#@writeblrcafe

[holdenmarrswritings]

Trolls

The town of Idmus was a fairly small but established stop between two of the larger cities in the region. It was a peaceful town of good people. They were in a heavily wooded area alongside a river, and so their main product for the kingdom was lumber. Most of their food came from their own hunting and fishing, and what they couldn’t kill they traded for. As towns went, it was a very safe and quiet one.

Until the earthquake.

The quake shook the town to its core, reducing some buildings to their foundations. The ones still standing were damaged inside and out by fallen trees and fallen belongings. By some miracle, no one was killed, but many were wounded. The town didn’t have much in the way of medicine, so they sent for a doctor right away. While they did the best they could tending to the wounded, the able-bodied set about repairing and rebuilding the town. So we find Godfrey, hammer in hand. He was boarding up windows about town to try to keep out the cold that was approaching.

Godfrey was a handsome young man. His beard had finally begun to grow in more than patches, and his hair was a deep auburn. He was tall and strong. He was one of the premier hunters in town, and could often be seen with his godfather, Alaric. He’d been orphaned at birth, his mother giving her life to bring his into the world, and Alaric was the closest thing to a father he’d ever known. His own had abandoned them before he was born. 

Speaking of his godfather, he rounded the corner of the building that Godfrey was working on. Godfrey may have been tall, but Alaric was a mountain of a man. He’d been a guard for noblemen in his youth, and he had the broad shoulders and broad scars to prove it. Upon spotting Godfrey, Alaric whistled to get his attention and began to speak.

“Well Godfrey,” said Alaric, “it looks like it’s time for another hunt. Shall we?”

“I think we shall,” Godfrey said, setting down his hammer.

“Meet me at the southern gate,” Alaric told him. “And don’t mess about!”

With that, the two separated, and went to their respective dwellings to gather their bows and other hunting gear. They regathered at the southern gate shortly and departed to enjoy each other’s company for the rest of the day.

“So what’s it like to be so old and unmarried?” Godfrey asked. “Surely the nights must be lonely.”

“About as lonely as yours, you little shit,” replied Alaric. “When’s the last time you took a woman to bed? Wait a moment, it would be the first time too wouldn’t it?”

“I’m saving myself!” Godfrey said, hissing his defense so as not to scare away any potential prey. “Our Lord says it is the righteous thing to do.”

Alaric scoffed. “You think the warriors of old saved themselves? They spread their seed across the land, like men!”

“And you spread yours across your sheets old man, now hush. We have work to do.”

Alaric smiled and decided to stop teasing the lad, knowing full well that he had eyes for one woman. The two of them had been beating around each other’s bushes since they were children. So Alaric left it well enough alone, and the two of them continued stalking through the woods – now in silence. They pulled a few rabbits out of yesterday's traps, but the trees were suspiciously quiet. Many of the older, more rotten ones had fallen during the earthquake, their weakened trunks unable to stand up to the tectonic forces.

“Alaric, correct me if I’m wrong, but that cave wasn’t there last hunt,” said Godfrey.

Alaric followed his gaze and saw the cave he was speaking of. Indeed, it had not been there before. It had a massive entrance being blocked in part by a fallen tree, perhaps the reason they’d not seen it sooner. 

“I do believe you’re right, Godfrey.”

“Should we take a look, do you think?”

“I do believe we should. Could be anything in there though, so be ready.”

With caution they approached the cave’s entrance, keeping an eye out for any telltale signs of a bear or a mountain cat. They climbed over the tree blocking the entrance, Alaric’s old bones giving him trouble while Godfrey bounded over it. Godfrey waited for him on the other side with a smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky boy,” Alaric told him. “I can still put you in the dirt anytime you’re ready.”

“I’m well aware old man, now let’s get on with it. We’re losing light.”

So on they went, unknowing of the trespass they were committing. They hadn’t gotten too far into the cave before it split into two tunnels. One of them smelled positively foul and was pitch black, and the other one had something… magical, about it. It looked as if there was some kind of cerulean light coming from deeper in, and Alaric motioned for Godrey to follow him into it. Silently, they made their way deeper into the dimly lit depths. What they found, they could barely believe. Crystals were growing in fanned outcroppings at the end of the cave, glowing a blue hue that matched the sky on a summer’s day. 

