cadence
in a quiet garden
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Tom-Pen
Mysterious Writer
Once there lived a very poor man, his name was Ozymandias. Everyday Ozymandias would walk through the crowded streets of Jereheim begging, for both food and water. And, everyday, Ozymandias would eat and drink. As time went on, however, and the hot sun dried the earth (making water and food more precious than before) people gave to him less and less until, finally, they didn't give to him at all.
Life grew hard for the poor man, and both food and water were a trouble to find. Times were tough, but he carried on, all the while his body slowly withering away before him.
One day - while Ozymandias wallowed on the ground, too weak to walk - he began to play with the sand beneath him. Somehow, with no water to harden the sand, he found that he could still stand it up and shape it any way he pleased... and it would stay, like a statue. His first sculpture drew in a crowd, and his second warranted some to give praise in the form of gold coins for which he happily took. While buying food and water that day he reflected on what had happen. He didn't know how he could do what he did, but he knew it would keep him alive, so he kept doing it, and people kept paying him.
After several years had passed, and Ozymandias had continued his work, his wealth grew to an astounding height, a height matched only by his ever growing ego. The city was covered with magnificent sculptures, all of different shapes and forms. When the last sculpture was finished, and there was no more room in the city for any more, the once poor man turned to the gathered crowd and spoke,
"MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR," Then, with even more fervor he spoke again, this time to the heavens above, "MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!"
The crowd cheered and Ozymandias bowed, but only for a few short moments. All fell silent and cowered in fear, even Ozymandias, a massive giant made of rock and stone pulled himself up from the mountains. The giant looked down at the town, and leaned in close, his angry eyes fixing on Ozymandias. Ozymandias ran in fear before him but was far too slow to escape the fate he had brought upon himself; the giant lifted one of his great fists high into the air and brought it down with a crash upon the man.
The earth shook violently under the giants great power, the poor man was crushed, and every sculpture he had made was dissolved back into, "The lone and level sands..."
Word Count (462)
Life grew hard for the poor man, and both food and water were a trouble to find. Times were tough, but he carried on, all the while his body slowly withering away before him.
One day - while Ozymandias wallowed on the ground, too weak to walk - he began to play with the sand beneath him. Somehow, with no water to harden the sand, he found that he could still stand it up and shape it any way he pleased... and it would stay, like a statue. His first sculpture drew in a crowd, and his second warranted some to give praise in the form of gold coins for which he happily took. While buying food and water that day he reflected on what had happen. He didn't know how he could do what he did, but he knew it would keep him alive, so he kept doing it, and people kept paying him.
After several years had passed, and Ozymandias had continued his work, his wealth grew to an astounding height, a height matched only by his ever growing ego. The city was covered with magnificent sculptures, all of different shapes and forms. When the last sculpture was finished, and there was no more room in the city for any more, the once poor man turned to the gathered crowd and spoke,
"MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR," Then, with even more fervor he spoke again, this time to the heavens above, "MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!"
The crowd cheered and Ozymandias bowed, but only for a few short moments. All fell silent and cowered in fear, even Ozymandias, a massive giant made of rock and stone pulled himself up from the mountains. The giant looked down at the town, and leaned in close, his angry eyes fixing on Ozymandias. Ozymandias ran in fear before him but was far too slow to escape the fate he had brought upon himself; the giant lifted one of his great fists high into the air and brought it down with a crash upon the man.
The earth shook violently under the giants great power, the poor man was crushed, and every sculpture he had made was dissolved back into, "The lone and level sands..."
Word Count (462)
Abendrot
修羅の花
The chancellor was executed for the crime of treason, his mangled head left to rot on a spike atop the castle walls. Ozymandias meant his death to be an example. This would be the legacy of those who would defect, defy, or rebel, the fate of those who would bear the cancer of sedition within their hearts. In the days after his death, Ozymandias took the time to observe his former chancellor's severed head, admiring his executioner's handiwork with sickening delight. In life, he'd been the envy of the entire court; his handsome face and golden locks never failed to make the ladies swoon. Now, that beautiful face was beyond recognizable, utterly destroyed by the carrion birds. Ozymandias smiled at that. He hated every moment he had to look at his traitorous smirk, hated the sound of his laughter whenever he cavorted with his fellow courtiers, no doubt plotting the death of their King right under his very nose.
