Hunter's Moon

 

            Here we go with another snapshot prompt over at Chasing Revery. This week’s photo is shown below. As normal, participants are asked to put together an offering of 500 words or less, using the given photo for inspiration, and using five pre-selected words. The words for this prompt are: Flea, River, Denim, Creeper, and Catastrophe.

          

 

            The Hunter’s Moon has risen into the sky. Just a little higher and the event will begin. Traverse the city and cross the river and I’m safe. At least until they capture me again. This is my third hunt since men invaded from Europe.

            The last time they captured me, I had not learned to distrust mankind. Back then they hunted me in buckskins and boots; this time they’ll wear denim and “tennis.”  Back then parasites infested my pelt and now I wear a flea collar under my pressed, white, long-sleeve shirt. At least that’s an improvement in my situation.

            Even in their movies they depict the hunt in fog shrouded locations where the beast – that’d be me – lopes through a forest of creeper choked trees, howling. No one pictures the savage ritual taking place in the middle of New York City.

            But this is the end. I am the last. My instincts tell me that the hunters have become too sophisticated, too well armed with technology, for me to escape again. They will hunt me down and when I am dead the world will see catastrophe as they have never before witnessed. For without the “Old Ones” to speak with the spirit of the Earth, and comfort it, all of nature will fall out of balance.

            The universe must have a sense of humor. Tonight, civilization will finally do away with the last remnants of the old way and when it does nature will pound humanity back into the Stone Age. Perhaps then my kind will be resurrected to rule over them as they once did. Or maybe it is just The End. Who knew?

            The view through the window really was remarkable. The moon is so beautiful nestled between the marvels of modern architecture. The old and the new – together. That is beautiful.

 

 

Writing Prod - Sporting Chance 2

            Last night was the big event for football. While the game is the main attraction is it really the best part of the experience? Some are drawn to it for the half-time entertainment. Others look forward to the ultra creative commercials that are aired during the game. Then there are those like me that are drawn to the veritable banquet that is available during the game. And how about those couch gate parties where friends gather over the pretense of a sporting event?

            It seems only appropriate that this week’s prod be . . . Sporting Chance. With this writing prompt you take two sports and combine them to create a whole new one that becomes the centerpiece for your story. Or if you want more of a challenge, make up a whole new sport on your own. Think about the society that would develop such a game. Consider what sort of person would thrive in such a competition as well as who would cheer them on and who would oppose the sport altogether.

            Rollerball and The Hunger Games are both excellent examples of this sort of story. They are not so much about the sport itself, but the people and the culture that have adopted the game. This prompt lends itself most easily to fantasy and science-fiction stories, but could be done as a more traditional sports-themed tale if you prefer.

            My brother loved the pitch I developed the last time I used this prod and urges me all the time to actually write it. Let’s see how he reacts to this one.

 

     

            Dragon Pass 

            Monpar is a civilized world. Land disputes between nations are settled with a simple game of Dragon Pass. While the game itself is violent and results in the death of most, if not all of the participants, it is still more civilized than war. Each of the teams attempts to move the ball from the center of a large obstacle course to their safe zone. If the ball touches the ground it is handed over to the other team. It’s really quite easy – except that there is a dragon on the game field and the ball has been painted to look like one of her eggs.

            This is the last year that Dibbons can be drafted for the game. Even though he has lived in the same cottage all of his life, few of the people in his village know him by name. He has made his livelihood alone, in the nearby forest. Now he will have to work with a group of people he has never met and hope to survive the game.

 

 

 

Gray View

            Once again, I am participating in the Snapshot Prompt over at Chasing Revery. This week’s picture proved to be a bit of a stumper for me. Normally, I look at one of the photos and a host of ideas pop into my mind. When you’re dealing with shades of gray and some bare trees there is certainly less to draw on for inspiration. But I like a challenge when it comes to writing so here it goes.

            The five words that need to be included in the story are: Bill, Chisel, Tile, System, and Bicycle.

 

 

            Talk about beating the system. John started on his twentieth mile on the exercise bike. Placing it in front of his living room window it was like riding a regular bicycle, but without all the slick, snowy roads and icy wind to bother him. So much for cable. John had no plans to line the pockets of the fat cat entertainment moguls who lived off the wasted lives of the people.

            As far as that went, the electric company could enjoy a heaping bowl of not-out-of-my-pocket-you-don’t. After the bill they sent last month, John turned off the heat during the day and kept the thermostat at its lowest setting at night. A full regimen of exercise kept him warm as well as entertained.

            John pictured, in his mind, how each act of protest was like taking a chisel to one of the gold tiles that covered the mansion floors of the rich and powerful. Yes, indeed. In another month he imagined them on their knees, facing the brink of ruin.

            For the first time in days John smiled as he gazed out on the gray skies and barren landscape that comprised his world.