Writing Prompt Week #5

[Lumin]

Hey guys, sorry I've been flaking out the last couple of weeks but work and family stuff is really cutting into my computer time right now, and it doesn't help I'm trying to finish a story for a contest due the 4th.

(Phone posting so I'll tally the points and insert ridiculous birds later)


1.) Location: beach
Containing: figurine, birds, rival

2.) Write about: a wedding


3.) Image prompt:

http://miriadna.com/desctopwalls/images/max/Autumn-tunnel.jpg

[David Whyld]

Participation in this seems a little slow this week (admittedly, it’s took me a few days to work something up this week), but here’s my effort:

“Eye on IF – with Delbert Derkenweld”

This is Delbert Derkenweld reporting live from the studio here in London where I am pleased to introduce this week’s guest, none other than celebrated, and somewhat controversial, IF author Hobson Grunge. Hobson, welcome to the show.

Thanks, Delbert. It’s a real pleasure to be here.

Hobson, you have a bit of a reputation among the IF community as a maverick. Someone who doesn’t take kindly to criticism and who has caused a great deal of friction over the years with his comments, which many regard as unnecessarily aggressive and, in some cases, downright threatening. What do you have to say to such people?

**** off and die, you little gob-******.

I… see. Do you not view any of the criticism directed at your games to be valid?

None of it. Me games are bloody brilliant. Only a bottom-feeding ****stain of the first degree would see otherwise. That’s me being completely objective by the way.

O… kay. But it’s true to say that your games have often been regarded as sexist?

Who by?

Everyone who’s ever played them.

Well, which ones? I've never written a game which was derogatory towards women.

I have the title here…

Yeah…?

’All Women are Bloody Stupid’.

Ah. See, that was a parody, right?

A parody?

Yeah. You see, I have a great deal of respect for women. I bloody love ‘em. Ask any of eight ex-wives or my mistresses or that nice hooker I spent the afternoon with if you don’t believe me. Anyone who doesn’t believe I have respect for women doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I wrote that game to show people how great women are and anyone who played it and didn’t see that, well, more fool them. The fact that the main character-

Mary “I’m So Stupid” Figgins?

Yeah, her. The fact that she ends up walking into doors, falling over stuff, getting hit in the face with custard pies, misses her own wedding on account of going chasing after a cat, loses her money, ends up homeless and dies in a home for the terminally stupid is just that parody thing I mentioned. Anyone who doesn’t see that is clearly some kind of shirt-lifting pansy boy.

And that’s another subject which has caused a great deal of controversy in your games: homosexuality.

What – you're claiming I'm some kind of gay-basher just ‘cos of that? Nah. I ain't got a problem with ‘em. I even put a gay guy in my last game.

Is that the game where the gay man gets nailed to a wall, shot and electrocuted?

Got it in one. How anyone could play that and see any hint of prejudice against them there weirdoes is beyond me.

O… kay, let’s move on, shall we? You're here to talk about your latest game, which I believe is called ‘Justin Bieber Needs Shooting’.

That’s it. Great title, eh? I’d just like to point out before any weirdo freaks start whining and complaining – I ain't bashing Bieber. I love that gangly, spotty little pile of cow excrement. Damn good singer. Damn good dancer. Damn good full stop. The fact that he gets shot a few million times during the game is just one of them things.

This isn’t the first time you’ve included Justin Bieber as a character in your games, is it? I see that you made him an NPC in ‘That Bloody Stupid Git Next Door’ where he gets shot by the player. And in ‘Hitler’s a Damn Fine Fellow (And Them Jews Probably Had it Coming Anyway)’, you included a fully functioning toilet which was made from the corpse of Mr Bieber. Which the player is obliged to use to finish the game.

Ah, but you only have to use it three times to get the best score. The other 115 were purely optional.

I… see. Let’s view a sample transcript of your new game, shall we?

