Writing Challenge - Days 20, 21 & 22
To all who are reading this,
It is a terrifying thought that we are into the last part of the challenge. It's an experience, to say the least, but I'm loving it. I haven't posted the last few days due to my personal life and some much needed time off. I was unable to post, but I am back now with the posts.
I hope you enjoy.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 20. - WASH
Connie had seen enough blood in her lifetime. She had grown up with her woman's monthlies, and given birth to three beautiful children. There was more blood later on, when her eldest child, her daughter, suffered the same pains when the moon became full. And her two rough housing young boys were always fighting. With themselves, other village boys, and later other grown men. They would visit home, blood stains on their armour, swords swinging at their sides, their mounts weary and hungry.
Her precious soldiers. Her knights. Her sons.
Wilheim and Tomas. Twins. They had come into the world fighting, fists pumped, and Connie couldn't be prouder of them. Immature as they could be, they had risen high into the ranks of the Kings Guard. They were trusted knights, soldiers through and through. They won wars, participated in tourneys. Any scars they bore, they wore them with pride, whilst Connie chastened them around the dinner table. Her husband would chide her for her actions, whilst her Rosie would beg to hear more of their tales.
When Connie saw the horses marching and hearing the wagons rolling along the dirt tracks into the village, she knew that someone had fallen in the battle. And as the wagons rolled closer to her home, she dropped the basket of vegetables from her hands, letting the potatoes roll around the ground. Her legs caved from beneath her, and Rosie urged her upwards, and into the small house where she could sit at the table. She clutched a small cup of ale, whilst Rosie went out to meet the wagons.
Connie needed her husband, but his work in the town put him a sort horse ride away. Connie needed Rosie - she would keep her stable. She needed Wilheim and Tomas, her brave, handsome boys. In her eyes, both of her boys were still toddlers, running around the garden, uprooting the vegetables and laughing about it.
Rosie entered the house, the Captain of the Guard close behind. They carried two bundles of white cloth, stained with blood. Wilheim and Tomas's blood.
She couldn't hear a thing that Rosie or the Captain of the Guard said. She just stared at the cloth bundles.
"Mama?" Rosie said. "Shall I..."
Connie drew the bundles close to her, breathing in the scent of her sons. Her blood. These would be cloths that she wouldn't ever wash. They were the only things she had left of them.
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 21. - MOON
Angeline strolled out onto the balcony, wine goblet in her hand. Her long blonde braid hung down her back, and fastened with a blood red ribbon. Her pale skin was practically glowing in the moonlight - there was not a single cloud in the sky. She swore a fitted black sleeveless shirt, and a pair of long black trousers. A silver belt, imbued with ruby gemstones was fashioned at her waist. A single silver ring was on the ring finger of her right hand, and the diamond twinkled in the light. The blood red robe of the vampire's guild concealed most of her outfit from view. The heels on her suede boots were chunky and there was no fear that she would fall off of them.
The tattoo on her arm itched like crazy, but she knew that she was not alone. Everyone who had graduated from the academy had gone through the same procedure, and as she had looked out on the sea of faces as the tattooing had begun, she had never felt prouder in her entire life. She was the only female to have passed any trials, any education and now she was the guild's only female warrior.
And her family had not even been here to witness it.
Swinging herself up onto the balcony ledge, any feminine grace was forgotten. She let her leg dangle over the ledge, as she cocked the other so her knee was up. She swallowed more of the blood wine from the goblet, wriggling her fingers. The ring caught the moonlight once more, and she was instinctively brought back to the previous nights conversation with the person she had once called sister.
Monique stood in the underground car cark, leaning on the hood of her black Porsche 911, a cigarette in her hand. She looked gorgeous in her light pink cocktail dress, and matching designer shoes. A clutch bag was tucked underneath her arm. She idly checked her watch, as Angeline approached. Sin, her guardian and tutor, hung back at the car, letting the two sisters meet.
They had not seen each other since Angeline had left for the academy.
Angline opened her mouth to say hello, but Monique interrupted her.
"Neither our parents or myself will be at your little ceremony tomorrow evening."