“By Baldir’s beard,” said Godfrey, his voice full of wonder. “What in the world is this?”

“I don’t know,” Alaric whispered. He wouldn’t have believed what he was seeing had it not been right before his eyes. He’d only heard stories of crystals like these. Stories from the olden times, from the times of Baldir and Venleah themselves. It was said that the crystals gave rise to the god-kings and heroes of yore. But surely, those were just stories – weren’t they?

Godfrey reached out and touched one of the crystals. When he did it broke off and fell to the ground, shattering upon impact. Alaric reached down and picked up a few pieces. He was able to crush them in his hands, but they didn’t seem to produce any dust when he did. Instead, it seemed Alaric absorbed it directly into his calloused palms. He gazed at his hands in amazement.

“For the love of our God,” said Alaric. “I feel… I feel…”

“Are you alright?” Asked Godfrey.

“I feel strong as an Ox!” Alaric said, his voice echoing in the dark. “I haven't felt such vigor since my youth!” With that, he reached out and crushed more crystals. He seemed hungry – hungry for power. Godfrey placed his hand on Alaric’s forearm.

“My friend,” he said. “I think that perhaps we should not tempt the Fates. You should stop this, we don’t know anything about these crystals. We should –”

He was interrupted by a roar. It was a sound that neither of them had ever experienced, and it sent a shiver down their spines. They turned around, and what awaited them was not something of their world. It was some hulking creature born of nightmares.

Alaric was no small man, but this monster stood some heads above him. It had rough, thick-looking skin with brownish-green mottling that gave it an almost scaled appearance. Its head was mounted to its torso by a stump of a neck, and where its nose should have been there were simply holes. Its eyes were beady and front-facing, black as a starless night. Its ears were mounted flat to the sides of its head and looked almost human. A mouth full of near tusks finished its facial features, but the truly terrifying part of it was its body. They had never seen something with such muscular bulk. Barrel-chested and with arms the size of a man’s torso, and legs like tree trunks, it stomped toward them with flat feet that had only three toes ending in stubby, hoof-like nails.

Godfrey snapped out of his stupor first, and took aim with his bow, letting loose his arrow too quickly and with not enough force. Still, it managed to pierce the monster’s hide eliciting another roar. The creature charged forward and swiped at them with a massive hand, missing them and slamming into the wall of the cave as they lept out of its way. It may have been large, but it was slow.

Alaric had left his bow on the ground and it was now splinters under the foot of the creature. So, he drew his knife and readied himself for a fight as the beast righted itself. Godfrey loosed another arrow into its shoulder, but this one simply broke upon impact. He turned to put some more distance between himself and the creature, but stepped into a hole in the ground, twisting his ankle. Godfrey cried out in pain as he fell to the floor of the cave. 

The creature roared in triumph as it closed in on Godfrey. He took out his dagger and tried to defend himself as the mountainous bulk bore down upon him, but it was no use. The monster grabbed him by the legs, lifting him into the air like a child playing with a doll. Godfrey screamed in agony when the creature ripped his right leg off and dropped him to the ground. It took a bite out of his thigh, its tusks tearing through the flesh with ease. Godfrey continued screaming, the adrenaline keeping him conscious through the pain. The creature quickly grew tired of his cries, and with a wet, squelching crunch crushed his head beneath one of its elephantine feet.

Alaric watched the events in horror. The monster continued to feast upon Godfrey’s leg, seeming to have forgotten about him entirely. Alaric had known Godfrey since he was but a babe, and images of the life Godfrey had lived flashed through his mind. He’d been a good boy, and had grown into a fine man. Suddenly, Alaric was overcome with rage. With a mighty warcry, he sprinted to the beast and dug his knife into the back of its knee. 

