Daily Writing Prompt Thread Thingy It'll Be Fun
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I know I’m super duper late but I never did this one and I don’t think I even saw it and now I wanna do it cuz it fits with a scene that’s been in my head for a while. Clouds might recognize pieces of this tho I’d be surprised if she remembers
BeHOLD
my half asleep writing
Aramund would tell the story on nights where the wind would not rest.
The fire flickered lazily, casting dancing shadows across the floor and around the small room where sleep was imminent but stubbornness chased it away.
Arne climbed up into his father’s lap and tucked his small wings behind him. Altair lay on his stomach with his chin in his hands, facing the hearth so he could watch the sparks drift from the crackling wood and die in the air.
“Listen.” Aramund instructed. He brought his arms around Arne and held him close.
Outside, the sky was clear and Gallius hung above, brighter than the rest, unblinking and cold.
“There was a star,” Aramund began, “and he did not live in the sky.”
Altair scrunched his face, confused. “Then where did he live?”
Knowingness flashed in Aramund’s gaze. “He lived on the surface of a lake. One so still that it could hold a reflection without breaking it. The star was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Arne was skeptical. “How can a star be afraid? Afraid of what?”
Aramund shushed him with glance. “This star was not afraid of fading. It was not afraid of falling. It was afraid of living, because every life has an end, and he feared that end more than he feared loneliness.”
“He was alone?” Altair asked.
“Yes. He would watch the other stars at night. Those who dance in the heavens. But he told himself that his solitude was worth the safety of no end.”
Wind hit the outside walls and howled in every crack it could find.
“One day,” Aramund continued, “Gallius saw this star hiding on this lake, shining only half his potential, and he came down to speak with him.”
“Did he make the star go up?” Arne questioned eagerly. “Did he tell him to go to the other stars?”
“No.” Aramund shook his head. “He sat with him. He told him many things. He told him about life and death. He told him that the end was what made the beauty of life matter so much.”
“And what did he do?” Arne loved to hear about Gallius, and as far as he was concerned, this story had gotten much more interesting.
“He did not do anything at first, but then Gallius offered his hand, and together they found his courage to finally rise. To finally shine from above.”
“Did he find the end?” Altair did not enjoy stories that ended in death.
“He did.” Aramund answered. “When his light was spent and his calling fulfilled, the star scattered his radiance through the heavens, painting the sky with the story of his choice to live.”
“I think I would be afraid.” Altair mumbled.
“I wouldn’t!” Arne nearly shouted, earning shush from his mother. “If Gallius came and told me to go to the sky, I would go with him.”
“The star was afraid.” Aramund said.
“But he still went.” Arne observed.
“And that’s what makes his decision so important.” Aramund brushed his hand through Arne’s head feathers. “He was afraid and still went, even knowing that he could never go back.”
Arne stood beside Altair on the edge of a great sea cliff.
The water below roared and the sky above churned with gray anger.
Both grown. Both many years older, but inside they felt as if a piece of their soul was missing.
“I think…” Arne stared down at the sea, barely audible over the wind. “That he would choose to do it all over again…”
Altair turned to look at Arne. His brother was wild and windswept, and yet, there was a tenderness in his face that broke through all the confusion and fear.
“When he was telling us the story of the star on the lake,” Arne continued. “He was telling us also of himself.”
The fire flickered lazily, casting dancing shadows across the floor and around the small room where sleep was imminent but stubbornness chased it away.
Arne climbed up into his father’s lap and tucked his small wings behind him. Altair lay on his stomach with his chin in his hands, facing the hearth so he could watch the sparks drift from the crackling wood and die in the air.
“Listen.” Aramund instructed. He brought his arms around Arne and held him close.
Outside, the sky was clear and Gallius hung above, brighter than the rest, unblinking and cold.
“There was a star,” Aramund began, “and he did not live in the sky.”
Altair scrunched his face, confused. “Then where did he live?”
Knowingness flashed in Aramund’s gaze. “He lived on the surface of a lake. One so still that it could hold a reflection without breaking it. The star was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Arne was skeptical. “How can a star be afraid? Afraid of what?”
Aramund shushed him with glance. “This star was not afraid of fading. It was not afraid of falling. It was afraid of living, because every life has an end, and he feared that end more than he feared loneliness.”
“He was alone?” Altair asked.
“Yes. He would watch the other stars at night. Those who dance in the heavens. But he told himself that his solitude was worth the safety of no end.”
Wind hit the outside walls and howled in every crack it could find.
“One day,” Aramund continued, “Gallius saw this star hiding on this lake, shining only half his potential, and he came down to speak with him.”
“Did he make the star go up?” Arne questioned eagerly. “Did he tell him to go to the other stars?”
“No.” Aramund shook his head. “He sat with him. He told him many things. He told him about life and death. He told him that the end was what made the beauty of life matter so much.”
“And what did he do?” Arne loved to hear about Gallius, and as far as he was concerned, this story had gotten much more interesting.
“He did not do anything at first, but then Gallius offered his hand, and together they found his courage to finally rise. To finally shine from above.”
