Writing prompt

pinkstar · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pinkstar** on Tue Apr 17, 2007 1:44 pm

[align=left][align=justify]His heart was pounding, his tense muscles aching, sweat pouring from his bare torso but still he ran, on and on, putting the distance of the cold dark, night between him and his waking nightmare. His eyes blind from fear, but more than that his mind and memory becoming numb.

Since the time that he had stumbled across the witch practicing her dark magic, he knew that he was in danger and when she uttered a guttural sound followed by words he hadn't understood, the feeling inside had intensified, he could not identify the feeling, but a coldness was bursting inside.

He knew that he was shrinking and that time was running out for him, his legs were getting shorter and feather like growth was sprouting from his previously smooth skin. Panic rose inside as he felt his internal organs being squashed.

His mind was enveloped in a fog, he was grasping at a thought, a moment in his history, that was hovering, just out of reach. He approached the top of a ledge on the mountainside.

He realised that his vision had increased and he could see further with his eagle like eyes than he had ever been able to in his human form.

He looked down at his body, struggling to remember his once human frame, he was high above the plains and he could see in the distance the sea shimmering in the moonlight.

He perched on the edge and looked outward hovering, waiting to take to take the final flying leap into the unknown.

His head turned, the witch had arrived at last, following her prey, all she heard was the sound of the wind under a pair of powerful wings[/align][/align]

Lord Saladin · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lord Saladin** on Sat Apr 21, 2007 11:14 am

It was raining.

With each step the rather tall man took, his heavy boots crashing into the ground, throwing up the water that was settling onto the pavement as he walked. The sounds were almost overbearing, the individual drops of rain hitting various objects, including the face and head of this man, clad all in black.

The leather trenchcoat, fastened all the way to his neck, all the way down to his ankles, kept his body dry, but not his perfectly smooth shaven head, eyebrows and lashes the only hair that was allowed to stay.

White orbs were hidden behind dark sunglasses, unfocusing past those black lenses of expensive material, moulding to his face in perfect, bespoke fittings.

He had been blind since birth, but had learned to live in this visual world through mere instincts of survival, found deep within all of our race.

Some would say his occupational choices were strange bearing in mind his blindness, and more than dangerous. But, as a consumate professional, he had honed his skills over many years. Through experience he had gained a status in ten years most took a life time to acheive.

As the rain hit upon him, he allowed a smile to crease his face, the sensation was always pleasing to him. Every time, it was as though it was a new experience, and he took the oppurtunity to bask in the sheer joy it bought him.

Now, however he was on business, and allowed only that simple, small smile as a sign of gratitude for such an experience.

As always, he began to feel his heart beat increase, but that would not do. Taking several deep breaths, he forced the increse to stop, and the steady rythmic beating of his returned to what it was during sleep.

The distance was right, he knew that. And so, as he turned to his right, and extended his hand, he knew he was to find a door in front of him. Walking through, he also knew where his business assocaite would be.

Upon his entrance, gasps could be heard, this unusually tall, six foot eleven figure was well known. A gentle giant he was sometimes called. In other situations, he was known as quite the opposite.

The gasp of his associate gave his position perfectly, the black figue had known that voice, had spoken to it on occasion, and the gasp matched with perfection.

It was within an instant that the shaven headed man locked on the position of the associate. The heartbeat of every man was beating with great speed, except for this man's. He knew his fate, and had obviously decided to calmly accept it.

Then, in the following instant, in the deathly silence, death was delivered.

Bang-bang-bang!

Stood in the stablishment, his arm outstretched, a large, heavy desert eagle in hand, smoke rising in thin tendrils from the end of the barrel. Three shots had been fired. Two to the heart, on to the head. And the target fell.

The intake of breath was almost deafening as the obsidian clothed man walked out of the bar now, the gun once more concealed.

Another job completed, and as the rain beat upon his face, he lifted his head to allow the cold, fresh droplets of fluid to hit his face directly.

He had earned his status, but for him, the rain was worth so much more.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Sat Apr 21, 2007 1:05 pm

Finally, time for a new prompt! Page of words, page of words, what will you show me today?

Ruler and tomb

Well, kinda cryptic, hmm? First thought for me was Egypt, but I never post on my first thought. I look for something hidden. Can't wait to see what everyone comes up with!

