From the True Name of All Things to the look in a smitten man's eyes, there's all kinds of magic in the world. Today, write a scene where a certain kind of magic is the central focus.
ThatFanficGuy has offered to take on days where I can't break from my desk. There might be overlap some days, but I would absolutely love and welcome more prompts.
I hate it when my parents use magic to prove a point. Yesterday my dad conjured up the spirits of drunk drivers. Despite being dead, they all recalled the horrific details of their accidents. Only with my folks does 'scare 'em straight' involve using ghosts to accomplish that. And then my sister started dating a boy. Mum transformed herself into a fly, then listened in on their conversations (yes, she became a literal fly on the wall). She was not pleased by their contents; supposedly, they were littered with innuendo. In any case, my sister was forbidden to date this guy again. Don't get me wrong, they're doting parents and they obviously love my sister and I. Why does every lecture require magic to prove that they're right? Why can't they use some damn logic for once? I hate it when my parents use magic to prove a point.
He stuck his tongue from his mouth to taste the air. It was ripe, ready to move. He looked into his bag fidgeting to find his MP3 player. Neron slowly walked towards the clearing in the Nimbus cliffs. This is where the sky met the earth, and where he could let go. He slowly plugged his ears with fast-beat dance music, and locked his gaze on the clouds. His upper body swayed first from left to right; the rhythm beginning slowly only to pick up with every moment. His call received a shy response from the wind, and so his arms called to them again. This time the wind responded in kind. He smiled as the wind ran through his hair, and now his legs joined the exchange. With each movement of his body the clouds grew closer; the wind circling him to follow along. With a final leaping turn the air lifted him from cliffs. He soared through the skies, while his muscles still moved as they had a thousand times before. The air followed every change in direction and speed. Neron looked out over the world as he gracefully soared above with the wind at his side. He would test the wind today, push it to the very limit. With a dive forward he plummeted towards the earth, and the wind followed. It caught him, and threw him high into the air. Neron screamed in success, as the wind rejoined to finish the dance. The song was coming to an end; the clearing in sight once again. With a final twist of the body he flew high into the air above the clouds. The sun finally awake basking the clouds in light. He held there for a moment on top of the world before descending back to the surface. His feet making contact with the grassy clearing as the song slowly faded out. Neron looked to the sky once more as it slowly returned to its former activity and thanked it for the dance. Feel free to critique. This was a new one for me because I don't know much about dancing, but I thought it would be a cool way to approach this.
Excellent descriptions. The world, and Neron's movements in it, were clear and vivid. There's also a great use of feeling in his success. You might weave the music in a bit tighter. The wind feels like a string symphony to me, so the fast-beat dance music threw me off. You might also tie changes in the songs to different moves, a swelling of drums could make him raise the wind, a crashing of cymbals could bring him down. Really solid though. I didn't think twice about your dance knowledge, the character was so certain and sure of his victory that the dance was just a footnote in his story.
See that is always an issue I when it comes to writing. I imagine a scene with all these moving parts, and then when I actually write the scene I focus in on one of those parts instead the original image, but I guess that's what editing is for right haha? As always thank you for the critiques.
I know exactly what you mean. My background is storytelling, I used to have to entertain very large audiences for hours at a time. Now, when I write, I try to imagine I'm telling a story to people. I try to imagine what they would look like, how they would respond. Is this the first time I mentioned the cliff? Then they'll all be confused, I should probably explain it. Is he about to take a step off the ledge? They'll be confused at that too, but this time I want them to be. Mostly it's about taking the time to build something complete. It's like a drawing, the focus might be the portrait in the middle, but you still have to draw the chair he's sitting on and the room he's sitting in. Try to take some time to build a room with your words. You're always welcome to ignore the prompt and just to write, if you'd like.
Wolf Pen Hollow. That's my favorite space in the world. I would be there right now if I could be, but my presence over longer periods of time would change and ruin it. A six mile hike in from the nearest road keeps it remote enough but accessible if you'll work for it. Your reward is a flat clear spot to set up a space along the flowing waterfall that never runs dry. Heart in the middle of everything you need and nothing you don't, though you should bring food. The woods will tell you a thousand times how to be a part of them and yet people starve surrounded by food they don't understand. Potato leaves are poisonous, did you know that? Tomato too; it's a part of the nightshade family. And the woods would tell you that too. If you were watching, and listening. Someone who listened a long time ago could understand what the forest was saying to them, and now you can buy their work to survive. Wapato, arrowroot, sorrels, the woods can sustain you. When you burn the woods for warmth more than flame is released. And more than smoke and heat in kind. Everyone who has let their prejudicial mind fall away in front of a fire in the middle of the night knows exactly what lives in the flames. I've seen the future of myself free of outside influence and what the fire burns away I regretfully strap back on when I return to civilization. I've seen others do the same. In flame and silent attention we are connected to our future through our past, but we cannot stay. It's a fleeting fancy where we over estimate our connections and understanding of surroundings. You can never go home again.