Sunday 24 March 2013

Challenge Me! Story-Part 1

True to my challenge, I wrote this story as Improv. Writing. 

I used the amazing limitations that you guys gave me and without any prior thought (except to look up the definition of the Furies) I wrote this. It is a first draft, as it came to my head. No plot diagram used, no character sketches, nothing, just a list of restrictions that had to be included and my imagination that threw the rest together. 

Here it is, as it came to mind. No major rewrites, only a preliminary spell check and minor grammar adjustments!



Waiting for the light, a Challenge Me! story by Brandolyn

Part 1


Darkness and silence. Damn. Not again. Sigh. Archibald extends one hand out in front of his face experimentally. As anticipated, he can feel it move, but cannot see it through the blackness. The total dark around him would be eerie if he hadn't experienced it several times before. 

He snaps his fingers. Again, he can feel his body going through the motion but can't see or hear anything to confirm that it actually happened. In the dark he lay back; or at least he imagined he did, closed his eyes; out of habit not necessity and waited for the return of the light. 

He didn't wait long before directionless whispers snuck through the silence calling to him. "Archie". Here we go. He thought. He imagined himself getting to his feet and bracing himself for the approaching full force of sound and light to hit him; a tricky feat to accomplish when you're not sure you can actually feel the floor. He felt it like great wave crashing into him, dragging him under thunderous waves drowning him in bright lights and loud noises. 

Waking up was always disorienting, like trying to stand after a blow to the head. Eyes unfocused  head pounding, ears ringing and a churning knot in his gut that put him off balanced and threatened to be spat up. 

"Archie! Wake up already. We have to get out of h.. Ahhhh!"

Archibald shook his head and looked in the direction of the shriek as a bright light illuminated the room. The room glowed colourfully as a lightning strike shone through the stained glass of the windows. He looked around and found Marie nearby crouched low behind a pew muttering to herself. He looked around and assessed the situation; Marie was here, that was good. They were in the Chapel; the stained glass windows, pews, vaulted ceiling, and murals confirmed it. Wait. What are we doing here?

"Marie!" Archibald pulled his arms under himself and tried to get up. Marie's head whipped around at his call and she dove on top of him, pinning him to the floor. 
"Thank the Gods you're awake! Now, shut up." 
"What are we doing in the Chapel?"

Marie twitched for a moment, spun around and whispered angrily at the air behind her right shoulder, 
"Shut up Charles! I'm getting there!" She turned back to Archibald like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened and continued, "You collapsed at dinner as the attack started so I dragged you here." She rolled her eyes and added sarcastically to the empty space above her shoulder, "You didn't do anything but tell me to drag him faster, so no, you don't get any credit," before turning her attention back to him. 

"Who's attacking us?" He searched his memory, but it was still foggy. Outside echoed a shriek like that of an angry woman and a bird of prey mixed together, sent a chill down his spine as he recognized the call. "Furies? You dragged me from the Kitchens underground to the Chapel with huge windows while we're being attacked by the Furies?" He growled angrily. He'd known the young Page since she came to the castle, obviously from the circular symbol hanging around her neck that she felt safer here; close to her God. His eyes rolled just thinking of it. Why do other people have to let their emotions rule them? Why couldn't she have been rational? Archibals grunted and looked around the room again. 

They were alone; except for Marie's constant "companion". Any other time Archibald would have teased her about Charles and listened to her try to prove that her companion that no one else can see is real, but not now. The storm outside was getting worse. The wind howled and bowed the trees. Their branches scratched the tall arched windows of the Chapel, raking them like nails on a board. Avian shrieks grew louder as the creatures circled nearby. 

"I have to help with the evacuation." 
"You're not fit to fight!" Marie complained. 
"I took an oath to protect the Kingdom!" He got to his feet and reached for the hilt of the ruby encrusted sword that hung at his waist. His hand gripped nothing but air. "Marie..." He asked angrily, searching under the nearest pew. "Where is my sword?" 

The young woman was already pale in her linen robes and went even whiter as she froze. 

"That's why you felt lighter than before." 

Her invisible companion must have spoken because she looked insulted as the colour returned to her face. 

"I have too been working out!"
"Hush." Archibald whispered. "Both of you." He added for good measure. Marie opened her mouth to protest as a great winging shadow flew passed the nearest window.
She nodded. 
The pair crouched awkwardly in silence, waiting for the shadow to return. 

"He said to shut up Chuck!" Marie cried exasperated. Archibald spun around angrily. 
No one else can hear him! He thought, but before he could scold her, the shadow returned circling the chapel silently. Archibald stood tall, motioning for Marie to stay put. 

The shadow circled the Chapel. Her body was obscured by the stained glass, but her wings were distinctive. They were being circled by one of the Furies, but which sister, he could not tell. He heard her taloned feet scrape against the roof as she landed on the glass of the domed ceiling. 

Archibald turned his attention from his stalker, back to Marie as the sounds of the storm outside became muffled again. 

