fingers back to the forest floor.

Somewhere, in the Universe, a young woman sat at a table and looked at the man across from her. She held out her hand, palm up to him.

“It is done. She is dead.”

The man reached into his breast pocket and took out a small pouch which he placed in the woman’s palm and without a word, left her shop. Her fingers curled around the pouch feeling the weight of it. She tucked it between her breasts and shuffled her cards as she waited for her next customer.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

It's Wednesday again!
Here's your images for the week.
And if you all come across an image you'd like to see used,
shoot me a PM. I'd be happy to use it.
Enjoy!





​

 

[SubzeroGirl]

A bump because I’m glad to see this still alive

 

[Mac380]

Damn, wish I had seen this sooner.
Thank you for trying @DarkWarrioress I loved it when @Britwitch used to do it too.
Might try and draw some inspiration and drop a fee line soon.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Damn, wish I had seen this sooner.
Thank you for trying @DarkWarrioress I loved it when @Britwitch used to do it too.
Might try and draw some inspiration and drop a fee line soon.

Of course. Even if just one person uses this thread, I'll keep doing it and thank you. I enjoy this thread too.

 

[Mac380]

Rain drops dripped off the leaves onto Shani's dark hair which was already a dark wet mat hanging past her ears.
Daddy had told her to wear 'proper' shoes when he had sent her out to collect apples, but she had seen the sunshine and wanted to run between the trees to do his bidding. Now her feet were soaking wet, cold and to top it all off she had run so far that she had lost her bearings.
Daddy was going to be mad if she got lost and he had to come and find her.
She tried to retrace her steps, but all the trees looked the same and each time she thought she was going in the right direction a bramble patch would block her way tearing at her leggings and poking holes in her t-shirt.
The bag of apples she had collected was getting heavier and the sky above was darkening with no signs of the persistent drizzle of rain letting up.
"Oh Daddy, where are you?" she thought, wishing she was back in his warm embrace even if he was going to punish her for getting lost and wearing the wrong shoes.
Through the mist of rain she caught glimpse of something dark and straight amongst the many curves of the trees and bushes.
Shani extricated herself from the latest bramble patch getting a few scratches which left little red blotches on her T-Shirt as she headed toward what turned out to be an old house.
The house did not seem to be creepy or foreboding, in fact it looked as though it had been well cared for until it had been left to the forest.
The remnants of an old wooden fence marked the border between the forest and what had been a flower garden. Even now some of the hardier plants survived, their late blooms fading with the autumn but still giving splashes of colour.
The house had been painted white at one time but now the paint was flaking off exposing the darker wood underneath. The roof was still sound after many years of good maintenance, protecting the porch and the wooden bench which had overlooked the flower garden.
Daddy had always said that she should always find somewhere safe if she got lost and wait for him to come and rescue her.
Shani decided that this would be the safest place and easiest to find in the forest, so she climbed up onto the bench. Kicking off her wet shoes she curled her legs under herself and prepared herself for the wait for Daddy to come to her.
She did not really want to go into the house, it may have looked charming at one time, but any old empty house in a forest had a certain creepiness to it.
Looking around she spotted, in a back corner of the porch, an old chest hidden under some leaves which had blown in from the forest.
Jumping down, Shani tiptoed over in her damp socks and brushed the leaves from the top.
Faded paintwork covered the lid, yellow and red swirls danced over blue waves with white crests, at either end green islands sat on the edges of the sea and two figures stood opposite each other looking longingly at each other over the breaking ocean crests.
Lifting the lid Shani found an old blanket that must have been used by the previous occupant when they sat on the bench. Reaching in she pulled it out and gave it a shake to evict the spiders. Out of it dropped a brown bundle which thumped onto the porch and rolled to her feet.
She looked at it for a moment before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and retrieving the bundle from the floor.
She did her little tiptoe run back to the bench and jumped up curling herself up under the blanket.
Now she examined the package, a stack of old envelopes tied up with some old brown string. Picking at the knot she worried at it until it came free and she was able to unwrap the letters.
The letters were delicate and had been read and reread many times but always neatly folded back into their respective envelopes.
Lifting the top one she carefully extracted the paper and unfolded it, it was a letter from a soldier to 'his' Babygirl who he had left behind in the cottage. In it he described how he was preparing to cross the ocean with his company but he was sure he would be back soon to hold her in his arms and take care of her, until then she had to be a brave girl and remember all the things he had told her.
Shani pulled the blanket tight around her, She was being a brave girl all alone out here like the other Babygirl waiting for her Daddy.