Lord Saladin · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lord Saladin** on Sun Apr 22, 2007 2:42 pm

On that day, what seemed a lifetime ago,
I met from within your eyes,
A light shining deep within my soul.
Was it a dream?

As you smiled, your face beaming with life,
I found happiness and contentment,
We were a team, in perfect unison,
The ruler of my heart remains to be you.

With growth came impending destruction,
But how were we to know
Of the forces in our opposition,
Fighting to end us.

And so is the tomb of my fate,
To forever be in longing, hoping,
Waiting for that blessed, happy day,
When at last, in my arms you'll lay.

pixelgami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pixelgami** on Mon Apr 23, 2007 9:42 pm

A piece of white lace trim rippled slowly in the water. Chantilly lace, I believed it was called. Through the delicate eyelets peeped her bluish skin, grown soft as porridge and cold as marble over the past day or two. It was the coroner who approximated that it was two days and was so damned sure. The consistency of the blood and the way the skin gave, he pointed out, was a tell-all. She looked peaceful, even though calling the departed that has become a meaningless clichÃ©. I watched the coroner go about his work chattering away in his bombastic way; everything he says sounds like a boast, he just sounds so damned sure, with his wife and kids, nothing to hide. But I, on the other hand, am occasionally allowed these clichÃ©s, because over the years I have since let the sarcophagus of this job eat away my flesh, rendering me a smooth facade of limestone, hiding the slow process of decay, and in a stroke of something poetic or something macabre--I can't tell anymore during these quiet lulls between crime scenes--I thought not even Michaelangelo could have captured her form, and for a moment I wondered if there were such a thing as a specimen of marble that matched the delicately blue shade of her skin, a pale blue specimen of marble shot through with veins of milky cobalt. The bulb of the camera flashed as I captured a maggot falling from her seething wound and spin slowly in the water. No, not Michaelangelo could capture this, like this, she like a demure queen or Ophelia--and Ophelia too, I suddenly realize, has become somewhat of a clichÃ©--in her Chantilly lace veil and the trail of her wedding dress spinning slowly, so slowly in the water.

pinkstar · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **pinkstar** on Tue Apr 24, 2007 8:16 am

Could I please have some feedback/critique on the post I entered on blind and eagle

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Thu Apr 26, 2007 6:47 pm

Of course! Anyone else who wishes to respond to Pinkstar, please pm her your feedback.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Thu Apr 26, 2007 6:52 pm

'I'll be there when I can.' His voice drifted over her across the days as she sipped her coffee in the bookstore. She checked her watch, half past two. Another hour before the kids would get out of school, and an hour after that until she would see him. Tucking a bookmark with a picture of kittens into the novel, she rose. A fast walk out of the store, down three doors, and around the corner took her to the theatre, where she bought tickets to pass the time until her appointment with the dark one.

"I am the ruler of my heart."

An hour and a half later, the dragon was slain, and she left the movies. A ten minute walk to the museum calmed her down, and she climbed the steps, flashed her pass, and made her way to the "Jesus Room". It was April, and the place was filled with pictures of His last week. She took a seat at the bench under a beautiful oil peace showing the empty tomb. She idly wondered which would show first, the dark one or the warm one, the one who had asked her to come, or the one she had asked to come.

"I am the ruler of my heart."

A loud laugh from the next room signaled his arrival. She stood as he came in and gazed at her with his cold, dark eyes.

"You don't look so good." His cold voice hardened her resolve to do this. 'Just like his heart.'

She shrugged. "Why did you ask me to come here?"

He laughed again, like it was an obvious question. "Why did you come?" Then he shrugged. "I wanted to see if you would. But I shouldn't have doubted. You are mine, after all."

The other came in and caught the last sentence. The dark man hadn't heard his quiet step, and he looked in surprise as the blonde-brown man took his place beside her. His hand entwined with hers, he didn't hear the dark one's gasping "What's this?" as the earlier conversation floated across his mind.

'He asked me to go there again.' 'Don't go.' 'I have to... ...Come with me.' 'Why?' 'To show him I'm serious.'

