Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Friday February 2nd, 2018
The exercise: Write four lines of prose about: the final battle.
3 comments:
Anonymous
said...
The Final Battle
The last strains of music I heard in my head waned to stillness in a minor key, their tones of sadness infiltrating the soil beneath my feet, already sodden with the blood of the dead - the last battle cry was hours ago, but seemed like minutes as I lay down my sword, no longer of any use.
Smoke wafted up and a stench was building as the first twigs were lit to began the cremations - a much needed ritual not so much out of respect for the dead, but more so that they couldn’t continue their killing feast through the spread of the ill humours of pestilence.
I looked around, one of the few survivors of our side.
There were none of the other side left, but I could hardly say we were the victors in this sickening, wasteful, final battle.
I was flying back to the UK yesterday, so apologies for my absence then. I'm catching up today. And sadly, though I am back in the UK, this is for work, it's the ICE conference this week so I have to go and... well, basically smile a lot, use up all of my pleasantries for the year, and network. I have managed to read through your comments so far this week, Marc, and I'm glad you like Snake. I think I prefer Sberychev myself, but since they go together we can both be pleased :) I'll continue them after the four-line prompts though, partly because I'm short of time today and am not sure I can condense things into such a small space and still tell a sensible story and partly because I think it might be another week's worth of prompts to actually deal with the ransomer(s) :) Today's prompt is referring back to this world, mostly because the last line still catches me off guard, and I wrote the wretched thing.
The final Battle Marie-Elise looked out towards the sea; the last honey-coloured stones of the Abbey were being bulldozed and the land behind it concreted over. The rising waters had submerged much of the land south of here in just five years, but somehow it still felt wrong to be turning an historic town into a gigantic sea-wall. "They'll never rebuild this," said the bearded man with the theodolite over to her left, and she couldn't tell if it was a prediction or a decision. "They're keeping the name though," she replied, "so this will be the final Battle."
Dragonfly - some great details bring this bloody scene to vivid life. Nice work with the atmosphere and conveying the general attitude of the narrator as well.
Greg - ah, I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I hope all the forced niceness isn't excessively tiring for you!
And, well, that makes sense, seeing as with us you'd be Sberychev and I'd be Snake :) I look forward to seeing what comes of that tale!
That's a great twist on the prompt, and I thank you for teaching me the name of an instrument I have seen many times and never thought that it would have a unique (and surprisingly pleasant sounding!) name of its own.
3 comments:
The Final Battle
The last strains of music I heard in my head waned to stillness in a minor key, their tones of sadness infiltrating the soil beneath my feet, already sodden with the blood of the dead - the last battle cry was hours ago, but seemed like minutes as I lay down my sword, no longer of any use.
Smoke wafted up and a stench was building as the first twigs were lit to began the cremations - a much needed ritual not so much out of respect for the dead, but more so that they couldn’t continue their killing feast through the spread of the ill humours of pestilence.
I looked around, one of the few survivors of our side.
There were none of the other side left, but I could hardly say we were the victors in this sickening, wasteful, final battle.
I was flying back to the UK yesterday, so apologies for my absence then. I'm catching up today. And sadly, though I am back in the UK, this is for work, it's the ICE conference this week so I have to go and... well, basically smile a lot, use up all of my pleasantries for the year, and network.
I have managed to read through your comments so far this week, Marc, and I'm glad you like Snake. I think I prefer Sberychev myself, but since they go together we can both be pleased :) I'll continue them after the four-line prompts though, partly because I'm short of time today and am not sure I can condense things into such a small space and still tell a sensible story and partly because I think it might be another week's worth of prompts to actually deal with the ransomer(s) :)
Today's prompt is referring back to this world, mostly because the last line still catches me off guard, and I wrote the wretched thing.
The final Battle
Marie-Elise looked out towards the sea; the last honey-coloured stones of the Abbey were being bulldozed and the land behind it concreted over. The rising waters had submerged much of the land south of here in just five years, but somehow it still felt wrong to be turning an historic town into a gigantic sea-wall.
"They'll never rebuild this," said the bearded man with the theodolite over to her left, and she couldn't tell if it was a prediction or a decision.
"They're keeping the name though," she replied, "so this will be the final Battle."
Dragonfly - some great details bring this bloody scene to vivid life. Nice work with the atmosphere and conveying the general attitude of the narrator as well.
Greg - ah, I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I hope all the forced niceness isn't excessively tiring for you!
And, well, that makes sense, seeing as with us you'd be Sberychev and I'd be Snake :) I look forward to seeing what comes of that tale!
That's a great twist on the prompt, and I thank you for teaching me the name of an instrument I have seen many times and never thought that it would have a unique (and surprisingly pleasant sounding!) name of its own.
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