Okay, confession time. I know nothing about the Rambo movies. I vaguely remember my brothers and cousins watching one of them when I was little, but that’s about it. I had planned on getting a copy of the first movie to watch it so I could write something, but I haven’t had the time. I will have to sit this prompt out guys, sorry.
I feel so bad for not getting my prompt done that I made you a Haiku.
War hero comes home
Finds a world without honor
Hope fails John Rambo
That works! 
This one should be interesting, it is a music based exercise. The inspiration for your writing will be Yoko Kanno’s Exaelitus. It is available via itunes and I would imagine at Amazon as well but I will post a youtube thingie down below (There is no video with the youtube link so do not fear any contamination of ideas or imagery), but the audio on the youtube link is terrible, so personally I would suggest simply coughing up the $1.29 and just purchasing the song.
Anyways listen to the song and see what images it conjures up in your mind, and translate that into a short piece of writing. I look forward to seeing what each of you come up with, enjoy the music and then hit us with your inspired story.
Deadline is the 20th, now go write!
The Aria
When the shift came it was like being awoken from a deep sleep by a violent electric shock, magic had returned, at last. I hate this world, for a few hours at a time Tech works but Magic goes away, and then it flips the other way; Magic works but Tech goes down. Yeah it sucks! Esspecially when you have Fae blood in your veins, you get weak during the ‘Tech Shifts’.
Rising from the cold stone floor I looked up using my returning inner sight, the aperture of the focusing chamber was opening and pure white natural manna was streaming down the chamber. The feeling of the magical energies flooding the underground facility was intoxicating, strength returned to my sore and tired limbs and my sight and hearing sharpened as my innate Fae abilities came back to life. All right fuckers, time for some payback.
I sang, pouring all of my sorrow, all of my loneliness and longing for my love into the song. My emotions and my voice drew the manna to me like a magnet attracting iron shavings. I raised my arms high and watched the manna shower down upon me, the song resonated with the manna and the complex began to shudder. As the music built and grew it began to block out the sounds of battle in the corridors nearby. I wove and fashioned the manna into patterns and rune wheels, which once closed and completed became automated spells, wards and barriers. The air was charged with power; I had never felt such power before. I felt buoyant, nearly weightless in the torrent of energies that flowed around and through me. I breathed magic, I sang magic, it coursed through my veins; I was magic! I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could no longer see beyond the whirling wall of eldritch energies around me anyways, I reached out with my senses into the rooms and chambers beyond this one.
There they were, my friends and companions. Fighting the forces sent to capture this place, to take it from us, but this is our way back home. This world is not ours; we were brought here by dimensional rifts which were caused by this ancient device going haywire. We mean to repair it and go home, and to do that we need this place intact, and my friends as well. I unleashed my magically enhanced song; it spread out and rushed down the corridors like a tsunami of sound and energy. The wider it spread the further my senses expanded I watched my musical weapon rush down the halls of worn stone and wood, I could feel it surging and rebounding off the walls as it swept forward. I caused it to part around Ms Mystic and engulf the mages she was fighting; the raging energies lifted them off the ground and shredded them like tissue paper. I had no time to dwell on my victory, there were more to protect I wove my voice and magics into a new construct and directed it anew.
Little Red Fed cursed when she heard the oncoming wave of power and dove behind a fallen pillar, I crested the energies safely over her and drove them toward the darkly clad warriors. When I saw the enemy ranks my song took on an angrier edge, I remembered the horrors this Barony had infliced on those it captured. I weilded my anger like a weapon and drove it at the troops.
Like LRF, Korridan and Shyn were not sensitive to magic and could not see or comprehend what they saw, they simply heard the song and saw warriors being picked up and tossed about like leaves in a storm, only there was no wind. The enemy combatants were smashed against walls, pillars and each other. Limbs and appendages twisted and snapped or were torn off in the violent and invisible eddies and currents of manna. My song morphed into one of victory as I sought out more enemies, onward I flowed a torrent of vengence.
It became harder and harder to control the energies as my attack reached deeper and deeper into the sprawling complex, I struggled to avoid hitting my comrades and take out the numerous enemies. I no longer felt my body, I was manna, I was consciousness and energy; I was vengeance and justice incarnate. I was going to get each and every one of these bastards, they hurt my friends, they enslaved thousands, they have hunted and hounded us for months I want them all dead. What they did to those poor people… I… I.
