Writing Explorations: Week 40, Cold

[The Mood is Write]

[warning=yellow]

Sorry to spook you guys with the scary exclamation point just to the left, but I have an announcement: because this exercise has become something I did not expect when I began it, I'm changing the name. How I run it and when I post will remain the same, but I'm taking the current name for use in an upcoming series of exercises that will be posted to RP Mechanics once I finish planning them out.

The introductory paragraphs before the prompts will be changed to suit what this exercise has become, and how I've come to view it as well. As stated before, it will still deliver fun prompts and bonus opportunities, and you can always use what you post for whatever you wish! You retain full ownership of your own writing, as always.

[/warning]

Formerly called Plot Practice, these Writing Explorations are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued, and I will read every entry. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love for writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]Curious about how this works? Good! Look over the offered themes and prompts and the bonus rounds, then think about them. Then, take your thoughts and get writing. You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses: hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Themes:

1. The snowfall has come thicker this year than at any other point in recorded history. This leads to unexpected Troubles.
2. Snow is falling in the desert, but despite the warm temperature, it isn't melting. What is the cause?
3. "The last time I cared was before you were even a dream in your mother's heart."

Bonus Rounds:

• Someone is immortal, but everyone refuses to acknowledge it.
• A meme is included, but not for humor's sake.
• "Get out the fancy dishes, you filthy rot-eaten morons! We have a guest."
• Thoughtful gifts are sent by an anonymous sender. They grow creepier with each received.
• "Who made that snowman? It makes me uneasy."
• "Don't eat me!"

 

[PinkMilk]

Warning: Dark and disturbing themes ahead. Tread on, however, you've been warned!

In the Mournful Solitude

'The last time I cared was before you were even a dream in your mother's heart.'

He took another breath of his cigar and exhaled. The smoke rolled off the bottom of his lip and dissipated. He sat reclining in his large, leather chair in his office. There lie few emptied out bottles of liquor, but otherwise his desk was fairly put together.

'Hmph,' she remarked if with any shock.

'I see you're not rid of your rotten personality.'

His mouth quirked only but slightly. His brown eyes bore an impassive reflection.

'Listen—I don't care who you are,' he mumbled and slurred, 'I won't waste my money for anyone, especially not for the ingrate existence that is my daughter.'

That was it. There was not a way of reasoning with the business mogul after he's already said no. So stubborn of a person he was that he wasn't capable of taking anyone else's thoughts into consideration—not even seconds worth. His daughter frowned. She glowered down at him and swiftly snatched a bottle from his desk.

'Is this the stuff you care for?' she hissed, presenting the bottle before his face.

'Is that any of your concern?'

'Pray tell, who do you waste your money on? Your addiction! That's who!'

He brought down his large fist onto the desk. A loud noise bounces from the surface as his hand came into contact. Merely she flinched, for the limitations with her father bound were uncertain. However, she knew not to show dread nor apprehension. His countenance, though was uniformly upset most days, became further pinched with morbid displeasure.

He rose from his chair. He reclaimed the bottle that was once the one that she had held and smashed it over her head with great force. She crumpled and lay in a helpless, bloody heap. He bent down and slapped her across the cheek, marking it red with a handprint. She cried out, tearing up and pleading for God's mercy.

'Your dear child, for what are you mad at me?' she gasped.

He said nothing. He responded by kicking her girth. She reeled over, clutching her stomach like how one would hold a baby. He spat on her and the terror had ended, to which could be attributed to his fatigue and not to sympathy. Then he exited the room, mumbling curses and insults towards his daughter.

'Insubordinate… worthless child.'

And there she would remain all night, slipping into a slumber for which she would not wake up.

The End.

 

[Ravenfrost]

Just a note RE: Writing Explorations: Week 40, Cold

Checked in, saw what Moody had left (like a ticking bomb) and had it mapped out in 15 seconds. Moody, what is happening to me? Have you altered my brain? Shouldn't I be pondering more? Color me TERRIFIED. (Yeah, or purple, either one.)

