31 January 2011

2011 Anniversary!

Welcome to the one-year anniversary of Drawn in Words! The site was created February 2010 and has survived, against AP testing, college apps, writer's block, NaNoWriMo, and the horrible Herbert Wiles to this day! =)

We've seen random excerpts, character background stories, short stories, collaborations, fanfictions and even homework assignments. We've seen entries that dawdle on anything from mutilation to coffee and latte. 

Best, we've had two guest authors: the awesome TATAbox and the epic Rice. And we look forward to more submissions! :D 

To celebrate, Lewis and Silver have decided to write to a single "theme" the entire month. But there will be one special post by each author posted sometime randomly in the month. Don't worry, you'll be able to recognize it immediately by its special formatting. 

The theme has already been decided and will be revealed on 29 February 2011! Feel free to guess until then!

~Lewis Spiel and Silver Ink

(bonus points to whoever can guess who wrote this ^_^)

29 January 2011

Puppeteers: Death of a Friend

Title: Death of a Friend
Author: SilverInk
Writing: story excerpt/ random writing
Word Count: 927

There is a small pool of blood. 
Unfortunately, it isn't mine. 
Cold gray eyes met her shriek. "I had to," came the murmured reply, so quiet that the wind blowing past her lips could hardly make out the sound. Clearly, the new puppeteer said, "Bree, promise me you won't tell Ever how she died."
"She was Ever's roommate," Bree replied. stroking Cassia Larken's amber hair as she tried to convince herself Cassia wasn't really dead. She was her best friend's roommate--but was she only that? "Sophia, please, of all people, why Cassia?"
"I didn't really think," Sophia replied softly. She was still standing, her straight black hair flowing down gracefully. Her back was straight, and she stood tall, as if she were proud of her deed. 
Bree shook her head. Cassia had been her friend too, the Tracker that had taught Bree how to deal with the puppets. "How could I? You killed a teammate, Sophia. I have to tell Elijiah how it went down. What he decides to announce is not my decision."
"I didn't say Elijiah," Sophia said. "I said Ever. Ever Blaize. She is the only one I'm concerned about knowing the truth."
Bree blinked back tears that stung her eyes. The saltwater was unfamiliar to her, and she couldn't help but remember that the last time she had cried in pain was when a Marionette tracker had burned a library with icefire. The flames billowed outward with every gust of wind and the blue tongues licked at the clouds, sending waves of ash drifting over the town and leaving only brittle soot of once-smooth pages. 
She picked up Cassia's broken body, and a few more drops of blood dripped out where Sophia's untamed puppet had pierced her heart. Bree glared at the new puppeteer harshly "Ever's my best friend. Come on."
Why? Bree wailed mentally as she led the way back to headquarters. True, Cassia wasn't a puppeteer, and any new recruit would not know to mourn her death more than another citizen, but Cassia Larken had become one of the most respected Trackers in the Agency for her knowledge on puppet lore. She hadn't been a bad medic either. 
Sophia trailed behind her silently, her pale violet skin catching the moonlight. Her gray eyes seemed to burn into Bree's back or else Cassia's limp form, but her expression was one of cool sorrow. When they neared the base, Sophia strode forward and opened the secret wall-door so they could pass. They proceeded through the dark entrance hall with Sophia in the lead until they reached the second door. 
"I will give the report," Bree said evenly, controlled. 
Sophia's eye's flashed, so quickly that she couldn't tell if it was pity or concern or unease. "Are you sure?" she ventured, but Bree cut her off with a swift look. Her green eyes briefly met the Sophia's gray ones. 
"I am the senior puppeteer. It is my duty to do so," she said cooly. Sophia dropped her gaze instantly. Here Bree could have taunted or mocked or challenged the new puppeteer in over a dozen ways, but she let the case drop. "You go take a shower and return to your room. I will speak with Elijiah."
The door to her side opened at a mental gesture and Bree strode in, bearing the dead victim. People stared, and when the death had been confirmed, a ruckus emerged, first quietly, with growing urgency. Bree saw Sophia slip away towards the dormitories, as she had instructed.
"She can't be dead! She's survived death before, she'll be ok."
"Not Cassia Larken! What could have happened?"
"Bree, you're unscathed! But Cassia--what--"
"CASSIA!" Ever's screech came over clearly and even Bree flinched as the Analyst-apprentice rushed over. "Cassia, no, no." Tears flowed out like water from a spring as she checked her friend and roommate over to no avail. There was only the one small puncture where the puppet had shot through her sternum and shattered her heart.  There was hardly even any blood. A stretcher had arrived and the dead Tracker's body was placed on the floating platform and covered by a white sheet before being pushed away. Ever stumbled half-heartedly after it for a while before nearly slipping on her own tears. Bree caught her and led her friend away. 
"Bree--Bree, what happened. T-Tell me!" They were standing before Bree's room now--she knew not to lead Ever to her own where it would have so many reminders of the now-dead girl. As a certified puppeteer, Bree had her room to herself. She sat her friend down on the bed as Ever choked on her tears. She wiped them away angrily, demanding to know what happened again.
"Here," she said, handing her friend a handkerchief from the collection hanging on the wall. "Cry yourself out, girl. I need to go report to Elijiah. I'll be back. Go ahead and cry yourself out."
She left the room quickly and headed directly for the executive offices. 
If there was one thing weird about Ever it's her eyes. Usually brown, with no special effects like everyone else's. They were nice without anything else. Rich and soft brown, like a small pool of liquid chocolate. If you continued to think about it that way, her hair is like a waterfall of dark chocolate, silky smooth with the slightest waviness and light touches of cinnamon and chestnut.
No one ever noticed her hair. But everyone remembered her eyes, forever a pool of melting chocolate. 
At least, that's what they thought.