YOU FIND YOURSELF ON A BEACH WITH BIRDS FLYING ABOVE YOU AND THE OCEAN VISIBLE IN THE DISTANCE. THERE IS A LARGE FIGURINE HALF-BURIED IN THE SAND. JUSTIN BIEBER IS HERE. ALSO HERE IS A MACHINE GUN, A ROCKET LAUNCHER AND A NUCLEAR WARHEAD.

JUSTIN SAYS, “WHAT SHALL WE DO?”

> GET ALL
YOU TAKE THE MACHINE GUN, ROCKET LAUNCHER AND NUCLEAR WARHEAD.

JUSTIN SAYS, “WHY DID YOU PICK ALL THOSE DANGEROUS ITEMS UP? I MEAN, WHY NOT EXAMINE THE OCEAN OR WALK ALONG THE BEACH? Y’KNOW, PEACEFUL STUFF?”

> SHOOT JUSTIN WITH MACHINE GUN
YOU BLAST HIM AND HE SQUEALS LIKE A PIG.

JUSTIN SAYS, “YOU JUST BLEW MY HAND OFF? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”

> SHOOT JUSTIN WITH ROCKET LAUNCHER
YOU BLAST HIM, KNOCKING HIM BACK ACROSS THE BEACH AND CAUSING HIS HEAD TO GO FLYING OFF HIS SHOULDERS.

JUSTIN SAYS, “THAT’S JUST WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS. I'VE DONE NOTHING TO YOU. WHY DO YOU KEEP HURTING ME?

> SHOOT JUSTIN WITH NUCLEAR WARHEAD
YOU BLAST HIM, REDUCING HIM TO A FEW PIECES OF ASH WHICH BLOW AWAY IN THE WIND.

JUSTIN (IF HE WAS STILL ALIVE) SAYS, “MAN, THAT’S NOT FAIR. WHY ARE YOU SO CRAZY?”

CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THE GAME! YOU GOT A SCORE OF 3 OUT OF A POSSIBLE 21,361. MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY AGAIN AND SEE IF YOU CAN FIND OTHER WAYS TO MAKE THAT ANNOYING LITTLE **** SUFFER.

See – if that doesn’t prove I'm a Bieber fan, I don’t know what does. He’s practically got star billing in me game.

Hmm… do you have any future projects you can tell us about?

Oh, quite a few. I've thinking of doing a game which features the player as a young politician navigating the world of politics and with lots of political stuff going on. It’s called ‘A Right Bunch of Tossers’. Then there's a kind of single player MMO game I've started work on called ‘Men Rule Cos They're the Best’. Spent a good deal of time on that one I have. Fully fleshed out the character classes for all male players, added some NPC lords and barons and a few thousand lines of manly dialogue.

And for women in the game…?

Oh, yeah, yeah. Plenty of women. I mean, you ain't gonna want male hookers, are you? And someone’s gotta clean up and make the beds, right?

Well… quite. I think that’s all we have time for tonight, Mr Grunge. I’d like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak to us. Thank you on behalf of the whole IF community.

That bunch of limp-wristed mother*******? Bah. I’d like to give ‘em all a smack personally.

…

That it then? Only I got a National Front meeting to get to-

Cut to credits.

[P/o Prune]

1.) Location: beach
Containing: figurine, birds, rival

Ahhh… Such a wonderful day. You curl your toes in the warm sand with each step you take across the sunny beach. Ahead of you, at the other end is the ice cream booth towards which you are heading. To the west are the surf and the ocean.
Suddenly a sharp pain shoots through your foot.

>X sand
You look down at the sand and see an arm holding a sword sticking up.

>X Sword
No doubt this is the cause of the pain in your big toe.

>Get sword.
You can’t take the sword it’s attached to an arm.

>Get arm
You can’t take the arm, it’s attached to a … Arh, come one… You want to continue this or just go on and dig sand!

