FIRST POST:

Anubis tapped his foot impatiently on the tiled floor of the bathroom; his younger sister, Eris, was making quite a show of fixing up her hair.
“Any time now…” he said, annoyance lacing his voice, yet even the meanest comeback couldn’t ruffle her slightly annoying dignity.
“I AM coming,” she said with an overdone flip of her hair. Anubis rolled his eyes, sighing with sheer exasperation.
“Okay, but I would prefer if you came some time today.” Eris didn’t respond to this, and proceeded to stick a bobby pin in her long, inky black hair. After what seemed like hours, she tied the tight bun with a blue ribbon, and hopped off of her trusty stool. Being the shortest in a family of six, Eris couldn’t perform various endeavors without extra guidance, and so she received the stool as a gift for her sixth birthday.
“C’mon, we are supposed to go and get lunch,” he said, only waiting momentarily to allow his younger sister to catch up.
“Kay,” she replied, tightening the ribbon with a yawn. The duo started out to the front door, Eris running particularly slowly, and Anubis jogging halfheartedly. The small Wendy's building was steadily growing larger and larger, despite the siblings slow progress, and Anubis fished in his pockets for any spared change. His hand emerged, clutching a few wrinkled up dollar bills, more than he had expected. They didn’t receive allowance- much to Anubis and Eris’ annoyance- but they found other ways to make a living. Their mom laughed when a young Eris recited this sentence to her.
Eris hopped over to the cashier, her fist tightly gripping a ripped five dollar bill, and placed an order consisting of “those yummy sandwhiches that I got last time.” After realizing that her previous order was no longer available, she asked for some chicken nuggets, and stepped to the side, sitting down at the booth closest to the check out center. Anubis placed his order, dropped a cup of water near Eris’ seat, and collected the food from a smiling waitress.
After eating, they made their way through the crowded array of tables positioned clumsily throughout the restaraunt, Eris still munching on her french fries. A large man pushed past them, his face hidden behind an opened newspaper. Eris glanced at Anubis, a look of pure terror on her face, as the man started towards them. He dropped the paper, glancing around, and smiled a smile full of rotting teeth as the waitress made a small noise in her throat and scampered back to the kitchen.
Now that his face was revealed, Anubis could make out a shiny, bald head and lips that stuck out in an uncanny way. His eyes where hidden by a pair of sunglasses, yet Anubis couldn’t help but feel like the man was staring right at them. He suddenly felt a bolt of prickly cold shoot throughout his veins; there was something familiar about that guy…
“Anubis, look…” Eris breathed, fear etched upon her pale face. Anubis ignored her pleas. He was too busy looking intently into the man’s face to notice a slight flick of his wrist. One moment, he was staring at the cheery red of Wendy’s, the next, all he could see was inpenetrable darkness.

SECOND POST:

Beauty
A single star,
Shining in the night,
A beacon of hope,
Hovering in the sky.
A blooming flower,
Giving color to this world,
Letting the portrait of life
no longer be black and white,
Spilling joy into this hour.
A drop of water,
Resting on a leaf,
Nourishing plants and animals,
Feeding beauty and beast.
A singing bird,
Giving a tune to life,
Inserting a melody into that tune,
So beauty can not just
be seen, but heard.

THIRD POST:

Grave of Dreams
Grave of dreams
Stone of loss
Buried away
Covered in moss
Grave of dreams
Monument of good
Burnt to ashes
Covered in soot
Grave of dreams
Story of old
Frozen in winter
Shattered in cold
Grave of dreams
Tales long forgotten
Flew away from our minds
Words turned rotten
Grave of dreams
Slowly recovered
Dug up from old ground
Stories now mothered.

FOURTH POST:

Anger
Smooth, cool surface
All the same form
Hollow expression
Feeling lukewarm.
Plaster shatters
A thousand shards
Feelings strewn everywhere
Voices hard.