Artist's Note: So I guess last time's post wasn't too random, eh? No, actually it was just because I randomly got the words in the first section in my mind and had to write something on it. So I did.
Like this one better? Dislike? Suspicious? Confusions? Guesses?
Still have no idea wtf (HAH Sarah Palin, I used it RIGHT! And I haven't even graduated HIGH SCHOOL!) "Puppeteers" is and what the difference is between puppeteers and Puppeteers? Ok, that's my fault, I'm not done with the "Story Briefs" page of the site yet. I'll add Puppeteers on there soon. Any other stories I need to summarize up there? And....anyone have a better title for the page besides "Story Briefs"? >_<
And thus, Silver Ink presents the final actual writing post of this writing-year. Starting next week...well, you'll read about this on the next post, which will be...February 1st, 2011

22 January 2011

Puppeteer...Prologue and beginning

Title: Haunting.
Author: SilverInk
Writing: possible story excerpt/ beginnings
Word Count: 815

Straight. Tall. Beautiful. 
Her left hand was clenched around a silver puppeteer's manipulator, like a double-cross. Her mouth dripped with the blood of the escaped prey and the wind howled silently through her long hair. 
She bent down and picked up a fistful of the wasteland dirt with her free hand and let the cold wind blow it away. Lightly. Slowly. Like a broken hourglass. 
A black feather fluttered out of the shadows behind her and landed haphazardly on her thin white dress. The sash was ripped and stained, and the feather hardly seemed out of place. It was cold, but she was not cold. She stood again and lifted her right arm. A raven flew out of the violet shadows as if had just appeared and perched on her hand, its unusually sharp claws driving into her arm and drawing blood. She did not flinch. 
"I have failed you," she said. Her voice was a hallow echo. A cold tone on a cold night.
The raven opened its sharp beak and cawed, "You did well enough. This is no failure, Scytharia."
She did not respond as her name rang out, a pure note in the raven's harsh call. 
"You know what to do now," it continued. "You will join them now."
The bird's claws dug into her skin one last time before it took off, streaking across the valley until it vanished in a puff of feathers.
Her stomach was a knot that was pulling at her intestines and lungs as if it wanted to eat them. Her heart thudded loudly enough for her to hear it as she lied on the bed, her long black hair thrown over the edge. Thum-thump. Thum-thump. Thum-thump. 
A groan next to her made her look up and at the man next to her. "Sophia," he croaked, brushing a rough hand across her smooth cheek. "You're already awake."
She did not resist when he pulled her back to the bed and kissed her neck passionately. He was interrupted by a bell ringing and he crawled out of bed lazily and changed into a professional attire. "I will see you downstairs then," he said with a longing glance at her. "For your departure."
Again she did not reply. Only when he had left did she tumble silently out of the bed. She ambled over to the mirror and pressed herself against the cool glass and closed her eyes so she wouldn't see her reflection. When her eyes finally fluttered open, she stared at her irises, two pale-blue bands around bottomless pits. She could still see last night's dream--her memory--reflected in them. She saw and recognized the landscape, felt and understood the raven. She saw herself. Straight. Tall. Beautiful.
Five measly minutes later, the bell rang again and Sophia donned the dress she had laid out the night before. Everything else she owned was already packed in a black duffel bag sitting next to it. Sophia changed out of the white nightgown and left it in the man's room--he would dispose of it and she would acquire another one at the main headquarters. 
She stared at herself in the mirror and brushed her teeth white, brushed her makeup dim, brushed her hair straight. Long. Beautiful. All this done, Sophia grabbed the small duffel and left the room without another glance. 