I look forward to reading other people's work here, but can't look (no, not even a little peek) until I've written out my exercise response. It could throw me off my writing path to EBIL. You understand. I must not let virtue corrupt me (just in case there's any running about, unrestrained and all).

 

[Mami Tomoe]

"There's much more snow this year. Think we should make snow angels?" Pale, blue eyes looked up towards the cloudy, grey skies. His black wings flapped lightly behind him, earning astonished stares from passerby. Port Lin was a wealthy port town, full of aristocracy and arrogance. It the pride and joy of Terra. Although he had visited on diplomatic visits, this was Coal's first time actually walking around. He eyed the cozy storefronts and and gaudily-clothed citizens with an empty smile. "In any case, we should hurry this visit up."

"The snowfall wasn't expected. As a result, the fishermen have been hindered, as have the ships carrying wares and merchants in and out of town." Gwyn replied dryly, gaze straight in front of him. The rabbit beastman ignored the snowflakes on his large, floppy ears, and kept one, gloved hand on his sheathed rapier. "That's mostly why we're here."

"Oh?" Coal questioned, peering over at his white-haired companion with interest. While the ravenkin was disinterested in helping out the rich folks, he couldn't deny that assisting them would give him good publicity. "Really? I thought we were paying a visit to Ruolan. She's the one who requested that we deliver a message to the council, after all." Before Gwyn replied, the black-haired ravenkin gazed at several of the merchants and their wares. "Ooh! Candy apples! Let's get some!" He insisted, shuffling up to one of the merchants without waiting for his companion.

"We're not here to fool around!" Gwyn snapped, grabbing Coal's hand to halt him. The black-haired male turned to look back at him, giving a hassled sigh. "We're here for Ruolan, that's true. But we're here to help the town. There's a group of fire mages who live in the nearby forest. We're here to negotiate with them. Since their very presence radiates heat, it'll melt the ice and snow."

"Great plan." Coal hummed boredly, continuing to stroll down the street, towards the residential district. "Let's make sure to bring some Sea Salt Tea back to the council, okay? Nothing's better than sucking up to the superiors."

 

[The Mood is Write]

@PinkMilk
Nicely done! I hope to see more of your writing in the future. =D

@Ravenfrost
Bwahaha. Good, good. Your mind is becoming more creative. Excellent. Practice is the truest path to increase your creativity!

@Panne
Good stuff! Sadly, your second image appears to be broken. I'd like to see you take part in more of my exercises, if they catch your eye. ♥

I'm not squealing over here. Totally not bouncing happily in my seat, either. I'm definitely not excited to have so many responses. Except I totally am, and all of that is true.You guys rock!

 

[MST3K 4ever]

It was three days before Christmas as the lights twinkled across Hamilton University in upper-state Pennsylvania with the snow falling from the night sky. Looking out the picture window of the gym you could practically see from one end of the campus, and usually people would stop the workouts just to admire the view. However, in this case the gym was starting to feel like a prison. The snow started falling five days ago and within an hour quickly escalated into a full blown blizzard. One of the worst the state had seen in two hundred years, and from there the snow kept falling and falling and falling.

There were about six students trapped in the gym, but it started out as about twenty of them. There were those who got tired, or started to go stir crazy and attempted to brave the storm. Those who were left could actually see the frozen corpses from the window. It was a sobering reminder of why leaving under any circumstance was far from a good idea. So far those who remained managed to sustain themselves on items from the vending machines. Luckily one of the students, Larry, was a double major in engineering and science major so they were able to fashion a crude but effective heating unit from items in one of the saunas. It wasn't much but it at least kept a part of the gym warm. The power failed about three days ago and the decision was made to break into lockers to try and find towels or sweat clothes to stay warm as well.

Eric was in a corner of the gym trying to get a cell phone signal of any kind. Katherine walked over to him and asked, "Still no luck?"

Eric replied with building frustration, "Nope if it would just let up for five minutes we might be able to get some help here."

Katherine said putting her hand on his shoulder, "Hey, look at me."

Eric looked at her and Katherine said, "They know were here. They will find us right now from what we heard this thing has the whole state paralyzed. The snowfall is record setting even for this area."

