Highly Original "Challenge Me" Thread

[Yukimura]

I saw someone else do this, and I thought I would like to copy them and start a similar thread, except for me. I'm taking on some challenges to my creative thinking. Just send a topic my way, a picture, or even just a word, whatever, and a form of response like rhyming or free-verse poem, haiku, short-story, or whatever, even 'open ended' or 'any response type' or something like that will do. Just tell me what you want to hear, and I'll do my best to deliver. Can't promise it'll be good or even worth reading, but I'll do it anyway.

[DaveOrion]

God Exists (sorry, I know thats a tuffy)

[Yukimura]

City so vast so full of life.
Buildings tower on high.
Thousand equations solved.
Gravity they do defy.

Sewers in the ground beneath.
Unnoticed by the people living.
Water carried all about.
In service endlessly giving.

Power runs through metal wires.
Zapping currents flow all about.
A vast array of planned fruition.
Its function the people never doubt.

A plan of man, a grand design.
Every piece has its place.
Every person keeps it flowing.
It's seen in another place.

I see the ocean flowing on.
Balanced on a razor's edge.
The moon, the earth, the sun do pull.
It never crosses o'er the ledge.

In the woods the trees do breath.
In return the animals give back.
Every insect irreplacable.
Tough to see nature's lack.

Even the desert births more life.
Though the sun scorches hot.
Every lizard drinks its fill.
Not a single one forgot.

Every piece has it's purpose.
The world around in grand design.
I can see the plan of God.
In every needle in every pine.

[Willravel]

Rusted bars on a prison window

[Yukimura]

The man thanked the guard in a raspy voice as his food cooled on the floor. He didn't even bother trying to eat the bread anymore, throwing it out between the rusted old bars. Though his food came every 8 hours, it had been days since he had a drink. He placed his hand over the lid of his half-glass of water, and held it up next to the window. Pulling his fingers away ever-so-slightly, he allowed the water to drip down from the top of the bars. it ran down slowly, picking up speed as more water came onto them. The man blew through stinging chapped lips onto the bars. He tasted blood.

About a two months ago, he had noticed the bars rusted around the bottom. With some contempt he judged them to be solid iron, and decided it to be a mistake of the designer. It's structure would be greatly compramised if rusted. However, no matter how hard he pulled, pushed, hit, the bars would not move. He began to decide that it had been a foolhearty dream to think he could break them, but would not give up. One way or another, he was getting out of here...

So for the past four days he had not just poured some, but all of his water portion every meal over the bars, blowing to speed its evaporation. His was sure his escape was inevitable if he continued in this fashion. He felt the last of the water drip past his fingers, and rubbed them up and down the bars, blowing all the while, though his breath grew heavy.

A few minutes passed, and the water dried. There was little to see on the bars now save for rust. He placed one hand and pushed. He dug his feet into the floor and pushed with all his might. He pulled, he pushed, he punched 'til his knuckles once again bled, knowing it would do no good. He threw himself at it, though his body barely stood. Tears would have been falling down his cheeks if he had them to cry. Desparate, he climbed, holding a single bar with both hands, pushing off the wall with his feet. His body yelled in pain for him to quit, but he would not. He forced out everything he had, knowing it was hopeless.

*Clank.* *THUD.*

He looked in awe at the rusted bar that lay in his hand. He smiled faintly knowing there were just two more to go until he once again breathed free air. He moved to get back up, but found he could not. The room swirled around him. He saw a white cloud creeping in from the edges of his vision. He laughed a weak, raspy, terrible laugh as the reality of his situation set in on him. He made his escape as the last tear he would ever cry dripped slowly down his cheek.

[Midnight]

A single tear shed for the soul of humanity.

Non rhyming free verse if you would be so kind.

*evil grin*

Nice Idea Dragonfly. I like.

Midnight

[Yukimura]

Wretched, wicked, woeful beasts.
These humans that crawl the earth.
Their every inclination is towards wickedness.
Even when they are selfless,
They are selfish.
They always fight,
Even when they agree.
They seek only their first desire.
God watches on high.
Created for so much,
yet amounting to so little.
He gives them free will,
And they throw it in his face.
He brings His wrath upon them,
and they respond in turn with bitterness.
Even the best among them are garbage.
And yet He loves them.
They are from His own heart,
And He loves them,
More than they could know.
Yet they detest him and barrate him.
They are like a poisoned well.
There is much to them,
Yet the poison permeates all.
God sorrows, and cries a single tear.
A single tear falls into the well,
And it is pure once more.
But humans have one divine right.
One that has been with them from the beginning.
Choice.
Will it be their downfall,
Or their salvation?

