?Stories by the Fire?-- a short story mega-thread

[seeking_brilliance]

OK I  finished the writing prompt. It's a bit over at 1226 words, but oh well!

(Please see picture before reading)

     Devil's den

     It happened on family vacation. That summer we went camping in a large state forest in the lower hills of the Ozarks. I remember the powder blue Subaru we took up there; and playing rock-paper-scissors in the back seat with my younger brother to expel the boredom of such a long dive. He would always pick rock on the third go and I used this predictable behavior against him, typically for another handful of peanuts or M&M's. He was six and I, eleven, and being the nice big brother that I was, I sometimes picked scissors on the third try so he wouldn't starve to death. (Mom had packed lunches which we were to eat at the campsite, but dad missed a few turns and it was already passing 2 p.m.)

    By the time we arrived to the campsite, dad said he was too busy setting up the tents to eat, and mom said we could just save it all for dinner. Cole and I groaned in unison.

     "Here boys, have some crackers," she said, opening a package of peanut butter flavored. "And give your dad some, he's getting moody."

     Dad dropped his hammer on his toe while taking the snack and begged us boys to go and check on mom.

     "I have to PEE!" Cole yelled wildly, and bolted into the dense forest a few yards away from the site. Mom was unpacking clothes and dad… I didn't want to bother dad. I yelled out that I'd go after him, and they both waved me off in unison. I heard mom yell to be careful as I trotted off.

    The trees grew thick fast, but I could see Cole weaving in and out of them, looking for the right spot to relieve himself.

     "Watch your feet!" I called out, picking up speed. "Seriously, hang on! Wait for me! And Don't step on a snake!"

     My little brother had had already finished by the time I caught up, and I leaned against a nearby tree, huffing; hoping he hadn't marked it like a dog.

     Cole was a good kid. Quirky as hell, but good. At that age, he decided to randomly act like different animals, and that particular summer he was known to suddenly howl like a wolf, or walk on all fours like our dog, Bella. My parents found it funny, if not slightly obnoxious; but they never made him feel bad about it. I respected that as I grew older and wiser.

     "Look," he said, suddenly raising a finger towards something in the distance. I stepped closer and followed the point-- several hundred yards away the trees thinned out, revealing a large moss covered mound.

     "It looks like a cave," I said, with a hand over my eyes for better focus.  We both walked toward it, slowly at first and then quicker. It was a cave. I could see the hollowed opening just around the corner, hidden by large glossy ferns.

     We ran to the opening and peered curiously inside. Cole let out a high howl and it echoed back at us from within the rocky depths.

     "Let's go in!" he said, eyes beaming with the prospect of adventure.

    "Oh, Cole, I don't know…"

     But ultimately we took a few steps in because we couldn't help ourselves. The ground was a bit slick, and I grabbed Cole's shirt as we trudged through. At first it seemed like just a short tunnel, but that suddenly opened up into a much larger room with a few other tunnels diverging. The light from the entrance did not reach far into the larger cavern, so I held up my smartphone's flashlight for a better view.

     "Ooooh--" said Cole, rubbing his hands together. "Which one do we go in first?"

     "We should actually be getting back…" I replied, when suddenly the tunnel on the right lit up from within. A crimson light danced across the wet rocky walls like a huge fire was blazing somewhere deep inside. 

     Cole shot off toward it on all fours, howling with delight like an old dog on a new trail. I called after him, but naturally he pretended to ignore me because "dog's don't understand English."  I bolted after him, but he was quick as lightning. This new tunnel was much longer, and winding; and the fire's glow bounced off the twisting walls with such intensity I was sure I'd come upon it with every bend.

     "Cole!" I screamed, exhausted and worried.

     "He's right here," came a sudden voice from deeper within.  It's shrillness chilled the air, which had become increasingly warmer the farther I went.  "Better come quick!"

     A shrieking laugh flew past me and echoed in the large cavern behind, and I ran faster, because it almost sounded like Cole.  Suddenly the tunnel opened up and a roaring bonfire greeted me in the center of a much smaller cavern. Everything was quiet, except for the crackling of the large fire, and a strange noise which seemed to be coming from within-- a drumming sound, no... a heartbeat. 