The forest grew darker as the sun dropped lower to the horizon making the words on the paper harder to read. She fished into her pocket and pulled out her house key, hanging on the ring was the little torch that Daddy had given to her if she ever needed to try to find the keyhole in the dark. Flicking it on, it produced just enough light to see the pages of the letters.
Shani folded the first letter back into the envelope and pulled out the next one, the Daddy had now reached France and was marching with his men to the front, he described the sights of bombed out houses but also of the beautiful countryside and the wild flowers that reminded him of his Babygirls flower garden that he longed to see again.
The next letter was dirty and torn, Daddy was now on the frontline and was snatching a few minutes while he was in his frozen foxhole, to write to his cherished Babygirl, remembering times that they had spent together and things that she must remember to do while he was away.
Almost desperately Shani pulled the next letter out of its envelope 'What had happened to Daddy, was he ok had he made it through the dark and the cold?'
As she unfolded it a little flower slipped out of the pages. Dry and slightly faded, the little yellow flower fell onto her lap, a little harmless flower from the fields of France that had crossed thousands of miles to be with Daddies little Babygirl.
Her eyes floated along the lines as Daddy described how they had moved forward into a bright field of yellow flowers, it was quiet and the larks sang in the skies, the scent of the flowers reminded him of her perfume when the warm sunshine fell upon her creamy skin making it soft to the touch, describing how he loved to watch her dance and skip through the meadows. Shani gave a slight shudder as a small tear of happiness rolled down her cheek, dropping onto the flower making the yellow glow just a little bit more in the torch light.
With her fingertips, Shani lifted the flower and patted it dry before slipping it back into the folds of the letter.
Daddies letters went on to tell the story of his journey through France, Belgium and on into Germany. More and more he talked of when they would see each other again, his hopes were rising that the war would be over soon and he would hold her in his arms, smell her fragrance and kiss her soft skin.
But interspersed amongst the hopes were the stories of losses of his comrades and the devastation around them. Babygirl would pull the blanket tight around her as she read those parts, wishing she could feel Daddies big strong arms wrap around her and keep her safe, she wished she could wrap herself around him and protect him.
"The end is in sight." wrote Daddy "We have reached Berlin, the news is that the Russians have stormed the Reichstag. I will soon be sailing back to you Babygirl."
Shani almost laughed with joy at the news, Daddy was safe he was coming home to hold his Babygirl tight and make sure she was okay.
The last envelope in the pile was slightly larger and looked crumpled, was it Daddies discharge papers? A certificate of commendation?
Pulling it open she read the first line and her heart crashed through her stomach "It is with much regret…."
"NO!" she screamed, tears flooding out of her eyes, how could it be, he had been safe, he had been coming home..
Wiping the tears away, she read on, "…while trying to rescue a family from a burning house an unexploded bomb…"
"DADDY!" she wailed into the night, tears again clouding her vision.
A great crashing came from the forest at the sound of her cry and a huge pair of arms swept her up off the bench.
"DADDY!" this time her scream was of relief and joy, "I thought I had lost you."
"What?" Daddy looked confused "you were the one that was lost Babygirl."
Wrapping her arms and legs around him she hugged him tight, tears of happiness dripping onto his face as she kissed his rough lips.
"Please don't leave me again Daddy."
"What?, are you going crazy Babygirl, do I have to discipline you again?"
"Please Daddy, discipline me, love me, do whatever you like to me, just always be with me."
Extracting himself from her clutches, Daddy put her down "Now get your shoes and I will take you home."
Grabbing her trainers from the bench she pulled them on and was about to run after Daddy.
"Wait!" she shouted, turning back to the bench.
Lifting the blanket she gave it a good shake before folding it and placing it back in the chest.
Lifting the pile of letters she tied them up again neatly, giving them a kiss before placing them on top of the blanket and closing the lid.

"Goodbye Daddy."

 

[DarkRaven13]

I just found this forum thread ... I like the concept, and will try to add to it....thank you @DarkWarrioress

 

[DarkRaven13]

8th, March 1852
My love, it's been nearly five days since my last post. I write to you from Vancouver Island this week. We've stopped to pick up supplies before heading down the coast. I received your letter the other day, and it makes me miss you even more. I can't wait until I return. I miss you and love you.
Yours forever ~ Peter

~~~~~~~~~~~
19th, March 1852
Jenna my dearest, I hope this letter reaches you in good health. We've made our way down to the Americas. We've been in San Francisco for a few days now and I've finally gotten some time to write. You wouldn't believe how large this city is. I've never seen so many people. I would surmise at least ten thousand live here. Perhaps you and I can return to visit this great city once I return home.
I love you my dearest ~ Peter