Suzi.
Huh? That voice, I know it, it is familiar.
Suzi. Stop, you are losing yourself.
I, I know her. What has happened to me? Why can I not remember…?
Suzi. Come back, this is not like you. Stop this destruction and return to us.
I… I. Oh my God, what have I done?
I feel hands on my arms and a mild shock, and my consciousness begins to rush back into my body. My body,it is so small and frail. I look down at Ms Mystic who is floating beside me, Holy shit I am floating! My nervous eyes dart around the room, everything seems weightless in here, my hair swirling and luminescent and my tears are floating in front of my face like sparkling jewels.
“They are routed; there is no more reason to pursue them.” She smiles, “Besides, you are not a killer songstress. That is our job; I would not wish further deaths on your conscience.” I take her hands, the sensation of human contact and warmth helps me to return to my petite form. We settle to the floor and I collapse into her arms exhausted, she embraces me.
“Relax child, it is over for know. Dwell on the lives you saved and not on those you took.” I could not hold it in any longer, tears fell thick and heavy like my heart. I sobbed, “I just want to go home.” She patted my head, “We will, we will. Thanks to you.”
I could hear footsteps enter the chamber, and then a smooth baritone voice say, “That was whack!” We chuckled, good old Malcolm…
Time is running out… Get your submissions in. :eek:
Well that was disappointing. I thought this would be an easy one, I found a piece of music I figured few if any on here would have ever heard. So once you listened to it you would have a fresh and untainted experience when listening to it and be able to provide a very personal and unbiased riff off of it.
Oh well, time for another tack…
A favorite place
Think of one of your favorite places to go. Whether it be to get away from everything, or to relax and recharge your emotional/spiritual batteries. Or just to have a damned good time. Now describe what it is like there and why you like to go there, the sounds the sights and most of all, your feelings when there. What is it that draws you there, and what are some of your most precious memories of the place, or the people there.
Due by the 7th, now go write!
It was like a Casino for teenagers
Light and sounds filled the air and a thrill of excitement and anticipation shot through us, we were at the arcade. Pillars were wrapped with monitors showing games in session, futuristic artwork decorates the walls and model spaceships are suspended from the ceiling. People huddle around game cases their game tokens lined up along the bottom of the screen, anxiously watching their friends and even complete strangers competing against each other or;… the nefarious computer (the cheating peice of shit, especially Sinistar). It is the late 1970’s and home gaming systems are still rare and expensive, and have yet to invade the homes of average Americans. If you want to experience the cutting edge of technology and test your skills against others you still needed to go to an arcade, those dark and wondrous caverns full of flickering machinery. Filled with hypnotic screens designed to lure children to them with promises of adventure, and the dry air conditioned atmosphere was full of the siren songs of blooping and bleeping soundtracks and laser blasts with explosions, sure they were often cramped and full of sweaty kids and yet all these years later I still find myself missing those days.
Competing against strangers on the internet is not nearly as fun as sitting side by side at the arcade and duking it out in person while trading insults as your friends cheer you on. And there was also that odd thrill and sense of pride you got from seeing your initials up on the screen, and there was that quirky community that grows at each arcade, and the recognition you get from them. Each of you has your own game that you specialize in and are acknowledged for or genre of games if you could afford to support the habit.
The closest to this that I can reflect back on now was when I shared a house with a couple of friends, and we had a tradition where we would link our Playstations and deathmatch once a week. I had a long daisy chain of cables which allowed us to sit in separate rooms while we dueled, and our friends would rush back and forth from room to room to watch us duel and egg us on. It was hysterical to hear people ooh and aww as our Doom avatars would explode on screen, and of course curses and insults were exchanged. This would go on for at least an hour, and of course we would take breaks and allow our friends to take over for awhile. Those were good times, no internet lag, and you could actually hear your opponent scream and curse when you blew him up in the other room, not over a headset. Much more intimate and personal.
Now if I could find a god LAN party nearby maybe I could recreate something like that. But I will always remember my days of youth at the arcades with great fondness, sure the games were downright primitive compared to what we have now but back then they were magical to us, and had a mystical allure, especially the ones that would taunt you or dare you to play them. My favorites were the vector graphic ones, those crisp smooth lines were gorgeous. I have one in storage, a Black Widow game, full case with coin box and side decals and everything. One of these days when I can afford my own place I will set her up in her own room, but for now she just gathers dust in a dark room.