     It sounded as if the fire had a heartbeat.

     "Cole?" I managed to squeak out, nearly frozen in a dreadful fear I could not describe.

     "Come, come. Step into the light, child." said the shrill voice, which really didn't sound male or female, but like a blend of both. It seemed to be coming from behind the large bonfire towering over me.

     I don't know why, but I stepped forward. The light of the red fire enveloped me in a hot wave. I cried out for Cole, but he didn't answer.

     "Cole! Can you hear me?"

      The fire blazed and the frightening voice let out another bone-chilling cackle.

     "And… who do we have here? Not one, but two delicious snacks for my fire."

     "Cole?" I screamed out--"who's there?  Cole?"

     "Yesss… Cole is here," the voice hissed. "Right here behind the fire with me. Oh, we would be so delighted if you will join us."

     "Mom!" I cried-- the only thing that came to mind. "I'm calling-- I'm calling mom…" I unlocked my phone with shaking fingers, and dialed as fast as I could. No reception.

     "Come closer, child," the voice said. "Closer child...closer...."

     I did step forward-- not from the bidding but with a sudden flash of courage. Just thinking of mom was what did it. Right then and there, in a split second before the great blazing fire, I promised her I'd bring him back.

     "Give me my brother!" I yelled out, defiantly.

      Another shrill cackle, and the great fire's heartbeat grew faster and louder.

     "And why… would I give you something you want...without getting something that I want in return?"

    "Just give me Cole, and I'll give you anything you want!" I yelled. "What do you want?"

                 *******

        It's been ten years since that day. Ten years. God, its really time, isn't it? 

      Today, I'll drive back up there. I haven't been back since that awful day and Cole no longer remembers it. I did the right thing, I know it. When I get there, I'll find the cave and look for the fire. It said the fire will be there to guide me. And it will be there, the voice. Waiting. Ready to spend its wish. Because the only thing it said it wanted was--

     "out."

     It said in ten years I would be ready. In ten years I could carry it out. It told me what would happen if I didn't return. 

     If you find this letter, please tell Cole I love him.  He was a good brother.

 

    
    

Edited January 19, 2021 by seeking_brilliance

[seeking_brilliance]

@Hulia @LastThursday @Myioko

@MyiokoI'll read your story later when I can focus. So far the opening is very engaging. 

[seeking_brilliance]

On 18/01/2021 at 4:04 PM, Myioko said:

I wrote a story that is just under 1,000 words, I'm more used to drawing than using words so I'm guessing my writing is clumsy/unrefined and flowery. 

 

I love it!! So mysterious and good. The childhood cave, the tunnel, the city. It was very interesting. Would you be interested in another writing prompt? We could wait a week if you wish. 

You are a writer!! 

[Hulia]

On 18.1.2021 at 11:36 PM, seeking_brilliance said:

   Devil's den

Sorry, my thoughts are made of concrete today. Was it a happy end? ... or not?

[seeking_brilliance]

2 minutes ago, Hulia said:

Sorry, my thoughts are made of concrete today. Was it a happy end? ... or not?

Open ended ? it's up to you to finish the story. 

[Myioko]

Wow! Your story 'Devil's Den', was so interesting and captivating to read. I think you did a great job on the dialog. I liked the added details of the brother's behaviors, such as the howling, something a boy while camping would totally do. And one similarity between our stories was that inside the tunnel cave was a powerful, ominous voice that is neither male nor female that tries to lure you in - something universally mysterious/creepy about dark caves, I guess. 

I'd be interested in a second prompt, whenever works for me, like next week. 

 

[seeking_brilliance]

@Myioko awesome do you want to pick the picture? 

Thank you, I'm glad you liked the story. I've been told I have good dialogue, I always work hard to make it sound natural. . 

Yeah I noticed we had the similar voices... Very cool ?

 

[Myioko]

 

Sure, 

here is a picture prompt:

 

[seeking_brilliance]

@Myioko OK cool let's set a deadline of one week from today (Thursday) and word limit of 1500 words 

[seeking_brilliance]

oops I'm done.  
@Myioko thanks so much for inspiring this story, I ended up loving it.  Can't wait to read yours. 
 

