Writing Prompt #1: Mythical Creatures

Discussion in 'Art & Creative' started by Merc, Feb 10, 2009.

  1. Merc

    Merc Certified Shitlord V.I.P. Lifetime

    So I'm here to try and liven this section up a bit and I'm going to do it with some writing prompts! Here's the deal, I'm going to give you a prompt and you're going to write for ten minutes (Time yourself) in response to the prompt and then post it. Type it up by replying with the prompt quoted and we'll discuss what we've got!

    Prompt #1: Mythical Creatures -
    Write a short piece (Doesn't need to be a complete story) that involves a mythical creature (or creatures) as a focal point. There are no other rules outside of this one!

    REMEMBER: THIS IS PROSE NOT POETRY.
     

  2. ExpectantlyIronic

    ExpectantlyIronic e̳̳̺͕ͬ̓̑̂ͮͦͣ͒͒h̙ͦ̔͂?̅̂ ̾͗̑

    It's not easy being a Jackalope hunter. Those fuckers are fast, mean, and obfusticated. They're the most well-hidden of all God's creatures. Want proof? You ever see a Jackalope? That's what I thought. Obfusticated little bastards. Never the less, a Jackalope rack is well known to be worth its weight in gold several times over, and a Jackalope paw might give you just enough luck to be able to get one.

    I'm more fond of the Jackalope hunting than the thinking about Jackalope hunting, myself, but some folks think you need to bag a Jackalope and get its paw before you're even lucky enough to bag a Jackalope. I don't know about all that, but I know I've never bagged a Jackalope, and almost suspect the fella that sold me this Jackalope paw may have played me for a sucker.
     
  3. Merc

    Merc Certified Shitlord V.I.P. Lifetime

    Interesting bit of writing. Did you actually spend ten minutes? That seems rather short for a straight writing piece in ten minutes.
     
  4. ExpectantlyIronic

    ExpectantlyIronic e̳̳̺͕ͬ̓̑̂ͮͦͣ͒͒h̙ͦ̔͂?̅̂ ̾͗̑

    I'm pretty sure I spent ten minutes. I wasn't writing stream-of-conscious, though.
     
  5. Merc

    Merc Certified Shitlord V.I.P. Lifetime

    That's alright. I should have been a bit more specific. Next prompt will be stream of conscious. Any reason why you chose a jackalope?
     
  6. ExpectantlyIronic

    ExpectantlyIronic e̳̳̺͕ͬ̓̑̂ͮͦͣ͒͒h̙ͦ̔͂?̅̂ ̾͗̑

    Not sure. Jackalope popped into my head, and sounded like an amusing enough creature to write about.
     
  7. Chaos

    Chaos Epic Gamer V.I.P. Lifetime

    The Dorgon sat on the peak of the mountain. His rheumy eyes surveyed the wasted plains before him. He sat with his ragged wings wrapped around his blocky, squat form, as he watched placidly for the slightest hint of movement. He shifted a little, bones groaning under protest, as he moved his tail underneath him. He was old, perhaps even the last of the Dorgons, but with age came patience. He could sit and watch for days for the next prey.

    Suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. He turned slowly, manoeuvring his bulk to face this movement. As he watched, a lithe form streaked across the barren wastes, trailing a long cloud of dust. The Dorgon calmly unfolded his wings; the bones creaked as he flicked them out. Straightening them, he regarded the ragged and torn film dispassionately.

    Shuffling forth to the edge of his plateau, he leaned and fell forward. Air streaking past his fat figure, he shook his shoulders. His wings trailed uselessly behind. Ignoring the ground racing toward him, he looked over his shoulder. Shrugging his shoulders, he flicked the wings out. They caught, the filmy membrane billowing out, heaving as they strained to carry the bulk of the Dorgon. Lazily, the Dorgon turned and glided towards his new prey, his ragged wings rippling slightly in the wind.


    ...And, that's ten minutes.
     
    Last edited: Feb 12, 2009
  8. Boredie

    Boredie In need of Entertainment

    Enchanted I watched the Pegasai flying overhead with their powerful wings. The sun seemed to shine off them as they turned heading for the patch of land not to far from me. I ran swiftly and silently towards their landing place to get a better look.
    I saw them grazing calmly the trees surrounding the area were like a halo protecting them from harm.
    One Pegasus looked up and seemed to stare in my direction. He was smaller than most, yet with powerful looking muscles as the rest of them. His coat was a shade darker than the rest of the pack's snow-white. He resumed eating the grass, ignoring me, and I inched closer, awed that I was able to see these wonderful creatures up close.
    The darker one made his way towards me and I reached out as if to touch him but I didn't think he would come any closer. But suddenly I felt his muzzle under the tips of my fingers and I drew away. He came closer and allowed me to touch his strong neck. It felt soft like a duck's down. I became bolder and ran my fingers down his flanks and then up over his body. The beast knelt down and without thinking I climbed on. With a swift movement and a toss of the head he started gallopping towards his pack, moving his wings as would a bird about to take flight and there I was suddenly in the air.

    End ten minutes.
     
  9. oeran

    oeran Registered Member

    Paws slammed against the ground, sending little puffs of dust into the air, to be captured away on the wind.


    Alone, alone, he mourned, cried. Alone.


    Running away. He shivered, tail between his legs. He was two social creatures in one body. Why was he to be alone? A pack, a tribe, it didn't make any difference to him. He wanted to be among his own people, whether wolf or human.


    Alone, he continued to cry. It was a bark, a soft howl, loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for other wolves to pick up the cry. He didn't want them to hear him to come looking for him, to smell this strange wolf that didn't smell like they did. Was he accepted? He couldn't tell. He could never tell, as he continued to run, tail between his legs, flicking against his back ankles.


    Alone...


    There was another one, he could smell, another like him. A female. One that ran and yipped and chased her tail, running into the water and splashing it everywhere. He had seen her, watched her. Wanted to be with her. She wasn't alone. She was with herself.


    They couldn't speak the same language. He knew that. He would have smelled her among his people, if that were true. But he knew that she wasn't there. She wasn't with them. But why did she continue on so happily, catching fish with a pair of jaws that she wasn't born with? Why did she make this curse seem like a blessing.


    She always howled as loudly as she wanted. Wolves answered her, he knew, but she never answered back. And the wolves never searched her out. How could she be so immune?


    Alone, he whined. He scratched his claws against a tree, pulling some of the bark off. He wanted to attack the tree, knock it down. But he didn't have the strength. He needed help.


    Why couldn't he be human?


    Alone...


    Was she a monster? Worse off than him? Had she completely embraced that monstrous spirit of hers? Was that why she was able to enjoy herself, go barking off across the hills chasing rabits and deer that she never killed, just giving them a fright as they ran off. He had watched her spook them through the woods, just far enough for them to outrun her. She nipped at their tails, catching a couple hairs in her teeth, and let them free. She never ate them.


    He groaned and sighed and sat down in the dirt and looked up at the cold moon that stil rose high, even at the sunrise. The moon was there, a giant eye, always watching him. He put his head in his arms.


    "Why are you always alone?" she asked. She was standing there as he looked up, not very beautiful, older. Not as pretty. She raised her brows expectantly, as if there was an answer.




    It's a bit longer, but it only took me ten minutes.
     
  10. oeran

    oeran Registered Member

    Question that I forgot to ask: How often will you be putting up new writing prompts?
     

Share This Page