Writing Explorations: Week 79, Glowing Brilliance

[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. A golem assists its enemies in fighting against its masters. How? Why?
2. One sentient construct discovers another has a strange part.
3. A glowing handprint on the wall warmed the room.
4. Her skin was in high demand these days.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "Please, not that... godawful clicking."
• "Murder wasn't on today's agenda."
• "Calm down. They aren't our captors—the old man petting the sleeper is. He said we're all under his protection, so for now, I assume that means he's not going to let them do what they do best."
• "I think we should leave as soon as possible."
  "I'm stuck unless we get a 'beam me up, Scotty', which isn't happening. I will freeze to death. I am not exaggerating."
• "As far as being captured goes, this is pretty pleasant."
• "I have no idea why you want to keep me, but I suppose you're right. I can't go back."

 

[ArgentAconit]

The strong metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, twisting the stomachs of his company as he worked quickly to draw crimson runes across his hand. The air was biting at them, running icy teeth over their flesh and slithering easily through their ill-prepared clothes. Someone was quickly boarding up the windows behind him, snuffing out the light he was using to decorate his fingers and palm in a swirl of jagged and smudged patterns. Just as the last board was lifted into place, he finished his work.

It looked like someone had scribbled some kindergartener's nightmare against his pale hand, but all that mattered was the intent put behind it. He flattened his hand against the plaster of the decaying building they had found themselves in and murmured a foreign tongue as the blood seeped into the frigid wall under his fingertips. Small cracks and a pale blue smoke appeared as he neared the end of the chant before a soft, orange glow filled the room with a warmth they hadn't felt in four days.

Sighs of bliss poured from the lips of the other two in the room, the fourth person too busy packing away what rusted tools he had managed to collect from the ruined city around them. "Thank the gods we found you out there- I don't know if we would have been able to survive another night like this," A female voice thanked him gratefully as she started to shed layers of thin fabric to let in the warmth of his spell.

Desmond wiped his bloodied hands on the thighs of his jeans and pocketed the knife he had used to slice his thumb, "Don't get too comfortable with it. That spell will only last for a couple of hours- it takes a lot of energy to keep it burning." Dark eyes looked around the nearly barren apartment they had slunk into just as an alarming howl rang through the empty streets outside. The room went quiet and Desmond stepped forward to look through the slats of their only portal outside. A grotesque canine-looking creature prowled around the corner, gurgling growls slipping wetly through its acid dripping mouth.

He had been smart enough to conceal their scent as they traipsed through the ruined streets, but a thrill of anxiety still followed the path of his spine as he watched the monstrosity pace slowly over cracked concrete and rubble littered asphalt. Billows of steam and toxic sludge left it's mouth, burning through rock beneath its paws. Desmond watched with morbid fixation as it lifted it's muzzle and scanned the buildings for a sign of life. His hands tightened as he traced the sharp jutting quills sticking from it's back.

The creature lowered it's head again and sniffed around the busted tires of a sedan sitting outside of their building. Quickly it's ears perked forward and its head snapped around at the sound of rocks being kicked down another alleyway. The only thing left behind to show it had even been there were the sizzling pockmarks on the road as it dashed after new prey, growling wetly as it gave way to the chase.

Desmond took in a rattled gasp of breath and leaned into the open space by the window, not having realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. The glowing, patterned handprint on the wall crackled back into a full glow as he took slow breaths to steady his suddenly rabbiting heart. The three others just behind him shared looks as their newest edition calmed himself, "What was that thing?" A gruff voice finally asked voice pitched low like he expected something else to be listening in.

Desmond's almost black brown eyes opened to look at the carpenter in a way that showed them they should fear what had been hunting them. "Canidrome Alpha. He's the only reason you were able to run into me this morning. He's been hunting you since you got here, and now thanks to that he's hunting me too. If his bite doesn't kill you, his spit will. Do you not have them where you come from? You just waltzed right into his territory in prime hunting season, offering yourselves up for the hunt."

He wanted to scoff at their stupidity but the girl from earlier gave him a quizzical stare as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was thin, with kinky, pitch black hair and freckled caramel skin. He would have mistaken her as someone from one of the neighboring territories if it weren't for her shockingly silver eyes. "If he's hunting... Then why are you here?" She had changed her question halfway through and Desmond tensed against the wall he was using to still support himself.

The fur of his drawn back hood tickled against his cheek as a breeze slipped through the busted glass and cracks between the wood. Three sets of eyes watched him as he swallowed thickly before turning his attention away, "I'm a sacrifice. They threw me in here to keep it busy during hunting season, and they plan on it killing me before the end of next month."

"We won't let you get eaten by that.... thing," The carpenter said as though that were obvious and final. Desmond whipped his head around to look at him, seeing the way he scrubbed a paw of a hand through his messy hair. A small bark of laughter left him before he could stop it, and Desmond straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know why you want to try and keep someone like me alive. I guess it's better than going back out there though. There's no way someone can survive out there alone with it tracking them. Especially someone like me. He's been following me since the first night I was locked in. I thought I caught a break when you three were added to the mix but I guess now it's live or die together."