This is meant to be read with the reading music when you get to that spot. Just click play and continue reading. ALSO-- see pic before reading. 


     The Golden Prayer

     When I first got to Heaven, they stuck me on the first floor mailroom filing prayer requests. These requests piled in through countless channels in the form of hand written notes, and I never questioned what the point in all this was when the big man upstairs--the head hancho CEO himself-- could hear prayers telepathically. You learn not to ask a lot of questions in Heaven. (After some time, I came to suspect it was because no one really knows.)

     And trust me, I had questions. Like why was Heaven some corporate skyrise with glass panels stretching up to the clouds? I thought we were supposed  to be in the clouds, dancing around some pearly gates or something. No one told me I'd be put to work. And what the heck was up with the angels? I couldn't tell if they were supposed to be our supervisors or us theirs; because they were very shy and would teleport away the very second I made eye contact.

     I would have had like zero training if it weren't for the kind souls who were put there with me in the mailroom. A nice man named Jerry (who was homeless most of his adult living life) showed me the ropes of filing the prayer requests. He said he was teaching me exactly how he was taught when he arrived. 'The good ol' way.'

     "Now, its very important to get everything in perfect alphabetical order," he'd say often, "God is real particular about order, let me tell you. Trust me, they notice. Do good and you may move on up someday, kid."

     Jerry had been trying to get into accounting for two human decades. Honestly, I think at this point he'd settle for custodian, just to get off the first floor.

     One morning, after pulling an all-nighter during covid season, I stumbled upon an odd colored envelope which appeared from an unknown channel. It was on the floor in a pile of white envelopes, but this one was golden with a red wax seal. When I picked it up the mailroom echoed with gasps; and Jerry emerged, approaching with hesitation.

    "It's you," he said, eyes widening. "Of course its you. I knew it from the very beginning."

    "What?" I asked, stunned. "What is it?"

     "You got a golden prayer," he answered. Was he crying? "Those are hand delivered, by whoever finds it. Cannot be touched by two souls. It's yours kid. You're the one. Straight to the top."

     The crowd parted while he and two more elders led me down to the far side of the mailroom and to an elevator.

     "Now, go," Jerry said, wiping an eye. "And remember me. I was the one who gave you an extra donut on your first day, yesir!"

     "Well I'll be back soon of course," I said.

     "No, no," he replied solemnly. "They say those who deliver the golden prayer never come back down… now go!"

     He shoved me into the elevator and with one last hopeful wave goodbye,  pressed the button to close the doors.

 

 

 

     I… I had to catch my breath for a second and process…

    Like what the actual hell? (oops, sorry God!)

    The elevator climbed and climbed, up and up to-- well, the heavens I guess. It claimed there were 72 floors but I'll be dam--darned-- if it didn't feel like an eternal climb. On and on… long enough for it to truly  set in where I was headed, and for the mind to invent a million things of what I'd see when I would arrive. It was almost torture, had I not whole lifetimes to reflect upon to bide the time.

    Finally, with a chime like an alarm clock stealing me from a pleasant dream, the doors opened on floor 72.

    "Come, come," the angels beckoned me, lining both sides of the hall  down towards great big golden doors. They played the most beautiful music on pearly harps and golden trumpets, and it struck me that these angels were not shy at all. They looked me in the eye, flooding the very essence of my being with a type of love I could never describe. I was here. I was worthy.

   I was Home.

    Or perhaps it was the golden prayer in my hands-- but oh well, I’d take it.   
 

    I nearly floated to the great doors. I had so many things to say to the CEO, and not much time to sort them all out. But oh, was he going to get it! That was for sure. (What he would get, I hadn't exactly worked that out yet... )

     …And Jerry, I couldn't forget Jerry. He was kind to me.

     With a loud creak the doors opened wide.

      The first thing I remember seeing was quite perplexing. There was a time, I thought, when I would have called this my living room. It seemed like ages ago, but the memories were trickling in---and as they did, the scene began to build:  the old brown leather couch which had seen one too many drunken nights; the painting of a hippie Buddha I found at a thrift store down the street; my cat Binx….