Immediately outside and down the grand staircase was her current boss, looking incredibly sad yet incredibly proud that she was leaving. "We will miss you," he said, pulling her into a chaste embrace before the other members of the secret society. More quietly he added, "I will miss you." 
She returned his hug and smiled, allowing the small upturning of her lips to perfect her appearance. Her dress swirled when the door opened and a breeze touched her body. The driver stood just inside the doorway, waiting for her to finish her farewells. "Thank you for this opportunity sir," she said. "I will not disappoint you."
He smiled and let her go. Fellow members came and murmured their heartfelt good-byes. 
"We'll miss you."
"Don't forget about us!"
"You're a wonderful Tracker. You'll be amazing."
"You deserved this a long time ago Sophia. Good work."
"Visit if you can! Tell me when you get your brand!"
"You'll be in our hearts."
"Good luck."
She shook hands will all of them, hugged some, kissed others, and finally left them with her sweet distinctive scent wafting through their noses, intoxicating them in unattainable desire. The driver opened the door for her, and the last these people saw of her was the flutter of a lace sash disappearing in the floating carriage. He said "Hai," and the carriage began cutting through the air, slowly at first, but speeding up until they were moving steadily along the unpaved roads. Then she was gone, leaving them only endearing memories of the straight, tall, beautiful mystery.

Artist's Note: This week's post! :D I know it's a bit random, and I'm trying not to post these random excerpt things with no clear storyline, but I find that I'm more inclined to write long dithering things XD

This was inspired by Cris Ortega (dark-spider on deviantART)'s Moonlight Cry. Obviously not my art (if only I were that good >.<).

Eh. I'll put up a post some day that summarized all my story concepts so it's not amazingly confusing for everyone besides me who is part of which story. >_< Until then, I'm sorry for being so confusing!

Comment please?

19 January 2011

EtHR: Decision to return

Title: Decision to return
Author: SilverInk
Writing: story excerpt/ random writing.
Word Count: 1118

"Elysia, this is your decision," Alina Zephyr said, standing with one arm over the other and head slightly bent in questioning. The dark mark on the left side of her face gave a little twist before staying still again. 

Elysia Kieran looked away. Even after traveling with Alina and learning to accept the Object of Holena, the Mark of Holena still bothered her. "We have to go back," she repeated, more to herself than anyone else. She set the newspaper down again and sat on the temple bench to keep herself from falling. 

"Is there anything I can get you?" It was a temple apprentice, Elysia guessed. 

"Tea please," She ordered. "Thyme and rosemary."

He nodded and turned to Alina. The Object hesitated and nodded to indicate she would have the same. The apprentice hurried off and Elysia fingered her Angelsign pendant feverishly. "We have to go back," she said. "Andromeda was my best friend."

"We are going back to Bryka Fields?"

"Yes--no," Elysia quickly amended. "Oh--" she hesitated, not sure if she trusted the Object so much yet. "What would you do?" She asked in a soft voice. 

"If I were you?" Alina asked. Elysia nodded. Alina stretched her hands and folded them behind her as she stared at the temple's intricately carved ceiling. She squinted as if trying to read something carved on the ceiling. "Well," she said with a sigh, her arms swinging loose and her gaze returning to Elysia's face. "Andromeda is not dead."

"But it says here she was killed in a skirmish among the tournament participants!"

"Ferrezin casualties are turned into vaerlaxies. Their vaernima will be given as prizes to the winners," Alina countered expertly. "Andromeda is not dead. Now, if I were you, I would set that aside for now. The real choice is to either continue this journey, or turn back. If you turn back, you can either return to Bryka Fields or head directly for the Capital."