Eric bowed his head and said, "I wanna believe that. I really do." Katherine put her arm around Eric and said, "Come on cut off the phone and save what's left of the battery for tomorrow night. Larry has put together a feast of potato chips and M&M's."

Putting his phone away Eric said, "If we get out of here I will never eat another chip or M&M ever again."

Katherine and Eric started walking over to where the others were and she said, "Hey we gotta do what we gotta do to survive"

Eric replied with a chuckle, "As long as you all don't eat me."

They sat down around the front desk and began to take bits and pieces. Abby, as was her custom began to pray. Once she was done and crossed herself Scott scoffed at her saying, "Once again thanking your imaginary friend in the sky for leaving us in this mess." He shook his head and rolled his eyes as Abby merely shrugged her shoulders and said, "I know God is here with us, because we're still alive and as long as I am I will praise him."

Eating a couple of M&M's Scott replied, "Sure right, whatever missionary girl while you're at it how about asking him to send some help."

Abby replied, "I already did. Help is on its way. These things take time."

Scott said, "Well when they arrive I'll say 'Get out the fancy dishes, you filthy rot-eaten morons! We have a guest!' And it'll all be fine."

Larry said, "Just so you all know we are about out of food in the machines. We may have to eventually think about going through lockers again."

Sarah replied, "I hate doing that crap. We're technically stealing from others you know."

Eric said, "No we're surviving. Besides I doubt anyone is keeping anything of serious value here."

Just then there were sounds from the roof. The group went silent as their eyes darted back and forth. Larry said with great fear, "Judging from the amount of snow, and the structural integrity I would strongly suspect the roof is on the verge of…."

Katherine said putting her hand over her mouth, "Oh God."

Eric let out an exhale and said, "Okay we have no choice we have to try and get out." As the sound became more pronounced the group looked at him as Eric said, "Face it we either die in here or we die out there. I would rather take my chances out there rather than get crushed under a ton of snow. We get out of here and see if we can make it to, I'm guessing here, the closest place the Student Union."

Everyone looked at one another and they all nodded. Abby stood up with her head bowed and everyone just looked at her. When she finished Abby crossed herself and Scott, quietly, said, "Amen." Abby looked at him and Scott winked at her. He held out his hand and she took it. Larry ran over to a corner and grabbed as many towels as he could and gave them out. Sarah grabbed the sweat clothes and gave them out. Everyone then bundled up best they could.

Eric said, "No matter what happens. I enjoyed meeting you all. I wish it were under better circumstances."

Katherine replied, "Likewise" as she took his hand.

Larry looked at Sarah for a moment and she smiled as she took his hand and he said, "You realize that if we make it out alive I'm asking you out." Sarah replied, "I'm already looking forward to it."

They all looked at one another one more time and Eric said, "Okay let's go."
As they walked over to the picture window each person picked up a weight. Katherine said, "On three we all aim for the center window. The snow is high enough we should be able to slide down it, and if Larry is right it'll hold our weight."

Everyone held a weight up and counted together. Once they hit three the window spider-webbed and then shattered as the weights broke through. Hand in hand they all slid out and began trekking across the snow. Just then there was a horrible sound and rumble as the gym collapsed in on itself with explosions and debris flying everywhere.

They all watched as then a voice on a bullhorn said, "Okay we got it print it! Great work everyone! We'll pick up with the trekking shots tomorrow night." Just then Director Michael Bay stepped out from behind a movie camera and said, "Great! We'll add in some more explosions later in post production. Stage crew get the actors in some warm clothes."

 

[Ravenfrost]

COLD

Fitzroy Amarantos raced home from his private school in Troubles, Arizona, impatient for the family vacation to start. (Sighs from lovelorn junior high school students followed the comely youth as he flew past. )

Normally, he would rather hang out with friends than do a family vacation thing, even though Mom was cool and all, but this time Grandpa (not Granddad Jones, but the mysterious Grandpa Nick Amarantos) was flying them both out (first class!) to his home, an 15th​ century monastery that had been converted into a winery. Grandpa Nick had two personal chefs (TWO!), and there was a swimming pool, and ruins to explore nearby. What could be more cool?!

