The exercise:
Write about: the sting.
Went for a nice float on our inflatables down the Kettle River in the summer sunshine with Kat and the boys today, along with Becky and Natalie. After we arrived back to the picnic spot where Kat's parents, Adam, Emersyn, and Hannah were waiting for us, we had lunch.
I was also stung by a wasp, behind my left knee.
But hey, not going to let that ruin the day... just inspire this prompt.
3 comments:
So, I realise I've already got my first continuity error as Pestilence has now taken the hell-chihuahua with him and then Scuffles had her with him. Either way, she's ended up with Pestilence so let's not worry too much about how she got there :)
Your day out sounds lovely apart from the wasp sting and the lack of moose-rides (and possibly snake-cuddling). Behind the knee sounds like a rather irksome place to be stung as well, so I hope it stops being sore quickly!
The sting
War walked with Famine to a small, walled courtyard in the heart of the monastery while Pestilence and Scuffles sorted out who was carrying the hell-dog (Pestilence) and who would be map-reading (Scuffles). In the centre of the courtyard was an obelisk made from local stone with a square base and tapered sides to a pyramidal peak.
"This," said War, reading the inscription, "says that it's a momument to the Infanta di Castile. Which is quite interesting when you think about it."
"It says its a monument to the infanticide of Castile," said Famine after a few moments. "You don't speak Spanish?"
War loomed for a moment and the world seemed to grow cold and gray. Then the sunshine and warmth returned, and Famine realised that the birds had stopped singing.
"Now I do," said War. He smiled, even white teeth brilliant in his sun-bronzed face. "We're in Spain?"
"Where did you think Castile was?"
"I didn't," said War. "Generally languages aren't terribly important for me, so I get one of the Valkyries to sort it out. Wait a moment, infanticide?"
"Death got into one of his moods a couple of centuries back," said Famine. "I forget what they did but he turns up on the doorstep in a complete snit. Grandad hadn't been being Famine for that long at that point and didn't want to upset him, so he toddled off and Death told him to punish Burgos. Eighteen days later the people sacrificed all their children and Death subsided a bit and let Grandad go home again."
"Sounds like Death," said War. He looked off to the horizon. "Did he ever say why?"
"No," said Famine. He looked at the ground, thinking. "But I'm wondering if this thing with the Accords... maybe it's not the first time?"
War sighed. "There's a definite disadvantage to him being the only one who's properly immortal," he said. "Right, we're covering West to Sou-SouthEast right?"
"Hunty," said Famine with a grin, "we're totally bleekered and snowdropping. Let's iron up and blaze out."
In the silence after that you could hear an ant fart.
"Yes," said Famine. "But get used to it, War old boy, because out in the real world it gets worse. This is a simple sting, right? We're gusting out and surveying, a quick recce around the manors to get the lay of the land, and looking out for the hotspots and chodeholes. Get us some grimace and we're in like Flynn but save the nectar for necker 'cos this aint a one-man band. Even if you kind of are."
"I can snap your neck with one hand," said War. "I can tear your left leg off and beat you senseless with it, then force it down your throat and leave you to choke to death. Talk normally, or I'll behave normally."
"Isn't this a pleasant pickle?" said Famine.
Greg: I feel like you, too, have a long story going here that I'm just itching to read. I love the interactions between the characters. I'm a little confused who Scuffles is (in the last prompt I thought it was the dog at first), but I'm sure catching up will tell me.
He struggled against the paladins twisting his arms behind his back. The ignorant fools, he thought. How could they follow someone as wicked as she? Did they not see all the horrors she was capable of first hand? Had they not played a role in the abduction of all those innocent children?
Had they not seen the tears pouring from Tanner’s wide eyes?
“Such a strong lad,” The Shade Queen spoke. Derrick watched as her thin, violet lips curled upwards in to a smirk. “I wonder if the little princesses would come running to you after only a glance. Tell me, will you help me in the final act of my shadow play?”
From one of the frills in her sleeve, the Shade Queen withdrew the longest needle Derrick had ever seen. It was almost the length of a dagger, but the thinness of the blade was unheard of amongst the smithing guilds. She started walking towards him.
The needle in her hand had a sickly glow. He struggled anew against his captors, but their strength only seemed to grow the closer the Shade Queen and her needle came.
“You can’t do this,” Derrick shouted. “I’ll find a way to stop you and bring all the children back.”
She only let the shadow of a laugh escape her thin lips. “You’ll have to remember who you are first.”
The Shade queen stuck the needle into the side of Derrick’s neck. He felt a sting, then a winter gale blew under his flesh, freezing the blood in his veins. His vision clouded, turning from grey to black. Everything around him, the floor beneath his worn leather boots, the paladin’s hands gripping his arms, even rough cotton shirt on his back disappeared. With no sight, no touch, no warmth, he was frozen in hell.
Then a sunbeam shot through the darkness.
“Come to me, lad. Come help my endeavor.”
The voice caused the darkness to fade, caused him to remember the feeling of marble and cotton. The warmth in that voice was a gift to be treasured, not discarded.
Derrick vowed to follow that angel’s voice to the ends of the earth.
Greg - yes, the lack of moose riding was a serious concern for all involved, but we managed okay without it...
'Talk normally, or I'll behave normally' might be the greatest thing you've ever written. I want that on a poster that I can put up at work.
Ivy - yes, I've convinced Greg to do a longer tale involving the four horsemen (his take on them, at any rate). I suspect he can point you to the post where it first began, it's not too far back I think.
Ugh, that final stanza is unsettling. I shall hold out hope that clarity returns to poor Derrick, but things are not looking great at the moment.
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