And pinball games, where can a guy find a descent working pinball game these days?
With SFL 3.0 going on there will be no need for writing exercises until it is over.
Arer you going to continue with this? I’m gearing up for my first attempt at writing so using exercises to learn the craft will be invaluable.
I am in as well. No promises on quality. but i will give it a go.
I say, “Have at it.”
Location, Location, Location…
Pick a location near you, one that resembles a place you are thinking of using in a story or are currently using. Now go there. Sit down and observe it, take notes. Revel in the sights, sounds and smells of the place. Observe the behaviors of the people there (if any) or the wildlife. Take your time and fully drink it in, how does it make you feel? Relaxed? Anxious? Irritable? If so… why? How would one of your characters feel here? And why? Again, take notes.
Later go home and utilize your observations in your writing. Write a scene in which one of your characters are in a locale like the one you observed, now bring it to life! Make us feel like we are really there! If you already had a previous scene in a story you were working on, post the before and then after versions for comparison. So others can learn from your fine example.
Ideas for locales:
A park, public/ wildlife preserve/ hiking trails
A mall or food court
A busy intersection
Bus or airline terminal
A school or campus
Library or bookstore
sports arena (this would have been awesome for the FSL 3.0 baseball game :D)
Hospital (very common in stories… this could be useful)
Apartment complex common area, pool area, laundry room
Auto repair shop (good for getting the smells and sounds of a busy maintenance bay/garage, as well as gaining descriptions of stained clothing and faces/hands/etc… helpful in stories)
Restaraunt/ Pub/ Bar/ Club etc.
I can’t wait to read your results.
Due by the 27th, have fun, go explore!
I am going to extend this exercise to the 3rd. I hope this helps…
Just to let you know that I haven’t forgotten
I have not forgotten either.
Snippet of a work in progress
working title-
[b]Egg of the Angel
[/b]
[SIZE=2][SIZE=3]I don’t care what planet it is, or how modern it is, alleys are depressing. They show you more than you want to know about the city and its people, it is like rolling up the sleeves of a supermodel only to finds rows of heroin needle marks.
This is especially the case here on this inhospitable little rock called Vhyce, and yes, the name is more than a little ironic. The government; such as it is… Is good about hosing the blood and puke off of the streets on a nightly basis, after all you need to keep them looking all nice and clean for your revenue generating visitors. I guess it is always the same in any city that depends on vice, gambling and tourism for its (official) income. But the alleys, those dark hidden arteries that feed the Casinos, fleshpits and sin dens are under the responsibility of the businesses that utilize them, you know ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Plus by passing the expense on to the businesses it saves the government a little money too. Well since there is no money to be made from keeping alleys clean none of the businesses make much of an effort to maintain them. Whatever, I still use them anyways; ironically the alleys are safer to walk than the streets themselves; especially if you have as many enemies as I do. Not that I go looking for trouble mind you, it seems to seek me out on its own. Lucky me.
The high walled alley twisted and turned like the blackened gnarled root of a diseased tree. The path before me was dark, damp, smelly and cluttered with refuse and debris. It was like hiking through a giant’s polyp ridden colon. On occasion you would spot the outline of a sleeping homeless man, the bottles beside him as broken and discarded as the men who had drunk from them. Of course it is not just the alleys that are dark; the entire Club District itself was dark. It is because of the dome, one of the many that make up this sad excuse for a city. You see the contractors that built this particular dome screwed up and used the wrong materials. And because of that the teams building the district died of radiation poisoning, when confronted with this the contractors claimed that they were given faulty information. Anyways after a long and drawn out legal battle the contractors were found at fault, after dealing with the obvious financial obligations this caused they then followed the judge’s order to fix the dome and did so in the fastest and cheapest way possible. By spraying thick layers of thermal and weather sealants on the outside of the dome, thereby plunging the interior into eternal night. The club owners don’tseem to mind, they think it actually increases business. After all doesn’t everyone associate nighttime with party time? Personally I find it depressing, night without stars is just wrong, it feels more like being trapped underground; neon not withstanding.
And need I mention how it messes with your internal clock with it being dark all of the time? I mean it is early morning right now, but how you would ever know it without seeing a chronometer sporting AM?
