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A house
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A series of snowy mountains form a ring around a large, flat space always covered in snow. Outside of the mountains lurks a series of dark clouds, but inside this circle, the clouds are light gray and thin, barely even a shadow of the storms outside.
In the center of this space is a house. It has been lovingly painted a light blue, and the soft gray tiles that make up its roof are covered in snow. At its entrance is a small porch where two chairs wait and many a hot cocoa has been sipped.
Light blazes through the windows, hinting at life inside--life that is currently locking the doors in preparation for a good avalanche. But enough about the house for now.
A few crumbling medieval structures are perched on the mountains around it, including a tower that is still mostly intact. A small path was once there, but a mountain's snows have done their work on it.
That house was what the three called home, and would call home.
Hello! Thank you to anyone who has spent the time reading this. This is my house. Feel free to come here to ask or remind me about Kyngdom, just chat, visit my AEs for some odd reason, or do whatever you want. My misc writing is probably going to be resting here, so if you want a good or strange read, this is the place to be!
Again, thank you for reading!
submitted by Icy, age 14, The Forest
(March 17, 2019 - 5:26 pm)
(March 17, 2019 - 5:26 pm)
Some more misc writing c: no idea where this came from in my head. I think part of this was inspired by P!nk though?
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They said it was going to be good. I told them okay, that if they said so it would be true. I had a balcony view of the raised stage, and only a few minutes until the show began.
And it began.
Music began quietly as the dancers entered, crowding the edges of the stage. They moved in a frenzy, beginning with a display of incredible dance, each one somehow coordinated with the other.
I gripped the balcony railing, squinting to not focus on the dancers. I don't know how I managed it.
Another row ran on from backstage, crossing back and forth in a flurry of movement. It was vibrant, everything they said it would be. I stared amidst the organized madness, then--there.
As the full cast of dancers entered, some merely...stepped out of the open air, sheets of subtle, glimmering magic folding away from them while the other dancers crossed the stage in front of them, taking positions around the stage.
The colors each dancer wore, combined with the positions they took, made a dozen flower patterns across the stage, only able to be seen from the balcony. I stared down, in awe of the colorful display.
Then one dancer separated from the whirling pattern she had been a part of and dashed down the stage, abandoning all posture and form in her mad run for the edge of the stage. The other dancers halted, each turning in a somewhat uniform manner toward her as the music dimmed around them.
She flung herself from the edge of the stage. There was a pause--even in the music--and a collective gasp from the audience as, for one terrifying moment, she dropped--
Then soared into the air, a few faint strands of glimmering magic showing in the air around her.
The music blared back to life suddenly, and the fury of movement resumed, other dancers shooting into the air and dangling there, holding every muscle in their body a certain graceful way as they held themselves there, that thin thread of magic still glittering.
I don't think I ever relaxed during that entire show.
(March 17, 2019 - 7:41 pm)
(March 17, 2019 - 8:40 pm)
Ooh, your writing is very interesting! I would love to see that show. :)
So, Kyngdom? Are you there?
(March 17, 2019 - 8:46 pm)
Yes, I am! I'm just keeping an eye on things for now, thoughthough.
(March 18, 2019 - 8:28 pm)
I'd like to come!
Me~
I stoop. I adore snow, and it's plentiful here. With an idea and a smile, I stand, spread my arms out wide, turn, and back-flop into the deep snow, laughing. The door of the nearby house opens. Icy looks around, not seeing me. I pop up, snow in my hair and a broad smile on my face.
"Hey, Icy! Mind if I come in?" My friend Icy jumps, then laughs.
"I didn't see you there! Come on in! Want some hot chocolate?"
~
I get a bit happy-go-lucky in snow.
(March 17, 2019 - 8:47 pm)
I lead Rogue into the house, smiling at the thought of a visitor (and an excuse to make got cocoa, I'll admit). It goes well for the first few minutes, with the hot cocoa being made quickly, and a bit of just sitting on the couch and talking ensues.
...Then, of course, there's an explosion from upstairs. What did I have up there anyways? I swore it was just gnomes, but no, I do believe it's something far more dangerous...
