Prompt for January 17: Four Line Poem about the Recruits

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

Come one, come all, and sign your name

In ink, in blood, sign your soul away.

For ours is a war to end all pains and

To save us, your life is the price we pay.

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Prompt for June 20: Four Lines of Prose about the Flower Shop

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

Tending the tulips and roses with care, spritzing them with drops of fresh water, Frank contemplated his lot in life. All his friends left the small town of King’s Hollow to join the army raids up north at the border. Woman, they had called him, fearful little girl. But his friends didn’t realize that Frank stayed in his father’s flower shop out of intelligence instead of fear; after all, Frank was the only one of his friends that wasn’t currently buried six feet under the ground with an axe buried three inches into his chest.

Prompt for May 15: Ulterior Motives

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

“You let me think I could change the world.” Tears were starting to roll down my face like rain in a violent storm. “You allowed me to send my brother to war. He died, Yahuete. It’s because of you that Baeryn is dead.”

Yahuete just angled his head down ward, as if looking into his cup of tea. He didn’t even dignifying my grief with those blind, sympathetic eyes. “You had to think Baeryn was the one meant to save your people. The actions you have took have lead you down the right path. Soon, everyone will know that I was the one that trained you in the ways of wisdom and war. I will again establish a good name for the Luegalle people. I will be sought out to train others and to give my wisdom to the world. I—“

“You? You! All of this was to raise your station in the world? What about my people? They are suffering under the Vahlborgian rule. I should have been the Crown Jewel and Baeryn the Crown.”

Yahuete just shook his head. It was still a strange sight to see his thick neck able to accommodate such a movement.

“You were always meant to be the Crown, Fayomi. You just needed an incentive to want to rule and Baeryn’s death was just that.”

I spit at the floor, right onto his holy straw mat. “And you needed a campaign to boost your own agenda. I’m glad by brother’s death meant something to you after all.”

I turned and left his tend, ignoring his pleas to stop and listen. I was done listening to his foolish wisdom and corrupted advice. If I truly was prophesized by the last Luegalle to save my people and reclaim the thrown as Crown, then I would have to do it myself.

All by myself.

Prompt for May 7: Random Song Prompt – Dental Care by Owl City

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

I brush my teeth and look in the mirror but all I could still see where the rolling knolls of grass and lying cattle spread over the field after battle. The more I stared at the mirror—at the knolls tinged red in the setting sun—did I realize my mind’s eye had been lying to me all along. Geremy had been right, of course; the field at Faerenshire had been flat ever since the country fell into the hands of the Tyrant. The knolls my memory had supplied me with ever since the age of ten was a lie.

Faerenshire didn’t contain hills after the battle. The only things that littered the field were burnt supply wagons and dead bodies.

Prompt for September 30: The Challenger

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . This excerpt is from a novel series idea: Hand of Fate series.]

“And that is how it is done.” Corvinous wore a large smile, a rarity in and of itself.
Amicus was hunched over, his hands gripping his knees for support. Though he was breathing heavy, I could see a smile on his face as well as he shook his head back and forth, sending his blond curls flying.

“Yes. You are right,” he sighed. “No one is a match for your skill, Anti.”
They both began to chuckle. Chuckle! When I first met these warriors, they all seemed like war and death had turned them all into stone. But apparently stone can still laugh.

“Let me have a go.”

The laughing stopped. Everyone turned to look at the gate of the stadium. Still wearing the rags Todd found him in, Ossin had his sword—his father’s sword?—in one hand and a large shield in the other. He was biting his lip and his body bent to the side while the arm holding the shield began to shake.

Neci and Silvia were standing behind him. Silvia was holding Neci back.

The light and smile vanished from Corvinous’s face. In an instant, he was the same hardened warrior I saw when I first came to Aemilia. The same shiver returned to my shoulders at the sight of his gaze.

“You want to challenge me?” Corvinous asked. His voice, calm and quiet, traveled through the silent arena. “I am the antistrategos of the Morphia, the pentestrategos of the Candrian army.”

Ossin clenched his teeth. “I know very well who you are. I long to fight.”

I looked from Crispin to Vitus and back. Someone had to stop this madness. Corvinous looked like he was in his late twenties early thirties. And Ossin? He was only a teenager. Maybe just a little older than me.

“Give the boy a chance,” Todd called from the armory door. “It was not long ago that you humored a young fox in his rage, if I recall.”

I blanched. “Cris, do something.”

He shook his head. “Todd is right.” Louder, he called, “Do not spare the lad.”

“Here here,” Amicus said, stepping away from the center and towards us.

As Ossin walked towards Corvinous, my stomach felt like it was eating itself alive.

Prompt for August 16: Four Lines of Prose about when Push Comes to Shove

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[prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ ]

Even though his feet were rubbed raw and he could feel his blood congealing around his toes, staining his skin, he continued to run. He needed to get away from the horrors of the war. He didn’t want to stay in the camp anymore, learning how to shoot his friends’ parents and others his own age.

He just had to keep running until he reached a safe place or he couldn’t run anymore.

Brave

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The wind is a’blowing

The sun is setting

The ship reaches shore

But I march on

 

In the chilly air, I’m shakin’

In my empty cot, I cannot sleep

The darkness is creeping in

But I march on

 

The rain is pouring on me

The lightening shatters my soul

The thunder keeps me down to Earth

But I march on

 

I hear a banshee’s screech

My comrades fall to sleep around me

My friends stand in front of golden gates

But I march on

 

I carry shining death in my hands

Its weight growing with each step

Its victims increasing with each day

But I march on

 

I see faces in my dreams

Their skin stained a crimson red

Their faces twisted in frozen pain

But I march on

 

My feet are aching

My heart is drowning in its tears

But my eyes are too tired to cry

And still I march on

 

Love, I’m scared to death

In constant worry of breathing my last breath

Your face is my only incentive

And so I march on

 

As the day grows dark and still

Remember you soldier is out there

Thinking of you and your precious freedom

And ‘til the day comes when I will see your face

I will forever march on