I stop in front of a large puddle to check myself in the reflection. I shift and adjust my ensemble until everything slides into place, showing off my sculpted abs and sensual curves. Even though it is as black as a politician’s heart I can still see my reflection as if it were a mirror in my dressing room, a gift of my inheritance, one of many. Good, nothing in my teeth. I tease my blonde hair into something threatening to become trendy and check to make sure there is none of that gunky sleep stuff left around my eyes. Alright, enough stalling, on to work. I hate mornings, have you guessed that yet?
As I turned the final bend of the alley I spied two of the club’s burly and intimidating Brach’Kyn bouncers sitting on upturned milkcrates at the loading dock, around them was the clutter of discarded broken barstools and tables, amidst this mini demilitarized zone they were smoking cigarettes and using a 5 gallon bucket filled with sand as an ashtray while raucously swapping stories. It was an hour before opening and neither of them had on their ties, cummerbunds or coats yet; instead they lay draped over the stair railing beside them. The bigger one of the two raised a scaly eyebrow as he noticed me approaching. They were always amazed at how I managed to circumvent the alley’s security gates, they had no idea how I did it and I was sure as Hell was not about to let the secret out. The other one followed his friend’s gaze and smiled when he observed me circumventing the obscenely overflowing dumpster, “Hey Suze, working early today huh?”
I nodded dejectedly as I walked closer taking care not tostep in anything icky, while not my usual chipper response it was the best I could muster up on such a miserable morning; besides I was not looking forward to my inevitable confrontation with Darhn. The younger bouncer did not take my non answer personally which was a good sign, in fact his smile widened when I emerged beneath the sickly glow of the overhead security lights and he noticedmy colorful hairstyle. He turned and punched his friend in the shoulder, “See? I told’ya she’d have more than one color in her hair.” He pointed proudly to the numerous colored streaks in my blond flowing locks. Theother bouncer said nothing in response and rubbed his sore shoulder, red eyes grimaced at me while I neared the stained concrete stairs; you see they alway shave this running bet as to what my hairstyle will be; and since he lost most of the time I think he was beginning to believe I was in on it somehow. I ignored his sneer and waved a hand in front of my face in disgust as I passed the glaring reptilian, “Do something about that after shave will’ya you’re gonna draw insects” As he fished around in a pocket he growled out, “Brach’Kyn do not shave human,” he then reluctantly handed a casino token to his cheerful friend.
I stopped and peered back over my shoulder, “Whatever, ya still stink.”
A low and rapid clucking sound came from the back of his throat and his head crest flared. His friend leaned over him and inhaled loud and dramatically, “You know, I think she is right.” The bouncer’s attention rapidly changed from me to his teasing friend, he whirled and glared at him,which caused the other to break into laughter when he saw the expression on his face.
He needled him further with a, “Did you get a ‘goldenshower’ last night?” This caused a playful scuffle to break out between them. I sighed and shook my head, Brach’Kyns are like scaly frathouse jocks. Their scuffle was cut short though by the intercom on the wall buzzing, it was quickly followed by a whiney nasal female voice yelling in a distinctly non-sexy fashion, “YO! Where are you guys? We’re at the security gate gets the fuck over he-yah, its fah-reeeezing!” The two testosterone poisoned bouncers scrambled like keystone cops to open the gate and escort the dancers in. I sighed and went in through the service entrance.
[/SIZE][/SIZE]
As I passed the liquor room and the beer cooler the temperature began to rise, damn I had hoped to get here before Chy’Phon had fired up his equipment. Good thing I have not put my makeup on yet, it would melt and run off me while standing in the kitchen talking to Chy. One of the reasons Darhn hired Kray’Chk cooks is because they don’t mind the heat; they are from a hot planet, so when the air conditioning goes down (as it often does) they don’t complain. The rumbling of the exhaust hood grew to a roar as I entered the ‘Kingdom of the Chef’; the roar was accompanied by the rattling of dishes and the growl of the dish machine nearby. Taking off my now uncomfortable jacket I winced as I passed by the blazing heat lamps suspended over the pass through. I leaned atop the cowl of the cold prep station and leaned in to peer into the ‘line’ as he likes to call it. I spied Chy’Phon effortlessly setting heavy bain maries full of different sauces into a steam table quickly filling with water, great; now it was going to become both humid as well as hot. I need to get this over with quickly, with theair conditioning down again it is going to get as hot as the devil’s anus in half an hour. Not that I would know from personal experience what the devil’s anus is like but we have all heard the stories right? (Don’t look at me like that, I know you have)
I tried to shout over the cacophony of kitchen sounds and the ‘wake me the fuck up’ techno music blaring from his chronically abused stereo sitting on a nearby shelf, “Hey, Chy!”
