Thread: Intros

Directions: Write a prose or poem using one of the following as an introduction.


A)The sadistic castle stood solidly atop the towering sea caverns.
B)Her reddish golden hair glinted in the moonlight.
C)Gunshots. I awake with a start. Red lights flash outside my window.
D)He runs the blade along his forearm.
E)I was dead.
F)Screw dogs! Pancakes are man's best friend.
G)Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?



haha. sorry about the last ones. my deliriousness gets the better of me at times.

I was dead.
I knew it before it happened.
Shot in the head.
The bullet stopped and let me say goodbye,
but that's all that I said.
No time for a hug and a kiss,
just a blackness of red.
I was dead.

I was dead.
It lasted ten years,
memories of when we led
people through their tears.
I knew that we had fallen,
me and my goodbye,
but for all the world
I was dead.

I was dead
on the inside and out.
They were gone.
"Goodbye" I cried out.
Shot by fiends,
and the fiendish,
those bastards outlandish,
made me dead.

My brother, gone.
My mother, gone.
My sister, gone.
My father, gone.
They were dead,
left me dead.
I, alive,
I was dead.


Meh.

He runs the blade along his forearm
Hoping to only cause himself harm
All he sees is the crimson stain
A last reminder of all the pain
Feeling like he’s going to drowned
He lies back without a sound
The creeping of a timeless death
Knowing this will be his very last breath

her reddish golden
hair, glinted in the moonlight.
natural moment-

Gunshots. I awake with a start. Red lights flash outside my window.

don't know what the next door neighbor is into
not bright, like brad renfroe
it makes sense though
the harmony and chaos of it

who lives in a
pineapple
under a sea of snapple
everywhere is that damn sound
dammit, its everywhere!
you know...

the CRACKLE!

thank you for such a good prompt, i enjoyed writing this, even if it is no good, lol.
Heather


Her reddish golden hair glinted in the moonlight. He touched her face gently, stroking his fingers over her soft cheeks. She shuddered at his touch slightly, wanting to back away, but found herself stuck to the quick. Yet she was unsure of what was holding her there. Was it his deep brown eyes that seemed to see her soul? Was it his strong yet slim body tight against hers? Or was it the fact that he had her held against a wall, her arms held behind her back by his manly hands.

She squirmed slightly, trying to stop her back rubbing against the hard brick of the wall. She tensed her body as he ran one of his hands up her side, lifting her top just an inch as he went. She waited. Yet nothing happened. He kept his hand on her hip and stared into her face, as if looking for something that was hidden deep within. She hoped he wouldn’t find it.

After what seemed like hours of waiting he moved. Instead of ripping of her shirt as she had imagined he would, he leant forward slightly and kissed her, his lips barley touching her half open mouth. At that moment her heart skipped, and she closed her eyes, waiting, wanting him to go further. Wishing he would take her into the deepest regions of his body, mind and soul. For the first time she felt as if she understood him, could feel the boundaries that once separated then being lifted.

To her utter dismay he stood up and walked off into the night. She remained laying there for a while longer, wishing, hoping he would come back to her, to finish off the business that he had started. He never did come back, and she lived the rest of her life with the imprint of his hand on her hip. His lips on her lips. his eyes in the mind.

Her reddish golden hair glinted in the moonlight. The swift wind made her hair flap, a strange noise in the dead of night. Her ice cold blade was held naked in her hand, a strangely poetic stance. The valley in front of her was bathed in the soft glow of light. The frosty ground crunched as she shifted her weight. Some details were not lost to her eye, the glint of spear tips, and the shine of a shield or the soft noise of marching feet. Hundreds of men, evil men, in her land. They wanted what they shouldn't have; couldn't.
Magic.
She lifted her hand slowly, a light grew in the palm of her hand the higher she held it. A shout rent the night air, they had spotted her. But she was ready. Ready to rend their limbs, burn their flesh and hack at their bodies.