The two, holding hands, stared the cold one down. He had an amused smirk on his face as he stepped towards her. "You think you can break away from me?"

He was within distance now, and reached out for her hand, saying "You are mine!" But, she slapped his hand away before he could, not flinching a bit. He glared into her eyes; she stared back, unblinking.

"I am the ruler of my heart!"

He sneered in her face before whirling away. "When you are cold and hungry on the streets, don't come looking to me."

The clasped hand squeezed hers as he stalked out of the room. Amid the pictures of their Lord, the victorious pair shared a tender hug.

Lord Saladin · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lord Saladin** on Thu May 03, 2007 9:21 am

So, time for a new prompt, I think. Here goes:

Obligation and demonstration.

Enjoy.

Also, ANYONE can offer us a prompt, so feel free to do so.

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Thu May 03, 2007 1:52 pm

So, I'm now going to be keeping a running tally in the first post of this topic. All of the prompts will remain there, because I highly encourage people to go back and write on a prompt they missed if they choose to. This'll also allow you to find the newest prompt without wading through the stories looking for it, which may have been a problem for some people. Current prompt by Saladin:

18. Obligation and demonstration

Lord Saladin · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lord Saladin** on Mon May 21, 2007 4:46 am

I hope that I am okay to post in here despite my being involved with the Role Play Academy. I can't really see this being a problem as it isn't an RP. If it is a problem, however, I apologise in advance, just let me know and I will rectify my error.

Today I face my memories,
Those days that now have passed,
Will I be able to see again,
The smiles that once greeted me.

We never knew that as we traveled,
Down our chosen paths,
The time we spent together,
Would end so suddenly.

Through forced obligations,
All we built would fall,
We wondered what would happen,
It took so much time.

And as I now remember,
Those days when laughter shared,
Filling our hearts,
Bringing peace to the soul.

After such a long time now,
I face my fears alone,
And vow to give demonstration,
That those days can soon return.

And when they do we all will know,
We were one in mind, once together,
But when we join one more time,
Nothing will tear us apart.

Apologies for the poor quality, but I posted this whilst at work,so my mind was totally focused on either task. That is work, or his post. The question is, which SHOULD I have been focused on? Te he he

Grimbold Theoman · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Grimbold Theoman** on Mon May 21, 2007 8:06 am

He bowed his head feeling the pressure of obligation lying on him. It pressed in on his mind, the more he tried to focus on what needed to be done the more his thoughts drifted away. He rose to his feet, shaking his head to clear the fuzz that was clouding his thinking. The man looked about him trying to take in his surroundings, a car passing the window to his left caught his attention, it was green, not the one.

"Thank God," he spoke out loud a sigh underlying his words.

He turned and picked up the black case that was on the floor behind him. He climbed the stairs, up two flights and then on the top landing a further step ladder through to the loft space. As his head rose through the trap door he glanced about, there was the window exactly as described.

He knelt down and opened the case, with easy practised hands he took out what was there and assembled the parts, almost without looking at what he was doing.

He stood and opened the window and gazed out at the road which was clearly visible for about four hundred yards to the west, just enough. No matter how hard this was for him, he knew it had to be done the effort had to be worth it.

He stood breathing deeply before he balanced the item he had assembled on a single support that stood on the edge of the window. He sighted along it at the road, and at that moment the car, a black sedan, drove into view. There was time, it was moving slowly, he had opportunity to carefully aim at the target, he adjusted the lens and zoomed in to the man just visible in the back seat.

For a fraction of a second he paused just tracking the car, then he breathed out and squeezed.

He heard the sound of the shutter clicking, then resetting, clicking again and again as he tracked the car as it moved down the road.

The photographs would make an adequate demonstration.

-------Okay so I should apologise about the punctuation which has to suck, it is my bete noire. Anyway I hope you like it.-------

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Wed Jun 06, 2007 7:52 am

The tiny blonde woman nocked an arrow to the bowstring. A nervous man lit the arrow with a torch and darted out of the way. Less than a second later, the arrow was launched directly into the waiting room. It caught the lacy curtain in the window, which started to smolder. The crowd gathered oo'd and ah'd as the trailer set up for the demonstration blew up in an explosion of color and heat. Within minutes, the whole thing had burned to the ground, leaving a heap of ash.