~~~~~~~~~~~
12th, April 1852
I apologize for not having written sooner darling. Since leaving San Francisco there has been no port with a postal service. We are now in Honduras. It's a relatively new country actually, as the government there is less than thirty years old. This is our last stop before returning home. We've traded and bartered and have made out quite well. When I return we shall get married if you'll still have me. See you in four weeks.
Your soon to be husband ~ Peter

~~~~~~~~~~~
To: Miss J.L. Kramer
Re: HMS Birkenhead
Date: 23rd, June 1852

Miss Kramer,

It is with deepest regret that I must inform you of the loss of the HMS Birkenhead and its crew. A note in Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bradley's file indicated you and he were betrothed, and to inform you should the need arise.

I am deeply sorry,
Rear-Admiral Joseph G. McGreggor.

*****************
It had been nearly 40 years since Jenna received the news of Peter's ship. She often took out the bundle of letters she had saved, and read, and re-read. When she was done, she carefully re-bundled and retied them carefully together. She placed them in the box that they had lived in ... as she pushed them beneath her bed once more.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

I just found this forum thread ... I like the concept, and will try to add to it....thank you @DarkWarrioress

You are most welcome!

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Because of the turn of the Season, I will be posting again this week. The theme shall be All Hallows. The pictures will be forthcoming this Wednesday. DW~

 

[SubzeroGirl]

Halloween means horror stories. I might give this one a try.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Okay... Sorry about that. Today is Thursday and yesterday got away from me. So, here are your pics for All Hallows.

​

 

[SubzeroGirl]

Dead. They all were. Walking aimlessly through the woods. Hundreds of bodies, thousands or maybe it was only her.

Endless walking, endless trees, endless darkness.

The wind starts to whisper and she is afraid.

She can’t be afraid, she is dead.

Yet she feels the cold slice of fear as it flays the flesh from the back of her neck. Goosebumps erupting along her arms, the fear spilling, tingling as it drips from her fingertips. The woods swallow every drop, nauseating greed for life it will never taste.

She runs. She walks. She falls. The wind never stops whispering and she never stops being afraid.

Light.

Up ahead, it’s faint, but it cuts through the darkness and the sharp corners of her fear turn to hope.

Almost there, she can see the trees, gray instead of black, life instead of lifeless and now she is running. Hope devouring the fear. A bitter taste filling her mouth, threatening to drown her if she doesn’t swallow. She won’t. Mouth gaping, fear spilling, splashing, covering her flesh. It doesn’t matter. Hope is inside her and she’s almost there. The wind trying to drown her with its screams or maybe she is screaming. Almost there.

The light.

Tearing through the darkness it splits open, gushing liquid as it births new death. Bodies spilling and mewling on the delighted forest floor. Covered in filth and wetness, she watches as they lose the light and become darkness.

She swallows.

Endless darkness, endless fear, she walks aimlessly through the forest.

She is afraid, but she can’t be afraid, she is dead.

Up ahead she see’s a faint light and hope gnaws the edges of fear. Running toward the light, she’s almost there. The wind whispers and starts to laugh.

 

[DarkRaven13]

@SubzeroGirl ... that was wonderful. I like how you described things.... like, " ... it splits open, gushing liquid as it births new death..."

I liked the imagery .... even if dark.

Halloween 2022 ...

I will get something up later tonight I hope.

 

[SubzeroGirl]

@SubzeroGirl ... that was wonderful. I like how you described things.... like, " ... it splits open, gushing liquid as it births new death..."

I liked the imagery .... even if dark.

Halloween 2022 ...

I will get something up later tonight I hope.

Thank you thank you! I’m trying to get some practice in so I’m glad this thread is here. I’m looking forward to more Halloween stories.

 

[Mac380]

Part 1

The dry wood snapped and splintered with a sharp 'crack' as the 'Naughty Scribe' put his shoulder to the old door.
The Berlin suburbs still had many old properties that had remained abandoned since the wall had 'come down' and these abandoned places created their own magnetism to the down right creative, deviant and those for whom the 'mainstream; was well... just too 'Mainstream'.
The 'Scribe' was just one of those, he had found the cracks between the paving stones that the 'normal' people trod on their daily drudge through life and had slipped into the dark underbelly of the city.
Admittedly those cracks were somewhat larger in Berlin allowing more of those creative deviants to find their way into the alternative world that came alive once the sun sank below the horizon and those 'deviants' craved food for their minds, anything that wasn't 'normal' and would most definitely be frowned upon by their work colleagues.
Musty air swept over the Scribe and out of the room as it was released from decades of being incarcerated.
Did the Scribe detect a feeling of joy as those long-imprisoned spirits finally slipped out into this modern city, especially on this night of nights?
