Writers' Corner: of Pens and Crumpled Paper

[Dragon Of The Earth]

to velata
your answer is by far the most satisfying
i believe that a true writers call is a type of compulsion

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

Corrusader - The power and strength of any piece of literature is based on what effects it had on people. A story may striking enough that it may have a huge impact on the readers the first time through. Other stories require more readins for the deeper messages. Niether is better than the other. The goal is to affect the readers.

The descriptions that I use may be more detailed than what you are used to, but it pales in comparison to Mr. Dickens. The diction may sound poetic, but it is crystal clear next to Mr. Milton. The story arc may be confusing, but next to Mrs. Woolfe, it can be used to measure singularities.

This is a style that I have adapted to. It does not mean that it will not change. As Amit commented before, I am only a fledgling writer; I appreciate your concern, however certain comments that you have expressed may be in need of deeper reading and disscussion.

Chi No Ryuu - ONce again I have this image in my mind. It yearns to be put on paper. (grin) I wonder what to do.


For the Riptide Project,
Advent Childhe,

[Dragon Of The Earth]

in such times my friend childhe
there is but one thing to do

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

Well no one has posted here for a long while.

My attention was diverted to the story game thread (see General Chat) But that seems to be going downhill as well. Many key players are missing.

As for Corrusader's quest, I am currently working on it. Consider me mad, but I am going to attempt this one in pesudo Mock-Epic format. I have seen "Rape of the Lock" and I loved it. However, it will take me a while!

I must comment that fantasy is best left to the prose.


For the Riptide Project,
Advent Childhe,

[Advent Childhe]

She slept soundly on the smooth steel table and she looked as if she was a part of that senseless material like an angel carved on the lid of a sarcophagus. Silently, I counted her breaths. I listened for every soft sigh, and I watched for every rise of her chest. I counted her breaths as if they were her last.

She moved her hand as if to touch some one in her dreams. The chain attached to the metallic cuffs of her wrist clinked softly. I looked at those chains and I marvelled at the stark contrast between that dark steel and the tone of her silken skin. A part of me warned me to look no further. Concentrate! My better judgement said. Count her breaths and concentrate.

But how could I? Slowly I rose from my heavy stone-chiselled seat and I walked towards the table where she slept still. I apporached the rings nailed into the marble that fastened the chains that bound her limbs. As I stepped closer, she moved a bit more, and she rolled as if to face me. I stopped. Could it be that she was sensing me? Or was it my footsteps? Get back in your seat and count her breaths! They warned you!

I tried to turn away, but then I found myself fixed to my spot. The thin and silky material of her long blouse had only just concealed the creature beneath; though it was taut enough for me to see the curves of her body. The same material covered her long and slender legs, but they were ripped near the bottom to show the brash chain and cuffs that bound her to the table. I found my self muttiering how this was torture.... but in my mind I did not know who was being tortured... her... or me.

The voices of the Judges rung out in my ears; they kept on repeating how disobedient I was. They kept ordering me return to my post and concentrate on her breathing. But I swatted their voices aside, and I looked upon her sleeping face. Her hair was a dark wave upon the chrome, and a few long and wayward strands had fallen across her face. There was a hue of crimson in her cheeks that appeared only on those who are lost in the realm of sleep. there was a lsight frown to her slender brows as if something fleeting in her reveries had caought her interest but she had already forgotten what it was. I stood there wondering what could that be? Would it be me?

I remebered how she was outside of this room. I could recall every detail to crystal clarity. I took another step towards the table and rested my hand on the steel. It felt warm. It felt like her temperature. With my eyes closed, I could conjure up such clear images of her. How the caramel coloured hair framed her face, how the lights danced in her eyes when she laughed. If I leaned in closer I could experience it all again. I go back to all the memories of her and I cling on to her every word, every movemtne. It felt like it was yesterday. she felt exactly the way she did when we had said our goodbyes - warm and beautiful.

The harsh light filled the room as the doors swung open - the Judges had come to take her away, to remover her in her sleep.But she was no longer sleeping. Her eyes were slightly open, and she looked at me intently. Our lips barely touched. The Judges muttered amongst themselves, obviously debating what harsh sentence they would be casting upon me. I looked at them with a sympathetic laugh. They have no idea, do they? I looked down at her, and I gave her a kiss.

The last meaningful thing I would do in this life.




For the Riptide Project,
Advent Childhe,

[Seph]

Very... not quite dark, not quite angsty, perhaps moving is the word. Obviously taken place in a world with a different ruleset than what we're used to, but still clear enough to tell the story. Of course, it leaves more questions unanswered than answered, but that's how drabbles are. Nice piece over all. (There were a few typing errors and some confusing sentences though.)

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

Thank you kindly.

We have a new member to the Writer's Corner!

I guess the things that I am wont to write recently have greater emphasis on the psychological side of things... and less so on the details.

Mock epic is not coming along at all... I lost my clipboard with all my rough work and notes. Its Gone.


For the Riptide Project,
Advent Childhe,

[Velata]

... May I...?

For once, I am not so late as in replying to a challenge. For once, I may stand in front of my peers with my meagre piece in my hand, without the intimidation of too many stellar pieces that had gone before me.

Without further ado, I give you The Lily and the Rose

Brazen knight clad in lily white,
Met with a grim and awful plight.
Fork'd paths with the promise of lies,
Each road holds a deadly surprise.
Hardy hearts had been sent to flight,
Choosing between what's wrong and right.

Fearless knight of a mighty lord,
A man who liv'd by oaths and sword.
Now he stands in the face of choice,
His vows turn'd to an empty voice.

The soul scream'd for the Way of Truth,
Lost e'en to the eyes of a sleuth.
Those men who would seek this path out,
Would their own better judgements doubt:
Steep and narrow with mirthless views,
Cover'd with blooms of dismal hues.
Spreading sounds of future decrees,
Were the wails of baleful banshees.

His blood cours'd through his once proud veins,
Devil's whispers flew to his brains:
"See, knight: Here lie this primrose way,
Fill'd with sights and sounds on display.
No fierce dragons for you to slay,
Only love to make your heart gay.
The land is paved with gold and silk,
And rivers run with wine and milk."

On the knight's clothes of lily white,
A red rose appear'd in plain sight.
Over his heart a five-point'd bloom lie,
Lusty colours would his robes dye.
At the crossroads a fool had chose
The soft, sinful Way of the Rose.

I hope this fulfills all the requirements that was laid out: Iambic pairs (tetrameter in this case), rhyming couplets, and something with a "fantasy" feeling. Old Vel's not the greatest with fantasy (a little better with morality play). I hope this one passes all the criteria.

P.S.: For those of you who are wondering the reason behind the title, I have a historical note to add. The lily flower blooms white, and around Easter time. It has been a symbol of spiritualism and the ascension of the soul in Christian mythology for a long time. On the other hand, the heraldric rose (five-petalled rose, usually in white or red) has been a symbol of the body and the bodily functions. The five petals, arranged in a pentagon, has been said represent the human body. Therefore, since this piece is a battle between the soul and the body, it has been called "the Lily and the Rose." The rose won, in this case.

[Advent Childhe]

Greetings:

Well this is a long time coming.

My mock epic will once again be incomplete. I had really lost my notes (and my note pad...) and i have forgotten what aI had written. I now say farewell to 5 days of work.

Fantasy feeling... I do not know how to comment on that particular one.. but I do have some comments for Velata's new piece... however I must get back to work... will comment later.

Keep up the muse work!


For the Riptide Project,
Advent Childhe,