Ozymandias turned around, diverting his attention to the vast capital city behind him. My city, he thought. Everything that existed within its boundaries belonged to him. Whenever he walked its walls, he could feel the eyes of every peasant and noble upon him, feel them grovel before their mighty ruler and despair. To them, he was God. A high pitched giggle erupted from his throat. He'd finally gone mad it would seem, and yet he did not care. It was bound to happen eventually, with his entire court trying his every nerve constantly and the threat of assassination lurking in every dark corner. Soon his giggles burst into full-fledged laughter that ripped the air from his lungs. And when he finally found room to breathe, he heard himself bellowing:
"MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR."
Final Word Count: 303
Ozymandias turned around, diverting his attention to the vast capital city behind him. My city, he thought. Everything that existed within its boundaries belonged to him. Whenever he walked its walls, he could feel the eyes of every peasant and noble upon him, feel them grovel before their mighty ruler and despair. To them, he was God. A high pitched giggle erupted from his throat. He'd finally gone mad it would seem, and yet he did not care. It was bound to happen eventually, with his entire court trying his every nerve constantly and the threat of assassination lurking in every dark corner. Soon his giggles burst into full-fledged laughter that ripped the air from his lungs. And when he finally found room to breathe, he heard himself bellowing:
"MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS. LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR."
Final Word Count: 303
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cadence
in a quiet garden
Does that text you included have to be included in our entries? Or does it just have to be inspired by the text?
Abendrot
修羅の花
AFAIK , it doesn't need to be included in the text. It's just there to provide inspiration.
cadence
in a quiet garden
That's what I was thinking and I was too lazy to re-read. However, many people had and I thought I might have misread.
Otakubeats
DC Nerdom Achieved
FULL METAL ALCHEMIST?!
JujuBee
Pettiest Bitch Out There
Ack.
I wanted to post for this one but today was hectic and I know I won't finish it before the time.
But I swear @Killigrew you're going to get a random message one day and it's going to be my response to your prompt xD
I wanted to post for this one but today was hectic and I know I won't finish it before the time.
But I swear @Killigrew you're going to get a random message one day and it's going to be my response to your prompt xD
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
He stirred. It had been a long sleep. There had only been darkness for the past few centuries. Now, life tread within the walls of his temple once more, and with it, light. He looked, and his heart fell at the sight, like always. An empty throne room, stripped bare of the gold that once adorned its entirety. The depictions of him, carved onto the walls by the best craftsmen in the world, had been beheaded by chisels, taken and sold in the market as ancient treasure to fools. Once, the chamber in which he now resided within, would have been filled with the voices of his believers. Now, they had all abandoned him. The anger that he had been filled with so long ago had long dissipated. He was tired. For years, he had dedicated himself to the craft, to become the one ultimate being, a human that transcended mortality. And as any man who had discovered such a powerful secret, he had his followers. He had the mightiest armies, he had the best artisans, he had a country more powerful than any other. Now he had nothing.
“Careful. Place’s coming apart at the seams.” The voices approached. He could see dim light coming from the far end of the hallway, the grand golden doors that once sealed this room having already rotten at the hinges and fallen down from their posts.
“Aye, I hear ya. By God, though, where did this thing come from?”
“Dunno. ‘pparently the sand what covered this place got blown away, and some lucky bastard from the nearby village just so happened to find the top of this temple.”
“Think there’s more a’ these ruins around further down?”
“Dunno. But I ain’t digging any deeper than I have to.”
The two mortals stepped through the threshold, their faces masked by scarves pulled over their faces, and their eyes covered by strange eye shields. The taller one strode on over to the throne where his body was slumped upon, a skeletal remnant of what he once was. The grand robes that adorned his body had been eaten through, and what remained of his raiment now hung in tatters. The mortal gave the body a once-through, taking note of the desiccated corpse, then pried the remaining rings from the fingers of the body. He moaned, watching his own body be desecrated further by tomb robbers, but no sound escaped his non-existent mouth.
“Who is it?” The second mortal queried, catching one of the rings thrown at him.
“Dunno. Never seen him in my history books. I bet our book boys won’t know either. Probably some shite who got too over his head and thought himself a king, like so many others. Let’s bail. Tell the boss this ain’t nothing of importance.”
And like that, the light faded once more. He closed his eyes, and slept again, never to wake again until the walls crumble around him, a ruin to be forgotten, covered by the passing sands.
“Careful. Place’s coming apart at the seams.” The voices approached. He could see dim light coming from the far end of the hallway, the grand golden doors that once sealed this room having already rotten at the hinges and fallen down from their posts.
“Aye, I hear ya. By God, though, where did this thing come from?”
“Dunno. ‘pparently the sand what covered this place got blown away, and some lucky bastard from the nearby village just so happened to find the top of this temple.”
“Think there’s more a’ these ruins around further down?”
“Dunno. But I ain’t digging any deeper than I have to.”