Fitzroy had only met him once because he lived so far away and his memory of that meeting was vague. (Sometimes he thought he had imagined it.) There were no photographs of Grandpa Nick or his home, and after receiving the invitation to visit during the holidays and being plagued with questions, his mother, who was an illustrator of children's books, reluctantly drew a sketch of Grandpa's home.

Fitz watched, fascinated as she washed in the color: a terraced hillside in the south, banked with ancient stone, acquired lush greenery; the ancient stone guest houses had red roofs; and a chapel rose above all, its pure white stone like an offering to the blue sky. The main villa was colored gold, with a rooftop garden, and ancient metal balconies. It became fortress-like as the villa met the ground and continued through the entire cliff overlooking the sea to the west, eventually seeming part of carved rocks itself.

Dungeons. He bet there had been dungeons!

Fitz reached for the drawing, but his mother snatched it away and threw it into the fireplace, making sure the flames consumed it. He stared at her, shocked, while she explained gently that Grandpa Nick was a very private person and they had waited to visit him until Fitz grew up.

"He mustn't be discussed outside the family," his mother told him firmly. "We can't take pictures, not even to keep for ourselves, not even drawings. If you can't honor that, the vacation will be cancelled and we may never get another chance to go."

Fitz's eyes grew big. "You mean he's in some kind of witness protection program?"

His mother paused for a second, which meant she was either thinking about lying to him or deciding whether to trust him, or both. "Yes, like that," she nodded, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "We can't endanger him. You have to promise me you can do this, Fitz! It's a matter of life and death. No talking to your buddies, no telling anyone!"

****

The man who currently called himself Nick Amarantos eyeballed the goat entrails, while his personal man servant Fotios (who doubled as an oracle when needed), waited nervously.

"I don't like it," growled Nick, finally. "Kill another goat."

"Another goat, my lord?"

"YOUR GOAT, MY FAMILY!" roared Nick. "KILL THE DAMN GOAT!" And he stalked away.

Fotios bowed after him. "Yes my lord," he said softly.

Nick paused and then pivoted on his heel. "And get some damn mimes." Nick paused and scratched his head. "Wait. I can't stand mimes. One should be sufficient."

Fotios strived not to look off-balance. "Err, your worship, what should we do with the mime? Are they to be a …." He let his voice trail off with a meaningful look and jerked his head towards the goat entrails.

"Hah!" Nick gave a short bark of laughter. "Not this time. My so--, my grandson, wants one, or so I'm told. His mother tells me he's fond of mimes. He's always looking them up on the internet, these mimes. He finds them amusing. I understand they enjoy great popularity with Americans on their social media." (Nick said social media like it was a social disease.)

Nick and Fotios exchanged looks of dismay.

"Well, he'll grow out of it," Fotios said brightly. "At his age, I liked to put pebbles in my mouth."

"Demosthenes put pebbles in his mouth," sniffed Nick. "At least that had a purpose! I'll tell you what!" He put a conspiratorial arm around Fotios's shoulders, "Find me a really terrible mime. Absolutely stinko. Obnoxious. The last shouldn't be hard to find. Hopefully, it will put the boy off them for life!"

And then he strode off, well-pleased with his solution.

"But Nick," thought Fotios to himself, "just think what the rest of us will have to suffer in the meantime!"

****

Fitz concentrated hard, remembering the sketch his mother drew of grandfather's estate. He was good at memorizing things and wanted to hold the image in his mind, savoring it like a long-lasting candy.

He laid back in bed, eyes closed, and pretended being there already. He would explore everywhere! He would find hidden treasure, because sometimes people didn't really search hard enough. Fitz was good at finding things. Maybe mom would come along and help. He could see her there – smiling in the sun, her light brown hair glowing gold like the villa.

Into his mental landscape also crept the image of a tall laughing man, with black curly hair like his own, bright blue intelligent eyes, and built like a god. Hercules, perhaps! Or Thor. 'Cept Thor was blonde. Half asleep, Fitz watched while the man suddenly turned and stared at him with consternation.

