Creative Corner

Welcome to Write Now, a writing competition inspired by the old thread Write Away.

Why: One thing I noticed with Write Away that I hope to fix with Write Now is that near the end of that thread's lifespan, it took a while for the new prompts to show up, and ultimately died because the person responsible for the next winner/prompt didn't follow through. I've changed the rules slightly to hopefully avoid this.

Rules:
-The top person picked by the previous person chooses the next topic.
-The prompter chooses three things: a picture, written, or song prompt, a deadline, and a suggested word count (note: suggested), or free write (though no novels please).
-Additionally, if the deadline for the prompt has passed, and the prompter hasn't chosen a winner within five days, anyone can come in with a new prompt. (This also applies for a winner who doesn't pick a prompt.)
-When making a prompt, use the pinglist in the post below to let everyone know there's a new one.
-When filling a prompt, ping the prompter so they know you wrote for it.
-When picking a winner, ping everyone who responded to your prompt (Not the pinglist!) so they know the prompt is over.
-That should be everything!

Pinglist (someday I'll figure out how to make a self-editing one but until then ping me to be added): @MistLeaf @Sqwhirl15 @catmeow1 @Raros @MorningSkye @PuppyLuvr06

Okay! Now that that's out of the way, I'll start.

Prompt: An ancient forest burns on the horizon.
Deadline: Jun 2, 20:00 server time.
Words: Freewrite.
Other: The prompt doesn't have to be directly said in-story, it can be implied, as long as the prompt is somewhere else in the post!

Have fun!

@MistLeaf @Sqwhirl15 @catmeow1

@catmeow1 (Aaa! I forgot until yesterday, and I was busy all day today. Can it still count a little late? Oh well, I need to get back in practice regardless. Glad to see the thread return; hope it goes well.)

The Burning Forest. His father had told him stories about it, back when Victor wasn't yet strong enough to endure the sunlight. Taller than two dozen men, wider than you could walk in a day, and every tree covered in yellows, oranges, and reds so vibrant that when the wind blew, the entire horizon swayed with the colors of a crackling fire.

It had been a famous landmark among the races for generations; a regular pilgrimage for wood elves even longer. And to a young calchur waiting for the day he could explore the world outside the caverns, it sounded almost beyond imagination.

No one knew quite when it had come into being, nor just what sort of magic kept it eternally autumnal, but mystery was only the feeding grounds for legend. All sorts of mystical tales sprung up like mushrooms in dampness, and the wood elves in particular had several stories tying the place to respected leaders and spirits, giving it an almost sacred status.

And now the Burning Forest was literally on fire.

Victor watched with grim amusement as the fire raged, the snapping and burning audible even from the hilltop where he stood. The darkness of pre-dawn only served to highlight the grim scene, flames lapping at the billowing plumes of smoke, as if trying to climb higher and higher, until they consumed the very clouds and stars.

How long could a living flame be burned, he wondered. The glow had been visible for hours before they'd reached the valley, and despite the inferno, it showed no signs of burning out. Perhaps, if the trees had absorbed enough of the right magic over time, they would simply burn forever, like the Great Flame in Alasmalsheru. A mocking memory of what had once been.

He watched a moment more, before tugging his cloak lower and turning away. He hadn't done this, but it wouldn't look good for one of his kind to be seen hovering at the scene of the crime. Besides, his companions would need to discuss the change of plans. He had no doubt of the storm that was sure to follow.

The elves were sure to seek vengeance for the attack, and the Ferrvale elves that kept watch near the forest (former forest) already had a reputation to be eager to the fight. It would be best to go on their way quickly. They still had a mission after all, and this had been little more than a side attraction.

As he headed down the hill, he couldn't help but take one last glance back, at a horizon of golds and orange, as far as you could walk in a day.

It would be best to be on their way.

(Gods, this is so obviously rushed. I apologize for my eternal confusion when it comes to semicolons. I apologize in general.)

@MistLeaf No, it's fine! I don't mind it being a little late, since no one else wrote for the prompt. Anyways, your story doesn't feel rushed at all to me. (Although, I may be biased since I tend to rush my own writing.) The background world is set up well for as short as the story is, and while satisfying on its own, it makes you wonder what comes next.

