EXERCISE Theme Song #25

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by Celest, Aug 16, 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. Gold flashed and silken scarves flirted to reveal what was hidden underneath. The sound of bells sounded each time her hips swayed to the music. Hot and sweaty men sat around the stage staring up at her with hungry eyes as she danced for them. Short cropped brown hair decorated in glitter and butterfly clips clung to the veil that covered her face. All that showed were here deep sea green eyes that enticed those watching as she swayed and moved. Her body following the tune, the chime of the bells rang in time for each note and she smiled beneath her veil

    None could see the glee on her face but those who knew her could tell she was having the time of her life. Her dream was to become a real dancer, not a belly dancer or a scarf dancer or even a fire dancer. She wanted to be a ballroom dancer. There was no way she would be able to get it but it didn’t hurt to let her dream. It was something her bosses had been telling her since she started working at their dance studio. If she worked hard enough, and did everything they asked, she would become what she wanted to be. Would that ever happen? No, she was too good to let the ballroom folks have her, besides the men enjoyed her company way too much to let her go now.
  3. Cinnamon spiced night the lovers walked side by side, hands entwined as with slow synchronized movements they weaved in and out of the bustling night market. The shouts of fresh moon crabs, the tankards of spiced ale and the lingering musk of human sweat mixed the air in an intoxicating aroma. The two glanced at one another, so alike they looked, they could have been brother and sister. White luna kissed hair and skin the color of the blackest mahagony they swayed side by side, eyes the color of the sea searching the crowd that parted before them as if cringing away from disgusting beast. The two were in no way disgusting. Regal, elegant faces that hinted at mischievousness, but by the way the boy's powerful legs swung, and the predatory way in which the girls hips slinked to their own beat, you could very easily see them as some sort of deadly beautiful beast. The girl let her hair roll back as she began to hear the song of the waves crashing over the beach met their ears. They glanced at one another, and without a word the boy spun the girl around and around like a top. Her pure white skirts swirling with her body as she danced to the hidden swing of a violin existing beneath the notice of most mortals. As if in their own worlds the two continued down the market with a skip in their step. The boy froze tapping his companion on the shoulder before pointing to a small child watching them with the wide eyes of innocence soon to be lost. The girl looked down at the child and then to the child's pale mother, whom without a word gently pushed her young daughter towards them. The boy smiled widely, his all too sharp teeth poking out from beneath his bottom lip as he held out his hand for the little girl to hold. She glanced back at her mother who was being held by some woman, whispering words into her ear, trying to console the suddenly sobbing woman. The little girl felt herself being picked up from off the ground and the whole world spinning around her in colors of gold red and black.
    The sea sang.
    The child laughed.
    The boy laughed.
    The girl laughed.
    The mother screamed.
  4. A single craft, a small rowboat, bucked atop the swelling waves. It was not far from the small port it set out from, and seemed to be heading towards a large ship that sat distant, and still. On the rowboat were three men, one strong looking man who rowed, an older man who was greying at the roots of his hair and beard, and a young boy who couldn't have been more than twelve.

    The young boy looked downcast, until something in the sea caught his attention. Fish were swimming awfully close to the surface, their blue scales shining like a multitude of tiny jewels in the sunlight. Sometimes their mouths would even break the surface, and it would seem like they were silently screaming up at him. The boy leaned over and tried to grab hold of one, but the older man, his captor, put a restraining hand on his shoulder. He was afraid the young boy would fall out of the boat. Or rather planned to jump out. He did not see what the boy saw. The kid settled down reluctantly, but could not take his eyes off the strange spectacle in the water. It almost seemed that the water beneath the fish was... glowing. He looked closer to the water, as if checking that his eyes were tricking him. He then looked back at his two captors, but they only stared ahead solemnly. When the boy looked back, his eyes went wide when he saw a face looking up at him. It was a woman, beautiful if not strange. It looked as if she had many lights in her hair, and her skin was pale blue. The lady flashed a sharp toothed grin. The boy was sure she was looking at him, even though her eyes seemed milky white, as if she were blind. Just as fast as she'd come, she was gone. Perhaps to chase after the fish that she'd terrified enough to seek safety on the surface.

    That was when the boy realized that they'd reached the ship. He was pushed roughly toward the ladder that led to the quarterdeck, where he would begin his life as a servant to the pirates aboard. He chanced one more look down to the sea, wondering if the sight he saw meant good luck, or bad.

  5. I have to say this this is amazing just simplying amazing i know i'm susposed to write scene but i'm no where compared to this level of creativity just amazing manly tears.
  6. A long time ago, in a distant land, there was an old pirate, the name of whom was remembered by no one, and his face was so distorted by the sands of time that people would no longer recognise him for his former self. He was merely a shadow of what he used to be, the remnants of a once-glorious ship captain who had conquered the seven seas with his might, and whose name was enough to send pure terror down the spine of any sailor. He was so clever that not even the whole navy could capture him, but now, he was merely a powerless, old man, before whom lied nothing but the once glorious past. Only one part of his former life remained with him: every day, he would not miss visiting the local tavern, where he would order a mug of ale, and keep drinking one mug after the other in one of the corners.

    He had always done that when he was home, so it reminded him of the good-old days, when he fought against the fury of the sea or the anger of the navy. He always smiled at just how much treasure he acquired, at how much treasure he buried on a long-forgotten island, at the fact that he had taken more ladies' hearts than he could ever hope to count. It was good to remember those times, those golden years when his arms could still break in half the shin of his enemies, when his legs could still carry him across one ship to another without using a bridge, when his body would not collapse under the weight of a well-loaded treasure box. He could still remember how good it felt to raid a defenceless ship and then take everybody hostage for ransom. He still remembered the sharks circling around the ships after the battle, looking for fresh meat. He still remembered the sound of cannons firing, and bullets ripping through wood and steel.

    Had so much time passed? Of course it had, but deep inside his heart, he refused to admit it. Like always, he could not accept defeat, not even if it was against his own, tired self, against his own body. He could not accept the fact that he spent his days like this, doing nothing and lurking around the local tavern, so on one particularly cold day, he decided that he would do something. He stood up from the corner where he always used to be, and walked towards a group of young people, some of whom looked like the troublemaker kind. They were speaking about many things he did not understand, but they were clearly men of the sea, soldiers or pirates, but either way, he did not care. He just wanted to feel those old days again, when he stood against a group of navy soldiers and managed to get out without a single wound.

    "May I sit here, young gentlemen?" asked the old pirate, to which the group looked at him with hostile eyes.

    "What do you want, pops?" asked one of the men, but another one simply waved at him, which made him shut his mouth. This young man was clearly the leader of the group, as whenever he looked at his lackeys, they would refuse to look him in the eye.

    "No, please take a seat," said the leader of the young ones. "I have seen you here many times, old man... And each and every time, you were sitting in the corner, but that is not your place. You are like us, a man of the sea, yes?"

    "Indeed I am, young gentlemen," said the old pirate as he got himself a chair and sat down.

    "Then you must have experienced a lot in your life," said the leader. "So I would like to kindly ask you to share your stories... Even if they are false, I will gladly listen to them, for as a man of the sea myself, I can just not bear seeing that someone like me has collapsed so utterly," said the young pirate, and the old man's mouth curved into a smile. Of course he would talk about himself. After all, that is why he came here in the first place... To remember, and to be remembered.