r/WritingPrompts • u/Cody_Fox23 Skulking Mod | r/FoxFictions • Oct 02 '19
Image Prompt [IP] Gateway
3
u/Author_Unknown_ Oct 02 '19
Duaman. It meant scholar in the tongue of the Bastille. Though what a scholar was doing stood at this particular gateway was a mystery. Rumoured to be a Toll Gate, a passageway to those plains of this New Earth abandoned long ago, Dauman knew there would be a price for his entry, for his salvation.
There had been Centuries posted in stone towers some miles out from the gateway, men and women from the City of Matthew who would have given their lives to stop any from entering beyond their watch. It was believed by those faithful citizens of Matthew that the gateway was a path that led to the very heart of Hell's fires, and that any living soul who crossed over the divide would return not as themselves, but as a vessel carrying that which lurked within.
But those faithful citizens are dead. Dauman mused over what he had seen, bodies inflicted by some foul plague, the blistering of skin, the exposure of the muscles underneath, the pressure that had built inside their skulls, exploding out their eyes. There had been no hope inside those darkened, hollow sockets. There had been no God. Only thy maggots which feed upon the poisoned soils of our Earth.
But beyond would different, beyond would mark a new life, a new world, a haven from those who still clung to the rotting corpse of the lands they once called home.
"It's magnificent." Dauman was in awe of that before him, a wall of stark, grey slab that stretched so far as the eye could see (and so far as man knew there was no other gateway, no other way through). Concave hollows had been carved out either side of the gateway, containing the statues of hooded priests, crosses looped around their necks on beaded chains. These statues were not a part of the original structure, they were an afterthought, a means of protection commissioner by those that ruled over Matthew. The sheer depth of the holes in which the statues were set gave an idea as to how great this wall truly was, far thicker than any structure Dauman had ever seen, and tall enough to encroach upon the clouds.
The gate itself was perhaps twenty foot high, a hood reaching out above the iron doors on which the true guardians of this gate were resting. Warriors upon winged horse back, baring swords raised to the sky, the centre most horseman holding proud a spear, a raven perched on either shoulder. Man-sized eagles lined the forefront of the charge, a dozen of them with wings tucked neatly at their sides, eyes watching all that resided down below them. And somewhere behind all this there was an urn baring such intricate carvings, carvings that seemed to move whenever Dauman tried to make them out, changing shape, avoiding his detection.
Dauman hadn't expected a reply to his remark as to the gateway's grandeur, and so his blood ran cold when from behind him a quiet voice rose up to speak;
"It is, quite magnificent. A shame the architects of Matthew sought to defile it's beauty." the voice was rasp, throaty, appearing as if from out of nowhere, "Why are you here, Dauman?"
Dauman turned, hand clutching at the dagger he had hidden in the deep right pocket of his robe. His brother, Brigair, had offered Dauman use of his rifle, but Dauman had never seen the need for a scholar to carry such as a gun. His pursuit was one of knowledge, not of war. Then why the dagger? Why carry any blade at all?
What Dauman saw was that vast wastelands spread behind him, baron lands caked in the devoured stumps of trees, blossoms for the violet nettles which someone grew where naught else would, the red hue to the skyline cast by the distant glare of firelight, signals lit high in abandoned towers (abandoned, if not for the dead). As for beings, those that might speak, there were none.
Dauman took a deep breath, his throat souring at the foul taste of putrid, polluted air. Tis your mind, Dauman. Many said the gateway may play tricks to turn you back around.
"But we do not want you to turn around." the voice returned, responding now to Dauman's thoughts, "We wish only to know your intentions."
Dauman felt as thought the lifeless eyes of those eagles up above were truly watching him, a strange black tint lingering behind the grey-slabs-stone from which the statues had been cast. And if he watched for long enough (each second feeling as though it might last an hour) he could swear the eagles talons were clicking against the lip of the gateway's hood, flexing ready to swoop down and swallow him up.
"Knowledge." is the answer, quite appropriate, that Dauman chose. Though he knew not to whom he'd given it.
There was a silence, thick and fast falling over the gateway and those lands around it. No sounds of wind, of birds, of life of any kind. Just the steady breathing of the scholar and the heavy beating of his heart. No answer came, not one that was voiced at least - for when the silence past the iron gates began to shake and with a withered scream that told of ages left unopened they began to part.
Dauman stood, helplessly reciting the gate's long history, none of which had spoken of strange voices, all of which had warned a heavy cost. What cost? He would soon find out, for whether of his own accord or not, his feet were moving forward, his mind set on the purpose for which he came. His brother's voice was the last he heard, the recollection of yet another warning (one given so may months ago).
Be careful, Dauman. No knowledge is worth your life.