The lady nocked another arrow. Again the nervous man lit it, and it was fired at the other trailer. As it passed through the window, the lacy curtain was untouched. The carpet on the floor didn't catch fire either, and the torch smouldered on the ground. The announcer's voice scratched over the loudspeakers.

"We have an obligation to protect our future by protecting our children. That's why we are using the money to fire-proof the dormatories."

The parents of the kids clapped madly. A few of the kids expressed displeasure over the idea that they wouldn't be able to set fire to their dorm rooms to get out of doing papers. And off in the woods, one woman narrowed her eyes and slunk away, to find a new plot.

Wow. I'm really out of practice, that was horrible. Sorry guys. Anyway, THE NEW PROMPT:

medal and table

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Sun Jun 24, 2007 9:54 pm

Has this died? Do I need to start begging people to post here again?

Please post! You don't even have to post on the current prompt- as long as it's one of the 18 or 19 prompts available and you tell which one you're posting on. Don't feel like reading through to find all the prompts? Well, I've been putting them all at the bottom of my first post in this thread. So please, post! Even if it's crap.

LitomoSilver · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LitomoSilver** on Tue Jul 24, 2007 5:58 pm

In the days of war, medals were given to wounded warriors. He had a medal. A little piece of metal that could be pinned to his chest. He didn't really care about those medals, as it only showed just what you experienced. And what you did as well.

A new man was walking towards a stand of oak trees ahead. The trees stood in a circle atop a large hill, almost looking as if it was guarding something. It was autumn, and the leaves were gently falling in the light wind that was blowing even now. It blew up, up and past the trees, carrying with it leaves too weak to hold on.

The dark man stopped for only a moment, clothed in a black cloak, with gold trimmings lightly tracing the edge of the cloak. A black shirt shrouded the muscled torso, while a black pant hid long legs corded with thick muscle. Too, golden trimmings ran down the sides of the pants, and up the sleeves of the shirt.

It only showed that he was a warrior. Of what army, and nation, was not known. He did not care for others knowing precisely who he was and where he came from, as he preferred to keep it to himself. He had fought, with sword, gun, whips and daggers in the last war and seen many men die.

The leaves were well gone, now as he brushed out his long brown hair, which was bound back into a hairband. It could be called a hairband, others called it a hadori, a band. It held his hair back and firmly in place. Memories flooded his mind's eye, as he recalled the special hadori that had been given to him by a special woman.

Sudden flashback to his past

He was laying there upon the ground. Eyes of blue sky looked up towards a woman. He could not hear her voice. He tried to see, as blood slowly trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Blood trickled down from his throat, his neck and his scalp. A woman had recently attacked him, and now...he felt himself weakening.

He struggled to say something to this beautiful woman...a luscious one too. A light brown, almost golden-colored hair framed her face, while gentle, worried brown eyes upon him. A light green dress graced the lush, full curves of this woman, showing a hint of the full cleavage but no more than that, and a slit almost all the way up to her hips. She was kneeling besides him, her firm legs curled underneath, a bowl next to her, full of water. Several rags lay next to it as she dabbed away blood and struggled to save his life.

"Please, no, Akiro! Don't die on me! Don't leave me, Brother!" She fought for him, daring Death to take him from her. "Ohhh, come on, Aki! Stay with me! Pleaaaaassseeee!"

He coughed then, and struggled to look up at her, even as his vision began to tunnel in on him. He could feel Death approaching. Slowly then, did he look towards Death...yet another lushly curved woman. This one had black hair, black eyes and an all black dress that hinted at her lush form. She beckoned to him, as he fought her to live.

"No...can't go!" Death cooed to him, enticing him towards her. She stepped closer to him, kneeling on the other side of him. Gently she placed a kiss upon his lips, and spoke to him....her voice...ohh, her voice! "Come with me, Akiro. Come with me and know everlasting peace. Come, and sleep with me, in peace forevermore..."

His spiritual form spoke then..."No, I cannot go with you, Death...for I have duties...duties I must complete....I have promises..." Again, Death cooed to him. "Come with me...let those who bind you back go. Come with me, and live!"

At long last...he passed into oblivion, managing to survive Death's loving touch.

