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Give me two please because I am IN
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Jan 5, 2022 08:33
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The Scarecrow Sentinel Prompt: - A being made entirely of ice and spite, - A scarecrow Words: 1473 At the peak of the mountain, something stirred to life. Ice cracked and shattered. Stone too. The air turned thick with frost and a blizzard rose from nothing, pelting the area with snow and vicious winds. Slowly, an eye as tall as a fir and as wild as a storm, blinked open. The Great Mountain was ancient and colossal and the wind that howled around its various summits and craters was as frigid as most could imagine wind to be. At its base, where the frozen stone gave way to dry earth and eventually patches of tufty pale grass, there were a cluster of villages and hamlets. Deep below the mountain, however, in the dark and the damp, long-limbed amphibious beings skulked through cavern and cave. In the dim rot, these beings hunted pale fish, chitinous insects and shadowy things. In turn, they were preyed upon by giant claw-worms that erupted from the rock, dark quadrupeds that yelped and hollered as they burst from the shadows and packs of squat hounds that could squeeze their bodies through the tiniest cracks and crevices. After a twilight sleep - a dream of nothingness - one such creature opened beady black eyes and found themselves in harsh daylight. They had experienced such things before and immediately knew that they were no longer in a real body - no longer a long-limbed amphibious monstrosity, for they peered in the world of damp and decay with eyes the size of dinner plates. Above ground, they were not only blind, but their skin burned and sizzled in the sunlight. To see and to feel the sun and the frigid air meant they had been cast into some object. Their spirit, their essence, some inner part of them had been teased from their mortal body and infused into another body. With some difficulty, the creature twisted its head and looked down. Through tiny marble eyes it took in the amalgamation of wood and straw, hay and twine. Crucified upon a cross of pine, the scarecrow breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air and though it felt some longing for the chlorine-thick smog of the undermountain, it could not pretend that it was unpleasant. Above, a pair of great winged things, far larger than the bats and insects that made their home below, circled around the bright, empty sky. It looked up, following the natural paths of the mountain, up to the point where the peak vanished within a layer of blizzardous fog. It was not uncommon in the world below the mountain. There were monsters that lived in the very very depths that could siphon the essence of a creature away, leaving its body to be devoured without struggle. Those removed essences would became like motes of fairy fire dancing atop the various pungent lakes and syrupy streams. Likewise, there were those of their own kind who the long-limbed amphibious beings viewed with contempt and scorn. Those who could shape an essence, as others might shape clay. The long-limbed things did not tend to their young, and so if one emerged from its egg with an extra great eye, or an additional pair of arms, nobody was to know until the thing was grown and its nightmarish powers had manifested. These mutants were sometimes hunted and killed, but other times they served a powerful purpose. To extract the essence of one who was injured and cast it into a new body, to animate figures of rock, water, mist and send them out to perform tasks too dangerous for the beings themselves. The scarecrow flexed its fingerless limbs and sighed. Perhaps some monster had siphoned its essence and it had found its way into a scarecrow. It was not so unlikely that an old rotten scarecrow would find itself beneath the mountain, dragged into one of the subterranean lagoons by a flood. That still did not explain how it had come to find itself planted within the ground, staring up at the peak of the mountain. It seemed far more likely that one of the mutant warlocks had wretched the essence from its still living body and implanted it within the wooden form it now took - then ventured out beneath the shroud of night to plant it there for some purpose. The scarecrow did not lament its fate. Those below the mountain had no real concept of boredom and so it did not feel remorse for what it had become, save for the fact it could not remember the circumstances of its transformation. To it, a life of stillness and silence above the ground was no better or worse than a life of skulking beneath it. Then it became aware of the shifting snow and ice. From the mountain’s peak, a great cacophony came, a thunderous rumble that betrayed the movement of something huge. At first, the scarecrow thought that it was an avalanche, but as the snow and ice rolled down the hill it became clear that it had control of itself - this was no natural disaster, but some collosal elemental. A great wind, so powerful it threatened to tear the scarecrow from the ground, roared down the mountain and within its twisting streams the scarecrow heard a voice. “What is it?” the elemental hissed. “I am from below the mountain,” the scarecrow