****

In Deadhorse, Alaska, under the Northern lights, something deep below stirred.

Snow began to fall faster. Wild animals instinctively began to move in an outward radius from that one spot, in a near panic. Long dormant, but now awakening, the thing that lay beneath started to move upwards. At first slowly, then gaining awareness and with that, power and momentum.

Finally, breaking through the last thin layer that had formed its grave, it screamed with rage and triumph.

Art Hawkins heard the screaming of the storm. His power went out just after the weatherman announced that snowfall was coming down thicker this year than at any other point in recorded history. The sound fair raised the hair on his neck. His dog Thunder seemed frightened, too. They laid, still and cuddled together like hunted animals as something swiftly passed in the night, heading south, oh yes, south, unexpectedly to Troubles, Arizona, where the vision of her enemy had arisen. The Unfading One. She had slumbered how many years? How many centuries?

Her memory felt impaired, as if pieces were missing. But one thing was certain. The Unfading One was gathering human worshippers to him, again. The child's mind was unguarded, yet powerful. The truce had been violated! She dove under the earth's surface, changing her physical structure into something more fluid, and began swimming towards the source.

****

On a reservation outside the town of Troubles, Arizona, Medicine Crow (known as Marri Cannon on the census) arose with a stiff neck and a premonition. For the last two weeks, she had received thought-provoking gifts on her trailer's doorstep from an anonymous admirer. Each warning more ominous than the last. She suspected that Coyote had a paw in this.

For hours, snow had been falling in the deserts, but not melting, as something unseen cut a path towards Troubles. A snaking line, marked by snow, ice, and a storm that fluctuated wildly. Newscasters were having a field day. Meteorologists were going berserk.

Medicine Crow got dressed, made a cup of instant coffee and got ready to travel. She had left it for too long, hoping that things would change. Pulling on her heaviest jacket, she saw her cousin's battered pickup truck pull up to her trailer, with their grandmother and another cousin inside. She also saw what her secret benefactor had gifted her with today.

"Who the hell made that snowman? The damn thing makes me uneasy!" bellowed her grandmother, personally affronted.

The snowman DID have an evil grin and its black eyes seemed to wink. Her grandmother scowlingly bashed its head in with her cane and continued towards the door, a cousin on either side. Medicine Crow hurriedly opened the door as the old woman came up the steps.

Her grandmother gave her a quick hug. "It's about time you went into town, child," she scolded. "I'll take care of things here and delay the creature as long as I can."

"But how, Grandmother? Why?" Medicine Crow began to ask, then met her grandmother's eyes. She understood. This wouldn't be resolved by asking questions, but by doing what needed to be done.

Her cousin, Joe, handed her the keys to his pick-up and a piece of paper. "Take mine, it's in better shape and you'll get there in one piece. Here's the address that grandmother gave me." He let his voice drop to a whisper, "I googled it, so I think it's okay."

She could hear her grandmother yelling at her cousins as she drove away. "Get out the fancy dishes, you morons, not the paper plates! We're about to have a guest. A real VIP!"

Medicine Crow's heart started to race and she stepped on the gas, coaxing the old truck to go faster. She felt uneasy as she arrived in the fancy part of Troubles; looking around she could see that these people really had money! Would they call police and have her arrested, thinking she was working some scam? She took a deep breath and summoned her courage. Grandmother was relying on her. And the icy presence was almost here.

She hopped out, slamming the truck door so it would shut properly, and headed toward the front door of the large, exquisitely restored Victorian. It was still early in the morning--how would they react to being woken up? She was reaching out her hand to ring the bell, feeling slightly sick with nerves, when it opened and a handsome dark-haired boy stared at her. "Mom!" he screeched, as he ran away, "she's here! The bird lady is here!"

***

Last night, Nick Amarantos had broken his self-imposed rule and called his beloved directly for the first time since the birth of their son. He had seen Fitz find him in the dream world and while he was enormously proud of him, he also feared what the child's waking power would mean. Leila had to be warned at once. Such a surge of power might alert the worst of his enemies that still remained. He had his servant change their plane reservations for the next available flight.

