EXERCISE Theme Song #24

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by Celest, Aug 9, 2012.

  1. Music touches people in different ways. Many people enjoy listening to music for inspiration, and others simply listen to it to relax. Some songs tell stories while others allow you to make your own story.

    Your challenge:

    Listen to the song above then take a minute or two to think about it.

    Write out a scene to this song; make this song your scenes theme song.

    Let me know what you see when you listen to this music.

  2. The white flag slapped the wind as a single bloody hand raised up from the ashes of what’s left of their ship. Their captain was dead, no one else survived the assault but her. It was regrettable they’d picked a fight like that on land. Pulling herself to her knees she raised the white flag higher as men in red surrounded her, their guns raised to her chest. Her voice failed her as she tried to surrender, they did nothing to help. Grabbing the flag roughly out of her hands they slapped her in irons.

    She half walked and was half dragged to a holding cell deep into the heart of the city. Many people spat at her and most threw food at her as she passed. The entire time her face was completely covered by a thick mass of light brown matted hair. It masked the smirk on her face till she was thrown in the cell hard. Whipping hair from her face she looked up at the guardsmen with a look of horror and pleaded for them to show mercy. Ignoring her eyes they walked away as she grasped the cell bars in her hand.

    Smiling from ear to ear she slipped back to the cot on the far wall. No one else was there, she was all alone in this dungeon, which was fine by her. The folds in her dress hid the single blade on her thigh, it also made it look like she were a gypsy of some sort. The fabric practically clung to her midriff and chest, the skirts puffed out a little as they were meant to be for keeping her footing free for whatever dance she did. It was the perfect disguise. Slipping a hand down her shirt she pulled out the keys she’d taken from one of the guards without their knowledge. A sailor she was not, a thief, now that was her forte.

    Removing the cuffs her wrists she slipped the shackles under the cot, looking up when she heard movement she quickly replaced them on her wrists and laid down on the cot, pretending she were sobbing. The guard thought nothing of it and returned to his post. This was working out quite well. She thought as she continued with her plan. The hand she’d cut stung like made and she had to tear a part of her dress to use as a wrapping. Slipping silently to the cell doors she opened them wide and squeezed out, no squeaking metal announced her escape. Free at last she went to the other end of the dungeon and pulled out one of the large rocks, giving herself enough room to slip through and out onto the street.

    Grabbing a long wide piece of cloth she wrapped it around her shoulders like a cloak and headed back to the port. Ships were docked, some of them just arriving and by the looks of it were about to leave any minute. Acting calm and unlike a criminal she went to one of the ships and paid for passage to join the crew. Soon she would start the whole process again and move onto another ship. This was her favorite game and she was not going to stop until she died or became too old for the trick to work. As the ship pulled away from port the alarms sounded and she smiled because there was nothing they could do to stop her.
  3. The graveyard of fallen warriors stretches out into infinity, yet it can never be seen by any eye except the one of the man who looks at this scene. The bodies buried under this soil will eventually turn into bones, the bones will eventually turn into dust, and the dust will turn into soil once again, soil which will never give life to anybody on this cursed planet. The bodies of the man's loved ones also lie in these thousand graves, but not even their physical presence can escape their fate, only their memories will remain etched into the memory of the man forever. His mother as she died by the hands of a red creature. His father as he was impaled by a steel support. His girlfriend as he was turned into something that does not even resemble a sapient being. These memories will always remain with him, until the end of his life, which will never happen.

    In his foolishness, the man who stands in front of the infinite graves, has made a pact with a goddess to turn himself into one who can protect his home, but instead, he only got a power that he could not use. Power, the price of which was eternal servtitude to the goddess, power, the price of which was an eternal life lived in an eternal universe amongst beings that could not even begin to understand his pain. Or at least so he believes. Or at least so he thinks. He thinks he is bound by the goddess, but he is not. Only his eternal life binds him, and nothing else, but he has not realised this yet, and neither has the goddess. Both of them thought that they would be forever bound by this contract. Both of them thought that the man would have to obey the goddess.

    And as he weeps in front of the infinite graves, the spark of a resolve is born in the heart of this man. It is merely a spark, but it is enough to ignite the built-up frustration and fury in his soul. It is a mere, single flame, but it is enough to set fire to the barrel full with gunpowder that stands in between a dam, a river and a city. And as the fuse of the barrel burns, a vow is born on the lips of the man, an oath is formed that sentences the creatures that attacked his planet to death. Words get shaped by the lungs, the vocal chords, the mouth and the lips of the man, words that form into sentences, sentences that form into paragraphs, paragraphs that form into one of the most relentless promises ever made. No, perhaps, contract is the right word for this promise, because this man is already overcome by fury, and he has agreed with himself that either he or these red creatures die.

    With resolve in his mind, with the memories of his loved ones still lingering in his thoughts, the man sets off to a journey amongst the stars to find species that can help him. One by one, he convinces them to join his fight, to lend him their strength so that he can fight his own, personal war. One by one, these species die slow, painful deaths as they are eaten away by a force that is much stronger than them. One by one, the emotions of the man slowly start to die until nothing remains of him but a hollow shell dominated by a desert of a soul. Only his oath, his promise, the contract he made with himself remains to motivate him, but now he cares not how he achieves it. No matter how many he has to sacrifice, he will end the creatures that killed his life, that are responsible for his current state.

    And as he continues on relentlessly, the goddess watches him with horror. She watches as he slaughters innocents, she watches as he creates fake attacks to convince species into joining him, she watches as he learns how to manipulate the opinions of those around him and turn them into his willing servants. And there is nothing she can do about him, for he is her patron, and thus he is immortal.