13 March 2011

Puppeteers: Song vs Vyronika

Title: Puppeteers battle: Song of Falling Star vs Vyronika
Author: Silverpaw
Writing: random fight scene
Word Count: 884

Bree lashed her stylus through the air and whirled it around. As she did, a ghost-like puppet sprung out of the center of the stylus and spun. 
"Song of Falling Star!" she called her puppet's name and the cat-shaped puppet took on a solid form. Bree took a step back and stretched her hands out before flipping her stylus. Along the way she hit three of the now-glowing circles on the end of the stylus, and Song's fur glowed with the charging of an attack. 
The Marionette puppeteer sneered and brought out his own puppet, a large blue and orange wolf-like creature that was called "Vyronika". The Marionette puppeteer tossed his stylus up and touched the circles on the stylus lightly. Responding, Vyronika lashed out with his claws. Fire spewed out the end of the claws but at Bree's direction Song spun out of the way. The small cat tottered a few paces backwards as if it were about to loose its balance and then tore at the wolf's unprotected flank. Vyronika howled, snapping its jaws at the smaller cat. A burst of water spun up from his giant paws and washed Song off his back, but not before she left three long gashes. The blue-gray she-cat landed in a puddle a little bit away from the wolf, but before she could clamber to her paws the water shot up. 
"Song!" Bree cried, watching her puppet helplessly as it was blasted into the air and fell back towards the ground. But as Vyronika crouched to leap, she hit another circle on her stylus and spun the tool around counterclockwise. In the air, Song reacted after a brief moment's hesitation. She twisted, using her tail for balance, and a blast of sound hurtled towards the wolf so that when Vyronika leapt, she crashed straight into the sound barrier and fell back wimpering. Song landed a few paces away, shaken but unhurt. 
"Get up," Vyronika's puppeteer commanded harshly, turning his styler and lifting it. Painfully, the wolf-puppet obeyed. 
Bree had Song charging her energy again, and the faint violet glow had reappeared around her, making her pelt take on an eerie ghost-like quality. Song's clear blue eyes were narrowed with concentration, and Bree closed her eyes briefly to see through her puppet's perspective. 
Her eyes were still closed when Vyronika attacked again and Bree didn't dare open her eyes. Instead, she fought, seeing the battle from Song's point of view. Her hands moved fluidly in the gestures needed to direct Song and she felt her puppet's muscles bunch and her paws push against the muddy ground. When the energy had been sufficiently gathered, the pale-violet glow around Song melted into her pelt, converted into a strengthening and healing spell. She then leapt again, nipping the wolf-fiend's hind leg. Vyronika snapped her long jaws, and her puppeteer cursed. Bree commanded her warrior to bite down on the wolf's fluffy tail, but let go quickly. 
Bree opened her eyes again and blinked a few times to clear her vision. Her adversary didn't look far from defeat now, and she directed Song to charge again. Vyronika launched a few aggressive attacks, and a few nipped Song's flank as she whirled and twirled out of harm's way, but on the whole, the small cat escaped easily, her agile body weaving through the wolf's elemental attacks. 
"Finish this," Bree muttered under her breath and Song's last charge radiated from her in the form of a radial sound blast. Behind the blast was the full force of a dozen drums, trumpets, and horns, amplified into an operatic boom. When the sound had passed, the dog lay panting on the ground, and even when her puppeteer commanded up, she could do little more than lift her head from the grass for a few brief moments before it fell back. The puppet's body faded and whirled back into its puppeteer's styler as the puppeteer was still yelling at it. 
"Fine!" the Marionette puppeteer finally said. He turned his glare to Bree, and said with a voice lathered with contempt and defeat, "You may have won this time, but the next time we meet you won't be so lucky. You can't stop us anyways." He shot them another dark look and tossed a smoke pellet at the ground before escaping. Bree could have probably chased after him, but she stayed where she was, letting Song yowl a last warning call at the escapers.
Bree tucked a strand of her smooth blond hair behind a slightly pointed ear. "Good work Song," she said. "You fought well."
The she-cat's ears twitched as she turned around to face her puppeteer and a look of pride and pleasure crossed her face before she trotted forward and touched the stylus lightly with the tip of her tail. The cat was enveloped in a violet-white glow, as if she were concentrating her powers again, but this glow engulfed her in an opaque bubble and sucked her into the stylus. 
Bree nodded, hooked her puppeteer stylus back on her belt and gazed into the distance. The smoke was clearing, but the Marionette puppeteer had vanished as well. 
"I'll find you," she murmured to no one in particular. "We'll meet again."
Artist's Note: This was actually from...a long time ago, October 2010 according to the datestamp on Scrivener, though I've learned not to trust those too much.  But yea. I didn't really write anything this week, so... >.< 
An attempt at battle writing; what do you think?
Hopefully I'll get over my lack of motivation soon..... please comment! See you next week!