Given yours is the only story: MistLeaf takes first place!

Edit: Grammar.

@/catmeow1 Ah, it's too bad no one else wrote. The prompt really did seem quite promising for some interesting interpretations. Hopefully some more people will show up as it goes.

@Sqwhirl15 @catmeow1
I'm tired and didn't exactly plan a prompt, so, let me know if it sucks & I'll fix it tomorrow or something.
Prompt: On a certain building in a certain town, there is a clock whose hands only move one day a year.
Wordcount: N/A Just no novellas, please.
Deadline: June 7th, 23:00 site time. Entries within an hour or two of deadline will still be accepted.
Other: Prompt doesn't need to be word for word. It's more of a...theme?

@MistLeaf @catmeow1
I'm not the best or most descriptive writer so I hope this is ok. Can I be added to the ping list for future prompts too?

---

On a certain building in a certain town, there is a clock whose hands only move one day a year.

---

Apollo hatched when the clock hands in the main square stopped. No one knows why the clock hands stopped. They just did. From the moment of his hatching Apollo was treated .. strangely. He wasn't treated badly however no one really wanted to be near him for fear they may also stop. This fear wasn't unwarranted however. There were several other eggs in Apollo's nest that never hatched. Their hearts stopped the moment Apollo hatched. On his first birthday the clock hands moved yet someone who was near Apollo dropped dead because their heart stopped. They were old however so it was chalked up to being a coincident. On his second birthday Apollo was playing with some familiars and the moment those clock hands moved every familiar died because their heart stopped. From that day on days leading up to and after his birthday Apollo would be completely outcast. People would run from him and hide from him. No one wanted to be with him on his birthday so eventually Apollo fled the town and as soon as he was out of the town the clock's hands began to tick. The townspeople celebrated. Time began to flow normally again and stayed flowing normally until Apollo's next birthday. The town was wiped out by a massive meteor that destroyed and killed everyone leaving only the clock standing. Apollo returned soon after to find the town destroyed. From that day on Apollo stayed at the clock never leaving for more than a few hours to forage for food.

Years went by like this. No one seemed to notice he was missing. No one came looking for him. No one missed him. It was as if he were frozen in time where no one noted that he was in fact missing. It went on like this for over a hundred years until one day someone showed up. It was Apollo's birthday and as he waited for the clock hands to move Azaran showed up. The clock hands ticked by yet Azaran wasn't killed. Apollo stared at Azaran in amazement and Azaran just smiled. The clock hands continued to tick by and eventually Apollo and Azaran left the clock together and ventured back out into the world.

@MistLeaf I took one look at the prompt and this happened. I hope it's good? I wrote it with no plan and I'm not going to edit it any more.

---

There's a small library on the very edge of town. It is well maintained for its presumed age, the building's stone walls are solid, its closed wooden doors polished. The lights inside, although they are oil lamps, glow warmly and bright, illuminating the evenly spaced shelves filled with books and the readers at the tables. To anyone who does not live in Stoneridge, the library's only flaw is that of the old, unmoving clock. The clock's hands are rotted, the backing is yellowed, and the black paint of the numbers is faded on seven, five, and half of twelve.

To those who live in Stoneridge, the library's only flaw is that time does not work right behind the doors. You have one day, and one day only to enter and leave freely, one day when the clock is just as pristine as the rest, one day when the hands finally move.

The library holds every book ever written, even the ones left to die between the pages of a journal when the writer could no longer work on it, for whatever reason. The moment a person enters, the books lining the shelves warp between these infinite choices to fit that person's desires. Two people could enter and generate entirely different selections, and never know. It is tempting, of course, to read everything in reach, to not stop until you've read it all, but the day always comes to an end, and those who do not know or care enough to leave suffer for their choice.

'If you read too long,' the residents of Stoneridge warn, 'you will know eternity.'

The readers at the tables in the windows are to be mourned, for they are still frozen the one day everyone else may traverse freely, trapped between one instant and the next. Why don't they move again?

A timeless forever does not bow to the whims of a measly year.

@catmeow1
This seems fun, I've never joined the other thread but thank you for remaking it! I can't join the current prompt right now but I'd love to be added to the pinglist so I can join later. :)