stammered. Deep within itself, it felt some force of will, some ingrained need. “I think I am supposed to stop you?” The wind roared and the scarecrow was pelted with a volley of ice shards that shredded some of its form and sent straw flailing down the mountain. “Oh? And how do you intend to do that?” the elemental asked. “I have no idea,” it said. Its voice came in a rhythmic, dry bleat. “What are you?” The elemental rose tall, dragging a cyclone of frigid air up below it. Its dimensions were impossible to define. Was there some central entity around which the cold elements were orbiting, or was the storm itself the creature? “I have come to destroy the villages at the base of the mountain. From there, I shall roll onward and freeze the rivers and lakes. I shall scorch the roots and grasses with my cold until they are brittle. I shall roll with all the momentum that my form and the great mountain afford me, destroying all that I come across until I am spent and the warm air of the eastern lands melts me away.” “Why?” the scarecrow asked. Droplets of water were already turning to icicles beneath its spread arms and each cyclical burst of wind knocked loose more straw. Slowly, the scarecrow had become more and more ragged. Whether through pity, coincidence or curiosity, the elemental drew back the frigid winds, creating a small halo within which the scarecrow stood. “Why?” it barked. “Because I awoke with this plan in my head. Whoever anchored my essence to this form of ice and spite, felt sheer hatred for the villages below and the creatures that live there. “I think whoever anchored mine to this, felt some lingering awe or perhaps sympathy for them,” the scarecrow mused. There was a pause. The swirling elemental forces around and above the scarecrow lost some of their vigor. Thicker snow drifts and chunks of rock fell from above, no longer fully supported by the wind. “I did not know you came from below the mountain,” the elemental said. “How strange that we face off against one another here. Me, as powerful as the greatest elements. You, a tiny wooden idol.” The scarecrow nodded. Something snapped, some taught piece of twine bitten by the ice, and half of its body slumped to the side, leaving it off-kilter. “What could they have sent to stop something so large?” the scarecrow said. Within the storm, a gigantic yellow eye flecked with islands of silver, stared down at it. “What is your name, scarecrow?” it asked. As it spoke, a tower of ice began to crystallize above the scarecrow’s head, hovering metres above. “You will not stop me, but I will remember your name. One day our essences may pass again.” “Ist’haldaga,” the scarecrow said. The tower floated for a moment, then shattered in mid air. By the time they reached the scarecrow, even the greatest shards were little more than diamond dust. “How strange,” the elemental said. “It seems that you were the right choice to send. You may not stop me….but I find myself hesitating.” “Why is that?” the scarecrow asked. To the north, thin plumes of cloud were beginning to gather. “My name is Ist’haldaga,” the elemental breathed. “Whatever created us, created us both from one essence.” “I see. So I am talking to myself,” the scarecrow said. The elemental did not inch forward. Somewhere on the mountain, wolves were howling at the sudden change in weather.
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Jan 10, 2022 08:49
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In. I will crit everyone. 
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Jan 12, 2022 08:04
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Week 493 Crits Orange Burner’s Royce at the End of the World This reads more like a summary of something, rather than a short story. Too much happens ‘on screen’ and although I like the path it took me on, it’s far too overly paced for me to get to sit back and enjoy anything. There’s not a lot of detail because you’ve had to pack so much plot in on screen. Cut to the middle (because the middle is really the beginning) and tell the first part in a sentence of flashback so you can indulge in details later on. Ceighk’s Johan, Johan! Ah now this is fun. It’s campy and silly and fun. I like the characters, I like the melodramatics and I like the pacing of it as well. There are some slightly strange word choices, but there is also some beautiful imagery and I like the names of things in this . Staggy’s The Monument This is the sort of thing I really like to read. It can be difficult to get a full sense of character in this kind of writing because you boil them down to the bare bones to make points. Despite this, I think the interactions and thoughts give a fair sense of character. The language and the flow is the real star of the show though. Muffin’s Tho Those Who Came After Publish. It’s good enough that even with the repetition of themes and ideas, I would have read a longer version. It caused a lot of feelings and one of them was definitely hope. Good job. Noah’s Don’t Forget to get a to-go Plate There’s a lot going on here and I don’t know how much of the confusion and blurring of edges here is on purpose. That said, I also don’t this it matters because it worked for me. I like the mystery of it and the supernatural elements. My Shark Waifu’s Goblin Mother Another strong entry. The