giraffe

Story by Marius. Expanded or ruined by Giraffe.

Qsilv

Q sneaks in again.... backs up a page... skims... slows down... re-reads... does it again.... begins gurgling laughter... shakes head...

.......go on, you guys... just... carry on... you don't need me at all!

;>

giraffe

Quicksilver. Nobody in the world can appreciate our dysfunctional musings as well as you - our Torch Bearer. Can't wait for your stories.

marius

lichen speaking ... and, OMG .... gi -raffe! Amazing what goes on in that head of yours! (giggle) I *knew* that coffee shop was a fun place but had no idea it was THAT fun! Enjoyed it. : )

Dragon

Okay, this is way over the word count but I just couldn't let any of it go, I actually wanted to put so much more in.

The Price of Freedom
I stand on deck and gladly turn my face into the spray. I think I forgot the sea I had been away so long. Behind me on the foredeck the captain is arguing with the Old Man’s steward again. They think I’m unaware but my hearing is flawless and they are less than careful with their words. The topic is the same as ever, me and my home. The captain fears both but the Old Man paid him well for this grandiose plan to return me back to where he captured me so long ago when we were both young and fate lay ahead of us like a long shining road. We were both young then. I recall how his voice sounded, not the words which were meaningless sounds then, but the tone which seemed to grate at me endlessly. He called me Mariposa but that was not my name. No matter how hard he tried to enfranchise me to his ways I was stalwart. He thought I would learn to love him in time but my hate only grew over all those decades. His emblem still burns on my shoulder where he burned it eight decades ago on the deck of another ship. He would be here now if not for his failing health which my freedom hinges on. Fearing death he called his minister who told him heaven was closed to slaveholders, so this ship was hired to take me back to the dangerous Serpentine Islands where no man dared sail and hope to live to tell the tale. My regret is not seeing his death, not spitting on his grave, but freedom will be worth it.
A call rises from the crows-nest, is it land ahead? There’s something rising from the water. A great watery head turns towards us. I can’t help but cry out at the sight, not in fear but exhilaration, excitement. Suddenly a forest of serpentine heads surround us. The Old Man’s steward runs to me to unlock my shackles, dropping them to the deck he screams at me to go, hoping perhaps that my freedom will buy their lives. Foolish really, my kind don’t believe in forgiveness.

Dragon

Oh ya, my 4 syllable word was Mariposa.

giraffe

Heavy, Dragon. I guess this woman's around 90 and has born a righteous grudge her whole life. And that's what manifested the serpents? Food for thought. Glad you didn't shorten it.

marius

Was thinking if the Serpentine Islands are dangerous, serpents are real. Or maybe some magic going on? Maybe she won't be ninety years old once she gets home? Anyhow, nice story Dragon and seems like it could easily have a sequel ... and prequel too! Love how it ends ... her kind don't believe in forgiveness. : )

Qsilv

ok, it's well-known Q's a fan of ambiguity... from food with delicate sauces whose ingredients tantalize your tongue and mind to stories whose layers of meaning reveal themselves only gradually... and oh boy does Dragon's offering do this! (altho my antennae were already on the alert... hey.. it's Dragon... heh heh)

Doug

This is for marius who has a deep fascination with Q's choice of enfranchise and said that she would like to see it used in five sentences.(I believe)...Way over the word count and the 4 syllable word is any of many. This is more an exercise in "free writing" than a true literary masterpiece. Judge is how you wish...analyze its many quirks and quixmickles.

Enfranchise

Elven masks swirling in a pool of blood enfranchising the onlookers into believing that they have seen rare ghosts or a multitude of paranormal misshapen entities enfranchised with one solemn oath from the forest god Zura. We must enfranchise the world with our beliefs that spirits beyond our comprehension do dwell on this flawlessly shameless earth in eight different dimensions. Enfranchise…..entice…embolism….are these symbols or tomes of the dead waiting to gnaw at our flesh like zombies in a generational cemetery? On the other hand, maybe that was some forgone conclusive fate nagging at the grandiose pompous leeches we call high society. These high society quixmickles wear their emblem proudly as they suck the life out of everything around them disenfranchising the weak and timid turning our world into one giant void that allows no escape….no retribution….no enfranchisement into what we believe true. Our ideals are mere fodder for the society hunks gnashing with their million dollar pasted pusses giving us the mask to wear at our own “free will” offering. Is it truly free will when we gladly let ourselves be abused and beseeched by the power mongers? Enfranchisement could be a delicacy from Tibet passed amongst the Euridian monks before they call up on the spirits of their “one true god”. They sit in a semi-circle and expect the usurped and grated masses to see the LIGHT! There it is…..in little globules floating in mid-air dancing in circles above our heads. WE see nothing….We see everything….We don’t know what we see. We are disenfranchised to the point where we don’t care if GOD is good or some ghoul is GOD or even if the mask of Zura will dim us into extinction. We give up….We spiral downward into a dark pit never to see the true light or ghost that will raise us up and enfranchise us once again. It is there in that pit. Beyond the dark cavernous walls that rise, so high it seems impossible to set ourselves free a beam of light, a glowing ember of haze, a dim spirit we strain to see is here now and ready to give us salvation

There is no more…..its past, present and future all in one. The human spirit remains a spirit in change never to be chained, leashed, gnashed, eaten, thrown to the wolves, killed or tortured beyond human imagination. We live enfranchised in the belief that we are alive and the darkness and power mongers can live with THAT...