Their phone conversation still playing in her mind, Leila had hurriedly packed their bags at daybreak, while her groggy son stumbled to the table, not yet hungry for breakfast although Leila urged him to eat his cereal.

"Why are we leaving so early, Mom?" he whined, his eyes fluttering, as if still half-asleep. "The bird lady isn't here yet. The bird lady shows up first."

Leila felt terror for her son pierce her heart like nine sharp knives. Nick had talked to her at length and instructed her what to do if Fitz said anything unusual. Lunging around the corner, she grabbed her cell phone and prayed Nick would answer before she went into hysterics. He answered on the second ring.

"What is it, my heart?" Nick asked anxiously.

"Nick! He said – he asked why the bird lady wasn't here yet; I don't know – is that . . .?" Leila felt totally incoherent and out of control; rising hysteria made her want to hang up and pretend none of this was happening.

"Leila!" Nick's sharp tone was bracing. "Don't break down on me now. We need you. Fitz needs you! Let me talk to him. But first, make him lay down on a couch, he may feel a little dizzy."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SON?" screamed Leila, and then abruptly felt ashamed.

But Nick understood. "Feeling a little better now?" he asked wryly. "Now that you have that out of your system?"

"Yes, ah, I'm sorry Nick. I --."

"Mom! What's the matter?!" Fitz looked at his mother with panic-stricken eyes.

Nick could hear his son's voice through the phone and tears came to his eyes. Chiding himself for being a sentimental sot, he said in a choked voice, "Tell him that you were mad that I bought him a horse, since he doesn't know how to ride. Then put him on a soft surface, a couch or a bed, it doesn't matter – and say his grandpa wants to talk to him."

Now, an hour later, a strange Native American woman had come to their front door, saying the most extraordinary things to Leila as they sat together in the library. That a hostile power had awakened in the north and was making its way here. That in handful of hours, it had moved through thousands of miles leaving snow and ice in its wake wherever it passed.

In return, Leila explained that they were just about to leave for a trip out of the country. She wasn't quite certain how the two items were connected and Leila felt unable to reveal the secret of her son's parentage to this woman.

Medicine Crow prayed for her grandmother and her cousins. They had set a feast before the creature which it could not ignore. That had slowed it down enough for her to beat it here. She had warned the woman. It wasn't her job to stand with her against the creature. It wasn't her problem.

Oh, grandmother would kick her ass if she could read her thoughts! Which she probably could. Besides, Medicine Crow couldn't run fast enough to slip by the creature, now. She could feel the rapid drop in temperature.

"Call your son to us," she said in a soft voice, "Let us face the trouble together."

Leila opened her mouth to make a suggestion and Medicine Crow shook her head. "There is nowhere to hide," she said, as two housecats dived under the furniture, obviously of a different opinion. Leila clamped her mouth shut.

"But we should dress warmly before we confront this thing. And I have some rope in the truck we can use, so that we won't get separated."

Soon, three small, pathetic, human figures waited in front of the house, two of them shivering with cold, as something huge and white with great yellow eyes arose from out of the ground before them, bringing a fierce storm of snow with it that danced and blew with glee.

"Please don't hurt my baby!" screamed Leila wildly as she completely snapped, grabbing Fitz and holding him as tightly as she could. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

Medicine Crow anchored Fitz so he didn't get pulled down into the snow by Leila's deadweight, and began to chant softly.

Fitz felt strange and happy. He had talked to his grandfather this morning -- who had told him that he wasn't his grandfather at all, but his real dad (ALIVE! alive, alive, alive!) and he was really truly sorry (and Fitz could tell that he was), but he wanted to see Fitz and his mother as soon as possible. There was some danger, but he and Fitz were up to it, and not to worry.

Then Nick asked Fitz to lie down and let him sing to him over the phone. Fitz didn't understand the language. It was soothing, and made him sleepy again, but seemed like a lot of nonsense syllables at first until suddenly his (new) dad had given a great shout.