The thing roared in pain, dropping to kneel as Alaric pulled the knife from its flesh. It swung blindly behind itself, but Alaric dodged its mighty paw with a nimbleness that should belong to a much younger man. With a strength beyond that of his body, he lept high onto the back of the beast, driving his blade into its shoulder to secure his purchase. Its pained cries continued as it tried desperately to throw Alaric from its back. But Alaric was blind with a Berserkers fury and reached his other hand around and dug his fingers into the eye of the monster. With a shout he ripped his knife loose and swung himself over its shoulder, keeping his digits inside the beast's eye socket. Blood covered Alaric as he himself roared like a beast, and plunged his knife into its neck, over and over again. The creature began gurgling as it started to drown in its own blood, and in one last desperate attempt at survival, managed to rip Alaric from its face and throw him away. But, it was too late. Alaric bounced off the ground and rolled himself onto his feet, but the knife remained in the flesh of the beast.

The death throes of this creature were titanic, and as it bled out Alaric noticed Godfrey’s body next to him. In one final moment of passion, Alaric grabbed Godfrey’s bow and notched an arrow. He drew back with the last vestiges of his newfound strength, bending the bow with the force of his pain. He loosed the arrow with a tremendous shout, and it flew true, burying itself deep into the beast's remaining eye. The creature tensed up, then went completely limp, falling to the ground in a heap. Alaric was left bruised and panting, but ultimately the victor. He cried out in excitement at his win, and in pain at his loss. 

Before he could take his time to mourn, however, he heard another roar.

[alaskaisnothere]

isn't it funny how life is wonderful and messy and hard like one day you are crying your eyes out because you feel lost and the next day you are packing your stuff ready to leave your worries behind and start a new chapter in a different country and then you find all these people who love and support you and you still feel lost and you still have no idea what your life is supposed to look like but you're enjoying pink sunset and book dates at the park and overpriced coffees and maybe you just have to enjoy the breeze without expecting a storm

[innocentlymacabre]

Being a short fiction writer is hard. We painstakingly craft entire narratives, distilled to perfection, and when we're finally ready to publish...we slam face-first into a brick wall.

Rejections are par for the course, but we can't even get rejections if we don't know where to submit. There are so many wonderful magazines out there who are just waiting to read our work, but finding them can be difficult.

As a short fiction writer myself, I know the pain well.

So, I decided to try and help. I've compiled a list of 140 magazines and counting, with information on the genres they accept, if they accept excerpts from longer works, word count limit, pay scale, simultaneous/republished/multiple acceptance status, and their response timeframes.

And the best bit? It's free. All I ask is that you give me a commission on what you make share this with other writers so getting published can be easier for us all.

Grab the database right hereeee.

[itisiives]

Hey, y'all, I'm still raising money for this tuition that's gotten me in a chokehold, so I am still selling my books. But if money is too tight, would you mind requesting the title at your local library, instead? That may help!

📚 📖 📙

And to help convince you: I have a poem featured in Janus Literary.

[robertjw4688]

I've ended my life

so many times that

infinity seems small

and yet I always live

to smile again.

Robert J. W.

[dg-fragments]

I write to you, of you, not because our souls are intertwined, neither because you're mine or I'm yours, but because I do not know of any other audience, for these thoughts, in the form of mere words, for this fragmented existence, which reveals through the cracks of past experiences, to lose itself in the captivating beauty, that is yourself.

- DG

[ginadope]

rivers and poems

A spiral of duality - your warm side, it has Prepared for you a glass Of ache and gold

I am not much A single drop of softness I dare not greet you in dreams, I Hide my thoughts from myself

And I stand before you Barefoot in the sand A strange wound and a howl Born of beauty Their poetry simple - your fear I will carry away

[nikithathampy]

[palladiumfragments]

the last august where i write what i know

august brings in more than petrichor and volatile skies. soft hauntings lick the windows. what's on the other side of the door doesn't terrify me as much as the absence of a knock. it's the silent requiem. it's the handprints that isn't there. it's the breath i held in my lungs that i never got to sigh. the tug at my ribs i first felt at a bus stop six years ago grows more and more restless each day. if i'm not twenty three i'd simply call it by its name, but i am twenty three in the kitchen brewing my second cup of coffee because the first barely kicks in anymore.

last week i told a friend over lunch that i'm a completely different person now, but the moment i stumbled back into the apartment i realized i still wear my burn marks like a badge of honor. my lover is in the other room, listening to his late brother's favorite song again. while i thrash, he remains serene. i'll never understand the amount of gentleness it takes not to bare your teeth to the world once your body sheathes an endless apocalypse. the fever came gently, but the tragedy lies in my inability to put into words the intricacies of its confusing corporality. you see the smoke in my eyes, you know the flames took something, but the ruins tell you everything and nothing.