She lifted her hand fully into the air and shouted her war cry, a thousand cries lifted up with hers. A thousand hands lifted into the air, a thousand swords glowed with arcane light and they stood behind her; with her. As she stood on that hill, with glowing palm, shining sword, flapping golden hair and with a thousand men behind her; she instilled fear into the stone hearts of her enemies. They knew that she would not rest till they lay on that hard, cruel ground, their life-blood draining from their motionless bodies.
Only God knew how right they were.



This was kinda s**t on my part. But excellent intros!

you're welcome. these are good. i guess i'll give it a go, because i need a warm up.

I was dead

I was dead. I wasn't in a coma. I didn't pass out. Not this time anyway.
I left the earth for good. I can't say that I was mortified. When you're dead
you're dead. No more senses. No more emotions. Just weariness and perhaps
something relating to paranoia. But that is all.

I am in an ocean. The water comes just over my eyebrows. I do not sink or
float. I just bob numbly following the rhythmic tide. Flittering images of my
past life come in and out randomly. I only get a glimpse, not even the whole
picture.

But one day or night or however the afterlife measures time, there she was.
I cannot recall her name. Mortal insignifcances are soon left behind on earth.
But her face has been permanently stained on my heart. Her laugh, just an
echo in my ears. I cannot escape. I loved her. I had to. Why else would I hold
on to such a dear face so hard that it would stay with me even after I had died?

In the fleeting image, she is mouthing something. I long for it to be an I Love You.
But her lips move too fast for this simple phrase. Her fiery red hair reaches past
her broad shoulders. Her amber colored eyes catch me off guard. I cannot breathe
just watch and try to listen. The image goes. I am destitute again.

I expect the ocean to be vast and full of souls like mine. If this ocean was teeming with lost souls, then I have missed them all. It is complete darkness. I use fragments of smell and pieces of sounds to describe my private afterlife to you. Something screeches above me. Perhaps it is a gull. I hope it is, but deep down I know what it was. My unborn child.

Something licks my hand. I repulse inside trying to pull away, but remember I cannot. I have no brain. I must be a shell of a human being. Everything is attached, but there is nothing inside except for broken thoughts and the occasional mirage of a life.

He runs the blade along his forearm.

It’s just a light touch at first. He’s a bit reprehensive, you see, ‘cause he’s never done this before. But he has to see, has to know if he can still feel.

The blood bubbles up.

It starts to spill forward, staining his skin like paint on an empty canvas. And the stark contrast of it against his pale arm is beautiful, so terribly beautiful.

It haunts him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but he can’t run from it; it’s still there, the dark red dancing tantalizingly against the back of his eyelids. For a moment that is all there is: him and the red, nothing else. It’s the dark, dark beauty of it that’s drawing him in, entrancing, until finally, with the last grips of premonitions sliding free, he surrenders herself to it.

I can feel, I can feel, I can feel, he murmurs, letting the velvet folds of burning crimson envelop him. This is it, the moment he’s been living for. And his heart’s beating, palms tingling, ‘cause this is the part where the pain washes over him, coursing through his blood like a bad metaphor…

Except it never comes.

Her reddish golden hair glinted in the moonlight.
And he saw her.
In that warm summer's night
He saw her.

I run the blade along my forearm, the blunt side mind. I don't care for all that 'self-harm' shit kids these days are so obsessed with. Nope. I do it to scare the girl in front of me. She sits there, shivering. Holding herself around the chest as though that will be the closest thing she'll ever get to a hug again.

Well, she wasn't far off. I hugged her. Just briefly, but you know, enough to scare her. Really scare her. She thought I was going to rape her. She said so.
"Oh please don't rape me, please!" I could of laughed. I wasn't going to rape her, no. I was going to kill her...


(Hehehe, thought I'd be sadistic.)

I was dead. At least I thought I was. The water was attempting to infiltrate my nostrils so I exhaled. A drove of bubbles began to make their way up my face. If my body was lifeless how could I feel them tickling my skin? Perhaps….I sent a message to the muscles in my legs. Slowly I began to rise to the surface.

