WRITING 100 Theme Challenge

Discussion in 'SHOWCASING' started by Tarieles, May 5, 2016.

  1. So I once started a 100 theme challenge, but never finished it. I want to start it again, finish it, and do it more. My plan is to use old and new RP characters so I can develop them a little better. I'm going to be making only one shots, but they'll vary in length.

    The Challenge:
    This one is created by me, using elements of ones I found online, and some that I've just thought of. I don't mind if anyone uses it for themselves! I made it so you can write about any time period.
    1. Birth
    2. Light
    3. Awake
    4. Breathe
    5. Love
    6. Obsession
    7. Why
    8. Child
    9. Tears
    10. Run
    11. Dark
    12. Vengeance
    13. Failure
    14. Faith
    15. Dream
    16. Challenged
    17. Truth
    18. Gunshot
    19. Family
    20. Memory
    21. Insanity
    22. Blood
    23. Flower
    24. Night
    25. Anger
    26. Win
    27. Lies
    28. Goosebumps
    29. Content
    30. Embarrassed
    31. Innocence
    32. Night
    33. Rainbow
    34. Stars
    35. Precious
    36. Wait
    37. No
    38. Hate
    39. Stop
    40. Peace
    41. Hatred
    42. Sadness
    43. Confused
    44. Time
    45. Dress
    46. Pain
    47. Tired
    48. Please
    49. Good
    50. Flight
    51. Ice
    52. Same
    53. Want
    54. Hope
    55. Clumsy
    56. Surprise
    57. Right
    58. Relationship
    59. Fear
    60. Toy
    61. Thanks
    62. Morning
    63. Sleep
    64. Help
    65. Friend
    66. Stupid
    67. Lonely
    68. Bored
    69. Alcohol
    70. Storm
    71. Sweet
    72. Yes
    73. Need
    74. Small
    75. Wings
    76. Hold
    77. Wrong
    78. Heart
    79. Vulnerable
    80. Evil
    81. Angel
    82. Monster
    83. Darling
    84. Gift
    85. Choice
    86. Adult
    87. Fall
    88. Happy
    89. Snow
    90. Misunderstanding
    91. Baby
    92. What
    93. Stress
    94. Change
    95. Conflict
    96. Hunger
    97. Large
    98. Demon
    99. Sick
    100. Death

    You are welcome to critique, but please DO NOT post on this thread.

    Characters Remaining:
    Paris
    Sable
    Nicholas
    Charlotte
    Titus
    Anael
    Linnea
    Sirus
    Kara
     
    #1 Tarieles, May 5, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 27, 2016
  2. Sable-
    1. Birth
    Trigger warning: Non-graphic depictions of murder, mentions of child death

    It was a lovely home, with plush carpets and brass sconces. When the sun shone through the windows at sunset, the front rooms gained a lovely orange glow, something one could only imagine. The house was well worn with lots of love. It had obviously gone through many generations of family. It was well kept, and it seemed as if nothing was out of place to the untrained eye. However, something was out of place. Not a crystal missing off of the dining room chandelier or a snag in the carpet. This was not physical.

    A mind is a fickle thing. It serves man well, so long as you, and others, treat it well. That was unfortunately not the case for the young father of three, Sir Oscar Lewis Mereworth. With a nagging wife and a instigator of a mother in law, Oscar was not a lucky man. The German immigrant was at his wit's end, and he had enough. He took his flintlock pistol and a wood axe, and ended his day.

    Now, on a normal night, he would say goodnight to his in-laws, as it was for all intents and purposes, their home. He would get reprimanded for something and then he'd go help Martha, his wife, tuck his children into bed. After, he would attempt to talk to Martha about her parents. She would only ignore him, and also complain about something. When they went into bed, he would attempt to make love, but his advances were met with coldness, and sometimes hostility. He was raised better than to forcefully take her, so he would simply stay on his side of the bed, and wonder where he went wrong with his life.

    This night was not normal.

    Axe and pistol in hand, Oscar quickly made his rounds. His first stop was the in-law's study, where they sat before going to sleep. He had always wanted that study for himself, but it wasn't to be. They kept it for their own. It wasn't fair, and he hated them for using the house like they still owned it and hadn't already passed it on. They should have been dead by now. He hated them for treating him like some second-rate person, just for growing up a slave. He hated them because they thought Martha only married him out of pity, and not for love. He hated them because they hated him.

    The door creaked open.

    "Goodnight." He called in, quieter than normal.

    "Oscar? The gardens need tending to, and they can't wait for that Frenchman. I need you to do it tomorrow, you shouldn't leave it to look so ragged, it'll seem like the place is abandoned. And you apparently don't know how to raise children, little Clara was climbing with the boys! You shouldn't allow your daughter to-"

    One swing was all it took. One swing at her neck, and he had some peace and quiet. Alfred of course stood up and started to run to the door, but he was old and becoming feeble. In no time at all, they had a new red carpet. He felt liberated. A source of his awful stress had disappeared once and for all. His hand seemed glued to his weapon as he stumble down the hall, the gravity of what he had just done starting to sink in. He stepped in front of the door of his next rounds. The nursery, where his three children slept. Martha sat at the end of the bed, where all three slept. They were giggling at a story she was telling them, before the youngest one looked his way, and laughed.