FIFTH POST:

Ricco continued to plod through the woods, but he could tell something was wrong with the all-consuming silence. He quickened his pace by the tenfold, but still felt unsafe as the trees started growing thicker. He had gotten the directions right, hadn’t he? Glancing back at the torn and tattered map he got from his grandparents, he groaned. He had taken a wrong turn. Ricco scanned the map, his ears alert despite the rapt attention he was giving the old piece of paper. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how many angles the middle-aged man turned the map to look at it, he couldn’t find his location. Silently cursing his stupidity, Ricco turned to the right, hoping he would get lucky, but his guess was to no prevail. The trail just got thinner, the forest thicker, and the sky darker. He was permanently lost. The slight crunching of a twig rang throughout the forest, and Ricco turned around, grabbing at his belt for a pistol that wasn’t there.
And before Ricco even got a chance to cover his head, a mass of black fur and yellowing fangs jumped at him. It was agony; Ricco could barely breath with the immense weight forced upon him, and the wolf's claws shredded his new plaid shirt. The beast pinned down Ricco’s shoulders, its foul breath clouding the clean air of the forest. But something was wrong. The beast’s grip seemed to be slackening, the claws loosening their grip.
Before Ricco knew it, the great dog stood up, allowing wonderful, fresh air to enter the man’s lungs. The wolf turned around, breathing heavily, and trotted into a cluster of trees. Ricco inhaled deeply, suddenly appreciating his will to live. As he stood up, a trickle of warm, thick blood ran down Ricco’s torso, staining his permanently lost shirt.
Well, if I ever make it home, hopefully Melany will get me a new shirt, Ricco thought as he turned around to try to find his way back to his house.

SIXTH POST:

Clang!!! The metallic noise echoed in my brain, not unlike a bird desperately pummeling the sides of his cage, fruitlessly attempting to escape. Next, a series of screeches as I feel a rather unpleasent swooping feeling enter my stomach; my breakfast was threatening to leave me. However, the sickening sensation left as soon as it came, and the metal door looming in front of me slid open. Light spilled into the tiny, cramped transportation box, so suddenly and violently that my eyes shut instantaneously.
“You better get used to the light,” came a low, raspy voice, and I turned quickly. A particularly strong odor that vaguely smelled of sage met my unsuspecting nose, and I muffled a cough by clamping my mouth shut. Looking closer, I saw a boy of about 16. His slightly long blond hair was pushed carelessly to the side, and my first thought was of the surfers I saw on cheesy television shows. His eyes where an uncanny shade of brown: a near black.
“Do you talk?” the teen asked, rolling his eyes way back in their sockets so all I could see was white. I fought down the impulse to punch him.
“Yes, I do in fact talk,” I said, annoyance lacing my voice. He put up his hands playfully, raising his eyebrows with a grin.
“Okay, back down!” he said. I nodded, turning a pale shade of red, and began fidgeting with my sleeves. The boy seemed to sense my discomfort, and sighed.
“Look. I just wanted to ask you a question. Now, down to business,” he replied to my silence, taking up a formal tone. My shoulders relaxed; this was my area of expertise. Planning. Being serious. It was how I had lived my whole life, so no wonder it was a shock when I was transported here- land of relaxing. And having fun. A place where everyone could go about their day, acting like a normal person, and not being hunted by the GRF.
“Okay. Good. So. I’m guessing you want to know my story?”

(By the way, I will probably be doing a FULL story instead of just a prompt some time, it's just the “full” stories aren't complete yet…… :\)

SEVENTH POST:

Memories
Memories. Coming back to me slowly from the depths of forgetfulness, or quick and clear, sharper than a knife.
Memories. Taunting me for years until I don’t know who I am, making me regret ever letting them happen.
Memories. The scent of pine, the waning moon, a cotton candy cloud can all be preserved inside my head.
Memories. Some whizzing past my mind, calling to me from a distance but never making it home, while some stick to me as if attached with duct tape.
Memories. Coming back to me slowly from the depths of forgetfulness, or quick and clear, sharper than a knife.

EIGHTH POST:

Moonlight
Silvery silk of night
brought into being by the
wonderous weaver of wonder
Luminous strands
reach out and caress my face
encasing my soul
Beacons of hope
angels sent by
a globe
of serenety
breaking through the dark,
impenetrable veil
of night
so that
glossy filaments of light
leak through
the cracks
Some gossamer threads
beaded with twinkling stars
Some ethereal blankets
draped over my shoulders
Silent guides
to the inky black night.