It had knocked the wind right out of her sails. Angeline couldn't believe it. Instead of responding to such a blunt remark, she pulled a throwing star from beneath the folds of her leather coat and threw it at her sisters feet, making Monique jump back onto the bonnet itself.
Now, as moonlight trickled down onto the ring, Angeline pulled it from her finger and threw it as hard and as far as possible. She would no longer be associated with that so called excuse for a family. Not any time in this lifetime anyway.
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 22. - SHAMAN
The village crowded around the fire as the shaman spun on the stage, in her thin woven sandals. Her staff was adorned with feathers, beads and small bones - animal and human alike. Her dress of thin material clung to her womanly curves. She stopped suddenly, facing the crowd. Her eyes glowed white, and her body shook. Her arms were straight, like wings of a bird.
She intoned softly, the words echoing in the night's air:
"Heed my warnings, dead children of Shorefield. I have Seen. The destruction of the land is approaching, as was predicated by the stars so long ago. While the rebels gather in their masses to fight against the Inner City warriors, people live in fear. And not just us. Far out to deserts, and into the coldest mountains, they live in fear of a great and terrible will ravage the world as we know it.
"You must beware the city dweller, a felon from the Otherworld. His acceptance will shake the world to its core, while rise to power will put our lives at stake. Nobody will be truly safe, when we will live in a world of life and death.
"There will be five. Five will walk this landscape, charged with the power to protect not just themselves, but our citizens from the horrors that await us.
"The Warrior. A strong, courageous young man. A heart of gold, with the will and determination to stand tall where those have been beaten into submission.
"The Healer. The one with the pure of heart, and the deepest compassion for the others around her, including her enemies.
"The Hunter. To pinpoint the enemy and his next move, this once hostile stranger will be a great asset in the battlefield.
"The Thief. Whether emotions or coin, he will not be taken lightly. While restless and unstable, he will have the ability to change others.
"Lastly, The Mage. Yet to reveal herself, the presence grows stronger. A triumphant female with the strength of the body and mind."
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
Currently reading: A Feast For Crows by George R. R. Martin
It is a terrifying thought that we are into the last part of the challenge. It's an experience, to say the least, but I'm loving it. I haven't posted the last few days due to my personal life and some much needed time off. I was unable to post, but I am back now with the posts.
I hope you enjoy.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 20. - WASH
Connie had seen enough blood in her lifetime. She had grown up with her woman's monthlies, and given birth to three beautiful children. There was more blood later on, when her eldest child, her daughter, suffered the same pains when the moon became full. And her two rough housing young boys were always fighting. With themselves, other village boys, and later other grown men. They would visit home, blood stains on their armour, swords swinging at their sides, their mounts weary and hungry.
Her precious soldiers. Her knights. Her sons.
Wilheim and Tomas. Twins. They had come into the world fighting, fists pumped, and Connie couldn't be prouder of them. Immature as they could be, they had risen high into the ranks of the Kings Guard. They were trusted knights, soldiers through and through. They won wars, participated in tourneys. Any scars they bore, they wore them with pride, whilst Connie chastened them around the dinner table. Her husband would chide her for her actions, whilst her Rosie would beg to hear more of their tales.
When Connie saw the horses marching and hearing the wagons rolling along the dirt tracks into the village, she knew that someone had fallen in the battle. And as the wagons rolled closer to her home, she dropped the basket of vegetables from her hands, letting the potatoes roll around the ground. Her legs caved from beneath her, and Rosie urged her upwards, and into the small house where she could sit at the table. She clutched a small cup of ale, whilst Rosie went out to meet the wagons.
Connie needed her husband, but his work in the town put him a sort horse ride away. Connie needed Rosie - she would keep her stable. She needed Wilheim and Tomas, her brave, handsome boys. In her eyes, both of her boys were still toddlers, running around the garden, uprooting the vegetables and laughing about it.
Rosie entered the house, the Captain of the Guard close behind. They carried two bundles of white cloth, stained with blood. Wilheim and Tomas's blood.
She couldn't hear a thing that Rosie or the Captain of the Guard said. She just stared at the cloth bundles.