Things never really got going until midnight in Berlin, the clubs would open their doors about 10, but the queues only started growing after the witching hour.
It only gave him a few hours to get things ready.

 

[DarkRaven13]

View attachment 2184935
Part 1

The dry wood snapped and splintered with a sharp 'crack' as the 'Naughty Scribe' put his shoulder to the old door.
The Berlin suburbs still had many old properties that had remained abandoned since the wall had 'come down' and these abandoned places created their own magnetism to the down right creative, deviant and those for whom the 'mainstream; was well... just too 'Mainstream'.
The 'Scribe' was just one of those, he had found the cracks between the paving stones that the 'normal' people trod on their daily drudge through life and had slipped into the dark underbelly of the city.
Admittedly those cracks were somewhat larger in Berlin allowing more of those creative deviants to find their way into the alternative world that came alive once the sun sank below the horizon and those 'deviants' craved food for their minds, anything that wasn't 'normal' and would most definitely be frowned upon by their work colleagues.
Musty air swept over the Scribe and out of the room as it was released from decades of being incarcerated.
Did the Scribe detect a feeling of joy as those long-imprisoned spirits finally slipped out into this modern city, especially on this night of nights?
Things never really got going until midnight in Berlin, the clubs would open their doors about 10, but the queues only started growing after the witching hour.
It only gave him a few hours to get things ready.

Creepily well written.

 

[Mac380]

Creepily well written.

Hehe, thanks. Amazing what a couple of Whiskies while sat in an Istanbul hotel bar can create.
Hopefully another a few parts will develop in the city bars tomorrow

 

[Mac380]

Part 2

For the spirits, it was like the Berlin Wall had finally come down, they rushed out of the room on a mission to discover why they had been left to moulder for nearly 33 years.
They twisted and writhed through the doorways and broken windows rocketing upwards in a twisting spiral as they rose over the rooftops to survey the city that had forgotten them.
In the distance like a bright needle at the centre of an enormous wheel twinkled the lights of the Fernsehturm one of the cities touristic icons, only eclipsed by the architecture and history of the Brandenburg Gate.
As one the spirits sped towards the tower, dropping down to street level looking on in amazement at what had become of their city in the last 3 decades.
Some paused outside of old facades, remembering cafe’s or book shops, before speeding off to re-join the swirling mass. One group decided it would be quicker to take the U-bahn an dropped down into a station joining one of the bright yellow trains as it sped through the tunnels under the streets of Belin.
On board the spirits found a mass of bodies sat hunched over bright flickering boxes, each body steadfastly ignoring the others as they stared entranced by the glow in their hands.
Wailing with dismay the spirits let their emotion escape, ripping into all the phones in the carriage.
One by one the bodies straightened, looking around them in bewilderment.
People started to talk, asking what was going on, Was it the network? Is it normal here? Do you travel this line often? Are you from Berlin?....
The spirits sang with joy, realising that they had released these individuals from their captivity, if only for a few minutes.
On the floor of the carriage, drifted numerous flyers, tossed aside and never read, printed on a ‘fools errand’ by someone hoping to advertise their party.
Now in their joy the spirit swirled them up into a cloud and spread them across the occupants.
‘Halloween Party......DON’T come as yourself...’
The spirits raced onwards with the train towards the central hub.

 

[DarkRaven13]

I like your descriptions .... especially, "... they stared entranced by the glow in their hands." Brilliant.

 

[DarkRaven13]

The House In the Woods

We don’t beat the reaper by living longer, but by living well, and living fully – for the reaper will come for all of us. The question is: What do we do between the time we’re born and the time he shows up? ~ Randy Pausch ~

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~​

Rachel felt a heavy sadness enveloping her. All her life she’d done the right thing. The correct thing.

And now she was in her mid-thirties and in a loveless and sexless marriage. Her job was going nowhere, and all her friends had moved away over the years.

She took the path through the woods as she walked home that afternoon. As she did every afternoon.

In her younger years, she would have never dreamt that her life would turn out this way. As a young girl Rachel dreamed of marrying a handsome, caring, and dashing prince. They’d travel the world. Paris. Rome. Venice. That’s were her dreams were.

Instead, her life was filled with loneliness and boredom.

Rachel tried to get their lives to change. She’d even bought tickets for a trip to Europe for her and her husband, thinking they would find some reason to enjoy each other’s company. But when she mentioned it to him he cursed her for wasting money. The only traveling he wanted was a walk to the refrigerator for another beer.