The two mortals stepped through the threshold, their faces masked by scarves pulled over their faces, and their eyes covered by strange eye shields. The taller one strode on over to the throne where his body was slumped upon, a skeletal remnant of what he once was. The grand robes that adorned his body had been eaten through, and what remained of his raiment now hung in tatters. The mortal gave the body a once-through, taking note of the desiccated corpse, then pried the remaining rings from the fingers of the body. He moaned, watching his own body be desecrated further by tomb robbers, but no sound escaped his non-existent mouth.
“Who is it?” The second mortal queried, catching one of the rings thrown at him.
“Dunno. Never seen him in my history books. I bet our book boys won’t know either. Probably some shite who got too over his head and thought himself a king, like so many others. Let’s bail. Tell the boss this ain’t nothing of importance.”
And like that, the light faded once more. He closed his eyes, and slept again, never to wake again until the walls crumble around him, a ruin to be forgotten, covered by the passing sands.
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Tom-Pen
Mysterious Writer
I don't know, I've never seen that movie, game, TV show, or book.
Abendrot
修羅の花
I've seen it and I still don't get it.
S n o w
Dreamer
She sat back against the stone wall, watching the small group gathered around a small map spread out on the grass with some interest. A few of them jostling each other, trying to lighten the mood. In another life, she would have been friends with them. She had been traveling with them for six days, but by the fourth day, they had stopped trying to befriend her. They thought she was cold, and unfeeling, but really, she didn’t think she deserved to be their friend.
Unlike her, they had noble reasons for doing this—they wanted to be heroes and free their people, or they wanted to inspire others to follow in their footsteps—but not her. She wanted revenge. The King had taken everything from her. His soldiers had murdered her mother, younger brother, and sister in their family home, and then dragged her father to the center of the village along with all the other men for a public execution. Then when it was all said and done, they had razed it to the ground.
When her younger self had returned to the village with a heavy bucket of water, her entire world was on fire. She had run then, terrified that she’d feel a sword strike her back at any moment, but she’d gotten away. And later, when she learned that her village was destroyed because the King had heard a rumor that they might rebel, she swore vengeance.
One of the boy’s abruptly shot up and drew his sword, and all conversation ceased. Then they all heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, and the self-appointed leader of the group came over.
“You know what to do?”
She nodded.
He pulled at a block of stone next to her, which came off easily and tumbled to the ground. If it hadn’t, their whole plan would have been in shambles. A spy had been digging the tunnel for months, right under the King’s nose. When the tunnel was revealed, she stepped inside, a second before their leader pushed a smaller boy towards her.
“We’ll hold them off.”
She only started forward. The tunnel sloped upwards after a while, and she found herself in the throne room. The King was there, as was the Queen, and the Prince. The Queen’s expression turned to shock, and she hugged the boy to her. The smaller boy moved to stand guard as she drew her sword.
“Get on with it.” The King said as if he’d expected this.
The plan was to kill the King, but she wasn’t going to let him die so easily. She stalked towards the Queen. “This is for my family.” She spun and sliced the sword across the woman’s throat, turning to the child. She faltered for a second, but then the image of her younger brother came to mind, choking on his own blood. Her eyes hardened.
She plunged the sword through the Prince and turned towards the King, blood dripping from her blade. “Now despair.”
Unlike her, they had noble reasons for doing this—they wanted to be heroes and free their people, or they wanted to inspire others to follow in their footsteps—but not her. She wanted revenge. The King had taken everything from her. His soldiers had murdered her mother, younger brother, and sister in their family home, and then dragged her father to the center of the village along with all the other men for a public execution. Then when it was all said and done, they had razed it to the ground.
When her younger self had returned to the village with a heavy bucket of water, her entire world was on fire. She had run then, terrified that she’d feel a sword strike her back at any moment, but she’d gotten away. And later, when she learned that her village was destroyed because the King had heard a rumor that they might rebel, she swore vengeance.
One of the boy’s abruptly shot up and drew his sword, and all conversation ceased. Then they all heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, and the self-appointed leader of the group came over.
“You know what to do?”
She nodded.
He pulled at a block of stone next to her, which came off easily and tumbled to the ground. If it hadn’t, their whole plan would have been in shambles. A spy had been digging the tunnel for months, right under the King’s nose. When the tunnel was revealed, she stepped inside, a second before their leader pushed a smaller boy towards her.
“We’ll hold them off.”
She only started forward. The tunnel sloped upwards after a while, and she found herself in the throne room. The King was there, as was the Queen, and the Prince. The Queen’s expression turned to shock, and she hugged the boy to her. The smaller boy moved to stand guard as she drew her sword.