    "Red papa!" He pointed and squealed at this wonderful show of his father being such a funny color, not knowing of what would befall him. Martha turned, and silently gasped, before standing, staying in front of the children. Martha and Oscar locked eyes, while the older children tried to silence young Charlie's giggles, at least partially understanding what was going on.

    "Hello dear." Martha spoke as calmly as she could. "Why do you have that?" She pointed to the axe with a shaky finger. Oscar did not respond. He walked closer towards her and the children.

    "Ma'am, I've finished cleaning the kitchen, may I-" A servant wandered into the room, gasping at the sight. Oscar turned to her, but she was gone like a dash, likely to find someone who could take down an armed man. He didn't go after her. She never did anything wrong. He actually enjoyed the young woman's company when his wife wouldn't give him what he wanted.

    His wife.

    Looking at her face made him angry. She was scared and looked almost angry. Of course. She was always angry at him for something. His children were no better, brainwashed by the witch to prefer her over them. The thought made him seethe with rage. What had he done to make her hate him? No, he hadn't done anything. It was her fault. She hated him for no reason, but he had a reason to hate her. He had every reason in the world to hate her.

    "You bitch." He murmured, putting the pistol in the hem of his pants. He grabbed the axe with both hands, he surged forth, knocking her down his his momentum. The children screamed as he started to his her with the blunt end of the axe. She deserved no better. The bitch deserved to hear her children scream as she succumbed to death.

    Her body was lifeless. He once again felt relieved, now that there was no one to nag at him. He would be able to live his life again. But the incessant screaming was enough to drive a man up the wall. Such agony on the ears. Why did anyone put up with these demons? He surely wouldn't any longer.

    At this moment, a crowd started to gather, hearing the screams from inside the house, and from the servant girl who ran out into the village. Murmurs slowly rose, theories of what could be going on. Finally, a single shot rang out, silencing the whole crowd. A man who prided himself as the leader of the militia rushed inside. He was to find a scene of gore that he would never forget, and the man who he would always assume perpetuated it.

    From the gore of Oscar rose a man. His hair and eyes reflected the colors of the blood around him, and his skin glistened in the moonlight. He stood in the spot for a long time, looking at the room and the scene around him. Before long, the door slammed open, and a man was accusing him of doing the deed. The scarlet man stared down at his new body, his form naked, unlike the people around him. He turned to the other man, walking towards him. He was met with a blade. Undeterred, he merely walked into it, the cold steel piercing his flesh. He grabbed the man's shoulders, his form morphing into a grotesque, black winged creature. It screeched in his face, taking the sword, and roughly pulling it out of himself. In that one moment, he had disappeared, leaving the man where he stood.

    The demon who had emerged from the bloodshed soon found his way outside of the house, where people had gathered. They looked at the creature, and screamed and fled. They knew what he was- or at least had an idea of the horror he could cause. However, running when a demon is present is never a good idea. His hunting instincts kicked in, and the demon was in the air, swooping down at people. He grabbed one, a young man, who looked scared beyond his wits. A clawed hand was thrust into his chest, bringing out a small orb of what looked to be distorted air. The man fell limp immediately, and the creature brought the orb to its mouth. Nothing spectacular seemed to happen, but power flowed through him.

    Those who were still outside were not lucky. When the demon returned to his senses, twelve bodies lay around him. His face was horror stricken. He ran as far as he could. The people would always remember this night, until the day the village itself was lost to time. Nobody knows just what happened that night, but the demon still wanders the earth to this day, searching for a meaning to his supernatural life, and waiting for the day he will be called back home to the fiery sea.
     
  3. Sable-
    2. Light

    Sable had always been a creature of the darkness. It had never really occurred to him that perhaps he would enjoy the light. Not until he met her.

    She herself was a creature of the light. She was soft and warm, her hair was the breeze, and her eyes the sun. Her sun-kissed skin glowed radiantly in the light. She was a goddess. Sable learned from her many things about the world that he had not known, trapped in his darkness. She told him stories of places he could only dream. The light was her friend, and she reveled in it.

    She seemed to change when the darkness came. She was frightened. She clung to him like a bee to flowers. She wouldn't go where her protector couldn't follow. She would always look to see if he was still around, she never left him, and he never left her. Her frame shook, like a tiny tree in a small breeze. Her eyes darted from place to place, almost seeming as if she expected something to jump at her. Her entire demeanor changed when the darkness came.

    He hated to see her like that. He learned to like the light, and to tolerate the pain. He would suffer anything for her.