Dragon

Actually in my story she's not a woman at at, she's a sea serpent who was captured in those dangerous waters all those years back and then held captive in a wealthy man's menagerie like a pet. So the serpents were her family. I wanted to make that more clear but I was already so far over the word count I didn't want to add too much more.

Nylecoj

Very nice Doug! I love how you wrote "high society quixmickles" .
And of course I am dazzled by all the stories written here yet again! My contribution, 309 words without the title. The words are in order, just for fun, and my 4-syllable word is "ambiguous"


Elven Politics

A ring of hard-back chairs stand, glistening in the afternoon sun, on the stone plateau that juts out over the waterfall. Birds sing nearby, and the river tinkles like silver in its bed as seventy-three elves listen to Vron go on in his bland, sickly sweet voice about his grandiose plan. The Elven Council sits listening, some enraptured by his scheme, some politely, though disapproving, and one with disgust that would have allowed him to gladly decapitate the speaker, thus putting an end to his ceaseless grating.
Lyon sits reclined, legs thrown over the arm of his chair, his brows furrowed in disgust, hands clasped with fingers pressed to his lips. He is the youngest elf on the council, and only because he has flawlessly translated all the languages of the forest, from bird to tree, a feat of which not many elders can boast. And now he sits listening to the fate of the elves being decided, doomed, in his opinion, because one silver-tongued, power-hungry fiend wants them to enfranchise the goblins of Ferrowdowns.
Lyon isn't even sure what Vron is. Elf he most certainly is not, nor does he look like a goblin, though he bears their emblem of peace, and a token of goodwill. But just because goblins can think, doesn't mean they should be trusted.
The voice drones on, telling how the goblins at Ferrowdowns had turned against the other eight goblin clans, and had changed, wanting only peace, and if the elves will help them, they can build the world anew in beauty together. Suddenly Lyon leaps up, rage boiling through him. Like he had listened to the trees, he was translating Vron's speech, deciphering his ambiguous words. He was not going to sit while Vron was destroying his people with lies. The council was divided, forty-four for Vron, twenty-three against, six were undecided.

giraffe

Marius has sort of redefined cruelty and motivation in 'Killer'. That was very enlightening for me. Once he advanced to killing souls he actually was enjoying it. Wow. Murder doesn't have to be physical. Give that girl some Valium. Really good.

Doug, in spite of your enfranchisement challenge, you got a similar point across. The pompous have weird, self destructive motivation. If their goal is to disenfranchise others, they are the one left out. Another good one.

giraffe

Nylecoj. By the waterfall, the river flowing. Zen. Peace emblems. Untrusted tribes. Split and undecided votes. It must be a sort of lampoon on current politics? If so, it works very well.

Nylecoj

I hadn't thought about current politics, but your right it would work. It was more of my disgust at the teasing Spring this year. It warms up for a day, and then it rains. Or snows! and then it starts to warm up again, and rains some more.

marius

Wow Doug, enjoyed your "free writing." Thanks for many examples of using "Enfranchisement!" Have to say, when I read this part I had to blink a couple of times: "Enfranchisement could be a delicacy from Tibet passed amongst the Euridian monks ... They sit in a semi-circle and expect the usurped and grated masses to see the LIGHT! There it is…..in little globules floating in mid-air dancing in circles above our heads." Tee hee - is Doug aware he gave a most accurate description of seeing prana particles? [marius goes off scratching her head wondering about Doug's third eye, but then comes back to leave comments for Nylecoj, Dragon and giraffe.]

Nylecoj - now don't laugh (okay, do if you want) but one thing I love about your writing is how you put sentences and paragraphs together and how you use punctuation. Think there's a certain style to that and whatever your style is, it provides for a very nice flow. Is "Elven Politics" part of your book too? Either way, enjoyed it and could feel the frustration of things going the way one believes they shouldn't.

Dragon, I thought maybe she was a sea-serpent but only at certain times, like when mermaids get legs when they come on land. That's what I was seeing for the next part ... her jumping in the water and re-gaining her serpent body. How funny it came across that way, considering how you were thinking of her.

giraffe, thank you much for your comments and, umm, could I have a chocolate truffle instead of valium? Works better and no nasty side effects ... unless you eat too many. : )

Nylecoj

Thank you Marius. I didn't laugh, I smiled. No "Elven Politics" isn't part of anything. Glad you liked it.

Doug

First off, let me apologize for now making comments on the other stories being presented in this editon of ThinkWrite...My mind has been caught up in a tornado of torment from kids, house-hunting and our "peak" time at work. I promise to give my feedback soon.