[tecoyah]

Broken safety glass

[Yukimura]

The pain was incredible, much more than he thought it could be. He could not move, lest he gash himself more. He was stuck, arm through what was to be the source of his protection. It was strong, that much was certain. He tried to break it with his other hand, but it only stabbed him more. He could not move for fear of more pain. He could only stand and stare at his bloodied arm. He knew he needed to move, but fear had gripped him solidly. He was not used to physical pain, he was used to getting his way. Now, he knew it was time for him to grow up and get out of this. It was his own fit that had gotten him stuck in this situation, and now he knew he would have to grow up to get out of it. As though responding to his heart, and epiphany came to his mind.

What a terrible destructive force rage is. I punch this glass that was here to keep me safe, and instead it binds my arm painfully within its teeth. My rage has turned even my shield into a sword against me.

[Wolfwood]

Use the words 'confessed' and 'impressed'

14- line Shakespearean Sonnet: iambic pentameter?

Rhyme Scheme: a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g.

[Willravel]

Wow, that was incredible. You're seriously talented.

[Yukimura]

My accuser stares.
I plea from my heart.
I don't think he cares.
Hasn't from the start.

From above he looks.
Ashamed at my deeds.
Guilt wells up within.
Doesn't know my needs.

Self decieving lies.
I know what they are.
Open eyes to truth.
Really wasn't far.

Wicked deeds confessed.
Accuser impressed.

*edit: I have been told that I goofed Iambic Pentameter. Darn worthless high-school english classes. I probably should have looked it up before writing. Nonetheless, both I and the request-maker are pleased, so I'm just going to leave it. If someone wanted to see it done correctly, post so and it shall be done.*

*edit2: Thanks willravel. I appreciate the encouragement.*

*edit3: Okay, apparently I'm too picky to let this slide, so I'm going to fix it. Here goes.*

How much more can I let slide by myself?
How many times can I feign denial?
I bottle my conscience up on the shelf.
Avoid the judge, suspend the trial.

Here my growing comes to a complete stop.
Though my spirit continues its swelling.
I feel a shell and one quite soon to pop.
Something inside my heart, it is yelling.

Though guilt is gone a void does consume.
The numb is worse than suffering feeling.
A demon's form shadow does now assume.
I cry hopeless for forgiveness healing.

In burning light wicked sins now confessed.
No anger, the judge seems almost impressed.

[analog]

Write a short story-

Starts with woman sitting in restaurant, waiting for the man she's eating with to come back in from the outside, where he's on his cellphone. She can see him pacing in front of the place, talking on his phone, through the windows that line the front.

Rules:

The woman must interact with a server (at least once) at the restaurant, but you can use no dialog at all in the story- internal monologue (thought) only. The man does not come back inside or get off the phone during the story. She doesn't know who he's talking to. The man must be (your choice) a past, present, or potential lover (as in, they're just dating but aren't really a "couple" yet).

Everything else is fair game so long as the rules aren't broken. Just try and stay away from an infidelity storyline... too easy.

I find that prompts with exceedingly (annoyingly?) specific rules can be the most fun, because you must stretch your range and dig deep to come up with a unique storyline.

Have fun, and I look forward to your response.

[Yukimura]

(My first thought was to write a couple of paragraphs about how in love with him she was, and end it with her seeing the car sliding on the ice behind him. But, I decided I've done way too many freaky depressing endings lately, so I took a different approach.)

The bright glow at the end of his cigarette keeps her gaze drawn a while. She always thought he was so sexy when he smoked, though the smell repulsed her. The smoke hung white in the air, so much thicker than the breath of those walking the street. She found herself swooning over him all over again. It seemed crazy, even to her, to be in love so soon, but neither of them ever questioned it. Some things are just too powerful to be questioned. He waved in to her, and she couldn't stop a somewhat goofy smile from spreading over her face. He sent her a little symbol that to them meant "I love you." She mouthed back to him, "I love you too." Obviously someone on the phone had said something very amusing, because he broke out into one of his big, belly-gripping laughs. She chuckled to herself. He certainly knows how to sap all the romance out of a moment. Yet, somehow that was only more endearing. With every moment their love seemed to grow.

The waiter in the corner was obviously nervous as he watched her. His hands wet the envelope he clutched with sweat. His mouth seemed dry, and he felt his pulse racing. It was just like a thousand times before. He had loved her so long. So many times had he thought about this moment, and tried to make it real. He knew this would be the time he went through with it. He was going to let her know, and they'd live happily ever after. He knew she was dating this new guy now, and he had to act fast.

He walked over to her and started to speak, but something sucked the breath out of him. She had looked over, and he saw her elated smile, and the happiness that seemed to flow out from her eyes. He could see right away the love between them. His words stuck in his throat for too long a moment, and he quickly felt embarassment set in. He ducked his head and walked away. She shrugged and turned her gaze back to her love.