      "Clear!" I heard from within the room, and suddenly the silhouettes of people formed from a dark mist. They were huddled over in front of the couch, and as their images materialized it became clear they were hovering over…

     …me.

     "I have a pulse," I heard one say. I walked closer and looked at the body. Yes, I did look like that at one time, right? Yes, that was definitely me. My name was… Sam. Sam Waters.  It was all coming back now. My heart was weak from a childhood illness. They told me from the beginning it would fail early. I just didn't think it would be this early…

    ~ Open the letter ~

     A voice beckoned to me from beyond, and I heeded. Inside the envelope was a small handwritten note saying--

    "I pray he awakens to his true nature."

    And with that, I opened my eyes for the first time since going down.

    After weeks in the hospital I was finally allowed to return home. On the way, I stopped near the city park. There was a homeless man there and I gave him my car. I could walk.

 

 

 

    

Edited January 22, 2021 by seeking_brilliance

[Myioko]

@seeking_brilliance Looking forward to reading your story  I'll wait to read it until after I finish my own story in a couple of days. 

[seeking_brilliance]

@Myioko alright sounds good. ? I'm a shameless glutton for feedback ?

Edited January 22, 2021 by seeking_brilliance

[Myioko]

@seeking_brilliance I got chills reading your story! Even though I knew the character was in Heaven, I was surprised by the ending, and it all tied together nicely by the end. (and I took a moment to stop and think when you wrote 'Had an all-nighter due to covid season', oh my)

 

Well, here is my story. I gave myself an hour to spew it all out so it's more rough, and less wholesome than yours  

 

Infinity Floors

 

Two men, harnessed by rope, stood on the ledge of the exterior of a skyscraper window. Mops in hand, they scrubbed at the window surfaces. One square of space after another was worked on until the sparkly clean surface gleamed, blue sky and puffy white clouds shone against its reflection. They continued moving from one window pane to another, steadily making their way upward. 

After minutes of silence, the short, scruffy man with the brown suit exclaimed: “My hat!”

The second man, with a thin and gaunt face, gave a hoot of laughter. “Buck up, old friend!  It’s not the first time you or I dropped something from these heights.”

They watched the round derby hat turn into a smaller, smaller dot, then disappear within the clouds below.

“...Ever wonder what’s down there? Or, hell, if there’s a top to this damned building?”

“Ain’t no point in that. We’ve got work to do.”

“Yes, but...it’s got me thinking, nobody out here but us. And it's got me questioning things.” 

 

The other man with the thin face gave a snort of contempt. “Aye, but those thoughts aren’t meant to be said out loud. You haven’t been here as long as myself. The other man I was workin’ with, when he started speaking out, he mysteriously fell out of his harness the next day.”

The man with the brown suit nodded, then squinted his eyes and peered through the window he was cleaning. Dancing, music, laughter...what year was inside this floor level? France, the 1750s, 60s? He continued to stare, a slight melancholy and longing to go inside and join, knowing that by taking this job that nobody from the inside would ever be able to see them. At least his job was interesting enough. His mind was blown the first time he exited the interior of the walls, he never knew such sky and limitlessness was imaginable. It was another world out here, beautiful and serene. His memories of his past life had mostly faded. 

During his lunch breaks he could gaze into whatever level he was at, which contained a single year in history. But it came at a cost, he sensed...what cost, his mind found hard to grasp. It was hard thinking about things when there were always tasks to do, so he went on scrubbing.

Minutes or perhaps hours later after these thoughts, he exclaimed -“Now would you look at that!” Barely catching sight of something from the corner of his eye, a flash of movement - a speck of grey, he saw, was zooming upward. It was a bird. He stared at the small creature... What was it doing out here? Birds didn’t belong out here, not that he’d seen, anyway. He grinned, giddy with the new sight. They both kept looking as the grey little bird flew up, up, up…

His eyes began to burn, his head hurt. An odd sensation came over him, a strong pull to look away from the bird overcame him. He resisted, taking on the challenge to look at the bird no matter what effort it took. It wasn’t every day, afterall, that one saw a bird flying without constraint, in the wild outdoors. 

 

“You seeing that?”

