Writing Explorations: Week 76, Poppies to Remember

[The Mood is Write]

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 unless you request 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?]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]

Prompts:

1. Write the wedding day from the perspective of a bride who isn't marrying for love, but because her father is forcing a shotgun wedding.
2. A young immortal meets a soldier bred to die.
3. She never went anywhere without her yellow, knitted, indestructible cardigan of +1 holding. Write what happens when it's stolen.
4. She always laughed just a little too hard, for just a little too long, and that's when he realized she wasn't ok at all.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "You gotta stop doing that."
  "What?"
  "Saying things that make me wanna kiss you."
• "Damn, damn, double damn, three bloody hells, and a bugger!"
• "You can't just turn into a cat and run away when you don't want to deal with things!"
  "Watch me!"
• "I can't marry her! She'd kill me within a week!"
• "We're dead! We're dead and if I don't die here, mum's gonna kill me!"
• Include a pampered rich girl a decade after she lost everything, including dignity and pride.

 

[PoetLore]

Random Genre - Romance/Sci-fi (Joy)

Angelina Larimer stood looking at the image before her in the mirror. The gown fell in glorious sequined splendor to the floor, and her hair was dressed to perfection with dainty white flowers and pearls mixed into the braid that ringed her head. She looked like a beautiful bride except for the lack of that sparkle of joy that was conspicuously absent from her eyes.

Donatello Larimer entered the dressing room and kissed his daughter's temple, "Stunning, my Angelina, simply stunning."

Angelina almost groaned. This whole fiasco was her own fault but that hardly made her feel any better about it. "Father, please do not do this." She begged, "I will do whatever else you ask, but please..."

Donatello pressed a finger to her lips, "The time for obeying me has past daughter. It was you who defied me and joined yourself to the off worlder. I warned you."

Angelina could not maintain eye contact. She had indeed been curious about the people who had landed from outer space, a place they called Borran. Salubitan had been the tallest of them, and had a way about him that was pleasing and comfortable to her. He had spent a lot of time talking kindly with her and both learned of worlds they did not know.

The conversation that had changed everything was when they were talking about chocolate.

"Stop that," he'd said.

"What?"

"Saying things that make me want to kiss you."

"Why?" she'd relied with a faint blush almost daring him to cross that last boundary, and he had.

She had truly liked the alien, and they had explored a more intimate coupling, finding their parts compatible in at least some ways. unfortunately they were discovered in that state, and her father was now demanding that things be made right. That the two marry according to their customs and that she go with him now.

She had never intended to leave earth, and her world behind. She had just been curious. She was not in love, and every girlish dream she had ever had seemed to collapse on the ground at her feet seeing the steely gaze of her father. He bent to kiss her temple again, "It is time," he said wrapping his fingers around her arm.

She mentally screamed, "Damn, damn, double damn, three bloody hells, and a bugger!" but dared not do anything but follow as she was being led. Fear and dread gripped her heart as they walked down the aisle to her unknown future. Salubitan was there in his place adjusting the clothing her father had provided for him, which were obviously uncomfortable for him. He wasn't any happier about this than she was, she did not believe and for a second she gave his discomfort a little sympathy. But as they neared, her thoughts returned to her own distress.

She was begging every god she could think of for salvation from this mess, of her own creation as she took one slow step after another. The priest asked who gave this woman to be married and her father set her up next to Salubitan and replied, "I do."

She tried to smile at her future husband but she could not manage it. Still begging for a way out, trying to garner the courage to run for her life, she looked at him then and noticed he was shaking, physically shaking.

Her brows drew together in concern then, "Are you well?' she asked, "You look...ill.."

Salubitan looked at her and shook his head and then at her father, "I cannot marry her. She'd kill me within a week!" he gasped out. He unbuttoned the cuff of the shirt and pushed up the sleeve showing the horrible rash and welts that were there. "We..I...this is because..of ..us...I cannot marry...we must not."

Angelina blinked and looked from hisa rm up to him and abck to her father.

Donatello was glowering at the groom, "This is not something you should have discovered in the manner you discovered it. If it means you die, then so be it. You will not disgrace my daughter and then leave."

Sallubitan looked at the father and then at Angelina and frowned, "You are right, of course." he said and bowed to Angelina, "Then I will die for your honor."

Angelina shook her head, "No...please no. I do not wish you to die. Father please. Do not do this."

Donatello would not be moved from his decision and the marriage was made official. She was afraid to even kiss him as the priest ordained, but her husband did not give her the option. He had been made aware of their customs and he intended to fulfill them for her sake. he too had been warned, and had not heeded any warnings, so like her he was paying a heavy price. By the time they finished the bridal dinner and dance, he was feeling very ill. Hardly able to stand. With each clink of the glasses which signaled a desire to see them kiss, he grew weaker and weaker.

When it came time to throw the garter, his hands could barely grip it for the sores on them, but he did it and tossed it into the group of men. Then there was one last dance and he somehow managed to finish it before falling to the floor in convulsions.

Angelina was trying not to touch him, or to only touch his clothes, but he insisted on holding her hand, and kissing her when he should. When he fell to the floor she dropped to her knees and shook her head, "I am so sorry Salubitan...so sorry..."

He tried to speak but nothing came. His body stilled and he was no longer breathing. She looked at her father then, "Are you happy now?" she asked as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her father nodded, "I am." He lifted her up from the floor and some men came and carried the off worlder back to his people.