December Prompt Thread.

#1
December. The final month of the year. Where the North gets ever colder, the South gets ever hotter, and the equator is still the equator.

The final month is one of mystery. While Christmas is celebrated as the Birthday of Christ, it's also celebrated as a time of giving. Gift bearers like Santa Claus came about four centuries Anno Domini, and the current popular image was conceptualised 15 centuries after that. While one can go over the little nuances of Christmas, it's current form is still one of giving.

So give it your all this holiday season. Write what you want to write and put your absolutely best into it. Show off the best work you can hope to give to the world, and someone somewhere would grow to appreciate the work you do.

Without further ado: This is the December Prompt Thread! Here, you can use the prompt and write a short story, maybe an entire book if you'd like, and post them here for others to read. It's also for those of you stuck on your main story and wants something else to do for now.


Anyways, hope you all continue writing, and see you soon!

Prompt: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/60/83/35/60833526dbdf7afd609e06edcedf2ad5--digital-paintings-digital-art.jpghttps%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F736x%2F60%2F83%2F35%2F60833...al-art.jpg


Source: This one is weird. The artist is: https://www.artstation.com/rhads, but the only place I can find it is: https://www.icanvas.com/canvas-art-prints/artist/artem-rhads-chebokha?product=canvas&sort=popular, so I'm at a slight lost.
Nevertheless, there it is!

Previous Prompt Threads:
November Prompt Thread: https://www.royalroad.com/forums/thread/114025?page=1#pid1011691
October Prompt Thread: https://www.royalroad.com/forums/thread/113339?page=1#pid1000836
September Prompt Thread: https://www.royalroad.com/forums/thread/112425?page=1#pid987991
August Prompt Thread: https://www.royalroad.com/forums/thread/111734?page=1#pid974498
July Prompt Thread: https://www.royalroad.com/forums/thread/111048?page=1#pid962412

Re: December Prompt Thread.

#3

Quote:The mana made her sick.

This close, the air was almost viscous with power.  Every breath, more and more was absorbed into her body and blood.  In a dozen heartbeats, she could already feel it pressing in her sinuses, her vision distorting between the tears and pressure. 

She tried to take a deeper breath to fend off the nausea, but it only made it worse and she threw up on the beach sand. 

She didn't dare try summoning water to clear out her mouth.  The mana burn might cripple her. 

When the worst of it was out, her mouth still tingled with stomach acid.  Nonetheless, she took the first step forward, uncertain and shaky.  Then a second and a third, each step thereafter firmer if loose and drunk.

As she walked across the exposed tidal flats, the breeze was soothing as it blew into her face, for all that every other sense was taken with a distinct wrongness.

She could just make out her destination in the distance, slowly creeping closer with each step.  It went by many names--The Egg, The Tower, The Anomaly, The Wiseman's Gift--but that wasn't important now.

What mattered was getting there.

Re: December Prompt Thread.

#4
She was fortunate enough to make it out of the crash unscathed. Her car was totaled, but she was thankful to be alive and unharmed.

It was strange that there was no driver in the other car. After all, the vehicle had turned right into hers, slamming it head on. 

It was a terrible time for her phone to not have a signal. And it was a bad time for there to be no one out on the street. But that was okay. It was a commercial area, and there would be a place down the road that she could get a tow truck. Her destination was just down the road anyway.

Where was she even going? Well, that didn't matter right now. Getting to a service station and having them get her a tow truck was the most important thing right now. She would be late getting to her original destination, but she could always call them and let them know that she would be late....

Wait, who were they? What purpose did she have going to meet them? Were they important to her? What were their names?

No matter. She began walking down the street. Where was the service station? Where was her original destination? What happened to the other driver? 

Who was she?

It didn't matter. She just knew that this endless stretch of sand had to eventually end, and then she could stop walking. Even as her vision blurred and grew wavy, she knew she had to keep going until she got to--

The river!

Right! That was her destination! The river! It made sense. At least, she thought it did. Where else would she be going?

After hours and days and years and minutes of walking, she grew excited as she finally saw the ship in the distance. It was a huge barge, its features distorted even as she moved closer and closer to it, but she knew that the ferry was her intended destination.

But if it was her intended destination all along, then why was she only realizing it now?

She pushed those thoughts aside, realizing that the most important thing ride now was boarding. She reached into her pocket and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure if she'd remembered to save a penny for the ferryman, but the coin was thankfully in her pocket. 

She approached the featureless man and presented the coin as payment. The humanoid shape seemed to nod, stepping aside in order to allow her access to the gangplank. Her legs carried her forward without issue even as the world around her became so distorted that her vision was useless.

As long as the ferry carried her to her destination across the river, it would all be alright. Her journey would be over soon.

Re: December Prompt Thread.

#6


Quote:Bertha's boots sunk into the sand. If only they hadn't been suede...Then again, she hadn't been the one who called this meeting. As she breathed the cool, salty air, she wondered just what in her life had brought her to this point in her life.

As if Bertha didn't know. Oh, she knew. She knew all too well. If only she'd studied to be a doctor. But why read a biology textbook when you could weave baskets and paint walruses? If only oil paint hadn't been so expensive and gallery shows so unfruitful for her, maybe Bertha wouldn't have had to start moonlighting. But they were, so she did.

The huge, gaping maw, the white, cloudy abberation of insincere nothingness haunted her eyes, so she tried to look down, down at the sand, down at the rapidly encroaching waves. Gulls screamed in the background. She found their cries beyond irritating.

"Psst. Bertha. Hey. Bertha."

Bertha groaned at the familiar, high-pitched voice in her ear.

"Bertha. Hey. Aren't you scared, Bertha?"

"No, Pinochet, I'm not scared," Bertha replied in a huff to the small, talking hermit crab that had crawled out of a pocket in her hoodie and climbed up onto her shoulder, perched almost like a parrot, "I'm just hungover."

"You've gotta stop drinking, Bertha."

"That's like asking me to stop breathing. Or you to move out of a shell and live your life with an exoskeleton."

"What do you think I am, a lobster?" Pinochet gasped, "You aren't gonna boil me alive, are you?"


Re: December Prompt Thread.

#7
C. Wrote:
Quote:Bertha's boots sunk into the sand. If only they hadn't been suede...Then again, she hadn't been the one who called this meeting. As she breathed the cool, salty air, she wondered just what in her life had brought her to this point in her life.

As if Bertha didn't know. Oh, she knew. She knew all too well. If only she'd studied to be a doctor. But why read a biology textbook when you could weave baskets and paint walruses? If only oil paint hadn't been so expensive and gallery shows so unfruitful for her, maybe Bertha wouldn't have had to start moonlighting. But they were, so she did.

The huge, gaping maw, the white, cloudy abberation of insincere nothingness haunted her eyes, so she tried to look down, down at the sand, down at the rapidly encroaching waves. Gulls screamed in the background. She found their cries beyond irritating.

"Psst. Bertha. Hey. Bertha."

Bertha groaned at the familiar, high-pitched voice in her ear.

"Bertha. Hey. Aren't you scared, Bertha?"

"No, Pinochet, I'm not scared," Bertha replied in a huff to the small, talking hermit crab that had crawled out of a pocket in her hoodie and climbed up onto her shoulder, perched almost like a parrot, "I'm just hungover."

"You've gotta stop drinking, Bertha."

"That's like asking me to stop breathing. Or you to move out of a shell and live your life with an exoskeleton."

"What do you think I am, a lobster?" Pinochet gasped, "You aren't gonna boil me alive, are you?"

That's an interesting take of the prompt!