[pigeonheadsmumblngs]

Photo credit: Ray Hennessy

Have you ever noticed

how the birds sing out

in a storm?

That’s how I want to be.

Like a songbird

singing, joyful

through the hardest rains

that dare to find me.

~pigeon head~

[writeblrcafe]

Sixth prompt menu (March)

We are excited to present you our sixth prompt menu this March! This is our sweetest menu yet, consisting of five sugary companions for your drinks at writeblrcafé and sweetening our baked goods. So choose your sweet flavour and order a candied prompt from our menu!

Brown sugar: "If that's all it takes to kill a god, then how easy it must be to become one." by @basalamander-corner

Maple syrup: Write a description of one of your settings from the POV of at least two different characters, so you can see how their unique voices change how the setting appears to the reader. by @asablehart

Honey: Choose a song and write something inspired by that song. by @sadfragilegirl

Agave syrup: "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now." - "I can't. I'm sorry." by @basalamander-corner

White sugar cubes: Write about two characters having dinner, but they can't explicitly say what they want to say. by @asablehart

We encourage all forms of original writing. You can check out our other prompts here. Make sure to tag your piece of writing with #wcprompt within the first 5 tags and mention which prompt(s) you used. We will reblog every order!

Please reblog this post to spread the word in the writing community.

[slowfalter]

I tried to write a love letter to my body

For therapeutic purposes

But I wasn’t ready

I cannot see the beauty

In all the things you do for me

I would be lying if I said

Your thighs don’t kind of scare me

But I don’t have hate for you

More just unfair expectations

I wish I could feel differently

Dear body,

I’m afraid I still don’t love you

But truly, I am sorry.

[mkaugustpoetry]

There's a bird outside my window,

I swear I knew it in childhood.

I haven't heard that song in years,

The notes so piercingly familiar.

Tell me your name,

I'll ask it,

So that I might not lose track of you once again.

Did the winds bring you back my way,

Will the currents take you again?

It's quiet before I can speak aloud,

My window still closed.

I never even opened it.

[innocentlymacabre]

THE CRESCENT OF FOOLS AND FORGOTTEN TIME ⤳ a wip (re)intro

Lucille Carmine is not one to relinquish her hold on someone once her wicked talons have sunk into them, as Jayce all too painfully learns once more. He’s pulled into her employ again, Lott jumping in after his best friend, tasked - under extreme duress, of course - to retrieve The Liminality Paradox. Previously thought to have been nothing more than a bedtime story, Jayce and Lott find themselves unwillingly heading to The Crescent of Fools and Forgotten Time, right into the heart of The Fool’s domain, a place where time and space lose all meaning, where everything that has ever happened is happening all at once and where nothing ever happens all the same. A place where the ends of the universe could be nothing more than a hop, skip, and a jump away, but the five feet in front of you could stretch out to infinity and beyond. A place where the insane rule sovereign and the sane are grinded to a dust, folded into the ripples of the Crescent. All to steal an artifact of untold power for one of the most dangerous overlords of the criminal world, and to lay even more unchecked power at her feet for her to abuse.

STATUS: querying

GENRE: urban fantasy / heist / comedy

MEDIUM: feature film

WARNINGS: description/depiction of wounds, death and pain (will be modified as necessary)

LINKS: WIP tag (x) | Ko-fi 💜 (x)

general taglist in the comments (ask to be added/removed!) // newsletter

any boosting would be much appreciated!

picture credits: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[robertjw4688]

I'm writing

my story again.

Maybe I'll

survive

to the ending

this time.

Robert J. W.

[dg-fragments]

Missing you hits me at odd times, when I least expect it to, when my mind wanders away, over the horizons in distance; with no means of control, I give in, to those feelings of emptiness, and let myself transcend continents, to be where you might be, perhaps sooner rather than later.

- DG