"Run." He mouthed. He watched, unable to react as Marie's eyes grew round and terrified. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, heavy and limp. Eyes still open he watched as a tall, palmed tree crashed through a nearby window, showering him and Marie in tiny  shards of multi-coloured glass. 

His vision started to blur as one of the sisters landed in the Chapel in front of him. The blood that dripped from her eyes had dried and was cracking on her face. Her long dark hair was matted into thick strands, like snakes growing from her scalp and her wings; made up of flesh-like feathers, stretched out beside her reaching out across the Chapel. 

Alecto, he recognized her wings from the tapestries around the King's quarters. Of all of the sisters, she was the last one he had wanted it to be. He willed his body to move, and when it didn't his mind screamed for Marie to flee. But she couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear himself. He couldn't see her. The last thing he heard before his world was returned to silent darkness was Marie's wail as she screamed for him. Then his world was black once more. 

And he waited. 



*** 


I loved this experience and am looking forward to doing it again. Please let me know what you think. How did you like my use of your suggestions? Are you intrigued and want to read the next part of the story? Do you want to add more suggestions for part 2? 

My restrictions were:

LN- Night. A tree falls, someone hears it. 
MB- Antagonist Charles- condescending. Protagonist Archibald- rigid Atheist, logical to the point of wishing he were dummer to make his life less stressful. (Charles was used as an antagonyzing character, not the story's main antagonist)
DF- girl followed by talkative sprite who can summon circular objects to him
JF- a palm tree
BD- must feature Furies as the Foe. 
JD- Protagonist has a disability: physical or mental, 1 or many. 
       JB- Narcolepsy





Wednesday 20 March 2013

Challenge Me!

When I used to do a lot of babysitting one of the things I would do to entertain the kids was to tell them a story.

I would tell short stories, or weave long tales, depending on what my audience was looking for but to keep it interesting for the kids I would ask them to give me certain details to start off the story.

They would give me a race for the Hero, and sometimes a name.
I would get a villain or some mythological beast that must be overcome.
I would be given direction for whether there is someone to be saved.
I would ask for details along the way of the story, for example; names of towns or pubs, spells, outcomes of fights and weapons.

I would be given a few details and have to weave the story together without any premeditation.

Now, I would like to challenge myself, and get back into "Improv. Story Telling"; as I have just named it. But I would like to ask for your help.

In order for this challenge to work, I would like you to give me some details;

Plot details
World details
A Character; name, job, age, sex (ANYTHING)
Does the character have a pet? A mount? A familiar? A best friend?
Give me a foe, or a challenge that the main character(s) must overcome
Give me a weakness or ridiculous strength.

Anything you want to throw at me (except a rhyming scheme! I'm just getting back on the horse, don;t make me Gallop the first day please.)

I'm looking for feedback from multiple readers, and will take details from everyone who posts before Friday March 22nd 2013 at 9:00 PM. Then, that night I will look at the details I've been given and weave a story for you. I will post it here on Saturday (providing nothing *glares at sleeping puppy* prevents me from writing); the first story that comes to mind. I will post it just as it comes to mind, and give you an idea of how much fun and how creative the mind can be when you haven't had time to over think your art.

Please leave a comment below. The story will be too easy to write if I don't get any limitations.

This should be fun! Looking forward to writing with you.

-Brandolyn

Tuesday 12 March 2013

Appreciation of Hand Written Work

A week ago I was on the Subway commuting home late at night. I think I caught the last train of the evening. I was tired, but instead of taking a nap, I took out my sketchbook; which doubles as my journal, and started writing.

Sitting down and writing is not a challenge for me. The challenge comes when I try to force myself to write something specific like a short story or a poem, but if I just put a pencil to paper and write without any premeditation I'm always able to scribble some amount of work onto a page. And that's exactly what I was doing, sitting on the uncomfortable red seats of the subway car, my knees pulled up to my chest for warmth, jostling from side to side as the train sped along the tracks.

I was in my own little world, oblivious to the other passengers on the train, until I heard a soft voice interrupt the wandering of my pencil. A middle aged woman had stood, and made her way over to me. She stood over me and said,
"Excuse me for interrupting, but I love that you are writing." She smiled brightly. "I don't even care what you are writing, I just love that you are writing it. It is so refreshing to see someone actually writing. We are so technologically dependent these days that I rarely see anyone actually write. I love it."
I politely smiled back, a little surprised by her enthusiasm, and I thanked her for stopping and saying hi.

I was really touched by her remark and I'm not entirely sure why. She hadn't complimented my work, or my creativity, but I guess it was enough that she had enough courage to approach me. Obviously we share the same appreciation for traditional writing. I love writing in a journal, note pad, whatever. Same thing with reading, I like to feel the paper and smell the printer ink. It's a silly thing but it makes me feel cosy and relaxed.

People rarely acknowledge strangers, so for this woman to come up to me late at night and say how much she loved seeing me writing really meant a lot. It makes me happy to know there are still people out there who appreciate handwriting.

-Brandolyn