Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Sunday April 14th, 2019
The exercise: Write about: the last day. Tomorrow is my final day at the community centre... for now, anyway. It feels a little strange thinking about it, but I'm also looking forward to my first day at town hall on Tuesday.
Did I say congratulations on coming to the end of this part of the journey yet? If not, then congratulations! If I did, then have a bonus congratulations :) I hope the last day is fun and that your colleagues have the same enthusiasm as the WrongStart staff, but slightly better direction, and have prepared a farewell party for you. I also hope that you find it easy to tell the Town Hall and the community centre apart :)
The last day Labdaris emerged from a Gate -- his own Gate -- in the Enclave and collapsed on the floor. All his energy seemed to have drained from him, and his body fell heavy and unfamiliar. The crystals set into his joints seemed hot and rough, little balls of focused pain. His mouth was dry, his eyes were hot and dry, and his clothes felt like sandpaper over his skin. He dragged himself across the floor of the summoning chamber to where his wheelchair stood, forgotten since the King had granted him rejuvenation, his legs a dead-weight behind him leaving a trail in the fine white sand on the floor like some Herbertian sandworm. His chest was heaving with the effort when he got there, and he realised that he couldn't haul himself into the chair as he was, so he held his breath for six seconds, forcing himself to be calm, and then pushed Power into the crystals Unlike the strangeness of the King in Yellow's Power, this felt like the pricking on his skin from bringing his face too close to a fresh glass of sparkling water and though the crystals filled he could feel the strain on them. Each use brought them a little closer to shattering and needing to be replaced... he shuddered and mentally ignored those thoughts. As the Power strengthened him he stood and swiftly sat, letting the Power subside again. He felt better; not much, but enough to know he needed to eat and to think. His hands reached for the wheels of the chair, and then he paused. This would have to be his last day here; the King in Yellow knew about it now. He would not be someone else's servant. Especially not now he had a new form of chained magic to work upon.
Samual landed on a flat patch of roof atop the Temple of the King, his feet striking the rough stone first but then skidding out from underneath him as the spear continued its flight. He let go at last, his arms burning with the buildup of lactic acid and his grip too weak to readjust and hold on. He knelt on the roof, watching as the spear flew across the roof and disappeared over the side. "The Lords Martial would like weapons that can return by themselves," he said, more to break the silence than in the hopes anyone could hear him. "Though I don't think they're a good way to travel." He stood up, his arms hanging limply by his sides and aching, and looked around: on three sides the temple roof changed level, raising up, and on the fourth there was a stretch of flat stone leading to crenelations and a view across Carcosa. Not much of a view, in his opinion. He walked to the crenelations, acutely aware that he couldn't climb until the bloodflow was re-established in his arms, and looked out. Yellow limestone to the horizon, where a blue line was just a little too crisp to be a familiar horizon. Almost as if Carcosa just stopped abruptly if you went far enough in that direction. He shivered at the thought that you could walk off the edge of a world, and looked down. To where troops were massing.
Welp, this is fantastic. Two returns in one day. And you know damned well that no amassing army is going to dampen my delight at seeing Samual again, safe and sound... for now, at any rate.
2 comments:
Did I say congratulations on coming to the end of this part of the journey yet? If not, then congratulations! If I did, then have a bonus congratulations :) I hope the last day is fun and that your colleagues have the same enthusiasm as the WrongStart staff, but slightly better direction, and have prepared a farewell party for you. I also hope that you find it easy to tell the Town Hall and the community centre apart :)
The last day
Labdaris emerged from a Gate -- his own Gate -- in the Enclave and collapsed on the floor. All his energy seemed to have drained from him, and his body fell heavy and unfamiliar. The crystals set into his joints seemed hot and rough, little balls of focused pain. His mouth was dry, his eyes were hot and dry, and his clothes felt like sandpaper over his skin.
He dragged himself across the floor of the summoning chamber to where his wheelchair stood, forgotten since the King had granted him rejuvenation, his legs a dead-weight behind him leaving a trail in the fine white sand on the floor like some Herbertian sandworm. His chest was heaving with the effort when he got there, and he realised that he couldn't haul himself into the chair as he was, so he held his breath for six seconds, forcing himself to be calm, and then pushed Power into the crystals Unlike the strangeness of the King in Yellow's Power, this felt like the pricking on his skin from bringing his face too close to a fresh glass of sparkling water and though the crystals filled he could feel the strain on them. Each use brought them a little closer to shattering and needing to be replaced... he shuddered and mentally ignored those thoughts. As the Power strengthened him he stood and swiftly sat, letting the Power subside again. He felt better; not much, but enough to know he needed to eat and to think.
His hands reached for the wheels of the chair, and then he paused. This would have to be his last day here; the King in Yellow knew about it now. He would not be someone else's servant. Especially not now he had a new form of chained magic to work upon.
Samual landed on a flat patch of roof atop the Temple of the King, his feet striking the rough stone first but then skidding out from underneath him as the spear continued its flight. He let go at last, his arms burning with the buildup of lactic acid and his grip too weak to readjust and hold on. He knelt on the roof, watching as the spear flew across the roof and disappeared over the side.
"The Lords Martial would like weapons that can return by themselves," he said, more to break the silence than in the hopes anyone could hear him. "Though I don't think they're a good way to travel."
He stood up, his arms hanging limply by his sides and aching, and looked around: on three sides the temple roof changed level, raising up, and on the fourth there was a stretch of flat stone leading to crenelations and a view across Carcosa. Not much of a view, in his opinion. He walked to the crenelations, acutely aware that he couldn't climb until the bloodflow was re-established in his arms, and looked out. Yellow limestone to the horizon, where a blue line was just a little too crisp to be a familiar horizon. Almost as if Carcosa just stopped abruptly if you went far enough in that direction. He shivered at the thought that you could walk off the edge of a world, and looked down.
To where troops were massing.
Greg - thanks :)
Welp, this is fantastic. Two returns in one day. And you know damned well that no amassing army is going to dampen my delight at seeing Samual again, safe and sound... for now, at any rate.
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