I am open for constructive comments about this one! It's new and unedited, but I like it a lot…

NINTH POST:

Night
Crickets chirping
trees rustling
moonlit streets
no longer bustling.
Waning moon
a silver disk
shivery cold
night air brisk.
Indigo sky
speckles of light
sun hiding from view
vanquished by night.
Shadows creeping
monsters lurking
a demon world
dark and murky.
Owl hoots softly
eyes are gleaming
soars over the terrain
the day redeeming.
Torrents of rain
pelt from the sky
Splish, splash,
clouds needed to cry.

This one's sorta old… I did it in fourth grade! Seems so long ago!

TENTH POST

Dancing With The Trees
Wind whistles merrily
Through the limbs of an oaken giant
A mirage on the ground
Dances around in the breeze
Flakes of autumn colors invade the tapestry
Falling down,
down,
down,
Down onto violent, emerald green
Sharp edges reach
Up to the sky
Scattered wisps of white
Among serene blue
Light peeks out from
Sheer curiousity
Hits the violent colours
Of the leaves, swirling down,
a whirlwind of color
Soars, like a bird,
Dancing with the trees.

bumpadoodydoo

Bump of bumpness

Cool!

BGMead wrote:

Cool!

Thanks

Blue Umbrella
Alyssa was sitting under the willow tree, her favorite spot in Pennsylvania. Her legs dangled off of a rocky ledge, and the azure sky enveloped her in a tranquil scene of beauty where loneliness and hurt didn’t exist. The willow vines sheltered her from the downpour of hate, and she looked down upon the crashing waves of war, but she knew they were now far below her. The bonds that had been holding her were now mere dust; the weights tied to her chest had become light as a feather. She felt her spirit soar, a bird broken free from a rusted old cage. Then the friends she had made up for herself paraded in, serenading her like peasants would serenade a king. They chatted, gossiped, danced, and laughed with Alyssa as they whiled away the hours. The mere willow tree was now a palace of grace and beauty, and Alyssa knew she was at home.
Then, a single raindrop fell from above, draining all of the magic from the old willow tree. The waves were now just waves, the sky was now just a dull sheet of blue, and her friends were whisked away, along with all feelings of safety and comfort. This single drop was followed by a sprinkle of rain, that stung Alyssa’s skin and matted her hair. She stepped out from the shelter of the willow tree, and was met with a downpour of hail. The willow tree slumped, defeated by the harsh weather. Alyssa began the journey home, but after the first few minutes her knees were shaking with cold and her eyes were almost blinded. She continued to struggle on, but was met by an unsuspected pothole, and she tripped into a pool of mud.
She turned around to look up, and her gaze was met by a little boy wearing a bedraggled yellow raincoat and holding a little, worn out blue umbrella. His hair was filthy and his legs were caked with dirt, but his eyes shined with an unexplainable happiness that seemed to emanate light and warmth, erasing any traces of bitterness on his face. He offered his little arm to Alyssa, and she took it, hauling herself to her feet. She flashed him a smile of thanks, expecting him to go on his way, maybe find somewhere safe to stay for the night. But rather than abandoning Alyssa, the little boy opened his blue umbrella to her. It creaked, but was still an umbrella. Why would he offer his only thing to she, a normal girl with plenty of money? Before she could make a decision, he grabbed hold of Alyssa’s hand and pulled her under the little umbrella. Though it was tiny, made for kids as small as he, she just barely fit and it shielded her from the violent hail.
The next day, as Alyssa set out for the willow tree, the little boy tagged along. He followed her like an eager puppy, asking curiously about everything in their path. She reached the willow tree and climbed in, the boy close behind. But try as she might, Alyssa couldn’t get the usual magic of the tree to work. No ghostly friends appeared to greet her, and the willow was just a normal tree, rather than a magnificent castle, sparkling with a mesmerizing luster. A tear beaded up in her eye as she realized that all that really mattered to her had faded away overnight, a cloth becoming dull from hours of work. Then the little boy climbed into her lap. He extended one of his fingers and caressed a willow vine, awe shining in his eyes. Alyssa felt warmth spreading throughout her soul, running in little streams like melted chocolate. She didn’t need the willow tree to be happy, Alyssa decided. All she needed was a friend.

Good we'll judge on boxing day the day after Xmas but needs to be done by Xmas!

I'm now using a new account, -_ECLIPSE_-, for writing purposes. That account is also taking over my writing shop, which I closed…