PROMPT Picture challenge #10: Ghosts

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by redblood, Feb 8, 2015.

  1. INFO: They say that a picture can tell a thousand words. How many can you find?

    Each week a new image will be posted, and your challenge will be to write whatever the image inspires you to write. It can be anything as long as it relates to the picture. A plot, a scene, a short story, a poem, a character, etc. You can write as much or as little as you wish. It's not the length that matters, it's what you put into it. There is no time limit to these challenges, so feel free to jump in at any time.

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  2. Howls of gusting wind racing and breaking against the shore sent shivers through my old spine. But an elderly man who has seen enough of this world. I took my leave early this afternoon and a lonesome road into the North toward the sea. I'm not sure what it was that got into me, maybe I just wanted to watch the moon creep across that lonely sky. Stretching into something I never understood did that moon hover around our little world. A chuckle and a wrenching pain coupled with each other, nostalgia of an old mans past ridiculed by the pain of his chest. I took comfort knowing these ailments would trouble me no more before the next sun would arrive, for it would only find the remains of an old man, a shell devoid of the spirit which once dwell in those halls of bone, flesh and memory. Oh, in my heart courses the memories of ninety seven years! So much time has weigh me down, chains of a life burdened with sickness of the mind, body and soul.

    But here I sit, enjoying one last cigarette complimented with a fine bottle of strong drink. It had been a long time since I smoked a fine tobacco, so long the taste was fresh and the cold air complimented its warm fumes. The drink, no matter hold cool left me content as I stare into the sea, but a little shiver of that drink crawling around my skin. I felt a happy man, not that I wasn't happy to begin with, oh no! I lived a fine life, had many good friends... a family of course, two good strong men and a lovely daughter, all gone to have little kiddies of their own. I cherished their lives, as I know they cherished mine. Yet the cancer tears away at my core, but I am old and I have grown fragile. I've done all there is I can do and my only wish now is to finally be at peace.

    I heard it then. Out there past the howls of wind and waves there was something of a chant. Unified and strong, like the very waves themselves. I thought my heart had finally given for a moment as an old longboat landed on the shore. Worn and aged through the passage of time, it appeared to be travelling for some time. Then they emerged, old warriors clad in great fur skins and armed with ancient axes. One stepped forward from the rest, it was larger and bore a cowl upon its head. It did not speak yet I knew it beckoned and so I answered. With a huff I stood and felt my old knees struggle into place as I shuffled forward toward the ghostly figures. Strange, I'm sure at one point in my life I would be scared out of my wits if I'd seen such ghostly beings before and yet I felt a strange calm fall over me. As I grew closer I felt a bit more lively, my bones didn't feel so heavy and the world became more lucid than ever before.

    The ghostly beings began to turn as I stopped in front of what must have been their leader. It turned and gestured it's arm toward the ship. I followed and boarded with the rest, feeling as lively as I ever had. The ship let loose from the shore and the beings all sat in their rightful places, as did I. I let out a soft chuckle and felt only a youthful grace flow in my chest. I somehow felt that I still was watching from the shore, waiting for the sun to greet me.
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  3. The children would hide and run under the covers of their sheepskin blankets at the Tale of the Raz'Ghul Pirates. A band of barbarians, infamous for their bloodshed and innate sense of self-heroism, they would slaughter the innocent left and right and plunder any gold they may find. But the children were not told these stories simply to scare them. No, there was a part to the story they did not stay uncovered for, due to their terror. The best part. A hero by Amon the Wise found these barbarians plundering a nearby village on the way to his holy pilgrimage location.

    "You evil doers. You sons' of demons. Heed my words." Amon calmly stated, the breeze in tangent, almost godlike, with his movements. "Leave be the children and mothers of this peaceful town. Do not degenerate yourselves any further for the glory of homeland. For light shall always conquer dark. Light is the compass through your emotional mist, and the true benchmark of enlightenment. Come join me, brethren, in bathing yourselves in the light of the forefathers, and their own." He stated, the barbarians, menacingly advancing toward him, his calm smile and closed eyes unwavering, his monk outfit untorn, not a scratch on his bald head. "If you wish to perish, it is at your own haste." He declared, as the first barbarian swung his great, lumbering axe. But where was the monk, who spoke of enlightenment? He was on top of the axe, the blade having been swung with the horizon it's direction. A ball of pure light gathered in the man's hand, outstretched like he was going to blow petals into the wind with his ethereal grace. "If you do not want to follow the path of the light, let me cleanse you of your darkness."

    His ball of light had split into ten smaller spheres, one for each finger and thumb. As quick as lightning, the man was hit consecutively again and again, the light seemingly penetrating the barbarian's very core, the violent man becoming more dazed by the strikes as they occurred. Suddenly the barbarian convulsed, and faded into a dissipation of light. "Let me teach you a lesson today, my violent brethren. Strike another man, and his strike will be doublefold onto thee. Follow the path of light and light will be your guide."
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