His sister cried out as he passed out. "No, Akiro! Please don't leave meeee!!!!" She cried then, as she gently pulled back his long hair, having always been unbound. She continued to cry, letting gentle loving tears flow down her face as she bound back a silver hairband. Her own hairband. She loved him so much...and she was about to lose him. "Akiiirrrooo! Noooo!"

She placed her head upon his chest, as she sobbed, not realizing that her brother was still alive, until she was well into her grief for him, finally, at long last, sensing his chest rising and falling rhythmically, slightly.

"Oh! Thank god you didn't leave me, Akiro! Why'd you have to do this to me!" It was half laughing-half-tears as she spoke, now watching her beloved brother sleep in oblivion.

He shivered at the memory, knowing that if Death was to touch him again...he knew that he might not survive. Finally, panting, he reached the grove of oak trees and stopped in the center. What was not obvious then at the bottom of the hill, was now obvious to him. It was a table. A stone table of some kind, almost like an altar. He stopped before it, and bowed his head, as he remembered those memories.

It seemed so long ago now, as he recalled that time. He had fought and finally fallen, in battle against others of his Clan. He had defended his actions, and was cast out of the Clan for it. He smiled at his sister's loving actions.

He looked at the table, before he slowly turned, allowing the wind to snatch at the cloak and pull it free of him, billowing it out into the wind, rippling it as it did so, making him look like...a man that a young recruit would look up to, thinking that this man looked so....determined, so...sad, so quiet...even though he was a renowned warrior in his Clan...or formerly was a renowned warrior, as the case was.

Feedback is most welcome! ^.~

LitomoSilver · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LitomoSilver** on Fri Jul 27, 2007 1:36 pm

The medals that were pinned on the left portion of his chest began to glisten with the morning light as he stared out past the grove of trees that surrounded him. Past them, and down at the bottom of the hill, where several soldiers walked in a stately, formal fashion, in a rank of 4 person each on either side of a covered casket.

Then he raised a hand to the clasp that held the cloak together. It had the shape of a finely-wrought silver wolf scaring two ravens into the air from the plains. It was of high-quality make and was a precious gift to him by a friend. He smiled only slightly, for he knew he carried within him lots of memories, and upon his person, something that might be called badges of honor.

Then the clasp clicked, and came loose into his hand. The black cloak fluttered free, snatched away from him by the winds to float upon the breath of Gaia towards the group of soldiers carrying the casket. If they didn't stop, they would run into the cloak as it flew upon the winds.

The cloak acted as if it was alive, and perhaps, in a way, it was. It seemed to pause over the group of soldiers and the casket, covered by a flag of a country. Then the form of the cloak almost seemed to bow to the casket, before it finally fluttered away, to wing where it will.

Did it just bow? Or was that my imagination playing tricks on me? The morning light was shining down upon them, rays of light and hope. But to him, they were just hope...and perhaps a little more. He stepped to the side of the table, then slowly came to attention as the group approached ever closer to him. It took only moments more for the men to carefully, almost reverently, place the casket upon the huge table.

A few minutes later, he lowered his hand, and moved to the head of the table, then turned to look at the men assembled before him.

"Wars may come and go, but the soldiers stay eternal, in one form or another. They stand ready against threats to mankind. They stand ready to protect one and all and to give their lives for that freedom of choice." He paused for a few moments more, gathering his thoughts, then he continued on. "Men like us have always had enemies, in one form or another. This man here gave his life protecting our homeland. He gave his life for us, so that we may continue protecting, not only in his honor, but because of the very fact that in each generation, we continue to do our duty."

He paused again, only to catch his breath, before continuing again. "Razgriz is a fine man, one who would've been a great leader if given the opportunity." The men nodded in agreement. They'd served in his unit, and they'd fought with him. They had learned to work with each other, and learned the foibles of each person.- "Let us remain silent for a time in his honor, and wish him well in his journey."

Then, almost too softly to hear, voices began to rise in a chant, of a song. They sounded ethereal, almost like the wisps of fog curling across the ground.