pacing is nice and you give yourself enough room to explore the moment in each scene. I like the weird fairytale style magic that she does and she’s so lovely. The descriptions of the goblins really brought them to life. Albatrossy_Rodent’s The Sea Turtle and The Octopus A good example of a short simple story where characters come alive. I really really enjoyed the interactions between the characters and despite being magical fish, I could really identify with them and their silly little interaction. Bizarrely, this story made me think of Dark Souls with the sombre parts of story crossed with over the top dramatics. Really liked it. Idle Amalgram’s Super Crypto Bros Enjoyed this greatly. Although it’s a fairly straight narrative, the arcs I had expected did not appear and things went differently from how I expected they would. Initially thought the whole story would be someone moaning about missing out on bitcoin, then I thought it would just be them getting rich. The rise and fall pattern played out nicely in the end. The character is so wretched and pathetic but also so relatable and when they were doing well I really did want it to end happily for them. It’s delicate character work and I love it. GrandmaParty’s Priorities Another fantasyish story but with really relatable characters that I fully believed in. I wanted everyone to get out of it okay and was very satisfied with the pay off. Priorities is a good title and I like how little it gives away before the story starts. Chernobyl Princess’s Mumble More excellent character work and a lovely blend of beautiful writing and a bittersweet plot. I got big Tim Burton vibes from this (in a positive sense) and there’s a bit of Wes Anderson whimsy in it too (again, in a good way.) I couldn’t work out if the implication was that they were no longer reliant on the woman or that they would be in trouble once she died but either way there was a slightly morose edge to the hopefulness. Tyrannosauras’s In front of a funky green screen, a banjo player gets some bad news I loved the strange world built up in this story even if it was perhaps done a little too delicately. The hope hitting early in this story really works for it because it means the reader gets to languish in the nice part. This is the first one that’s put an actual smile on my face. Anti-Vehicular’s The Ride Along This is cute and corny and the hope is thick. There are so many beautiful little twists of phrase and language in this and it suits the story. It also felt like a tacky anime that I would probably watch and adore. The little twists of irony just make the whole thing more adorable. Thranguy’s The Basilisk Score This played out like an old Twilight Zone episode and because of that I was always going to like it. The burn is slow enough but the piece still feels a little tightly constrained by the word count and you could have maybe done more with more. That said, this works well and even though I was never going to dislike this kind of thing, it stands on its own legs. The Man Called M’s How Andy became a man I found this too hard to follow to give it a fair review. There are some individually nice sentences here and there and I can sort of sense the plot occurring around me, but I found it hard to follow and there were sections where I was not entirely sure what was happening. Yeah ok ok yeah’s “Deep Rich”, Excursion 385 I had some questions left over at the end which I think you probably expected and are okay with. My instinct is that the mysterious messages were being typed by the cat running over a keyboard? But maybe it’s a monster shapeshifted to be attractive to humans so that it gets picked up? Who knows. Even with all this though, it’s still a cute little story and I like the protagonist in the same way I like WALL-E. A Classy Ghost’s The Dead City Marches On I like all the elements at play here. The characters are funny and grumpy and likable in their loserdom. The setting is imaginative and I would have loved to get a little bit more description. I’m sure there are other times the dead world thing has been done but I like this version of it very much. I’d read a whole book here. Caligula Kangaroo’s Final Exam I like this but I can’t tell how hopeful it is. Charming and touching certainly, but it feels like it’s a happy ending rather than a hopeful one. The world building touches were delivered just right and pitched to the right level of obnoxious. I wanted the guy to a get a happy ending and I was satisfied with the payoff. Crabrock’s Liebrary Colourful, funny, and definitely made me smile in places. It’s another story where it’s just silly enough to let you deliver some genuine like …wholesomeness. I think this thrived in the word count and was just long enough, but it was missing a little something that I can’t quite identify. Flerp’s To The Reclaimers Not truly a story but I absolutely don’t care about that. I think this is a nice example of writing where the author understands the rules well enough to break them. This little description of a life that you’ve created has as much power and character in it as a story and it means that the reader gets to wallow in the language and writing itself.
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Jan 19, 2022 22:28
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