>Dig sand
Ah, now you get it… That wasn’t too hard now, was it?
Kneeling in the sand you begin to dig and you have soon uncovered a small figurine.

>X figurine.
It’s a figure of as blindfolded female. In one hand she’s holding a sword (with which you are now painfully acquainted) and in the other she is holding a scale. You immediately see its great value. Holding it close, you head towards your car.

Path to car. (I know, I know... I’ve added a second location… Don’t worry I don’t expect extra points for this.)
Limping along a grass covered path (remember your sore toe?) towards your car you do your best to hide the figurine. But you only get so far.
Your worst nightmare steps out from behind a bush and block you passage. “What have we here?” he asks

>talk to rival.
Still trying your utmost to hide your precious treasure. But since you’re not wearing anything but your swim trunks and you’re not particular interested in hurting yourself in unmentionable places, there’s not much you can do.
You try to talk to his better side, knowing very well that it doesn’t exist…
Then suddenly you get an idea.
You explain that his is a sort of a voodoo figurine from Jamaica and it’s very rare. More importantly if it is improperly obtained, great harm will come to the wrongdoer.
Well, your little story, however clever obviously had the opposite effect of what you hoped for. A broad smile lights up his face and before you realize it he had snatched the figurine from you and runs as fast as he can.

> Chase rival.
Your rival is fast running towards his getaway car when he stumbles in the sand and falls flat on his face.
As you approach you notice that he’s lying suspiciously still, and when you get closer you see that the sword is sticking out from his back.
A flock of sea gulls (the vultures of the beaches) are already circling above.

> Get figurine
With a soft bloody “swoop” you pull the figurine from your rivals chest.
Once again Justice has prevailed.




2: Write about a wedding.

You really can’t remember much form the night before, except the bar and the numerous glasses of whisky, not to mention the merciful darkness that finally descended upon you.
But here you are… Standing (swaying is more like it) supported by two men who has a tight grip around your arms.
The door to the barn opens, and almost simultaneously the five man band strikes up what could be “Here comes the bride” or “For she’s a jolly good fellow” It’s hard to distinguish the difference since the Jew’s harp and the steel guitar isn’t quite in agreement and the guy playing the guitar is missing two fingers on his left hand. But they are at least extremely eager in their effort.
Looking out the corner of your eye you see your wife to be standing next to you. She’s dressed in something whitish with a veil so long it almost covers her cowboy boots. She’s not all that bad looking if you can yourself from her missing tooth and the unmistaken smell of cattle.

The sheriff, standing on a bale of hay, holding what appears to be a Bible in one hand while the other rests on the handle of his six shooter, looks down at you.
“Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to honor and obey her as long as you both shall live?”
You hesitate and look at your bride, still not entirely certain how you managed to get yourself into this mess.
The metallic sound from the cock of a gun makes you turn your head and you find yourself starring down the huge looking barrels of a shotgun held by the bride’s father.
You slowly turn your head back again, swallow hard and whisper a nearly inaudible “I do”

[P/o Prune]

Just so you all know...
This Writing Prompt is open to all Drifters, not just David and myself (and Lumin when she has time to participate...)
Come on.. be an active part of the forum.

[Lazzah]

The Custodian of the Catacombs hurried, as fast as his old legs would carry him, along the labyrinth of tunnels that led to the deep abyss. Clutched in his hand was the figurine that his rival, the Alchemist of the Marienburg Fortress, had hidden from him for many years and which the adventurer Alaric Blackmoon had recovered for him.

On reaching the edge of the abyss, he uttered the incantation that revealed the magic bridge and walked across it to the rock pinnacle where the altar stood. Placing the figurine on the altar he knelt, said a prayer and then stood up. Waiting patiently, he looked up into the darkness of the vast cavern the pinnacle stood in and listened.