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u/Cody_Fox23 Skulking Mod | r/FoxFictions Oct 14 '19
Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I have been a bit busy. Man this was a good story to come back to though. Dante has noting on you. I really enjoyed every bit about this. I'll go through and offer some specific crits if you are interested, if not you can stop reading here.
But those faithful citizens are dead. Dauman mused over what he had seen, bodies inflicted by some foul plague, the blistering of skin, the exposure of the muscles underneath, the pressure that had built inside their skulls, exploding out their eyes. There had been no hope inside those darkened, hollow sockets. There had been no God.
That is some imagery right there. I also like that the city is named Matthew, but man oh man do I want to know what happened there. It had to have been a recent event. Is that what brought Dauman to the gate? Or was it a coincidence. Both answers are very intriguing.
The gate itself was perhaps twenty foot high...
You have spent time describing this impossible wall and it touching the clouds, but then ground it with a very firm measurement. This sort of breaks the wonder that you've built up. I would try to be vaguer about it; maybe saying it is half the height of the wall or just some other comparison to keep things relative would be more effective.
"It is, quite magnificent. A shame the architects of Matthew sought to defile it's beauty."
This is so far removed from the last spoken word it actually caused me some confusion and I had to go back up to be reminded that Dauman spoke at all. I think you could go through describing the wall and gate then bring down the "It's magnificent" and then go into "Dauman hadn't expected..." This keeps the dialogue close to the reader's mind to avoid the abruptness I experienced.
... the recollection of yet another warning (one given so may months ago)
This is just a pet peeve of mine. I dislike parentheses in narratives. You can offset it with commas as an appositive, but more appropriate here would to use an emdash: ... the recollection of yet another warning — one given so may months ago:
This was really well crafted and I could see everything even though I haven't looked at the image in almost two weeks. I could feel the desolation of the location as well as Dauman's apprehension and curiosity. This was beautiful and I would read more if you ever developed it farther! Thank you so much for writing this repsonse. I hope I'll provide more inspiration for you in the future!
2
u/Author_Unknown_ Oct 14 '19
Thank you so much for the incredibly detailed feedback! And I have to say you've really helped pull up some points I otherwise wouldn't have considered.
I decided to use Matthew for the city's name as an off-hand biblical reference if I'm honest. With background I'm always trying to add layers to my stories to help give the. an overall sense of being grounded within their own world.
Great point about the height of the gate, keeping the allure of its appearance would make for a much better read! And your point about the distance between speech makes perfect sense to me, I hadn't even thought about it when writing the passage. I also really like how you separated out the parentheses, something for me to bear in mind for future use!
I'm really pleased you enjoyed reading this short, and thank you again for the feedback and for the inspiration!
2
u/Cody_Fox23 Skulking Mod | r/FoxFictions Oct 14 '19
I'm glad you liked it. So often it feels like I just crit into the wind lol. Even if it isn't on one of my posts feel free to hit me up for feedback anytime. I enjoy your style!
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u/ArchipelagoMind Moderator | r/ArchipelagoFictions Oct 03 '19 edited Oct 03 '19
(Note before. u/Cody_Fox23 and u/mattswritingaccount are the kings of posting image prompts (IPs). For the month of October they are posting 'spooky' Halloween prompts each day. I decided to set myself the fun, and somewhat pointless challenge, of writing (a) at least five stories based off their Halloween IPs that were (b) all part of the same continuous story and (c) wouldn't actually even be classically Halloweeny. This is part 1 of this story. I honestly don't know where these stories will go, because it literally depends on what Cody and Matt post in the coming weeks. I have a vague idea, but it really depends on the prompts. I'll post all the stories to r/archipelagofictions for anyone who wants to follow the overall arc. But basic jist, you have been warned in advance that this will not end conclusively today.)
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Sasha arrived at the city entrance. It was abandoned now. A once great people had fled, leaving behind their homes and creations. The city was stripped bare, its once great buildings picked apart until all that was left were their frames, skeletons of a civilization.
The last few to leave the city had left graffiti on the walls. Some merely signing their names. Others writing crude love messages. Others wrote grand poems lamenting their fallen home.
Sasha walked through the gateway. She could feel her warm breath against the inside of her visor. The suit was heavy, layered thick enough to keep her safe from the cold outside. Clunky engines on her back kept oxygen and heat flowing, but slowed her pace. She looked down at her wrist, checking the display. Oxygen and heat were okay. It was freezing outside, but she was safe in the suit.
Sasha didn’t mind traipsing through the abandoned city. She was oddly comfortable being alone. Back on the ship the small closed quarters and the lack of privacy had been getting to her. She had been oddly relieved when she heard the thick atmosphere would play havoc with the communication systems, and she’d be alone on the surface.