That was a day ago. Already her life and dreams had reverted back to its dull routine. She continued her walk through the woods. She wished it would take her anywhere but home.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~~*~ ~*~ ~*~​

The trail through the woods was fairly short, her walk normally taking her no more than fifteen minutes. This day, however, took a turn when Rachel spotted the overgrown path spurring off the main trail.

‘Now why haven’t I seen that before,’ she thought.

Rachel decided to follow the path, as any diversion was a good diversion if it delayed her trip home. After a five minute trek into the trees she came to a clearing. Well, not a total clearing, as in the middle of the open space was an abandoned looking home.

‘This is very curious indeed,’ she thought. For Rachel had lived in the area all of life, and had never heard mention of a house in the woods.

She made her way to the side of the house so she could peer into the cracked windows. Sure enough, it appeared empty. There were a few pieces of dusty furniture, and the floor was littered with bits of decayed ceiling material.

Thinking she wanted a look inside Rachel went to the front of the house and pushed the door open.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone living here?”

Rachel didn’t really expect an answer, but she thought she’d make an effort just in case. Besides, perhaps the sound of her voice would scare off any critters that might have gotten into the house.

The entryway consisted of a large foyer. She could tell no one had set foot in the house for ages. The plaster was peeling everywhere, except for the spots where the walls had been protected by paintings. The pictures were long gone now, but you could tell where they had previously hung.

Off to the left was the kitchen. She peered into it briefly before noticing a den further down the hall.

It appeared to be a massive den, with an entryway consisting of two huge oak doors. Well, one door anyway, the other was missing.

Just like the rest of the house, the den appeared abandoned and unkempt. A couple ottomans were left, as well as a long bench seat built against the far wall. It was rather dusty, but Rachel decided to sit for a while.

As she sat she took in the remainder of the room. Just like the hallway, the wall pictures were all missing.

Except the one directly across from her. And it was an eerie enough picture at that.

“The Reaper,” Rachel whispered. “Why were you left here sir?”

It was as if the hanging picture was left to guard the room.

Wanting a better look, Rachel got up from the bench and walked closer to inspect the hanging painting. It was the Reaper indeed. He was holding what appeared to be an hourglass.

What made this painting even more distinct was the dual image being cast. The Reaper was holding the top of the hourglass, peering downward as nearly all of the sand had drained to the bottom. While in a mirror effect, a second Reaper held the bottom of the hour glass looking upwards.

The frame looked oddly well cared for and new. A gold embossed plate at the bottom of the painting read:

“What will you do between the time you’re born and the time the Reaper calls?”

Heavy regret suddenly filled Rachel’s heart. She fell back onto the bench and started to sob. She had nothing to show for her life. No cherished memories to comfort her.

She wept in silence, only stopping when exhaustion and sleep took her.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~~*~ ~*~ ~*~​

Rachel woke with a start. She looked toward the wall and noticed the painting had fallen to the floor. That’s what woke her she decided.

How long had she been sleeping? She rose from the bench, thinking she’d need to get home, as it was now getting on in the day.

As she made her way out the den she again noticed the fallen painting and decided to re-hang it before she left. It was actually easy to mistakenly hang it upside down, due to the mirror image of the paining. It was only because of the metal plate at the bottom that she knew which side was up.

Rachel stared at the embossed saying once more. ‘What will you do between the time you’re born and the time the Reaper calls?’ The words burned in her brain.

“Thank you,” she addressed the painting. “Thank you, I know what I need to do.”

Rachel turned and walked out of the house, then made her way back to the village. Her first stop would be to the towns lone divorce lawyer. Aside from that, she already had in her possession a ticket to Europe. Rachel decided she would take that trip.

She would live her life.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~~*~ ~*~ ~*~​

Night had settled and the moon had risen high. The house in the clearing stood abandoned once more.

Inside, the moonlight had forced its way through an opening in the failing ceiling, spilling light onto the painting on the wall.

The golden plate at the bottom glinting as it gave off its message of life and death.

Was it was a trick of the moonbeam. Could Rachel had gotten it wrong when she first looked at it?

As the moon’s glow cast itself fully across the painting, the Reaper hovered over the top of he hourglass. He watched from below. As the fullness of sand at the top slowly trickled to the bottom.

 

[SubzeroGirl]

What was the trick of the light??? Is it a mystery? I’m so curious now.

 

[Mac380]

@DarkRaven13 great story really draws you in and gets you thinking.