“Did he find the end?” Altair did not enjoy stories that ended in death.
“He did.” Aramund answered. “When his light was spent and his calling fulfilled, the star scattered his radiance through the heavens, painting the sky with the story of his choice to live.”
“I think I would be afraid.” Altair mumbled.
“I wouldn’t!” Arne nearly shouted, earning shush from his mother. “If Gallius came and told me to go to the sky, I would go with him.”
“The star was afraid.” Aramund said.
“But he still went.” Arne observed.
“And that’s what makes his decision so important.” Aramund brushed his hand through Arne’s head feathers. “He was afraid and still went, even knowing that he could never go back.”
Arne stood beside Altair on the edge of a great sea cliff.
The water below roared and the sky above churned with gray anger.
Both grown. Both many years older, but inside they felt as if a piece of their soul was missing.
“I think…” Arne stared down at the sea, barely audible over the wind. “That he would choose to do it all over again…”
Altair turned to look at Arne. His brother was wild and windswept, and yet, there was a tenderness in his face that broke through all the confusion and fear.
“When he was telling us the story of the star on the lake,” Arne continued. “He was telling us also of himself.”
- Apr 2, 2023
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That's a nice story. I liked it.
The story within the scene is one I tell myself when I get sleepy so then when I tell it to myself when I’m NOT sleepy, I get sleepy.
So then I use it on nights where I can’t fall asleep.
I just changed it a little bit to fit into the world of those characters and badabing badaboom
Last edited:
This was interesting, cause while at church tonight during the sermon, I got inspired to write. But I didn’t want the words to be empty, and so my mind took me to the book called A Pilgrim’s Progress and I got inspired to write my own short story. That’s my prompt then, if any of y’all wanna do it, is to write something in the style of that book.
You guys can try and guess what the people and things in mine mean, and I’ll explain it too after you take your guesses, but this was actually really fun to write, and an awesome way to explain spiritual struggle.
You guys can try and guess what the people and things in mine mean, and I’ll explain it too after you take your guesses, but this was actually really fun to write, and an awesome way to explain spiritual struggle.
Asked a man to another; “By what means do you lie at the edge of the road like such?”
He, with his garments unsullied and face clean had reason not to stop by the path and question a man such as Fear.
For Fear was unkempt. His hair was wild and his hands trembled and he, he looked up at man on the road and asked; “Why do you stop? Why do you delay your journey? For I am but a poor creature—one whom is afraid of the woods ahead and whom casts glances at my shadow as it follows me. It would do you no good to delay your journey longer because of me, stranger. Heed my plea and continue on your way.”
Fear lowered his head, for his conjecture was that of the man on the road pursuing his way. A moment passed, and then a moment more. Fear heard not the expected sound of stone trodden underfoot and lifted his head. The man on the road had remained.
“Why do you stay with me stranger?” Fear questioned, understanding not why the man remained. “I have nothing to give you, and you have nothing to give me, so why do you persist? Why do you stand in the middle of the road and wait for what is not forthcoming? Do you find amusement in my state?”
“Why do you not join me on the road?” The man said simply, with no condemnation.
“Do you not hear?” Fear replied, his cheeks reddening as anger warmed them. “I am Fear. I cannot take but one step and pause to wonder if it was misplaced, I cannot see through the woods ahead and know my fate. So if it was for me you came to this path for, you’ll do no better than the others before.
“So go then stranger,” Fear released a breath, “on your way. Because I can do naught but fear the day.”
The man on the road let a moment transpire, then reached his hand out to Fear. “I am Faith,” said he. “And wary am I of the woods ahead too, but fearful not. For we are both travelers of the Narrow Path, and do we not know the place that lies at the end of this road? And is not the Celestial City worth our journey? Why then do you lie here on the side of the road, trembling at the shadows and looking over your shoulder rather than pursuing what lies ahead?”
“I simply cannot,” Fear said he, “for my mind is overcome with fear and my footsteps are unsure. How can I continue on without knowing what will catch me? How can I enter the woods when I know another forest lies beyond? How can I keep my heart from leaping or my knees from knocking when the cries of wolves fill my ears? How oh how can I take one step further when I know not if it is my last? How can I walk past the wolves without being torn?”
Faith didn’t delay, for he knew what was true; “why how can you say that? What else can you do? You follow this path because you know the Wide Road’s demise—its stretch is wayward and its jewels catch your eyes. We know its path leads only to teeth! To a somber death, frivolities, and a sword rarely sheath’d! This Narrow Road is difficult, and persecutions transpire, but what have we to lose but our souls if we fall in that mire? So come with me Fear, and change your name brother, for though there be terrors we will have one another. And if our ways diverge on this long road ahead, we must stand firm on this path and do not dare dread. For the Celestial City awaits, and we trust in its promise, so what have we to fear? What to us can do the Darkness? The wolves snap and bite, and though they may tear, we will escape, scathed maybe, but we will be there.”