“Get on with it.” The King said as if he’d expected this.
The plan was to kill the King, but she wasn’t going to let him die so easily. She stalked towards the Queen. “This is for my family.” She spun and sliced the sword across the woman’s throat, turning to the child. She faltered for a second, but then the image of her younger brother came to mind, choking on his own blood. Her eyes hardened.
She plunged the sword through the Prince and turned towards the King, blood dripping from her blade. “Now despair.”
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Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
You had better make good on this promise! One cloudy day, I'll be panting for your pm, to me a sunshine river.
You Win!
I simply must award bonus points to @simj22 and @Francis Stickmin who went the extra mile and took on the poem itself, down to the "lone and level sands stretched far away" ending! @S n o w, I must mention you as well, as the use of "Now despair" gripped me! A great use of the quote, and the perfect ending to your tale of vengeance! Gosh, all of these submissions had their good points, and I could list them all one by one, but in the spirit that goes against misleading, I'll get on to business.
What have you done, Sim! Without naming him (subtlety points+10), you have the very immortal King of the poem, and you have him there dead(+10000 POINTS WOAH IT'S OUTTA CONTROL). The tension of the concept grips my heart as tightly as a husband hug ever could. The King is dead in every sense of the word! --forgotten, not even the idea of him stays preserved. For all his glory and for all his wondrous works, that "I'll be in the history books" maxim falls futile. That this was the theme of your tale, and that you made me think it -- you didn't give me the answer-- that is really what makes me hand the crown of victory over to you.
All hail our new judge and jury, @simj22!
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simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
@Francis Stickmin
T-thanks. Y-yours was a truly fascinating read as well. To be able to make such a tale with 500 words was impressive indeed. You certainly make it seem effortless.
And you too, @Killigrew, for bestowing upon me this crown.
I must also commend all the others as well for their writes. It was wonderful reading all of them.
In any case! For your next challenge, I issue you to grace your papers with your pens on this:
"The sword of Damocles hangs above."
and your challenge is as thus: strike my heart through with your tales with as little as 100 words, no less; as many as 450 words, no more!
The challenge ends in 24 hours! Go forth!
Tom-Pen
Mysterious Writer
Space Explorer
As I chart these blackened seas of speckled light, I find a certain peace of mind I've never known. A peace in danger, of a risky nature, that calms my worry and woe. I have left the Earth and traveled far, with no hope of safe return, and yet I do not fear my certain death that grows so near. I can not fear death because it is so certain, I can not fear it, for I'm already dead. Time is the only factor left unknown, and makes no difference to me now.
So with the blade so near my ever thinning line of life, I continue on, with no fear of that deadly knife.
Word Count (117) - Including Title
ArtisticVicu
Member
The dust billowed about them as the wall came down, opening a secret passage. She lowered her hand, the rest of her team coughing behind her. Her headlamp illuminated the passage now exposed, revealing a path that hadn't been touched since the temple had been abandoned.
"Rachel, wait." She stilled, her foot in the entryway. The man that had called out hurried to her side, a hand latching onto her arm. "Let's send the drone in first."
She shook her head. "We know this part of the temple is stable. There's no need, Harry." She gently slipped from his grasp and stepped fully into the passageway. "Besides, a drone won't trip any of the traps anyways."
She pulled at her collar and a little scaly head popped out. She smiled down at the little dragon, asking, "Fos, can you light the way?"
The little dragon chirped and pulled itself out of her jacket. Fluttering ahead on soft wings, the little dragon began to give off a soft glow that illuminated quite a bit of the hallway without blinding her and her team. She followed after, as did Harry. Her dad and father made it into the passage before the way in was sealed abruptly, cutting them off from the rest of their team. Rachel glanced back but kept moving. She had what she needed. They'd find a way out later.
Harry hurried to follow as she trekked after the little dragon bobbing ahead. "Rachel, what now? Our only exit is now blocked."
She grinned at him. "No it's not."
There was a chirp and Rachel turned her gaze ahead once more. The little dragon had stopped at what appeared to be the end of the passageway and Rachel hurried to come up to the dragon's side. She reached out, stroking a careful finger under its jaw. "What's wrong, Fos?"
The critter flew onward and Harry gasped. Rachel grinned.
Before them was a massive room, much larger than any they had seen previously in the temple. The little dragon flew up to the top of the dome and shone brightly, the curve of the roof reflecting the light incredibly well to not only illuminate the glyphs and written language clearly, but illuminated the room itself to the point that Rachel turned her headlamp off.
