EXERCISE Theme Song #26

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Celestialis, Aug 23, 2012.

  1. [video=youtube;mFM1CF9bqho]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFM1CF9bqho[/video]

    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. An old woman sat on the very edge of a dock. A single tear drop rolled down her cheek, and fell into the ocean. Her grey eyes blinked, as her mind wandered to the previous day. The village still standing and people chatting happily. Most of all, she remembered holding her grand daughter in her arms.

    She remembered the way her grand daughter's hair couldn't stay out of her face that windy day. Though the wind blew hard, it was still warm for the ocean front village. She was playing with her grand daughter on the docks that day. It was special, because her grand daughter wasn't allowed to play there on her own, and the old woman hardly had the energy to take her there, especially on the colder days which brought an ache to her bones.

    As the day carried on the sun sank lower and the wind picked up. She lifted her grand daughter for the last time. Someone was yelling, and pointing toward something at sea. It was a ship, and there were more behind it. The flags they flew betrayed the fact that they were vikings. The old woman stood, frozen in terror, clutching her grand daughter close to her chest.

    A decision was quickly made amongst the villagers, the children and women young enough to run, would run. Their village did not stand a chance against the vikings. They were fisherman, merchants, and farmers. Not soldiers.

    It pained the old woman to have to send her grand daughter off. They lived alone here. She would be traveling with strangers, and no one would be looking out for her. She had no choice, she knew that if she went she would only slow her down. The old woman cried as she pushed her young and hesitant grand daughter away, towards the retreating women and children. She could only hope for the best, that they would return.

    The vikings arrived, and pillaged and burned the town. The villagers huddled together. The younger men were slain mercilessly. The older people were spared simply because they were ignored. They could only watch as the vikings sent a party off to find those that ran. She remembered falling to the feet of one of the men, begging them to take what they wanted, but to leave the rest of them alone. She was only kicked away, left to weep in the dirt.

    She sat now, in the present. The vikings had left, and the remaining elders were picking through their ruined village. The fires still burned in most of the homes. No one had the heart to try to put them out and save their homes and belongings. They were already dead. A whole village of elders, with no children or kin to live on after them.
  3. All the photos and mirrors were covered in white lace and candles were lit on every surface of the vast bedroom of the king as he lay sick in his bed. His three sons stood on either side of him while his seven daughters stood around the foot of the bed. The eldest daughter tended to her father while the eldest son stood at attention awaiting the orders he was sure would come. A court jester sat in the background head lowered as silent tears fell down his face.

    It was a sad day for the kingdom, their king was dying and not one of the sons wished the throne, nor did any of the daughters. None of his children felt they would be able to handle the duties bestowed upon them if they should take the throne. The eldest feared power, they did not want to be consumed by it and later turn against their people, the middle felt the same but the youngest, they did not care because they were not of the ones to be chosen. Even the court jester feared for the leader ship of any of the children for he’d seen them grow up.

    Lying on his death bed the king decreed that each of his children shall hold the throne, the eldest son would be the first followed by the next in line. They were to be each other’s council and if any should cross the boundaries of their power, swift action must be taken to ensure the safety of the kingdom. With his final words he blessed each of them and gave them all his love. Soon his eyes glazed over and he felt the icy hand of death by his side. Without wavering, he followed death to the void beyond and the peace that welcomed him home.
  4. It was a sunset that captured all, yet it let go of every single thing that it captured, a scene which spoke in a thousand languages yet kept its mouth shut, a graveyard that was filled with the souls of the people who sacrificed their lives, an empty place where nobody except the Four Winds have visited for aeons. It was a place of eternal silence that told an endless string of stories, a place which should have been held in high regard, yet everything was dead. The stones marking the eternal resting places of heroic men and women were chipped, moldy, and the shine of the eternal sunset revealed their faults for the eyes of the world to see. Not even the dead grass moved as the Four Winds swept across the plane, making their yearly visit in the place once again, still seeing that the place of the eternal sunset was as abandoned as ever, and that the sun shined as fiercely as ever, slowly destroying this once great monument.

    Why? Why is it that this beautiful meadow, that this wonderful memory must be destroyed? The Four Winds did not understand. Why did humans leave these gravestones here that marked the resting places of their heroes, only to leave it alone? The Four Winds had no answer to that question either. They had no answers for any question, only the sorrow in their hearts answered their thoughts. Only the voiceless touches of the dead souls answered their wails. Only death, with their eternally sharp scythe, was there to answer the questions of the Four Winds, and he made the promise to never tell the secret of the eternal sunset. He made a promise to never reveal why these gravestones have been set here and why they have been abandoned.

    Yet the Four Winds continued to wail and encircle the gravestones. They continued to blow through the fractures and the cracks, they continued to ask the dead souls their questions, hoping that one day, they will get an answer. They continued to swirl and dance around death's eternally sharp scythe, unafraid of their own ends, for they knew of the role that they played in nature, and knew that death would never harm them. Year after year, they never gave up, always bringing the scent of distant flowers to the graveyard, the joy of the people who have forgotten about these heroic souls that rested in the place of the eternal sunset. Their concern was genuine. Their questions were honest. Their devotion was endless. So, in the end, death took pity on them and told them why these graves are never visited by humans, why they were left alone to crumble into ash and dust just as the bodies buried in them.

    As death told the story of the great heroes in the graves, the winds lost interest one by one, except for the North Wind, who listened to the story with increasing fascination and delight. Only he remained until the end of the story, and he was the only one who still thought that he had to bring joy to this place of eternal sunset. But, as he was the North Wind, he could bring nothing but cold, famine and destruction. Knowing that his presence would only destroy this magnificent graveyard, the North Wind made a promise to avoid the place of the eternal sunset as long as he lived, and to pass on the sorrow that lied in the place. He collected the wails of the heroes, their forgotten promises, their broken vows, their rage and their wrath, then took them with himself so he could spread them all over the world.

    But during his long journey, the North Wind lost these emotions, which spread themselves amongst the other winds, who made them into their own toys and devices. Enraged at their behaviour, the North Wind confronted the other winds with all his might, but he ended up losing even what remained of the emotions that he carried with him. Only the rage of the long-forgotten heroes remained with the North Wind, which he locked in a purse and kept with himself. Now, every time the Four Winds meet, the North Wind unleashes the rage of the damned souls, stirring up mighty roars in the sky as he fights with the other three to take back what was once his.