Back in the kitchen, he knew he had lost his chance to be with his love, but somehow, he could not be sad. That smile she had given him, it was like a treasure. It would shine in his memories forever. If she's happy enough to smile like that, I can hold my tongue for eternity.

(After writing this it occurred to me that I could have run in a completely different direction from the way your rules guided by having the server be a secret agent or something of that sort posing as a server and running into an action sequence of a sort as he saw his persuers pass by. I'm pleased with this story though, so I'll stand by it.)

[analog]

Originally Posted by Yukimura

(After writing this it occurred to me that I could have run in a completely different direction from the way your rules guided by having the server be a secret agent or something of that sort posing as a server and running into an action sequence of a sort as he saw his persuers pass by. I'm pleased with this story though, so I'll stand by it.)

Indeed, I set up the rules to guide you into a general direction on purpose. The fact that you wrote a piece (and a good piece, btw, I liked it) and then realized you were really set free by the rules- and not contained by them- is almost more satisfying to see. It's a good growth opportunity when you can look back and say, "now I see where I could have ______..."

Let me know if you (or anyone, this goes for anyone) ever want to do more like this. I will make up prompts until my fingers fall off, if asked to do so.

[ItWasMe]

Poem or short story, freestyle.
Use the words deception and octapus.

[Yukimura]

Deception saps the strength from me.
It eats away at my illusions.
I wrap myself in sweet simplicity.
I hold to my beautiful ideals.
Time after time deception creeps in.
An octapus that wraps itself around.
It grabs my illusion and tears it away.
And when I have no defense left,
It razor beak bites into my soul.
Its poison runs through my veins.
It taints the source of what I am.
So that it courses through my being.
No escape from the endless cycle.
Yet I fight, and I know why.

(Yeah, I love the prompts analog. Send them over any time you feel you've got a good one.)

[ItWasMe]

Wow. I thought I was giving you something hard, lol. You're very talented.

[Yukimura]

Thank you itwasme. It's great to hear such kind words.

[nevin]

Storytelling, writing, is something very close to the core of who we are. There is an orginization which uses storytelling to help Alzheimer's patients. What they do is show these patients unusual pictures and then ask them to tell a story about it. They believe that it is thereputic, entertaining, and helps preserve (or, i suppose, delay loss of) some brain function. Generally, people draw on their own creativity, but people who are close to the patients often recognize details of their own lives coming out in their stories.

So here's my challenge: You have your faculties and clearly lots of creativity and tallent. Write a little story (or metaphor or... anything prosey) about what you see happening in the picture on the far left or right (both seem to suit you). If you see some of your own life, your own story in it, as the Alzheimer's patients do, you can write that in, or you can just draw on your own imagination.

[Yukimura]

(While the far right one seems fun, it almost seems too easy. I'll take a stab at the left one.)

She was a beautiful flower of the south. Smart, well-spoken, yet humble and kind. She was the goal of every man in town. Kelly had a life of leisure laid out before her. Marry, have kids, raise them well, and keep smiling. She was happy enough with the thought of a life like that, but there was always an itch. Everyone has it she supposed, the desire to do the other thing. So she let it slip from her mind, save for the hour each day she would get to shoot her latest man's gun. She found herself infatuated with her suitor's gun more than the man himself. It seemed to give her wings to fly to another life.

Until she met that cowboy. His name was Mitch, and something about him drew her. He was a man who seemed without a future, doing whatever odd-jobs around town he could find. She knew that this wasn't the man her parents would pick, but then, she was never the type to let herself be controlled. She began seeing him quite often, and in no time, they were head over heels in love. Every day, Mitch would take her to the shooting range for hours, getting her fill. Not only that, he would teach her, and encourage her. He loved the fighting spirit within her, and it was the first time she felt like she was supposed to be that which she already was.

Every now and then bandits would come to their town. That was the fate of any pioneer town. Some group of thugs would get it in their heads that they could overtake the town. Their sheriff was old, and their enforcers were few. Yet, each time, Mitch would send them off again. Of course, it didn't take him long to get the job of sheriff, and it seemed to Kelly as though she would be able to settle into both of the lives she had wanted.

Then the Guapos came. A bandit force of a hundred men, all experienced low-lifes. They had been moving constantly through the pioneer country, taking what they could and moving on before reinforcements could come. When they came to town, the people hid immediately. They could have what they wanted, none of it was worth their lives. They spread over the town like a dark mist.