"Unbelievable," her dad breathed. Rachel walked straight across, her gaze skyward. Joy and pride filled her expression. "The sword of Damocles hangs above," she quoted, pulling out and opening an old, leather journal. The same glyph on the page and the notes scribbled on the page were the same forgotten language that was all throughout the temple. She grinned at the others. "We're almost there."
"Rachel, wait." She stilled, her foot in the entryway. The man that had called out hurried to her side, a hand latching onto her arm. "Let's send the drone in first."
She shook her head. "We know this part of the temple is stable. There's no need, Harry." She gently slipped from his grasp and stepped fully into the passageway. "Besides, a drone won't trip any of the traps anyways."
She pulled at her collar and a little scaly head popped out. She smiled down at the little dragon, asking, "Fos, can you light the way?"
The little dragon chirped and pulled itself out of her jacket. Fluttering ahead on soft wings, the little dragon began to give off a soft glow that illuminated quite a bit of the hallway without blinding her and her team. She followed after, as did Harry. Her dad and father made it into the passage before the way in was sealed abruptly, cutting them off from the rest of their team. Rachel glanced back but kept moving. She had what she needed. They'd find a way out later.
Harry hurried to follow as she trekked after the little dragon bobbing ahead. "Rachel, what now? Our only exit is now blocked."
She grinned at him. "No it's not."
There was a chirp and Rachel turned her gaze ahead once more. The little dragon had stopped at what appeared to be the end of the passageway and Rachel hurried to come up to the dragon's side. She reached out, stroking a careful finger under its jaw. "What's wrong, Fos?"
The critter flew onward and Harry gasped. Rachel grinned.
Before them was a massive room, much larger than any they had seen previously in the temple. The little dragon flew up to the top of the dome and shone brightly, the curve of the roof reflecting the light incredibly well to not only illuminate the glyphs and written language clearly, but illuminated the room itself to the point that Rachel turned her headlamp off.
"Unbelievable," her dad breathed. Rachel walked straight across, her gaze skyward. Joy and pride filled her expression. "The sword of Damocles hangs above," she quoted, pulling out and opening an old, leather journal. The same glyph on the page and the notes scribbled on the page were the same forgotten language that was all throughout the temple. She grinned at the others. "We're almost there."
(Word Count: 450)
That Lass Over There
Constant Panic
I'm coming up with a blank on this one... Until another time, then.
JujuBee
Pettiest Bitch Out There
She’d always wanted that life. The one the ruler of Damocles always had. From her position as a servant she always watched how the royals lived so luxuriously. How they seemed to do nothing but eat, sleep, fuck, and wake up the next day only to continue their cycle. She grew jealous of it- jealous of them. How dare they simply use their luxury for such mediocre things as that? Why, if she was the ruler she’d rule the place with an iron fist, take over cities, countries, continents- the world!
The desire to rule became the only thing she cared about. She stripped herself of her title and began to work her way up. But of course, working her way up didn’t equal innocence. She did sin after sin, breaking bonds, shedding blood. This continued until she found herself over the ruler, a dagger in hand. But what she couldn’t understand were the last moments. She couldn’t understand why he smiled so softly as though his cheek was being caressed by a lover. Why his eyes became warm and his hand beckoned her to continue the savage murder.
“Thank you.” He’d whisper when she finally dug her dagger into his heart.
She would watch as he welcomed death, his eyes glossing over as the pool under him increased. The girl wouldn’t understand as she went through the motions, now becoming the queen until the moment she got into her bed.would lay down and find herself staring into the eyes of a demon. Fear gripped her and in that moment she could do nothing but lay there, staring up at the creature as she waited for her death. But that time never came and when it finished speaking she would wish it had.
“I’ve been watching you,” It spoke, voice booming. “I’ve watched your work to come to the top. You have committed every sin. Be happy I don’t rip you out of this world and down to hell where you belong. I have plans for you. That damned fool from before always ignored me but you? You won’t be able to. He was clean. You are dirty.. You’ll entertain everything I say whether you want to or not… Oh how I’ve waited for someone like you.”
A small sob broke from the girl. “Who are you?”
The creature would stare at her from the ceiling and slowly make its way back into the corner where the darkness camouflaged it.
“I am Damocles. I do this... Because I want to. So rest well. Today ends the day of your freedom, your life. Tomorrow? Begins mine."
ArtisticVicu
Member
Hopefully Wednesday is just a bad day for them to get online?
cadence
in a quiet garden
Hm. Perhaps if the winner doesn't post a new prompt within 24 hours of the moment they one, unless they have an acceptable reason not to, the last winner choses the a different person?
Life.
Forever Wandering
Or we can take a vote?
cadence
in a quiet garden
That is a fine idea as well.