309 words including title...4 syllable word "reality" and what "tense" and whether it is in the "present" is up to you dear reader..

A Single Tear

Miranda Forest is all of eight. Eight year olds don’t usually spend time alone in the woods, but Miranda was different. She had weathered the fierce storm of her parents’ break-up, the death of her great-grandmother Marcella and even her near death experience from a slip near the edge of Miller’s Gorge.

Miranda’s eyes sparkled as she caught a glimpse of two butterflies dancing through the field on the edge of the woods. Chickadees let out a relentless chatter that Miranda would gladly have missed if not for the…

Disenfranchised spirits speak to me now as I gaze upon this child of wonderment. Let me hear her prayers and grandiose thoughts as I channel the energy that she possesses. Let her tiny heart, emblematic of the true power behind one’s soul, become a part of mine.

Let it be done!

Miranda lifted her head. Little did she know what fate had become her. A sharp piercing brilliant light enfranchised with the power of a million lightning bolts slammed head on into her petite frame. Flawlessly and with finality it cut through the soft beautiful thoughts that filled her head and revealed the true grating origins of her reality.

Miranda had not survived the slip at the gorge…Her body lies below broken and lifeless. It was these visions she saw now.

There was no more Miranda…she was gone. He had gained another soul to call his own.

He gathered souls by any means possible. He had no name, as he was everyone
He was everyone, but no one…

Miranda shivered as she stared out into the field…butterflies replaced by grave markers.

A single teardrop traveled down Miranda’s cheek. She felt hollow inside. Where she had once given in to the beauty of the gorge’s view, she now had a different one filled with sadness and eternal melancholy.

Qsilv

It's pulling midnight here; I'm trying to pretend I’ve actually been enfranchised, like with some sort of life beyond work. I’ll gladly share with you the effects your writings have had on my own imagination — but my mind’s lost in forests of Elves and Eves, Sea-serpents and Sad-souled killers… let’s see if I can summon up a few sincere, not-too-grandiose sentences that’ll do a fair though far-from-flawless job of it.

Dragon – nodnod – I did understand it was a sea serpent, not a woman… BUT not til AFTER you’d created tension and exhilaration… the shift… magic… the character’s ability to be taken as human through almost all of it… I admired that… it held up even when I re-read it several times.

Ny, that piece does exactly what marius said… flows. I’m actually surprised that it’s not part of a larger epic… the ending grated… had me frustrated… that is so NOT an ending… lol Rats.. I want to know how he deals with it, not just hear that he lost his cool like any kid.

Doug, much the same thing happened inside me with your latest story’s twist… that sudden shift unnerved me. And her fate made me… sad. And THAT frustrated me. Ok, maybe it’s just me these days. I will say your imagery is superlative, always, and I like the way you handle rather tricky shifts in perspective.

And yes, absolutely, we do miss your insightful commentaries. Sounds like your life’s in a race with my own for pressure though, and your drama quotient very probably would win overall. My sympathies are hereby extended… to your kidlets and sweetie, too.

Marius and Giraffe, you’re darlings, both of you. Energy is, I’m convinced, absolutely bouncing around on your fingertips. The coffee shop’s personifications and emblems were sheer delight… both phases!

Eight, no, nine so far… Four days left….


;>

giraffe

Damn Dragon! This ain't pretty. 309 w/o title. 4 syllable is mi-amigo.

AT LAST

"Yo, heave Ho, and a bott'l o' Rum" (Translated from the original Spanish). We done it, Matey. Our best haul yet."

If he only knew how much I hate this 'Mi-Amigo' crap. We just pillaged an entire village, stole their gold icons and melted them down to pieces of eight. All in the name of enfranchising the heathens to the Pope's way.

"Lighten up, Mate. The maiden was beggin' fer her life. Yer gave 'er a big thrill afore she died. I'll gladly toast to yer manhood!"

It doesn't seem right. Their fate is now in shambles and we brought them Christianity. Their flawless temples, their grandiose golden statues - all destroyed in a week.

"Drink up, Matey. Looks like you got a case o' the jitters. I ain't never had 'em, but here's the cure. Bottoms up!"

I'm trying, but I just can't shake the image of me raping that woman while they were holding her husband's feet in the fire. Kept telling him to release the demons while the rest of our crew was busy hauling off the gold and I'm ruining this woman. Then they kill her.

"This is the Inquisition, Matey. Money's good and all the Rum ya can drink."

All I can think of is my cabin in the forest. I don't want to be here. Nor in my skin. I want out of the Spanish Armada. I'll escape when we hit shore.

"Big storm a-comin'. We better hit the hull."

I looked at the emblem on the grate as we scuttled down the ladder. I wanted to burn out my own eyes - just like the Cardinal did to that Incan boy. Is this real? The ship is swaying too much. This must be a hurricane. I fell down and begged God to forgive my sins. I'm underwater drowning. Release at last. Sweet last.