Monthly Archives: September 2013

Rascal Dance

This story was done for the writing thread on GonzoPlanet. The restrictions are max 500(ish) words and there is always a jumping off point of either a phrase or a picture. This entry was inspired by the phrase Rascal Dance:

Doran stumbled as the guards pushed him towards the large oak doorway ahead. His scuffed boots caught on the edge of a flagstone, it pained him to see them in such disrepair but he’d been captive for what must be almost a month now.

As the came to the arched doorway the guard to his right pulled him back by the shoulder.

“Wait scum” the guards fingers crushed into his muscles, weakened by being held in chains. Other footsteps approached from behind, the clink of more guards, and another leather clad sound. Mika appeared to his left, her hair matted and filthy. Is he looked at bad as she.. nope, worse, he always looked worse than Mika. She met his gaze and a slight twinkle in her tired eyes gave him hope.

The two large doors swung open by unseen hands. Light seared into their dark-ready eyes blinding them as the guards once again pushed them forward into the unseen room. Slowly the scene ahead of them emerged from the whiteout. Bondal sat at his throne, flanked by two more guards, and Ciren. Of course he was there, always advising, keeping a tighter grip on power than even his king beside him for kings came and went, but Ciren always remained.

“So here are the two who would dethrone me!” Bondal spat “Two lowlanders with not the first idea of how to behave.” Over his shoulder Ciren chuckled to himself before coughing stopped him. Bondal rose from his throne, his crown casting colourful shards of light down on the stone floors of the room. “Perhaps we should teach you some of these manners you so lack, eh?” he signaled up to a balcony behind them, Doran winced at first ready for some strike but what came was music.

“Come now, fools, dance for me! Take each other by the hands and dance!”

Doran turned to Mika, eyes wide. Mika shrugged and took Dorans hands. They began to step around in circles.

“Yes, that’s it, dance for me you fools. Show me the dance of your pathetic people, this Rascal Dance you care so much for” Mika looked straight into Dorans eyes, the tiredness had fled and she tightened her grip on Dorans hands. They began to spin faster, turning left and right from each other in the dance they had done since children, the dance which had taught them so much more than just dancing.

Bonal began to laugh.

“Dancing you call this! Ha! Like two dogs sniffing at each other.” Faster they span, Doran began to smile. He felt the heat of Mika’s grip, energy flowing into him as his feet left the floor. First in just small leaps but each leap lasting longer.

“Enough fools, I care no longer for this peasant dance.” Bondal turned to sit again.

Doran nodded to Mika, and she increased speed. Doran began to blur before the eyes of the guards then without warning Mika released Doran straight towards Ciren, his feet slammed into Ciren’s chest crushing ribs as blood spluttered from his mouth. The closest guard turned to attack, finding his sword gone. Doran arose sword in hand, brought up the hilt to crack into the jaw of the distracted guard before swinging the blade around, cutting the approach of the second guard who fell upon the steps clutching his tattered throat. The two guards on the main floor rushed past Mika to get to Doran before he could strike at their king, but both also stuttered in their runs turning only to see Mika holding their blades in hand one raised, the other low, both pointed in their direction. Doran turned to Bondal.

“Now, my king, you will lead us out of here. And not by the main routes.”

“Follow us and he dies.” ordered Mika, as she circled round the guards towards Doran.

The three disappeared into the kings private chambers, from which Bodan would never return.


Lacrimae & Dolor

This story was done for the writing thread on GonzoPlanet. The restrictions are max 500(ish) words and there is always a jumping off point of either a phrase or a picture. This entry was inspired by the following image:

Click picture for link to source

Dolor seeped through the city streets, his open maw seeking the scents he knew Lacrimae needed. None would see his passing, the minds of humans refused to acknowledge such things, they continued on their way to work, home, to meet with friends. But this did not matter for those Dolor sought were also largely unseen by their fellow humans. Dolor slunk to a halt, his large head turned on it’s side as a scent grew in odur. Eyes focused on the source as Lacrimae stirred upon his back sensing their goal. On the street below, lost in the forest of legs that walked by a man hunkered down, arms wrapped about himself in an attempt to keep out the cold. It had been two days since his last real drink, returning him to the crystal clarity of sobriety. His mind flailed to avoid the memories that sought to surface, his head twitching with each attempt to dodge a synaptic surge. Lacrimae stood up on Dolor’s back and turned her attention upon the man, her eyes grew dark as her mind reached out to him. The man below suddenly stopped his twitching, a calmness drew across him, his mind clearing of all thought save one. The one memory he always fought hardest to bury became his reality. He saw her smile, heard the laughter of his children, days of sunshine rushed by, warmth filled his soul as all the possibilities of a future surged through him. Then he stood in the rain, looking down upon the three fresh graves as friends and family drifted away. Then came the tears mixing with the rain drops on his face bringing their salty taste to his dry cracked lips. Lacrimae shivered atop Dolor the sorrow filling her, her skin becoming luminous,  fires began to burn in the darkness of her eyes. The man’s memories flooded into reality as new tears began to flow into his scragged beard, he buried his face into the tattered arm of his thick overcoat the tears mixing with the dirt and the grease of the past years. The pain drained his body of energy, he felt the cold seeping further and further into his bones his mind reducing to a single thought, a thought of sorrow. Finally his body slumped back against the wall he had been huddled against, a final breath wheezed between his lips.

Lacrimae relaxed in her stance, both fire and darkness left her eyes. She settled back down onto Dolors back her eyes closed as if to sleep as single tear ran down her left cheek and dripped onto Dolor’s back. Dolor grunted as he set off, the faintest of scents reached out to him and he began the hunt again to serve his mistress.