Nothing, he could not hear me over the racket + music. I waved my arms, the motion drew his attention. He smiled warmly and shut off the water faucet and his duct taped stereo, “Hey Suzi, wuzup girl?” I smiled back and waited patiently as he wiped large calloused hands on a green striped towel andsauntered closer. (Green stripe = kitchen. Blue stripe = bar. Remember that, there will be a test later.)
“How is it going with the Human dishes?”
The stations polypropylene cutting board creaked as he leaned his muscled bulk on it, “Well I picked up a human cookbook,” he nodded toward his ‘office.’ A hand-me-down office chair and a beat up desk shoved between two six foot tall steel wire shelving units, it had a stack of worn and stained cookbooks resting on it beside his Frankensteined laptop.
He tilted his bald terracotta colored head in thought, “And I did a lot of research on the ingredients listed inside, I think I can recreate a number of the dishes substituting ingredients that we have on hand here but…”
“But?”
“I am not sure they would besafe for human consumption,” he shrugged his huge shoulders, “we buy all of our stock from distributors that specialize in non-human products, when I inquired as to if their products were safe for human consumption they all replied much the same, ‘it never occurred to us that humans would ever be interested in consuming our product, therefore no research has ever been conducted as to what effect our product would have on the human digestive system’.”
“Well can’t you purchase humanproducts? There are plenty of distributors here on Vhyce that do business with nearby human colonies.”
“Our club does not cater to human customers, so I doubt that Darhn would allow me to purchase ingredients forhuman dishes.”
My shoulders slumped, “What the Hell are the girls and I supposed to eat?”
Cy spread his huge hands in an apologetic nature, “Sorry Suzi, I have broached the subject of employee meals for the human staff with Darhn and he was; shall we say, less than receptive.”
I growled in frustration, damnit I had hoped to avoid this. The relationship with the clubs owner was a tricky one, we did not particularly like each other but we needed each other. I needed a job and a place to lay low from the authorities, and Darhn needed me to keep the human entertainers and the customers in line.
He laid a heavily calloused hand on my shoulder, “I am sorry Suzi, but you know how Ver’Myr’Hyn are about money.” I smiled back wanly, yeah, I knew all too well about Ver’Myr’Hyn. He squeezed my shoulder tenderly and let go, “I gotta get back to work, good luck with Darhn,” he turned to go and I watched amazed that such strong and rugged hands could be so gentle, I have seen him grab perforated pans straight from the steamer and plates of bubbling food out from under the Salamander. NASA would love to get a look at those hands.
He stopped and looked back at me, a sly smile grew on his rugged features, “Maybe there is a way you could use his love of money against him,” he winked knowingly at me and then went back to prepping the kitchen.
I began carefully making my way from the kitchen trying not to get the high heels of my boots trapped in the drain holes of the floor mats, I did that once, it was not pretty. Never again.
(more to come)
Nightclubs are like cheap whores, you should never see them in proper lighting. Because then you can see all of their scars, bruises, blemishes and missing teeth. This is another reason I do not like working mornings, the house lights are up because the cleaners are just finishing up their vacuuming and mopping. You can see the frayed and taped edges of the carpet, the patches, cigarette burns and worn high traffic paths. The marks and scuffs on the walls from where chairs and people have been leaned against them,the greasy dirty stains and holes in the furniture; and of course the cornucopia of unmentionable stuff people stick underneath tables that hang and leer at youfrom the shadows like bats.
Kindda removes the allure and mystique doesn’t it? Andwhen you see the entertainers in their street clothes trash talking around monstrous wads of gum about their previous night’s customers with mouths that would make their Mothers blush, or too see them in disorganized and trash strewn dressing room using powders, curses and bewildering tools to squeeze into costumes designed by a madman (and I say man because a woman would never think of these) and then wobbling and teetering on ridiculously high heels as they mount a creaky stage held together by epoxies, bungee cords and pacts made with the underworld. It is like peeking backstage to see where the Magician hides his rabbits and birds, a little more mystery is lost and the universe seems all the less for it.