Rune Posted March 28, 2003 Report Posted March 28, 2003 (edited) Weekly Writing Theme - Hope Deadline - 4/5. You may start submitting works at any time by replying to this thread. If the deadline passes and you still want to submit something you wrote that is fine too. It's mainly just to inform people when a new theme will be created. This isnt a contest, just a sort of creative exercise. Comments: Comments can be added to this thread as well in response to someone’s work. Just be sure to specify who's work you are commenting on. Questions: Questions about the theme should be limited, mainly because it is open ended. Hope could be the name of the main character or a discussion of your faith which provides Hope in times of need or anything that comes to mind. It is up to you as the writer/artist to determine what you want to write about. The only requirement is that the word Hope is the main theme of the piece in some manner or another. A new theme will be created on Friday of next week by me so be sure to look for it! If you have an idea for a future theme, drop me a PM. Ill add it to the list and just randomly pull them as the weeks go on. Remember the theme must be just one word. BTW This is entirely in development. If you have an idea to make it better just lemme know. Ill be glad to change it for however people want it. Last weeks theme: Weekly Writing Theme - Spirit Edited April 4, 2003 by Rune
Yui-chan Posted April 4, 2003 Report Posted April 4, 2003 (edited) He Never Broke a Promise {... it's about hope...} One day... She sat in the gentle curve of the bay window, warm from sunlight and the heavy air of summer, a small figure in an overlarge shirt and a pair of white socks. They were his, of course, and wearing them as she'd slept had been like cuddling in his strong arms all through the night. His scent, that musky cologne he loved combined with the spicy tang of his aftershave, wafted all the stronger in the heat and swirled around the window alcove on the currents of what little breeze flowed. It was enough to let her imagine that he was right behind her, standing there as he had a thousand, thousand times, as much to look out the window as to grin at her reflection in the glass. For one moment, she entertained the fanciful notion that if she turned her head, she'd see him there, his hazel eyes twinkling with his smile, his perpetually-disheveled hair gleaming with auburn highlights in the sunshine, and his ever-ready hug just waiting for her pleasure... Ah, but she knew better, and so she kept her gaze fixed on the dirt road leading away from the house. She forced herself to remember the sight of him as he walked away, head high and wide shoulders squared, his bag slung comfortably over his shoulder. She'd cried to see him go, of course, but there was pride beside the sadness, pride and the comfort of his promise to return as soon as he could. He never broke a promise. Ten days... The sun shone with its usual vigor on the cushions of the bench that lined the bay window, lovely and comfortable though cooler than it had been in the days before, and she sat as she had every morning, gazing out at the green, summer day from the folds of another of his shirts. It was the last that he'd worn, and today she would have to wash it and suck the scent of him from it as she had with all the others. Without that comfort, she knew it would become harder for her to avoid the longing she felt for him, but she was resolved to face her longing with his courage and confidence. He'd be proud of her for when he returned, because no one would be able to say that she'd moped or complained when he'd been away. She would take care of things and keep them well in order, and when she missed him so very badly, she'd write him happy, reassuring letters to make them both feel better. She knew she could persist, because no matter how long it was, he would return to her as he'd said. He never broke a promise. One hundred days... The lively yellow of the sunlight had shifted weeks ago to the fragile grey of hard winter, but it still shone through the haze of thin winter clouds with determination. The warmth in the bay window now came from within the house instead of without, and she could feel the frigid air outside trying to leech it away through the thin glass. If the weather had its way, she would be shivering there in her favorite seat, but the ever-constant hard work of the heaters kept her warm despite the challenge - those and his oversized sweatshirt, of course. What a delight it had been to find that! She'd nearly forgotten the scent of him in all the time since last his shirts had shared it with her, but now she could look forward to its comforting embrace once more from all the winter clothes she'd pulled from his closet. Now, she could almost imagine that he stood behind her, again, his smile reflected in the glass. Almost. It was just that the window had never once been cold when he'd been standing in it, and yet today it was utterly frigid. Still, she was warm and worked hard to stay that way until the day he returned. He had promised that it was only a matter of time... And he never broke a promise. Three hundred days... The dead-grey light of the sun fought and clawed its way through the cloud cover to just barely struggle in through the bay window. Where it rested, a shadow hint of warmth blossomed in the cool air, but it was a fragile and fleeting warmth that barely held true in the gentle circulation of the house breeze. She sat quietly as she had for so many days that she'd lost count, wearing the overlarge