Writing Explorations: Week 52, Floating

[The Mood is Write]

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Sorry to spook you guys with the scary exclamation point just to the left, but I have an announcement regarding the status of my upcoming exercise series!

With the new rearrangement of the forums, I'm gonna re-evaluate some of my plans. I'm still wanting to do the exercise series about planning and OOC practice, BUT I may be able to come up with another series for another section, as well.

And for those of you waiting patiently (or impatiently) for that planning and OOC practice series? It's slow coming, but the planning outline has taken form! There is progress, even if slow.

It is definitely not forgotten! Keep faith. ;)

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My Writing Explorations series of exercises 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 and let you know what makes me happy about it. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, 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 of 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. Dead in the water: an important character's disappearance leads to this assumption about them.
2. Casting bread on the water: someone's charitable donations go to the wrong person.
3. Treading water: effort is expended, but the only result is avoiding lost progress, rather than gaining new.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• Include 'laughing water' (champaigne), woofle-water (whiskey/liquor), and/or foo-foo water (cologne/aftershave)—but called only by those names.
• A boot is mentioned in the same context as water.
• Someone has their hopes shot, like someone poured cold water on them.
• A warning about "still waters run deep" is misunderstood, but it works out.

 

[Xorcist's Reaper]

Dust and rocks cascaded down the steep wall as the boy tumbled back into it. He was backsliding down on his knees and hands, both of which were now cut and bruised. With a thud his feet stopped sliding down the wall and crumpled under the weight of his body on the floor. He fell to his back and lie there looking out at the light coming in from the mouth of the pit. His hands balled slowly into fists as a tear of rage trickled down his cheek.

"Stupid sun. Stupid dirt and rocks. Stupid trap." Hie mumbled as he slammed his fists into the floor.

A lonely cloud made its way underneath the sun casting a shadow across Gath's isolated prison as he made for another attempt at the wall. His long slender fingers clawed at the wall finding nooks and places where they could grasp momentary traction before moving on. His feet clung to the wall only with very tip of his dirty hiking boots. He bade it about two thirds of the way up before his grip upon the rocks once again gave way. The cloud seemed to wave at him as he fell down to the floor. His head met the bottom first. The bitter sweet abyss of dreams met him as he became unconscious.

Slowly it fell down. Down. Down. Down. Splat. The tear splashed upon Gath's cheek and shimmered into tiny drops on his face. It's brothers and sisters wept from the sky, slowly at first, but more and more joined in the sorrowful song. Down they fell in their relentless song of sorrow, creating a choir of misery and despair. What had only been one cloud of happiness had turned into a gathering of darkened and crying storm. The storm showed its anger as lighting slashed across the sky sending a boom of thunder which woke the boy.

Gath bolted up in a panic at the noise. He slapped at the cold stings that landed upon him, but he couldn't quite stop them. They were only raindrops and nothing more. Gath rolled off his side into a sitting position and stared at the sky as it poured out onto him. His eyes were full of longing to be out of this miserable cave. He watched the storm for several hours and made one more attempt at getting out but the rain made it impossible. So instead he just sat there in his water soaked clothes and boots.

Meanwhile the tears and formed streams and rivers of choirous songs. The flowed down the mountain and leached into the earth as they went. They cascaded into whichever spot they could fill with their sorrowful words and melody. Once a spot was filled they moved onto the next in an unending chorus.

Gath looked up to the mouth of his now dampened cell just in time to see the streams of verses flow into his cave. It landed on his head rapidly filling his cave with the whet song. The level of water rose visibly as Gath scrambled to his feet. Soon it was up to his neck even as he tried to climb the bumpy surface of the wall. "If only I could swim," Gath got out as the sorrowful song engulfed him with a their sorrowed words.

 

[The Mood is Write]

@Xorcist's Reaper
Very well-written! I love the abstract feel of it! Poor Gath. =D

 

[Xorcist's Reaper]

Gratitude, ^.^

Spent an hour and a half writing the little thing. Yes, poor Gath.... ^.^

 

[MST3K 4ever]

The raid on the Citadel had been running like clockwork. Maggie had managed to elude the cameras, the sensors, and the roaming guards. She hadn't even thought about pulling out her gun. Maggie didn't even feel the slightest bit of fear. There was a healthy level of nervousness, but Randall had told her that being a bit nervous was a good thing. It made one aware of their surroundings and the moment he told her. Maggie was focused and knew that this was the moment she had trained months for

However, there was one slight issue that no one could've foreseen. The fact that the vent she was crawling through had a cover that gave way. Maggie was light enough that she was able to hang upside down by her legs through the opening. She held onto the vent with her fingertips to keep it from hitting the ground. If it hit the ground then that was it. There would be an alarm raised and if the Citadel was in lockdown mode chances were better than average Maggie would be caught. Even if the sound didn't raise the alarm someone seeing the vent cover would look up and that would be the end of her as well. By her estimations Maggie was over halfway to the main processing room for the main computer Central One, but at the moment she was able to guess that she could hang in that position for maybe another five to ten minutes. Her arms were getting tired, and the pressure on her feet was starting to make her feet go numb. Maggie wasn't worried about the blood rushing to her head.

It would take at least 10 hours before she felt the cerebral side effects, but at the moment Maggie wasn't worried about the hanging upside down too much. She was on a very tight schedule and had to been in the main processing room within the next ten minutes. Otherwise the guard changeover would take effect, and the fresh guards would be much more prepared for her as opposed to the overnight crew. Her one thought was, "On the whole I'd rather be on K-P duty right now."

Maggie tried to calm and focus herself as her muscles began to ache and cry out in agony. The pressure was starting to get to her mentally now. Everyone was counting on the great Maggie Stibold to save humanity from The Illuminati, and here she was hanging upside down like a bat holding a vent cover. Just then she caught a glance of the necklace Madilyn had left her. Maggie felt her heart break as she realized that she was letting her down. That beautiful blonde angel deserved to live in a free world. Not just some free space and there were others counting on her. Jason was the love of her life, and as long as the war was going on there was no way that they would be together the way they wanted to be.

Maggie felt a tear begin the form, but then she shook it off. She regained her focus as she growled to herself, "All right Stibold pull your shit together and make it happen. Evaluate and improvise." With that Maggie closed her eyes. She moved to the corner of the vent so she was now in at an angle as opposed to hanging straight. Maggie took a deep breath and said, "This is for you Madilyn." With every once of energy Maggie bent at the waist and with her right hand she grabbed a part of the vent while leaving the cover in her left hand. Maggie then let her feet slide out the vent. She was still hanging there, but now she was no longer inverted. Maggie let out an exhale and said, "All right Maggie time for the big finish." She pulled herself up into the vent and slipped the cover back into place.

Maggie took two quick breaths and said, "Okay let's finish this, and note to self, don't touch anymore vents." Maggie scurried along to her final destination.

 

[The Mood is Write]

@MST3K 4ever
Nice stuff again! This had pretty good pacing. =D

You can do it, Maggie!