(March 18, 2019 - 8:27 pm)
More misc writing! Further messing with the weird idea of this magical dance. I want to work a bit more on describing movement in writing. This would be at a rehearsal.
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She stretched once, then, at the blow of the whistle, moved with the other dancers, entering one circle of dance and then another. They were a constant blur of movement, always switching positions and dances. Though the dancers changed, the shapes they made did not. They formed rings as they danced, sometimes intersecting other rings or switching dancers. One moment an arm would move gracefully and slowly, the next it would jerk into a series of short movements that were echoed by the other dancers.
She kicked up a leg, keeping up with the other dancers as she made her way to the center of the middle circle. The dancers didn't skip a beat as she took her place in the middle, standing still among all the movement and frantic dancing. The music rose and fell, but she still held still.
In the other circles, dancers began to appear at each center, rippling magic rolling off them in waves. They were each in still positions demonstrating their flexibility--one grabbing her leg, the other stretched into a classic ballet position. One was even balancing on their hands.
The music dipped for a moment, a chaotic undertone beginning amidst the melody. She heard the whistle blow, but didn't need it. She was already moving.
The dancers did a single kick, then each took a still sideways pose. She mimicked the kick, but left her leg in the air. A second passed, then she focused. A thread of magic shot onto her body, then jerked her upwards.
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...and that's all the time I have for today lol
(March 20, 2019 - 4:14 pm)
Misc writing.
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She reached out, stretching toward the water. The instructor was repeating calm commands, separating clusters of students--one near the water, one away.
She focused, holding a hand out towards the water, and summoned.
Fire sprang to life quite easily around her; however, the further from her it was, the more difficulty she had. The water wasn't too far, anyway; besides, she had practiced with distances.
She focused on keeping the fire atop the water's surface, without trying to summon fire inside the water or above it. The flame balanced perfectly on the surface, flickering like a candle flame.
She heard the instructor call out again and instinctively brought her other hand out, the single flame growing and blazing atop the water. Good. But she could do better--she had to do better.
She clenched her fists, the fire shrinking again, before she thrust her hands forward, the fire growing to the size and intensity of a bonfire. She grinned, tuning the instructor out to focus on the fire.
She bent one of her fingers, singling a flame out. It danced wildly at first before edging forward and probing the surface of the water, creeping across it. She bit her lip, her head aching with focus--if she made just one wrong move, the fire would dip under the surface and go out. She just had to--
A wave of inky darkness spread over the fire, consuming it. "You heard what he said, right? It's time to leave." The familiar voice of her brother called.
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(June 7, 2019 - 1:11 pm)
~Misc, inspired by some classic poetry that I'll have a character quote soon. Perhaps the Admins can name the story?~
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She reached to her mirror, running one fingertip and another over its surface. She wished time and time again to have some sort of brush in place of a loom or needle, or some sort of tapestry instead to sew. By the time she finished weaving the picture she had begun, she would have forgotten his face; if she stopped and began with his image, a curse would descend upon her.
If she were to be cursed anyway...
Her fingertips stroked the mirror, giving it's cold surface warmth one last time before, ever daintily and slowly, she turned her head away from it--and, sudden as she could be, turned her eyes to the window.
The mirror broke after that. It can tell no more of this tale; it can't tell of how she sailed down the winding river on the back of a dragon, slowly drifting to two places at once...
Do you mean name this story? The Broken Mirror? The Mirror's Secret? ? ? Or the classic poem?
Admin
(June 7, 2019 - 10:48 pm)
...all things I need to Google, now. I love learning about new stories.
Lady of Shalott, actually. I only learned about it recently, but I'd already love to write a twisted fairy tale based on it.
'Dragon' at the end isn't a dragon at all; it's the vessel she laid in, as in one of the paintings of the poem, the ship has its bow carved in the shape of a dragon's head. I really want to play with wording surrounding the boat a bit more; though I'm pretty proud of 'drifting to two places at once'. One being Camelot; the other, death.
(June 7, 2019 - 11:33 pm)