06 March 2011

A Grain of Rice

Title: A Grain of Rice
Author: Silverpaw
Writing: Short Story
Word Count: 1080

I am a grain of rice. 
No. I am not! Don't call me that! I'm more than a grain of rice. I'm more I'm more! 
Will you quiet down? The rest of us are trying to get some sleep!
No. No...I am more than a grain of rice. I have to be.
"Grain of rice" sounds so... well, it sounds exactly like that. Like a grain of rice. An insignificant seed in a ton of other rice. Just a grain. A grain can't feed anything, not a Twoleg, not a mouse. A grain is insignificant. It's exactly that. A grain. 
A grain of sense never did anyone any good. A grain of rice won't either. 
You should just get over it. You're a grain.
But I have a name, don't I? I'm not just "Grain" am I? I mean, he's Grain, and she's Grain, that guy over there is Grain. Momma was Grain, and Poppa was Grain, and Uncle was Grain, and Auntie was Grain. The same thing with you. Your momma was Grain, your poppa was Grain, your grandmomma was Grain, your grandpappy was Grain. You're Grain. I'm Gra--no! I can't be another Grain! I won't!
You should just get over it. We're all rice grains. We were born the same way, and we'll all end up the same way.
Hush up there youngsters! 
...What'd you say?
I'm sorry! I didn't mean that to you!
...You better not've! 
You've really peeved him this time. Here, just talk quieter. 
...I don't want to be another Grain. Another ordinary Grain. I mean, nothing ever happens to us. The best we can hope for it to be eaten. 
Well, it's not that bad. I mean, think of those that get smushed underfoot. Or the ones that don't make it to the Cooker and end up who knows where with the other wastestuff.
But that's just it! We don't  have a life!
...we don't?
Do you call this living? 
Well, we have a history to be proud of...and think about all the other kinds of rice out there. It's not just us.  There's Chinarice and Vietnamrice...Japanrice and Thairice and Koreanrice....and oh--I've only named the Asianrices. You know what I mean. There are so many kinds of rices!
What about it?
Think of all the possibilities! We could be any of these!
Good point. So you're saying we should live for the opportunity to explore the lands? We'll rot before then! We'll die! And it doesn't matter what kind of rice you are; you get eaten or thrown out anyways.
...You're hopeless.
No, you are, for trying to live complacently.
But what else are we? Am I? Aren't I unique? Doesn't the very fact that I can think make me...an individual? Can't I...be something...MORE than a grain of rice?
You're quiet today.
I'm thinking.
What about?...Oh please no. Look, just get over it and look happy while you can, ok?...You're perfectly special. You're one-of-a-kind. Don't worry about that anymore please.
But I'm still just a seed! A stupid rice grain!
You're being too harsh on yourself. You're fine the way you are. 
Yea, but then by definition so is everyone else. We're each individuals.
What about this: You're the only unique one. Everyone else is just a replica of the same dumb rice grain. Me, her, him, that fat rice over there? We're all the same. You're the only one unique.
But that doesn't work either. If I were the only unique one...then I'd be really lonely in this world. And that's not the case anyways. There are rices that behave differently. Isn't there anyone else out there, just like me? Maybe even one of my own bowlmates! In the paper-bag? in the factory? In the field? There has to have been a rice grain that's thinking the same thing as me. There are just too many other rices for me to be completely alone! I need to find them! Maybe if we put our heads together, we could all come up with a way to all be unique! 
Are you in a better mood?
I think so.
That's good.
....Do you think we'll be off to the Cooker soon?
Maybe. Do you?
I don't know. Life is so unpredictable. We could be here or there or anywhere. It's like you said, we could be any kind of rice.
I mean, we could be any kind of rice. Any rice. 
Anyrice, haha....
No! My point is, we could be any kind of rice we want...let me put it this way: have you decided what kind of rice you want to be?
Huh? Well, I think being an Americarice sounds fun. But a Europerice could lead a good life too. I don't know.
Well there you go. What if you became an Americarice but suddenly wanted to be a Europerice instead? What would you do then?
...I don't know....why? do you?
Nope. But that's life. Things will happen. Maybe you'll go off to the Cooker and I'll be tossed in with the wastestuffs. Whatever happens, sometimes things happen. We just have to wait and see.
...when did you become so profound?
Now I'm confused. What do you mean?
I mean that--oh never mind. Wait! Look! What's happening? Is this the Cooker?
We didn't end up going to the Cooker. We were given names by a long inky stick. The stick wrote on us, and we have names now. We were singled out. But there are a lot of us too. When I think about it, maybe we weren't singled out to be marked by the inkstick. Maybe the others were singled out to go to the Cooker. 
He's "Write" now and she's "Your".  He was marked as "Name", and that the one next to him is named "OnA". The guy next to me is "Rice". We're all very pleased with our new names. We are strung up in little clear-bags where the sun can touch us. It's almost like we're all back on the field, soaking up the bright-beams to grow. Who knew we'd be marked by the inkstick when we grew up? Maybe it was chance. Maybe it was silent prayers. Whatever it is, I think I'm happy here, in the clear-bag, where the bright-beams are, marked by the inkstick. I'm ok.
Oh yea-- My name is "Grain".
Artist's Note: This was from the beginning of Feburary but I didn't post if because I wanted to stick to the theme then and because I haven't written anything for a week now. Done for a club prompt. 
No comments on anything for almost 2 months...:( :(