 

[PoetLore]

Naila let out a soft groan as her eyes blinked against the sudden bright light shining into her eyes. The light clicked off and she blinked a few times and realized she was not where she thought she should be, at least not where she had been.

The room was lushly furnished and ornately decorated in what she imagined would be fitting for a castle. She slowly sat up feeling oddly stiff and heavy. Her wings curled behind her without conscious thought as her clawed feet dropped to rest on the stone floor. It was then that she noticed she was not alone in the room and her eyes fixed on the other occupant.

"I was getting worried," he said, "You were asleep far longer than I expected."

"How long would that have been?"

"Almost two days."

"And you are?"

"Preston Avers. You do not know me. I would like to be able to offer you a benevolent explanation for capturing you, but I fear I fear I have none. Dragon scales are in high demand..."

"I see. You are a black marketeer."

"Exactly so. Never fear murder is not on the agenda for today. I am not a cruel man, nor perversely greedy. I am content to sell whatever sheds naturally, and to offer you this life of luxury while you are in my ...care."

"And you did not believe I would agree to this if you simply asked?"

"Well, no I did not... because there is the small matter of your human skin."

Her pupils opened fully for a second and then constricted again. "My human skin..."

He nodded, "You see...the man who created you...whom I will allow is a blackhearted criminal of the worst sort...be that as it may...in creating you as you are, half dragon and half human, it makes your human skin extremely valuable."

Her head tipped a bit, "And how do you plan to extract my human skin?"

"I must say, you are being quite tolerant of this whole concept."

"As far as being captured goes, this is relatively pleasant."

"I will strive to keep it so. As to your question...I will never take it unless someone has true need. It seems cruel and unnecessary to do otherwise. But I understand it is uncommonly effective in treating ones who have suffered severe burns."

"I was not aware of this. But I am not surprised." She regarded him for a moment, "Is there more?"

Preston was shocked by her frankness and civil replies, "Oh no..that is quite all. However, May I ask...is there something you would require that I have not provided?"

"Aside from my freedom?" she quipped, "A bit more heat would be lovely."

He stood and walked to the wall and pressed his hand into it and where his hand had been glowed and emitted noticeable heat. "If that is not enough please advise me."

Her head dipped and the amethyst scales that surrounded her face glistened in the candlelight. "Be assured I will do so."

He furrowed his brows as he watched her.

"You are puzzled."

"I am."

"Perhaps you were not aware that I have been hunted and abused many times since I escaped my creator. I do not feel threatened, and you speak to me as an equal not an object. Aside from saying you plan to skin me for the right price, I find this the most agreeable situation in which I have found myself."

"Well then...you are welcome."

 

[Doctor Jax]

"I think we should leave as soon as possible."

"I'm stuck unless we get a 'beam me up, Scotty', which isn't happening. I will freeze to death. I am not exaggerating."

"I believe I understand, mistress."

The golem, a hulking thing that appeared to be made of a carved, soft stone, sat beside the girl huddling in the hunk of ice where the witch had frozen her. He began softly, but firmly, tapping the ice near its cracks while the girl's lips slowly turned blue. The wind howled past them, and the girl sullenly looked over at the golem that was tapping away.

"What are you doing?"

"Ice forms in hexagonal patterns that are prone to cleaving under consistent pressure. I cannot hit you too hard, or else I may do damage, Miss Julia," the golem said clinically, its dead eyes set firmly on the task at hand.

Julia, however, seemed to have a more philosophical question in mind, though.

"I mean... what are you doing? With us? With the Ouroborus?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

A chunk of ice fell off into the golem's hand. He continued his work quietly, as if he had not heard her, and Julia knew better than to try and prod him for more answers. The golem - perhaps the biggest find the Ouroborus had dug up on the Keter society - did not speak often of its former affiliation, if anything personal at all. The golem was 'goal-oriented', as Julia's mother liked to so sweetly put it.

"They did not view me as a person," the golem answered flatly. "I was a tool in their hands, and I was happy to be. Even killing others did not matter to me. I was theirs to do with as they will. Until I began to read the Bible."

"You read the Bible?" Julia asked with a slight screech to her voice.

"I had begun to grow curious of the beginnings of the Kabbalah's teachings. I hoped to learn more to better serve them. Perhaps part of me was hoping to understand part of my conception," the golem continued, managing to widen the hole of ice steadily. "And I began to understand that God - the breath that gave man spirit - can give me what I want."

"And what's that?"

"I want to become whole. I am - clay. Unliving. Constructed. I am not like you or your mother or Captain Dradmor," the golem extrapolated. "My spirit is small. It will die. But you have immortal souls. The Kabbalah do not see me as worthy of a 'real' soul, and they wish to abolish God. I wish to talk to Him."

"To plead for your own soul," Julia said.

The golem ripped the rest of the ice free from one of her legs, and Julia managed to get a walkie talkie out of a pocket.

"Hurry! Tell Mom where I am... please," Julia said, tacking on the end.

The golem looked at her with wide, unblinking eyes, but she imagined for a moment the small pleasantry added a crease into his unmoving face.

"Of course, Miss Julia."