“Huh, what? No. Get back to your cleaning.”

He hardly listened. He began to strain his neck as he focused on the bird, which was almost directly above them. Then…with a sudden pop in his head, all strain was cleared, and he saw with clarity the top of the skyscraper. 

“The top! I see it now! Oh my god - its - its”

The other man turned his head to look at the other, frowning.

“You shouldn’t be able to...I see nothin’, never have. What are you lookin’ at?”

But there wasn’t time to explain. Gusts of wind angrily slapped around them, the air crackling with electricity with the promise of lightning.

“It knows! We’re in big trouble now…!”

“Shit, shit, shit!”

 

As the ropes that held them swayed back and forth dangerously, one of the men slammed the back of his mop, hard, into the window. It cracked. Legs scrambling around, he kicked repeatedly on the weak point of the window until it was completely shattered.

A wide gap in the building was now open to the air and the crowd of dancers stared back at them in wonder and horror, dainty glasses of beverages frozen in hands or dropped in fright. 

“Hellpp! Help!” The two men screamed out in desperation. 

A group of people ran forward pulled them inside, untying them from their harnesses.

“Quel est ce monstre bleu sur le mur?!”

“Je n’en crois pas mes yeux!”

Later, the two men were able to find the stairs, dusty with disuse, that lead upwards to the top of the building. Curiously, their memories of the incident remained while all others soon forgot the disaster, and the walls were quickly patched up and forgotten. As to whether or not they made it up to the top is another story.

[seeking_brilliance]

@Myioko

? Hehe

 

 

I loved the story, can't believe you framed that it in an hour, mine took six hours with a break. 

It reminded me of the Dr. Who episode, but only in inspiration. It was a great idea and delivery. You are such a natural. 

On 23/01/2021 at 10:05 PM, Myioko said:

As to whether or not they made it up to the top is another story

 

 

[Myioko]

Haha, a lot of things remind me of Dr Who.  Like that creepy hotel episode with Matt Smith where each room had a different monster in it!

It may have taken me an hour and a half to write it since I didn’t time myself. And I had the story in my head before I started writing it, I feel nervous improvising stories on the spot  

Your dedication to spend 6 hours on a story really shone through in the quality of your writing and story!

[Myioko]

I'd be interesting in hearing about your writing process, if you feel like sharing - like do story ideas come up on the spot as your writing? Do you come up with multiple possible story lines before coming up with one? Are you big on editing?

Right now I'm listening to some video courses recorded by Neil Gaiman and I've found those inspiring, he's less on the practical ways of editing and making a story, and more on capturing the fundamental 'why' of a story, but it's great for motivating beginning writers to just do it and start writing more.

[seeking_brilliance]

It's really hard to explain, and I can't pin it down exactly, and seems to change based on the project but here is my best attempt :

For example with the short stories... Short stories are definitely not my focus. I am working on a novel idea, and have always wanted to write a novel since fifth grade.  But last year when I discovered the picture writing prompts, something magical happened...

So I look at the picture, and either I consciously choose a story idea /concept, or immediately channel one while looking at the picture. Then I just start writing and writing, not even sure what the ending will be, but the story always ends up resolving itself. The first sentence is always channelled, as is like 75% of the story, with me only interrupting  every now and then and chiming  in with my own ideas and revelling in my own cleverness. (?) - - - - and saying all that - - there's not any point where I don't feel like I'm writing the story, but I feel channelling is the best term. 

There was an alternative ending for "devil's den".  The devil was supposed to come out from behind the fire and play for Coles life. The big brother was going to choose rock paper scissors as the game, and then when the devil kept choosing rock on the third go (just like cole would) , big brother would finally understand and pick paper and win. The devil  would then howl like a wolf -(or hellhound,?) and transform into cole and they would leave the cave, shaken and hella confused. 

This is what I originally downloaded as the ending somewhere in the middle of writing the story, but when I got to that part I suddenly felt it was not right and downloaded a new one that still completely fit with the rest of the story.  