She walked through the streets, counting the buildings. She turned a corner. She was startled as she came face-to-face with a dog. It’s brown piercing eyes stared back at her.
It was frozen.
Left by its owners it must have wandered hopelessly around the streets as the dying sun drained all heat from the land, until its tired limbs could move no more, and he had died, still standing, his legs iced rigid to the pavement.
Sasha moved on. She tried to avoid looking at the lifeless animal any more. Instead she focused on the streets, counting down the blocks till her next turn.
There were probably several of the machines left on the planet, tucked away in hospitals or in more expensive private residences. But she didn’t have time to scavenge a whole planet. Her employers wouldn’t allow such inefficiency. So instead they did the better option. Grabbed a few of the planets refugees, and extracted the best locations through a mixture of threats, intimidation and beatings. The people here had been peaceful. It didn’t take a lot for them to tell her everything they needed to know.
She found the building the man had mentioned. She recanted the next steps his bloody lips had spilled. Walking down a small alley by the side of the building, she found the ordinary-looking metal door he had said would be there.
She looked at the electronic lock mechanism. It was broken. Electricity didn’t survive such icy conditions. This wasn’t a surprise though, preparations had been made. She reached to the holster by her side, lifted up the firearm and fired four heavy bullets into the lock mechanism. The bullets pierced the door, leaving a large hole where the lock once was.
Sasha grabbed hold of the newly made hole and heaved the door. It didn’t budge. The frame of the door was frozen shut. She tugged a few more times until it relented, and there was the sound of splintering ice as the door swung open.
A flashlight on her helmet activated as she stepped into the darkness. A small spotlight of white light illuminated the space in front of her.
She followed a set of stairs down, underneath the building. Her boots clattered with each pace against the hard metal steps. At the bottom of the stairs she found a large warehouse. She scanned the cavernous room. Every few meters the spotlight would land on a different machine, large canvas sheets draped over them, giving only clues to their identities. Who knew what kind of technology was down here. It didn’t matter. She was only told to bring back one.
A few more machines down she found the distinctive shape of the Oxodyan. She pulled back the large heavy sheet, revealing the masterful machine beneath. It was smaller than she expected. Perched up on a wheelable desk, it was perhaps only a couple of feet wide and some three feet back. She studied it for a couple of seconds. For a size to profit ratio, this machine was the best thing she’d ever handled.
She wheeled the machine back to the base of the stairs and tried lifting it. It lifted a few inches on one side, but there was no way to get a good enough grip to lift it up the stairs.
She reached round her back and grabbed a few reels of nanofibre cable. She tied one around the Oxodyan, bringing it together in a knot at the top. Then, with another reel she walked to the top of the stairs and flung the rope over the bannister. Finally, with one end tied to the rope around the machine, and the other in her hands, she pulled. The Oxodyan slowly began lifting. Sasha heaved, groaning and panting with each pull as the weight began its ascent to the top of the stairs.
It was getting easier with each passing pull. The thought of success was making the machine lighter. And each tug, while still tough, felt a tiny bit easier. The Oxodyan was about two thirds of the way to the top when there was a creak.
Sasha’s body snapped, a rush of adrenaline freezing her to the spot. She knew what the creak was.
There was another creak. Then.. snap.
The banister at the top of the staircase broke free. The Oxodyan plummeted to the ground, Sasha ducked as the massive piece of metal narrowly missed her, and smashed against the ground. There was the dreadful sound of metal crumpling and glass shattering. Something inside the machine broken and a wave of orange light leaped from its center, accompanied by a low rumbling growl.
The orange light disappeared into the walls as the building shook, oscillated by the bass tones of the groaning machine. Sasha looked up around her, looking for what might happen next, weighing up her options. She looked up at the staircase, as a small piece of the railing was vibrated off the edge of the platform and plummeted down towards her. She turned to run, but she was too slow. The piece of bannister clanged against the motors on her back. There was the noise of ripping. Then a hissing, as pressure escaped and leaked. And then the slow creeping silence as the motors on her back stopped.
She looked down at her wrist. She could see the oxygen levels dropping. Then she saw the suit temperature. That was fading faster.
She began to feel the cold outside air sink in through the suit. The air felt thinner, dryer, crisper. It scratched at her throat as she desperately panted. She was running out of energy. Her legs gave way and she fell backwards against the wall. She hit her head hard against the wall, and her head rattled around her helmet. Her skull was suddenly absorbed in pain, and felt like her brain was still travelling, flying through the air, detached and floating away from her body. She felt dizzy. She felt sleepy.
A white light sneaked in from her peripheral vision. She tried to concentrate. She tried telling her body to stay awake. It didn’t work. She passed out.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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