It was like the sun had gone straight into his heart at that moment. Even now, with all the weirdness happening and Mom being so upset, Fitz felt things were going to be okay. He felt like his dad was right there with them in the storm.

The white thing flickered back and forth, its elongated eyes turning from yellow to red, its voice as nasty as the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard as it started to yell that the Unfading One – his dad had explained the nickname in his song - was a liar and had broken a promise not to have human worshippers. And the Unfading One was luring them and probably many others into his cult and they all must be destroyed.

Medicine Crow suddenly stopped chanting and shouted above the storm to be heard. "Did you not like the feast that was set before you in my home?" (She suddenly had a vision of everything being covered with ice in her trailer, including her artwork, and cringed.)

The white thing hesitated and responded in less angry tones, "I have not had such respect shown me for more years than I know. Though some of the food was unwilling and pleaded with me, begging 'please, don't eat me!' It was ill-trained, but," and a red mouth appeared on the specter for a moment, "it tasted delicious."

"Then I ask a boon and that is that you would give us the respect of hearing our answer to your accusations," Medicine Crow demanded.

The creature angrily blew stinging ice into their faces. "The last time I had any respect for lower beings such as you was before you were even a dream in your mother's heart, and her mother before that."

"Oh, you are really rude!" exclaimed Fitz, blowing back at the creature, melting a hole in the storm.

"What is this!" cried the monster, startled. "You dare …?"

"And you're an idiot! You made my mom upset! And she fell down." yelled Fitz, starting to awaken completely out of his trance state and getting really mad. "Who are you to say we can't go see my father!?!"

"Your father!!!" The white thing didn't look so cocky now. In fact, it looked rather nervous.

"That's right, you - big buttinski!" screamed Fitz, shaking his fist at it, unaware that he was beginning to radiate bright light. "What business is it of yours?

On his estate, Nick was seated in a meditative position channeling his energy to Fitz. He could feel his confused nemesis give way and sink back into the earth, and the cold and ice start to dissipate. From now on his family would live with him, so he could teach Fitz everything and ensure their protection.

And he would make sure that Medicine Crow and her family wanted for nothing as well. Perhaps they would enjoy a mime?

(Dedicated to my friend, Medicine Crow)​

 

[The Mood is Write]

@MST3K 4ever
Bravo, nicely done! I held my breath a bit at the end there. I hope to see more of you around my exercises! ♥

@Ravenfrost
Wow. xD I think that really is all of them. Maybe I should pick on you a little? =P Great stuff!

 

[Ravenfrost]

Mood-a-fur, I always include all your prompts/challenges! Well, after the first couple of exercises anyways...I can't remember back then.

I especially thought of you (with an evil grin) during the goat entrails and mime (meme) part. That section was so my favorite. And would never have been written without you.

 

[Mami Tomoe]

@PinkMilk
Nicely done! I hope to see more of your writing in the future. =D

@Ravenfrost
Bwahaha. Good, good. Your mind is becoming more creative. Excellent. Practice is the truest path to increase your creativity!

@Panne
Good stuff! Sadly, your second image appears to be broken. I'd like to see you take part in more of my exercises, if they catch your eye. ♥

I'm not squealing over here. Totally not bouncing happily in my seat, either. I'm definitely not excited to have so many responses. Except I totally am, and all of that is true.You guys rock!

Just seeing this now! But UGHH the image always breaks.

This is one of my first exercise experiences! And it was very fun! I'll definitely be watching for more. I find that these prompts really make me think and help me grow as a writer.

 

[The Mood is Write]

Just seeing this now! But UGHH the image always breaks.

This is one of my first exercise experiences! And it was very fun! I'll definitely be watching for more. I find that these prompts really make me think and help me grow as a writer.

Imgur is a pretty stable host, so it might be something to try. If you sign up, it even keeps your stuff together for you. =)

Ah! One of your first? Oh my goodness, that gets me all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings. ♥ I'm glad you had fun! I'm working on the next one right now, so if you look for it in a few hours (or less, we'll see how well I brain), you should be able to find it!

I hope the coming exercise is fun for you! ♥