Mitch grabbed Kelly as she made for the door. "No. We don't stand a chance, there's no point in fighting this battle. All they can take are our things." Kelly chuckled at him, "Are you scared my love?" Mitch yelled, "This isn't a game Kelly! This isn't like some thug that just wandered in. These guys have been doing this a long time. You know me. You know I want to fight. I'm not afraid of dying, but losing you..." Kelly smiled and wrapped her arms around him. They kissed, and she spoke. "Mitch, look out that window," she said, pointing, "See those bags they're carrying out of the bank right now? That's old miss Wingleworth's savings. She was going to have a well dug on her land so that her family could finally have the water they need. Now what will they do?" Mitch could only look back into her loving eyes. A stern look came on her face when she spoke again. "Now look, I'm going out to meet them on the tracks, and you certainly don't have to come." With that she ran out of the door before he could stop her. He stood there for a moment, and smiled. He could feel a burden lift from his heart as he buckled his gunbelt and ran out the door. She knew him so well.

(Oy, that one felt weak.)

[pan6467]

Ok Grasshopper....... I'll play along.... but in return you must give me one.... since this is your thread you can IM me or include it in your response and I'll have it in my journal......

Short story....... the setting: a haunted house ...... the characters: a psychic, his 2 assistants, a cab driver, the couple that live there and want to have the house "cleaned"..... one character is a killer and one a ghost (the other 4 are what they appear) .... but the readers don't know who is the killer or ghost until the very end.

[Yukimura]

Lighting leapt across the cloudy night sky as the first drops of rain began to fall. A house was hidden deep in the woods at the end of a long dirt road. Wich each flash of light, the house itself seemed to come to life, as though it were a giant face devouring the land it sat on. A yellow car pulls up slowly, coming to a stop with an unpleasant squeal. The rumbling of the engine comes to a stop for a moment as the drivers waits for his passengers to exit. They take a moment to gather themselves, and then run out at a brisk jog, hoping to avoid most of the rain. One man knocks on the door, and it echoes through the entire house. As the owner answers the door, they hear the cab behind them wail in protest, refusing to start. After a moment, the engine roars in triumph, and the cab drives off. The owner finally speaks.

"Hello. You must be the specialist I called for. Won't you and your assistants please come in."

The psychic seemed to take unusual interest in his words. The owner assumed all psychics were strange in this fashion. He led them into the living room where his wife was bringing in tea for them. She greeted her visitors and invited them to sit. After they had warmed themselves a bit, the owner finally got to business.

"I called for you because you're supposed to be the best, likely in the world. I've had many men come before you, but the ghost has been to crafty for them. Not a single one has even been able to detect it, yet I'm sure there's one here. They've all attested to that."

The psychic nodded and spoke, "There's an obvious explanation for this. Some ghosts need a particular person to exercise it. So long as that person lives, they'll not find peace until they meet it in their final conflict."

At that moment, the house roared with what seemed to be anger. The house's inhabitants shivered visibly, save for the psychic. At that moment, a fierce black dragon came tearing throug the halls, terrible jaws open to devour them all, teeth dripping with murderous intent. The psychic didn't even look up from his tea. He simply spoke the word, "Go," and took another sip. The dragon disappeared in a puff of black smoke. A cocky smirk spread over the psychic's face as he spoke again.

"I'm sure I can resolve your problem."

The man's depressed look seemed to disappear for the first time as hope entered his eyes. The psychic put a hand on his back and laughed as he spoke.

"So, could you please give my assistant's each another cup of tea?"

The hope seemed to fade again from the owner's eyes as he suspected the man of being a con artist of some sort. He sighed and signaled his wife to pour two more cups. She handed one to her husband, and they both carried them to the assistants. As the husband handed the cup over, the assistant's eyes widened. In a flash, the psychic had his hand against the man's chest.

"Don't worry sir, I'm about to earn my fee. You see, this man... is already dead. I know, because I'm the one who killed him. He had made himself invisible to me before now, but seeing you give him tea, I finally sensed his presence. He's been calling for me, hoping for a chance to exact revenge. That's the kind of scum he was. He was possessed by excessive contact with the supernatural, trying to kill me in life, and now he tries in death. But now, he'll have to move on."

In a flash of light, the man was gone and the psychic was on his way out the door. Waving and speaking without even looking back.

"This one's on the house since the fault for this haunting is mine."

(Oy, it was so short. I can't seem to find the motivation lately to write a story worthy of the topic. I'm trying to buy a house right now, and the stress is killing my creativity. I'll get back to being more regular soon though.)

[LoganSnake]

Short poem.

First word: universe

Second stanza, 3rd word: cross

Last word: tranquility

[Yukimura]

Universe tainted by mankind.
A lonely cross makes it free.
Where there was only chaos.
Now there is tranquility.

[ItWasMe]

Beautiful. You make simple words sing. *dabs eyes*

Pick someone's avatar as an inspiration for a poem.