After several minutes he heard the wingbeats of huge birds high above and was suddenly buffeted by a powerful downdraft. A huge snowy owl appeared out of the gloom and landed on the pinnacle a few metres from him. The Custodian bowed to the bird, which crouched down to allow him to mount it and sit astride it just ahead of its huge wings. With a few strokes of those huge pinions, the bird took to the air and soared into the darkness.

A few hours later, the Custodian - dressed only in a pair of rather garish bermuda shorts - lay sunning himself on the white sands of a remote tropical island, a goblet of cold beer within reach.

"Ah, this is the life!" he thought to himself, chuckling. "Much better than traipsing around those catacombs looking for rats like that idiot IF author had me doing!"

[P/o Prune]

[Lazzah]

The Wedding.

(This will be the prequel of my forthcoming game "The Call of the Shaman")

Duke Alaric Blackmoon stood before the altar in the Cathedral of St. Anthony in the city of Domreil, nervously waiting. By his side was his best man, none other than King Kelson of Hecate, resplendant in his royal regalia. Alaric pulled at the collar of his dove-grey doublet, prompting Kelson to tell him to stop it immediately before he pulled it out of shape.

Suddenly there was a fanfare of trumpets and Alaric looked around at the doors of the cathedral. Framed by the bright sunlight outside were two figures. One was his bride-to-be, Princess Bronwynn. The other was her diminutive father, King Cuthbert, her arm linked in his. As the fanfare faded and soft music played, the pair started walking down the aisle towards the altar. Bronwynn looked stunning in her pure white wedding dress, the train held up by two pages and two bridesmaids. She carried in her hand the traditional posy of pink and white roses and on her head was a sparkling diadem, one of the many wedding presents from King Kelson.

Bronwynn's father King Cuthbert didn't look very happy. He had promised Bronwynn's hand to Prince Timothy of Xabia, solely because the marriage would have brought much wealth to his coffers, only for Bronwynn to escape to Hecate where she sought sanctuary with her cousin King Kelson. That had been three years ago, a perilous journey which culminated in Bronwynn foiling an attack on Alaric and his troops at the border between Hecate and Xabia. Alaric had escorted Bronwynn the rest of the way to Hecate and over the course of the next three years, Bronwynn and Alaric had fallen in love. On reaching her 21st birthday six months ago, at which age she was able to chose her own husband, Alaric had proposed and Bronwynn had gladly accepted.

Bronwynn and her father reached the nave of the church and, with a brief sigh of resignation, handed his daughter over to Alaric. The Archbishop of Domreil began the marriage service and all went well until the Archbishop uttered the phrase "If any man knows of any legal impediment why these two persons may not be joined in marriage, let him speak now or forever hold his peace!"

Suddenly there was a commotion on the side of the cathedral beyond where Bronwynn stood. A man came running towards Bronwynn, carrying a small hand-held arbelest - it was Prince Timothy, a look of mad rage on his face!

"If I can't have Bronwynn," he screamed at Alaric. "Then neither can you!" Raising the arbelest and, pointing it at Bronwynn, he pulled the trigger. Alaric grabbed Bronwynn and thrust her behind him but the arbelest bolt hit her in the shoulder. King Kelson drew his sword and, with a mighty blow, sheared Timothy's head from his body. The head flew into the air, a look of astonishment frozen on its face, while the body fell twitching to the floor, bright red blood pumping from the severed arteries.

Alaric, stunned by what had happened, lay Bronwynn on the floor of the cathedral and examined her wound. Luckily the bolt had only penetrated a short way into Bronwynn's flesh and Alaric was able to pull it out without hurting her too much. However, as he pulled it out he noticed a black sticky liquid on the tip of the bolt - poison!

Bronwynn's breathing became laboured as the poison started to take effect. However, Alaric's friend and mentor, the sorcerer Magor pushed his way through the throng of people around them and quickly assessed the situation. Ordering everyone including Alaric to stand back, he muttered an incantation over Bronwynn's body and her breathing became more regular but very shallow.