I only edited it once it was done, and that was only to smooth the flow of reading. That's just a skill you learn by practice and critiques. (critiques from a writers forum, not from friends like me unless you ask for flow tips) 

Now, the awful thing is - - this does not apply so much to my novel writing. I still download story but also get too much in my head and edit as I go (which is a big no no). And then I never get anywhere.  This is complicated though, and not entirely true. Back during shut down I furiously channelled the first six chapters of this novel im working on, over the course of two months. I edited it like crazy and am totally in love with what was produced. Then I realised I didn't have a ending I was really working toward, and a good one didn't seem to be coming. So discouraged, I stopped and focused on work and dreaming.  Is was in befriending @SirVladimirthat the spark returned and with swapping stories with you and on the bilocation thread. 

I have restarted the novel, scrapping everything that came in those six chapters, EXCEPT the world building, and even that is getting evolved to match our new direction. The core story idea is still in tact, but in changing the main character it completely realigned with his energy. If that makes any sense. It's like I'm writing a story in an alternate dimension. 

When I wrote those six chapters, the first draft was not in literary narrative form. It was like telling myself what will happen in the story, often times in present tense like writing a dream report, and then the second draft was translating that into litery novel narrative style. 

Edited January 25, 2021 by seeking_brilliance

[Myioko]

Thanks for sharing, I always find it so fascinating learning about other people's creative processes. 

I'm not too familiar with channeling, is that like tapping into your higher self/subconscious, getting into a flow writing state, just writing down what comes to your head? That's my first assumption anyways. Do you think some people have a higher natural ability towards this, or is something everyone can do? On another note, since your other post about dream writing, I've been thinking more about dreams vs reality vs more dreams, how they're different but not as different as I previously thought them to be.

I think critiques are wonderful, my first year of college I didn't like them and felt more egotistical about it all, but after that I learned to take and give proper art critiques. Even if it hurt, in a good way (usually - lol.) And distinguish against good critiques vs not so helpful ones.

Hmm, I wonder why channeling is harder for novel writing. (not that I've ever done either, just wondering.) long format stories seem so complicated, and a huge amount of effort and thinking compared to short stories. That's great that you've found a more aligned essence for the story, and it's super interesting how you shifted around some things in order to make it work, like an alternate dimension. The closest thing that I can relate to that, is when I'm working on a more complicated art piece, the initial small thumbnail studies are the most important, the core energy/life/movement, and translating that to something large and details often leaves the art piece loosing some of that energy, and there's a huge period of time at the end of the painting that is just doing the last fixes, the hardest part for me. Or mid way I'll have to make the hard choice to scrap it altogether, if I take a far back look at it and realize at first glance it doesn't feel right.

Good luck on your book, that's very exciting. 

 

[seeking_brilliance]

Here are two books that will tell you all about the kind of channeling I do. The first is what I read over thanksgiving break a few years ago during what I consider a major awakening time.   

The first book is the lite version, written by someone who read the second book and wrote her own. Itll be easier reading but teach you everything you'll need to know. 

Meet Your Soul, Elisa Romeo.

https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=pjBNCgAAQBAJ

 

Then this second book is the original and much more in depth.  Definitely worth a read as well

Writing Down Your Soul, Janet Conner.

https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=FMYC2yk1AlkC

 

[seeking_brilliance]

@Myioko however , I think you already have what it takes to do this. Remember in your daydream adventure when you talked to the fox statue? This is the same principle except you are making the intent to talk to your soul (higher self, inner guru, source, etc). 

 

But it's an active writing process and you have to write nontsop--whatever comes to mind - - just let it pour out. Gets you in flow state. Let it out and out and then when you feel like you have made connection, you can start asking questions (by writing them down) and receive answers from the soul.

Or you can begin the session with a particular question in mind and then just write, write, write, DO NOT EDIT YOURSELF just write and write and write and don't butt in with your questions. Then when you are done, reread it and see if you got your guidance. 

The hardest part when you first are starting, you will have to force yourself to keep writing and just make up stuff to keep it going, but at some point imagination will take over and your hand will just spill out words. In this regard it's different than what I was proposing with actively writing out a daydream. The goal here is not to go on an astral adventure or anything, just putting your heart out, literally. 

 

Can also do this by typing of course. 

Edited January 26, 2021 by seeking_brilliance