“What joy!” Said Fear, “that you bring to me. My soul feels light, and my anxious thoughts quiet. The tribulations we endure must only be for a short time, it must be true, and with you by my side I know I can make it through. But sir, what to call me? Since Fear I do no longer.” The man picked himself up, renewed and now kempt as he accepted Faith’s hand and stood on the road once again. “Why Fortitude my brother,” the other said he, “since you Fear not now, and have Courage with you. Though we may endure much more, and still more to come, we know there is a glorious treasure that awaits us at the end, and that is courage enough to continue forward.
“So come now my brother!” Called Faith, stepping forward, leading new Fortitude on like a shepherd. “And fear not the wood, for though unsure and fearsome, fear we shall not have. For in what we do not see we have faith, and in what is to come we have hope.”
“But Faith,” said Fortitude, following he, “what will happen if I lose my courage? If I Fear once again? What if I lose the name I’ve been given?”
“My brother, then,” Faith said, turning. “You remember the promise of the City that waits, and the Truth of your Name and the light that is coming. Though your vision may fail, and your strength may come short; follow the path, and do not stray, and we will be at the Golden Gates one day.”
He, with his garments unsullied and face clean had reason not to stop by the path and question a man such as Fear.
For Fear was unkempt. His hair was wild and his hands trembled and he, he looked up at man on the road and asked; “Why do you stop? Why do you delay your journey? For I am but a poor creature—one whom is afraid of the woods ahead and whom casts glances at my shadow as it follows me. It would do you no good to delay your journey longer because of me, stranger. Heed my plea and continue on your way.”
Fear lowered his head, for his conjecture was that of the man on the road pursuing his way. A moment passed, and then a moment more. Fear heard not the expected sound of stone trodden underfoot and lifted his head. The man on the road had remained.
“Why do you stay with me stranger?” Fear questioned, understanding not why the man remained. “I have nothing to give you, and you have nothing to give me, so why do you persist? Why do you stand in the middle of the road and wait for what is not forthcoming? Do you find amusement in my state?”
“Why do you not join me on the road?” The man said simply, with no condemnation.
“Do you not hear?” Fear replied, his cheeks reddening as anger warmed them. “I am Fear. I cannot take but one step and pause to wonder if it was misplaced, I cannot see through the woods ahead and know my fate. So if it was for me you came to this path for, you’ll do no better than the others before.
“So go then stranger,” Fear released a breath, “on your way. Because I can do naught but fear the day.”
The man on the road let a moment transpire, then reached his hand out to Fear. “I am Faith,” said he. “And wary am I of the woods ahead too, but fearful not. For we are both travelers of the Narrow Path, and do we not know the place that lies at the end of this road? And is not the Celestial City worth our journey? Why then do you lie here on the side of the road, trembling at the shadows and looking over your shoulder rather than pursuing what lies ahead?”
“I simply cannot,” Fear said he, “for my mind is overcome with fear and my footsteps are unsure. How can I continue on without knowing what will catch me? How can I enter the woods when I know another forest lies beyond? How can I keep my heart from leaping or my knees from knocking when the cries of wolves fill my ears? How oh how can I take one step further when I know not if it is my last? How can I walk past the wolves without being torn?”
Faith didn’t delay, for he knew what was true; “why how can you say that? What else can you do? You follow this path because you know the Wide Road’s demise—its stretch is wayward and its jewels catch your eyes. We know its path leads only to teeth! To a somber death, frivolities, and a sword rarely sheath’d! This Narrow Road is difficult, and persecutions transpire, but what have we to lose but our souls if we fall in that mire? So come with me Fear, and change your name brother, for though there be terrors we will have one another. And if our ways diverge on this long road ahead, we must stand firm on this path and do not dare dread. For the Celestial City awaits, and we trust in its promise, so what have we to fear? What to us can do the Darkness? The wolves snap and bite, and though they may tear, we will escape, scathed maybe, but we will be there.”
“What joy!” Said Fear, “that you bring to me. My soul feels light, and my anxious thoughts quiet. The tribulations we endure must only be for a short time, it must be true, and with you by my side I know I can make it through. But sir, what to call me? Since Fear I do no longer.” The man picked himself up, renewed and now kempt as he accepted Faith’s hand and stood on the road once again. “Why Fortitude my brother,” the other said he, “since you Fear not now, and have Courage with you. Though we may endure much more, and still more to come, we know there is a glorious treasure that awaits us at the end, and that is courage enough to continue forward.
“So come now my brother!” Called Faith, stepping forward, leading new Fortitude on like a shepherd. “And fear not the wood, for though unsure and fearsome, fear we shall not have. For in what we do not see we have faith, and in what is to come we have hope.”
“But Faith,” said Fortitude, following he, “what will happen if I lose my courage? If I Fear once again? What if I lose the name I’ve been given?”
“My brother, then,” Faith said, turning. “You remember the promise of the City that waits, and the Truth of your Name and the light that is coming. Though your vision may fail, and your strength may come short; follow the path, and do not stray, and we will be at the Golden Gates one day.”
Oh my word, that's amazing Matty
It’s 0200, I spent too long on it.Oh my word, that's amazing Matty
Get some sleepIt’s 0200, I spent too long on it.
I wiiiiilll.Get some sleep
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