"Mama?" Rosie said. "Shall I..."
Connie drew the bundles close to her, breathing in the scent of her sons. Her blood. These would be cloths that she wouldn't ever wash. They were the only things she had left of them.
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 21. - MOON
Angeline strolled out onto the balcony, wine goblet in her hand. Her long blonde braid hung down her back, and fastened with a blood red ribbon. Her pale skin was practically glowing in the moonlight - there was not a single cloud in the sky. She swore a fitted black sleeveless shirt, and a pair of long black trousers. A silver belt, imbued with ruby gemstones was fashioned at her waist. A single silver ring was on the ring finger of her right hand, and the diamond twinkled in the light. The blood red robe of the vampire's guild concealed most of her outfit from view. The heels on her suede boots were chunky and there was no fear that she would fall off of them.
The tattoo on her arm itched like crazy, but she knew that she was not alone. Everyone who had graduated from the academy had gone through the same procedure, and as she had looked out on the sea of faces as the tattooing had begun, she had never felt prouder in her entire life. She was the only female to have passed any trials, any education and now she was the guild's only female warrior.
And her family had not even been here to witness it.
Swinging herself up onto the balcony ledge, any feminine grace was forgotten. She let her leg dangle over the ledge, as she cocked the other so her knee was up. She swallowed more of the blood wine from the goblet, wriggling her fingers. The ring caught the moonlight once more, and she was instinctively brought back to the previous nights conversation with the person she had once called sister.
Monique stood in the underground car cark, leaning on the hood of her black Porsche 911, a cigarette in her hand. She looked gorgeous in her light pink cocktail dress, and matching designer shoes. A clutch bag was tucked underneath her arm. She idly checked her watch, as Angeline approached. Sin, her guardian and tutor, hung back at the car, letting the two sisters meet.
They had not seen each other since Angeline had left for the academy.
Angline opened her mouth to say hello, but Monique interrupted her.
"Neither our parents or myself will be at your little ceremony tomorrow evening."
It had knocked the wind right out of her sails. Angeline couldn't believe it. Instead of responding to such a blunt remark, she pulled a throwing star from beneath the folds of her leather coat and threw it at her sisters feet, making Monique jump back onto the bonnet itself.
Now, as moonlight trickled down onto the ring, Angeline pulled it from her finger and threw it as hard and as far as possible. She would no longer be associated with that so called excuse for a family. Not any time in this lifetime anyway.
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 22. - SHAMAN
The village crowded around the fire as the shaman spun on the stage, in her thin woven sandals. Her staff was adorned with feathers, beads and small bones - animal and human alike. Her dress of thin material clung to her womanly curves. She stopped suddenly, facing the crowd. Her eyes glowed white, and her body shook. Her arms were straight, like wings of a bird.
She intoned softly, the words echoing in the night's air:
"Heed my warnings, dead children of Shorefield. I have Seen. The destruction of the land is approaching, as was predicated by the stars so long ago. While the rebels gather in their masses to fight against the Inner City warriors, people live in fear. And not just us. Far out to deserts, and into the coldest mountains, they live in fear of a great and terrible will ravage the world as we know it.
"You must beware the city dweller, a felon from the Otherworld. His acceptance will shake the world to its core, while rise to power will put our lives at stake. Nobody will be truly safe, when we will live in a world of life and death.
"There will be five. Five will walk this landscape, charged with the power to protect not just themselves, but our citizens from the horrors that await us.
"The Warrior. A strong, courageous young man. A heart of gold, with the will and determination to stand tall where those have been beaten into submission.
"The Healer. The one with the pure of heart, and the deepest compassion for the others around her, including her enemies.
"The Hunter. To pinpoint the enemy and his next move, this once hostile stranger will be a great asset in the battlefield.
"The Thief. Whether emotions or coin, he will not be taken lightly. While restless and unstable, he will have the ability to change others.
"Lastly, The Mage. Yet to reveal herself, the presence grows stronger. A triumphant female with the strength of the body and mind."
COPYRIGHT - ZOE ADAMS (2014)
Currently reading: A Feast For Crows by George R. R. Martin
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