"I have put Bronwynn's body into a state of hibernation," Magor told Alaric. "She will remain that way for a month but if an antidote for the poison is not found then I am afraid she will die. The spell cannot be repeated," he said sadly.

Magor took the bolt from Alaric's numb fingers and examined it, saying that he will take it to his tower and analyse the poison. As he walked away, Alaric gathered Bronwynn in his arms and took her to his apartments, where he lay her on his bed. He spent the next few hours sitting by the bed, her hand in his, gently talking to her about all the adventures he had planned for the pair of them on their honeymoon. Alaric must have dozed off, as he awoke to find Magor shaking him gently.

"I have analysed the poison and it is not good news," he told Alaric. "The poison is an extremely rare one and I know of only one place it can come from - the great plains of Americanus far to the west on the far side of the Atlantis Ocean. Unfortunately I know of only one person who might be able to help you,"

"Who is this person?" Alaric asked Magor. "His name is Running Wolf and he is the Shaman - or Wise Man - of a tribe of nomadic people called the 'Na'ishan', or Plains Apache," Magor told Alaric. "They roam the great plains of Oklahomania in the middle of the continent of Americanus. I can transport you by arcane means to Oklahomania, but you will have to find out where the tribe is and make your own way to them."

Alaric spent the next couple of days equipping himself for the journey and eventually he was ready. He travelled to Magor's Tower by horse and the sorcerer prepared him. He gave him an amulet and told him, "Wear this around your neck at ALL times, do NOT take it off!" he warned him. "When you have found the antidote to the poison, hold the amulet in both hands and say the words 'Revertere Mecum' and you will be transported back here to this spot." Alaric told Magor he understood what to do with the amulet.

"You must not be afraid of what I am about to do," Magor then told Alaric. "You will feel a brief second of dizziness and intense darkness but this will soon pass. I have blindfolded your horse so he won't panic." You led your horse over to where Magor indicated and he began the incantation. Suddenly everything went dark and you felt an intense feeling of nausea. then the light returned and you looked around at where Magor had transported you to.....

[David Whyld]

For laughs, I just decided to write a second entry, this time about a wedding.

It was a great number of people that showed up to watch Herman Heggentooth and his beloved Mycella Bagpuss get married. Indeed, the church could barely fit in all the assembled gathering.

The priest, a wizened old fellow with a long beard, stepped up to them and said, “We gather here today to wed Herman Heggentooth and Mycella Bagpuss in holy matrimony. If anyone knows any reason why they should not be wed, say it now or forever hold your pe-“

There was a shuffling in the church and a tall, strapping woman stepped forward. “I have a reason,” she said. “Herman is a rascal and a bounder and no woman should ever be forced to suffer at his hands the way I did.”

Herman looked pale. “Froella, please, this is hardly the time or the place-“

“Herman,” said Mycella, looking confused, “who is this woman?”

With great regret, Herman said, “My former wife. Froella Fish. We did not part on… happy terms.”

“Happy terms?” Froella laughed bitterly. “No, Herman, we did not.” To Mycella, she said, “He cheated on me daily, he spoke to me in unfavourable terms-“

“That’s a lie, you bitch!” said Herman.

“- and he stole my favourite necklace.”

“That’s also a lie,” said Herman, neatly removing a silver necklace he wore and slipping it into his pocket.

“If this is the man you wish to marry, then so be it,” said Froella to Mycella, “but mark my words: you will regret it.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the church and was never seen from again.

Herman turned to Mycella and said, “My dear…?”

Mycella shrugged. “Oh, well, we all have skeletons in our closet, I guess. I still love you, Herby dear. Let’s get married.”

And so the proceedings continued, with the priest saying, “And now without further ado-“

There was another shuffling in the church and a moustachioed man stepped forward. “I also have a reason,” he said. “Herman is a downright rotten scoundrel, he has never loved another person in his life and he said he had true affection for me when all he ever wanted was my savings.”

