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In, going to use this to pressure myself into writing more. May I please have a musical prompt.
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Nov 12, 2014 12:56
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 20:40 |
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The Morning After Word Count 727 Flash Rule: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9P5qOg8jdQ (Really loved this song by the way) The darkness had been thick and palpable, more like drowning in black waters than simply the passing of night. Then it passed, just as the others had. The bleeding rivers, the cloud of hunger that destroyed what had been expected to be a bountiful crop, the pestilence which caused a man's skin to bubble with putrescence; they and all of others had passed. The fear had been for what would come next, the cruel joke that light had been returned just so you could better see the next punishment to be delivered by a barbaric and alien god. It came as the people slept, a wind which carried away the souls of the firstborns, leaving only hollow shells of flesh and bone. Come the morning the cries of pain and sadness could be heard throughout the city. * “His highness wishes your presence at the palace.” The Envoy said. He had appeared within an hour of daybreak, he had had Bithiah woken. “If you would please tell my brother I will be there as soon as I have made myself presentable, that would be appreciated.” Bithiah said. “His highness wishes your presence immediately. It is about your... son.” The final word was strained, drawn out like venom from a sac. Of course, Bithiah thought, he had had a child. “I'm... sorry.” Bithiah tried to make eye contact with the man, but felt a hate she never expected to as one accustomed to the respect afforded to royalty. The envoy scowled. “I know my son will be found worthy, all that your apology could do for him is drat his heart to Ammit's gullet. For your son even that would be too good.” * The walk to the palace was the most devastating that Bithiah had ever experienced. The entire city was decked out in mourning and the few people that walked the streets looked as if a part of themselves had been ripped away alongside their children. Tears streamed down Bithiah's face. All she had done was shown kindness to an abandoned child, nurtured him, loved him and to this day still loved him. This was an act that surely any of them would have done in her position and for that thousands were dead and there was no promise that more wouldn't follow. * As they arrived at the palace Bithiah wiped her eyes, if she was to face her brother she would do so in a dignified manner. The guards opened the door to the throne room revealing a mess of shredded drapes and smashed pots, at the centre of this whirlwind of destruction was a throne, upon which sat a man. His eyes were drawn out and hollow, his exposed flesh showing scratch marks and pock scarring, a cup in his hand and the bloody stain of wine on his lips. Bithiah bowed to her brother. “Tell me, why do you feign obeisance when you're responsible for what could easily have been my death? I was father's first child!” He said, his voice erratic. “Brother, I...” “Do not call me brother!” he interjected, swiping at the air sending the cup careening across the room, spilling the bare dregs of the ruby liquid on the floor. “You lost that privilege the moment you betrayed our nation and our gods.” He picked up a small wine jug and swigged it. “I ordered them set free shortly before I sent for you, I had been considering ordering your execution as a token gesture to appease the people and let them know that those some of those responsible for their children's deaths would pay. However I realised that their God probably counts you as one of it's own, and without jeopardising my life further, I can't risk harming you. You are to go into exile alongside those you love so dearly, if you hurry you may still catch them.” Bithiah fixed him with a stern gaze. “So I may take my leave then, of you and this culture that would hate someone for doing right?” “I would prefer it if you did, that is what exile means.” “Very well then.” * With that she walked out and made her way quickly to the Israelite camp, took her son in her embrace and prepared to head into the desert.
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Nov 16, 2014 23:22
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Thanks for taking the time to read it Chairchucker, will aim to get out of the DM zone next week. Thanks for the quickcrit Djeser, I will try to write something original next time and think more about how much knowledge I assume on the part of my reader. The crit is appreciated.
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Nov 17, 2014 13:31
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Hopefully I won't subject you all to terrible garbage this time. In.
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Nov 17, 2014 18:28
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Thank you for the crit Jitzu_The_Monk. I recognise that I have a lot of areas to make improvements in, but in order to make improving more manageable; what do you think is think is the most important thing for me to focus on first?
Beef Steakwell fucked around with this message at 11:50 on Nov 19, 2014 |
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Nov 19, 2014 11:17
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 20:40 |
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sebmojo posted:The Fiction Advice thread is the place to respond to crits. Sorry, will keep that in mind in future. I'm also going to have to drop out this time as I've had job interviews and illness to contend with.
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Nov 23, 2014 22:25
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