"Why would I go to the Capital?"

"The first round of the Ferrezin has not been held. You can still claim Andromeda's vaernima--assuming her parents have not yet."

"And what'd I do with it?"

"Sonora's power was vaerlaxies spellcasting, was it not?"

Elysia gapped at Alina for a moment before sputtering, "That-that's stupid! Why would I go to her for help? She's trying to kill me! She's the reason we're on this journey!"

Alina silenced her quickly as the temple apprentice returned with their tea. He left a hovering tray between them and scampered away quickly, obviously afraid of Alina's Mark, which had happened to swirl while he was there. Elysia poured for both of them with trembling hands and downed hers quickly. She refilled and drank another two. By then it seemed her nerves had calmed enough for her to speak again. 

"Anyways, just because Sonora's power had something to do with vaerlaxies doesn't mean she can bring back the dead."

"Andromeda is not dead," Alina replied smoothly, sipping her drink. Her Mark stopped swirling around her eye and settled into a wavy circle design. 

"I don't like it," Elysia retorted, taking another drink. The herbs in the tea seemed to do her no good, though Alina could feel them keep her from bursting out in agitated tears. 

"As I said, this decision is up to you alone."

The two sat there for a long time, each occasionally pouring a cup of the quickly-disappearing tea. Alina closed her eyes and meditated and once Elysia had enough control of herself, she did too.

When the Object opened her eyes again, Elysia was still floating next to her, meditating and thinking. The tray of tea was gone, but she had sensed that mid-way through her meditation. Alina let her boots touch the floor gently and wandered away. 

She made her way quickly through the halls, through the back gardens of the temple and to the temple Sanctum, stopping only to pick a blue and a white rose from a garden. In the Sanctum, she hurried to the back of the long hall and stood before the wall with a neutral expression. This wall was free of pedestals and offerings, and the only thing on it was a beautiful mural of the Angelsign. 

"Ghosts," Alina said, holding the blue flower up to the sign. "Ghosts of the land, speak to me."

The stem of the flower vanished as a heavy breeze swept through the hall, leaving a handful of petals in her hand. 

"What do you seek, Alina of Zephyr?"

"To speak to Andromeda of Corren. Species phantom-elf."

There was a collective hiss from the ghosts and the majority of them vanished in a gust of mist and air, some out of disgust and some to search for the mentioned person. 

"Why do you seek a phantom?," one asked. "You are a half-ghost. What use have you of a phantom?"

"She was my friend and was recently killed," Alina replied, immediately identifying the speaker, though the echoing voice could have come from any one of the wispy figures. 

"Then she is dead."

"No. I believe she was preserved in vaerlaxies."

Another hiss escaped the gathered ghosts and the small crowd thinned again.

"She was my friend," Alina repeated firmly.

A few ghosts nodded reluctantly. Alina glanced down and saw that only two petals remained. As she watched, one of them withered and vanished, as if it were never there. 

The ghosts that had gone to search began returning now; most just offered her a sorry shake of their head but finally one told her, "Andromeda of Corren is well. Her spirit cannot come with us, but it is in good health. She bids you and Elysia of Kieran to hurry in your decision." The ghost vanished then, as swiftly as it had appeared, and the last petal faded. Alina turned, bowed to the Angelsign, and returned back out the Sanctum. Before she exited, she stopped at one pedestal and left the white rose on it. "Thank you for your help, brother ghost," she murmured. The rose remained where it was for a minute before fading away, as if it had melted into the air. Alina bowed to the pedestal then, to thank its resident for accepting her offer, and left the temple Sanctum. 

She returned promptly to Elysia, who had come out of her meditative trance and was packing fresh supplies into her pack. "I have decided," she said when Alina stopped before her. "We're going to the Capital, but not to lay claim to Andromeda's vaernima."

Alina nodded as Elysia stood, sweeping her white hair into a low ponytail. "I-I'm...going to speak to Sonora."

Artist's Note: HI! Sorry for super-late post (for last week) and for the suckiness of it. Erm... EtHR returns? (EtHR= Destiny's Edge: the Heart Reincarnation, my former NaNoWriMo 2010 idea before I randomly changed it.) Really I just felt like writing with Alina a bit and this is what popped out. I should be working on other writing >.<

Hopefully I get something decent posted on-time this week! 