The liquid pored out of my clothes and off my body in a multitude of waterfalls. Slowly I stretched my fingers out, feeling the bones crack beneath the pale skin. Even though I had absorbed massive amounts of water over the years as I had lain dormant beneath the lake’s surface my skin was still white and dry.

Where were they? There were supposed to be armies of righteous men waiting to conquer me, Kings thirsty for my power, and women wanting for my gifts. But, there was no one. I looked into the sun and saw that the star was much older than I remembered. How long had I been asleep?

Nearby a woman was breast feeding her child. I could smell the milk and licked my lips. I walked through the forest, my limbs gaining strength as I made my way through the twisted roots that littered the forest floor. The cabin was small and a wisp of smoke made its way out of the chimney.

I let my presence enter the room and stopped next to her ear. The babe was sleeping in her arms. I prickled her skin and could feel her getting excited. I whispered, “How long has it been since the evil disappeared from this land?” She gasped and looked around. Soothingly I touched the inside of her thigh. She closed her eyes, and as if she were under a spell, “It has been five thousand years since the he was banished.”

I drew my spirit back into my body. Five thousand years? I smiled. They must have thought I was dead, just as I had thought for so long. It was a wonderful feeling to know that they did not suspect my return, my vengeance. I walked towards the cabin. This woman and her child would be the first to feel my wrath. “Let the world know,” I said aloud in a raspy voice that had not been heard in centuries, “That I have risen.”

Oooh, thats good!

Nice one!
Cefor

The sadistic castle stood silently atop the towering sea caverns. Raging waves gnawed at the base of the sheer walls, throwing up spray into the black void of the night sky. The sea was as black as the sky, a bottomless swell of darkness. Knifing winds sliced through the otherwise still air, cutting through his inadequate clothes.

He shivered. The castle was behind him now. He was free, free of its oppressive weight, unburdened by his birthright. Twigs crackled under his heavy, leather boots as he began to walk slowly through the frost-ridden forest, away from the castle.

Away.

He was a prince, heir to Castle Leyrav and the lands under its ever-watchful eye. He had been a prince. That life was gone now, left back in the cold firelight of the castle. His old life was dead.

The wind curled around him as he walked, invading the frail warmth of his clothes. Biting cold permeated his flesh, sinking deep into his body, seeming to freeze his soul. It was as if the very weather was trying to keep him prisoner in this desolate land.

He reached a rough path, trodden through the sparse forest by generations of leather-shod feet. He glanced back at the ominous shadow of the castle. He was not familiar with this forest. Or any forest, he thought bitterly, raised in a sterile castle, sheltered with oppressive status and importance. His lips twisted. All sham.

He took the trail that seemed to head away from the castle, and resumed his walking. It was all he had left to him now, the only thing he knew how to do. Walk. Step and step, one frigid foot before the next, snapping the frost-covered twigs underfoot. His lips were turning ice-blue under the harsh gales. His fingertips and toes were numb. Still he walked.

Snow began to fall. Heavy flakes of white tumbled down through the overhanging branches, driven by the winds. The world turned white in a matter of minutes. Snow rested on his eyebrows, weighing his eyes closed. Still he walked.

He felt his legs turn to lead within his too-thin trousers. So cold. Bitter cold. Burning cold. As cold as his father’s heart. Cold as the fires of Leyrav. So cold. Yet still he walked.

He was staggering now, consciously forcing his legs to move, ignoring their protests. Mind-numbing cold. His muscles were frozen stiff. It hurt to move. He stopped.

He could rest for a time. Just rest. Then move again. Yes. Rest. He was too tired to continue. He could just rest. Get his strength back.

He cast around, searching through snow-blurred vision. There, a drift of snow, piled against a tree. He lay down stiffly in the hard-packed powder. So tired. It would be good to sleep.

Slowly, his eyes closed.

When the searching guards found him, he was little more than a snow-covered mound beside the path. The party trudged back to the castle with the icy bundle of the prince supported between them. The late prince. He moved no more.