“Wilbeforce!” exclaimed Herman. “I, er, well, um-“

“Herman,” said Mycella, “is this true? Did you lay… with another man? And steal from him?”

Herman hung his head. “I did, my dear. I did.”

“He also spoke to me with great disrespect-“

“That’s a lie, you bastard!” said Herman.

“Marry him if you will,” said Wilbeforce to Mycella, “but I promise you will regret it.”

And with that he turned and walked from the church, and was never seen from again.

Herman turned to Mycella who said, “Oh, I forgive you, Herman. You're only human after all.”

“On with the wedding!” cried Herman, eager to proceed before anything else happened.

With a sigh, the priest said, “And so does anyone else-“

There was a shuffling within the church and a chimpanzee stepped forward. He didn’t say anything but gave Herman a lewd wink.

“Herman,” said Mycella. “You did it with… a chimpanzee?”

Herman, head bowed, nodded.

“And you stole from it as well, I assume?”

Herman nodded.

“And did you speak ill towards it?”

The chimpanzee ook-ed, to which Herman said, “Can it, you filthy ingrate!”

The chimpanzee turned and shuffled out of the church, and was never seen from again.

“Well…?” said Herman to Mycella, who sighed and said, “I forgave you for the other woman and the other man, so I suppose I can forgive you for the chimpanzee as well. But,” she added, “I have a pet Chihuahua called Fluffy. You aren’t to as much as glance in his direction after we’re married, okay?”

“I promise you that, my dear,” said Herman.

“Then, priest, please marry us.”

The priest cast a look around the church, as if asking “anyone else?” and when no one said anything, he said, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you-“

“Just one minute.” There was a shuffling in the church and a little old lady stepped forward. “I have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony.”

“Oh, for ****’s sake,” muttered the priest.

“Don’t look at me,” said Herman, which is just what everyone in the church was doing. “I don’t know who she is.”

“She’s my librarian,” said Mycella.

“Indeed I am,” said the little old lady. “And you, Mycella, have four overdue library books in your name. One of which has been overdue for almost a year.”

“And…?” said Mycella. “You’ve interrupted my wedding day – the most important day of my life! – to badger me about overdue library books?”

The little old lady said, “Other people could have been reading those bo-“

“Oh, get out, you silly old witch!” snapped Mycella and the little old lady turned and left the church and was never seen from again. “Priest,” said Mycella to the priest, “marry us and be quick about-“

But Herman was looking at her with dismay. “The wedding’s off,” he said, stepping away from his former beloved. “Mycella, you have wounded me too greatly for me to ever forgive you. I'm sorry, but I just cannot marry a woman who treats library books with such disdain.”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the church and was never seen from again.

[P/o Prune]

Hmmm quite a while since a certain Texan promised to come up with another Writing Prompt
Could that certain Texan have gone AWOL?

[Lumin]

Not AWOL so much as slowly going insane.

Family has really been out staying their welcome and it turns out I can't function at all when people who should not be in my house are in my house. I can't come up with a good excuse for dragging the computer off into a cave but I'm at the point where I may pick up some El Cheapo laptop this weekend and go pitch a tent in a parking lot somewhere, who knows.

[P/o Prune]

Tell me about it, Lumin.
My wife's 8 year old grandson is staying with us and trying to get any work done on my game with him around is practically impossible.
"What are you doing grandpa?" and explaining the game to him (thinking that that will shut him up) only opens up an unstoppable torrent of other questions.

[P/o Prune]

Tuesday Feb 27 2018 ... A day that will live in etc. etc. was the last day that Lumin posted a challenge for the Writing Prompt.
Her explanation was that her family had well overstayed their welcome but at the same time she hinted something about getting a Mexican laptop "El Cheapo" (Brand unknown to me) and go pitch a tent in a parking lot.
I fear that she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in the Bermuda Triangle because nothing has been heard from her since...