08 January 2011

Phantom of the Library

Title: Phantom of the Library. (Prologue?)
Author: SilverInk
Writing: random story excerpt from an idea from....a long time ago/ impulse-writing/ 
Word Count: 739

This is for is Drawn in Words,  a challlenge I doomed myself to -.-
Does that count as a word? The emoticon I mean. I will have so many tyrping errors at the end of this. I'm not editign. The world can see my awesome/ lack-of-awesomeness in typing correctly. The people can see how much effort it takes to come up with all this crazy stuff. How hard NaNoWriMo was! (if only that was four words>.<) Nah, now I'm just being self-pitying. Ok. Screw this. Time to write an actual story.

Ella shivered. She could feel nothing but cold racing through the wind, pulling at her hair and chilling her skin. She hurried indoors, her fingers hidden in her sleeves and her head down. Inside, the relief was not immidiate, and in any case she had to rush onwards or she would be terribly late. Brushing her hair from her face she tromped through the school. The halls were deserted, as she expected. She tried the door of the library and found it locked. No matter. From within her cloak she pulled out a dark blue wand and tapped the handle silently. It unlocked and opened and she stepped in, tucking her wand away again. "Master, I have arrived."

At first it seemed she was talking to the dust in the air or else the books sitting quietly on their shelves. She made her way to the center of the the library and looked up to the large hexagonal shape on the roof. "Master Phantom?"

There was a gust of wind but no indication that anything there was even remotely alive but Ella was unfazed. She took a seat in one of the library chairs and glanced over the dark room again. She did not speak--if the phantom was there it would have heard her already and would have his reasons for not showing himself immidiately. Meanwhile, Ella took the moment to catch her breath and warm her numb fingers.

She was scared of what the cold meant--at least, to her. The Keeper of Water did not often feel cold, for she had frequented the snow-capped peaks and the ice garden when she had lived with the other Keeper of the Elements. But neither did she dwell too much upon it--since the Keepers had disbanded and Ella was separated from her dear pet wolf, she had resided in a warm city. She had learned simple wand magic since then, though she did not use it often. It was only natural for her to have adjusted to the warmth there. What once seemed a light chill was probably now preceived as cold.

"Miss Black. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." The voice was soft and low, but not menacing or evil. In fact, the phantom of the school library sounded more like a wise old man--a former student or staff member?--than a weary phantom confined to the school's pitiful library.

"I have come though," Ella said, standing and bowing briefly to the wisp of smoke that had appeared. "You called."

"I did," the old man said and floated in a seated position next to her. She resumed her seat and looked at him expectantly. "Miss Black, as you well know, I grow weary of being confined forever to this library."

"But it is your domain, sir? Can you not adjust it to suit your needs?"

The old shadow nodded but held a hand up to indicate she should not speak. "But I have been withheld of the right of phantoms to travel freely to other locations within their Range. I cannot visit other libraries, and this little library is so very small and insignificant that almost no other phantoms stumble upon me. During summer and winter vacations I am completely and utterly alone with no other solace but unchanging books.

"No. I have decided this will not do. I may be cursed to forever stay in this form within my domain, but the curse comes with a gift, and I am able to reside within the entire school. I am, in a sense, the phantom of the school."

Ella nodded in comprehension; this was not new to her, but the old man was getting at something and she knew every detail he chose to mention--to reiterate to her--would be significant. "What are you planning?"

"A test. A challenge, to find somebody or some bodies to take the power and burden of this school and free me from my eternal confinement."

Artist's Note: Hiya! I am at school now, during my open period! o_O Anyways, Lewis was using Write or Die and I challenged myself to 500 words in 20 minutes, and made it! :D This was 739 words in 27 minutes, unedited intentionally as you can probably tell from the first paragraph/ rant. ^_^

The idea for the actual was originally just random because it was cold today. And because I'm writing in the library. The story concept turned into something from a very very old story concept titled "The Curse" that stems all the way back to fifth grade and was my first--as far as I can remember--official story idea. I haven't actually written much for it, and I don't intend to really, until I finish a bunch of other stuff I have planned.

