A Simple Image Plot Challenge #1

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Flannel, Jul 11, 2014.

  1. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.

    If you have no clue what a image plot challenge is, I'll quote Iwaku.
    Simply put, study the photo I'm giving you. Don't over think anything, just make a story based on what you see. If it's a person, study their emotion. Are they happy, are the sad? If a building of some sort, is it old? Does it look maybe haunted?

    I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES I USE IN THE CHALLENGES I CREATE. Images belong to their rightful owners.

    Have fun!

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  2. Echoes of Life​


    Children's laughter and play echoes in the wind as little voices sing in harmony

    Ring around the rosie
    A pocket full of posies
    Ashes, ashes
    We all fall down

    The innocence of children's laughter should be cherished and held onto. For laughter can just as easily turn into tears, and tears then into silence....


    Six years ago I was on a trip with my mother and father in the country side. We took a train through the mountains and traveled to a quiet cabin in the forest. Everything was good until the day that the dark cloud came and took everything and everyone away. I managed to survive, but am I the only person left on this planet? I searched for days, even came by the small town we'd passed through, but there was no one there. Everything was deserted as if everyone simply vanished into thin air. Electricity still works, and the trains run daily. So for six years I've been here, alone, trying to find my way back home. My way back to civilization. Isn't there anyone else out there?


    Between the world of the living and the world of the dead is a place known as Limbo to some and the Dead Zone to others. A place for those who are both alive and dead yet do not know it. Join this poor lost soul on an epic adventure to see whether they will live, or pass on to the great world of the dead.
     
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  3. Blessed

    Bennett watches as the train pulls into the station with his bag on his left shoulder. This bag is all he has left to his name. Most of the belongings inside are sentimental trinkets and photos from his short time on earth. Only seventeen years old and he is truly alone on this planet.

    His name is Bennett and his mother used to say it meant blessed. It was a tale she told him after he had asked her why she always called him, "My little blessing". She told him about how his father and she had tried for so long to have a child and after several tries he was born. He remembered scrunching up his nose and telling his mother how lame it was to have a name that meant blessed. She would smile at him and tell him that one day he would understand.
    Well, he was seventeen and he still didn't get it. He was seven when his parents were killed. A burglar had broken into the house while they had all slept.
    He had woken to gun shots, which he later realized was the sound of his parents being murdered, and hid under his bed. It was less than a half hour before he was being herded into an ambulance and the next day he found himself with foster parents.
    After dealing with three foster homes he took off. He couldn't stand living with any of them because he knew when he was being used. None of them cared about him and what he had been through. The only thing they cared about was the money he brought in from the state.

    So, this was his life now. Whenever he needed a change or a new place he would just sneak onto a train and move along. Always moving. As he boards the train he gets jostled by a little kid running on, followed by a concerned parent. His mouth twists into a painful grimace and he finds a seat; throwing his bag on the other seat to discourage people from joining him. He leans back and closes his eyes; ignoring the giggling child and the parent who plays with them.
    The train leaves the station and he hears the sound of rain pelting the window. The ride moves on and soon enough the child calms down and he feels them sit behind him on the other seat. He is fine until he hears the parent whisper, "My little blessing."
    He curls in on himself as though to shield himself from the words but it echos in his head. The same words repeating over and over, "My little blessing."