Return this Fallen Warrior to Death's loving breast
Beyond the wild, clear skies;
Grant to him a Warrior's peaceful rest
And set the dying spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of war,
And set the dying spark of his eyes
Free to rest upon the light of the stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the gentle kiss of his lover
And set the dying memories
Free from the ravages of Time
Above the dreams of ravens, where
Only the hawk flies free,
Where...
Only the hawk remembers Death
Then let his soul rise to fly free,
Beyond the wild, clear skies
To rest amidst the stars...

His eyes filled with tears as he heard the song...and joined in the chanting of the song, not only with himself but with the group...and yet there seemed to be more than just their voice. It took him a few minutes before he realized that it was Gaia singing as well...her voice so melodic and peaceful as she paid the fallen warrior her respect.

As the song neared the end, repeated twice more by all present...he seemed to do something. The casket suddenly caught fire, golden flames dancing upon the casket's flag. The winds fed the fire's hunger, swirling around the casket, lifting away the smoke to reveal to all what was happening...as small green leaves and petals of flowers floated upon the wind's back, surrounding each and every one of them with the beauty of their dance.

It would be a long time before he left the grove of oak trees.

Feedback is greatly welcomed! I will not post the feedback welcomed since after this post, I would love to have feedback on each one unless a No feedback is posted there.

Thankies!

miyumi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **miyumi** on Tue Jul 31, 2007 10:37 pm

Prompt: medal, table

"What are you doing?" The large woman shouted at her. "Get out! Out out OUT!" She scampered out of the kitchen chased by the broom she had been given with the order to sweep out the kitchen. A tiny girl of sixteen, mostly skin and bones, covered in bruises and filth, it was impossible to see her heritage. 'They give me a job, and then beat me for doing it. Some life this is.' She darted through the mansion's hallways, avoiding the taskmistress who would surely beat her more for not doing what she had been told, no matter that she had been chased away by the cook.

Selynne paused to breathe, and found herself in a section of the mansion that few had been to. Cobwebs and dirt were everywhere, except for a small path of animal tracks- mice and cats. She smiled, liking the thought of going where cats disappeared to. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she turned to see giant doors of tarnished gold. Wiping some of it away, she could see that it was carved with an intricate forest scene. It called to her, and she couldn't help it. She opened the door.

Stepping cautiously into the dust, she looked up in awe at the paintings covering the ceiling. It wasn't a very high ceiling, only about seven feet or so, just barely covering how tall the tallest human would get. Looking around, she saw the remains of tables. What was strange was that one table was still perfectly whole. As she approached it, she noticed the outline of a portal inlaid into the wall. She circled around the table, and looked over every inch of the portal, but couldn't figure anything. Then she looked at the table.

Inlaid into the very center of the table, she saw a medal. It was engraved with what her instincts recognized as a sigil of the people she was descended from. The elven people, who had died out long ago, who had left none but the hated half-breeds, who dwindled and mingled. Something about it called to her, and she reached out. Lines of blue light outlined the medal and the engravings. She held her other hand over it, and purple joined the blue. It gathered in a pool at the bottom of the medal, and flowed off the table to the portal. The whole portal flashed purple once before being replaced by a forest scene. Gingerly, she stepped through the portal into the forest, and it vanished behind her.

New Prompt: bag and bed

Haruka_Tenou · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Haruka_Tenou** on Wed Aug 01, 2007 2:40 am

I am a slacker but did a quick one. =) for Bed and Bag. Enjoy!

Sleep was over coming her. Heavy lids tried to flutter down as the muscles along her spine pinched slightly. If she had been in her bed this would not have been an issue. Yet she was not so lucky tonight. Shifting within the confines of her sleeping bag she heard the girl next to her munching. The scent of Frito’s filling the small tent. With a heavy sigh Julia tried to relax, she needed her beauty rest and yet the ground refused to give up its battle with her. Each small movement caused her more pain, allowing a dull ache to creep through her bones. Each time her eyes closed to rid themselves of the pain coursing through them she would either find a sharp rock under her or the annoyance of the crickets and owls would jolt her back to awareness. It was agony. It was cruel. All she wished for was the comfort of her bed. The soft mattress that allowed her body to fall into the dream filled state each evening. It was a place of soft comfort that never allowed her intense pain. Tonight it seemed all a dream… One that she wished to have again. For now, she would try her best to gather her energy, while dealing with the nature that surrounded her.