Other stuff I have planned. Well, you'll just have to find out fer yerself, harharhar. :D

Notwithstanding, please read and review/ comment and critique/ skim and suggest! =)

P.S. Everything above this postscript was written in school, on...Wednesday the 5th, I think. Hehe!

03 January 2011

Sequel to The Wall

Title: Sequel to The Wall. (The Adventure?)
Author: SilverInk
Writing: um....story story/ fanfiction
Word Count: 792
Note: This begins right after the end of Lewis's "The Wall". The policeman has just tricked "you" into walking face-first into a hedge and the wall behind it.

The policeman expresses his apologies at having tricked you, and then points down the road and explains that the entrance of the garden labyrinth is only a little ways away from your present location. His paroxysm of laughter has gone without a trace, and he speaks with such candor that you cannot help but trust him. You're in no hurry after all, and you follow his direction. 

But nearly a half hour later of following the hedge, you still encounter no break in the seemingly-endless wall. You have encountered a few more policemen, and each have assured you that the entrance is very close and you will soon stumble upon it.

Finally, after you have been assured by countless guards that the entrance of this labyrinth is just a few paces further, your patience grows thin and you are tempted to backtrack. You don't know how long you've been walking, and you have lost track of time. All thoughts of life besides this stroll seem to have vanished, and you are fixated solely on your journey to find the entrance of this very massive maze. Your legs are heavy and your feet drag with every step you take, but nothing can stop you from completing this quest. There is no end to the hedge or the wall, or the police stationed occasionally; you have come to expect another blue-and-violet uniformed policeman standing guard rigidly. This is your entire world now: This hedge with the wall behind it, and an occasional policeman. You pass sights and attractions on your other side without a glance and steadfastly follow the wall.

There! You spy a bend in the wall and race for it, your body suddenly rejuvenated with energy. The hedge seems to fly past you in a blur and you fly--

--straight into another wall. 

You complain loudly as you clear the leaves off your person and rub your still-bruised nose and find that the hedge has made a right angle and continues onward for another impossible stretch. There is no one in sight to see you pout so you do, stopping your feet and shrieking in frustration as if you were a newborn. You turn back to where you came from and prepare to return the way you came, but a few more moments of consideration makes you realize that the way you came from seems longer than the way you might take. After a long moment in careful consideration, you decide to continue this pointless trek in hopes of discovering something else. Evening has come but the sun's ample rays still shine down, warming you and urging you on. You continue, with the sun's kind beams warming your back.

After another span of time, you are afraid you have made the wrong decision. Then suddenly you see another uniformed person and hurry to inquire where the entrance to the labyrinth is. She looks at you confusedly, and asked what labyrinth you speak of. You point to the hedge and wall at her back and recount the first policeman's words. The policewoman is still bewildered. You are impatient and feel a knot of dread at being tricked again; notwithstanding, you recount your entire walk in what you assumed to be Norm--although on second thought the hedge itself was much too long to be contained solely in the small town--and describe in detail everything you saw since leaving your familiar abode: the trail that led across the Pyni lake over Skral Bridge, the vendors doing battle in the afternoon drought, and your first encounter of the never-ending hedge and wall. 

She stares at you as if you were deranged, and a moment later you are; in a frenzy you describe everything--everything--you saw, detailing the fresh paint on the inn, the cobblestone path that led from its stone doorstep, the pretty pink and green flowers on the banks of the lake, the rolling meadows with lush fields of tall grass, the marble-like texture of the white and gold bridge, the periwinkle hue of the water underneath, the smooth pavement stretching from the foot of the bridge, the many-colored doors on the apartments that lined the road, the hastily-assembled carts laden with merchandise, the vendors' silly hats and badly-tailored aprons, the guard's blue and violet uniform, the guard's nasty trick, and your endless stroll to find the entrance to this labyrinth garden. 

Gasping for breath and exhausted from your catharsis, you stare at her, praying that she recognizes something. To your relief and exhilaration her face lights up with epiphany and understanding. But exhilaration fades to frustration when she bursts out laughing and relief builds to horror when  she explains frankly:

"You're in the labyrinth."

Artist's Note: I know, a lot of posts so far! Hopefully it stays this way throughout the year, eh? hahah. Aside from that, I tried to mimic Lewis's second-person-ism...:D?

Yea. Procrastinating homework and the inevitable battle against Herbert Wiles. It'll get better. >.<