Grimbold Theoman · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Grimbold Theoman** on Wed Aug 01, 2007 2:47 am

I found inspiration from the medal, table prompt so this is going to be based on those.

It was a sad duty, how it had fallen on me I don't know. I never really got on with the old man, he was always a fairly distant, often unpleasant, definitely irascible figure with whom I had never had anything in common. Now he had died and it was my job to clear out the room he had spent the last four years of his life. My grandfather, he never liked that didn't want to be called granddad, or any of the other familiar names for that relative. I had known him as Mr Wilson, sometimes when he was particularly unpleasant he was The Major.

That was one of the strange things about him, he was often proud of the rank he had earned during the last war but he never spoke of what had happened, what he had done. He made it hard sometimes demanding being called Major, but without ever telling us a single thing, secretly we didn't believe that he was a Major, some of the younger family thought he wasn't even in the war at all. I admit sometimes I had my doubts.

The room was full of the detritus of a life, the sad remains of things that had once seemed important to an offensive old man. Petty things that were more or less just junk. I was starting to get frustrated at what it all meant, was anything worth keeping? I threw some more old papers mostly illegible with age into the bin I had balanced on the small table by the bed, it wobbled as the balled up paper hit it falling to the floor. I reached out to steady it and knocked the table flying, it was only a small thing and the spindly legs not well placed. It landed on it's side amidst a pile of books on the floor. Reaching to pick it up with a curse I noticed the catch under the base of the table.

There was a secret drawer in there, I released the catch and it sprung silently open disgorging the contents onto the floor. More papers and a leather covered case about two inches by three. The papers were old, I caught the date at the top of one August 1944, war time. I picked up the case it was black leather, nothing obvious etched into the leather there was just a catch to open it, I pushed it and opened the top. Inside there was a photograph covering something the picture showed someone just recognisable as The Major, with the rank showing on the shoulders of his uniform. I lifted it up and there was a medal marked simply "For Valour"

Having posted this it occurred to me that very few people would recognise the medal inscription and thus the significance, so For Valour is the inscription on the Victoria Cross, Britain's highest award for military gallantry.

LitomoSilver · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LitomoSilver** on Fri Aug 03, 2007 6:31 pm

It was done, his duty to the dead.

Once, he'd brushed against Death and won. Once he'd felt Her touch, and felt the desire to follow Her into the next realm. But no longer did he feel those temptations, though they did creep back once in a while. It made him ache for the peace that he'd felt at the time of his up-close, personal encounter with Death herself.

The paean that had carried his friend, Razgriz, beyond the realm was still with him. He knew, that he would not forget. It was almost impossible to forget something such as this. But Time had a way of sneaking up on you. He knew that Time would dull his memory, till he could no longer recall the important facts of the burial several hours ago and the events that followed.

Carefully, slowly, almost reverently, he placed a sports bag upon the bed. It was full of his friend's memorials. Slowly, he opened the bag to reveal several medals glittering in the dull light of the room. They shifted and slid upon some material that he could not identify...till he pulled them out. A flag of a country where he'd lived briefly. A small smile graced his lips as the memory touched him.

That had been an incredible time, and he thought of returning to that country. He knew he would, eventually. But duty had a way of screwing up your plans, as did Life.

Then he brushed away dust from a uniform that he did not recognize. It was green, all green, the shirt, pants and a cloak. The boots within was well blackened, and had been kept in an almost-perfect condition. He wondered where the uniform came, because he did not know the insignias and the making of the uniform.

Then he shrugged and carefully placed each item that he'd taken out, back into the sports bag and carefully placed them upon the medium-sized simple nighttable standing next to the bed. Then he carefully straightened out the wrinkles that'd came into the blanket when he'd set the sports bag upon it.

Then he carefully laid himself upon it and allowed his eyes to lock onto the ceiling, memories playing in front of his eyes once more. He suspected that the older he got, the more he wished for the peace and innocence and unknowing awareness of youth.

Illusion was shattered early for him. And there, he remained....caught between illusion and reality, where he could not escape. Thrice he'd escaped...once, with youth...twice with Death...and thrice...with his sister.

Slowly then, his eyes closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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