sweatshirt that had long ago lost his scent and staring out at the snow. If the summer had seemed a bit cooler than normal, the renewed winter had proved bitterly, dangerously cold. The simple dirt road on which he had left so very, very long ago had been hidden beneath winter's white ice for day after day, and even the desperate struggles of the loving house could barely keep her warm. The cold was no longer gently leeching the heat from her; now it sucked it away voraciously, consuming and destroying all that she struggled to create and then leaving her uncomfortable and bereft. She could leave her window seat, but in truth there was nowhere to go that was comfortably warm this bitter winter, so she stayed and stared out at the grey world, holding the image of his face before her. If she often had trouble recalling the warmth that his smile always held, at least she could still imagine just how wonderful it would be to feel the strength of his arms, the solid warmth of his embrace when he returned as he'd promised. He never broke a promise. Six hundred days... There was no sun that morning as she sat her seat in the bay window, the clouds of deep winter had long since defeated it, blocking out not only its light but its vital, life-giving heat. She shivered as she huddled deeper into his sweater and sighed to realize that she couldn't remember the long-gone scent of him. It was the way of things, now, after so terribly long... The road upon which he'd gone and the memory of his silhouette in the sunlight were both equally hidden beneath the weight of winter. The dream of his smiling face in the panes of her window had been consumed along with the heat; her mind's eye now only saw a shadow-man, vague of feature and devoid of familiarity. That the memory of his embrace had become similarly empty was a source of unyielding sorrow in her, and that sorrow had come to define her life in those cold, dark months. Hope and faith both dangled from her heart on the end of a fragile sinew, and she despaired. When they, too, fell to the encroaching ice, she would be finally lost. There was no struggle left in her, no fight, and very little life. But always she reminded herself that he had promised to come back to her, and he never broke a promise... Six hundred and one days... The sun had died in the night, of that she was certain, and warmth was only a memory. There was no light in the bay window, a fitting reflection for the dark shell that had once been her heart. She had not slept the night through, but instead had kept silent vigil over the death of her last ounce of strength. Like a puddle of water in her hands, the harder she had tried to hold onto it, the faster it had flowed between her fingers until now, in the midst of a morning that was no different from the night it had been born from, she watched the last drop strain to fall away. With it would go her life and her hope and her will until there was nothing left but the empty place he'd left behind, but truly she was too numb to feel the grief that knowledge should inspire. Instead, she lifted her eyes from her misery to gaze one last time on the place where that hated road that had taken him away from her lay buried under the snow... ... and there she saw him, limping towards the house with his bag slung over his shoulder, his crisp uniform adorned with a bright Purple Heart. In that moment, the sun burned through the dark clouds and hit the world with all the comforting warmth at its command. Winter shattered like the glass that stood between them, falling away before a joy so profound that it seemed as if even the deep snow would melt beneath its power. She will never remember the seconds it took her to get outside, for the next thing she knew she was running barefoot towards him through December. The cold could not touch her. And then she was in his arms, again, feeling the strength and warmth she had nearly forgotten, breathing in the scent of him that she had lost so very long ago. She clung to him with the strength that had nearly fled and marveled that she could ever have lost sight of the radiant warmth of his smile. His voice, soft as he whispered happiness into her hair, was a song played after too much silence, and his embrace was all she could ever need to feel safe and loved. There was no more winter within her, no more space for cold or despair to fit amidst all the warmth and love, because he had returned to her... because he never broke a promise. Edited April 4, 2003 by Yui-chan
Gyrfalcon Posted April 5, 2003 Report Posted April 5, 2003 *Gyrfalcon applauds loudly* An excellent short story, Yui-chan.
Peredhil Posted April 6, 2003 Report Posted April 6, 2003 He'd known her since both he and she were children. they'd explored the world together, discussed the mysteries and insanities of life, fought and made up. Later they practiced flirting, because they knew the other was safe. They had some great laughs over that, like the time he'd tried to show her how to use her new hips to slink. She was there when he had the crush on Mindy in 5th grade, and kept hitting her to get attention and knock the cooties off. She was there, seated with the family, when their father died. Like she'd said, they were her parents too, just happened to have different flesh. She was always saying clever things that he'd appreciate. He was a great audience for her, just smart enough to be impressed, but not so smart as to compete. She was there for him when he thought Mandy loved him, and got him weeping drunk and poured him into bed when Mandy left him for a cheerleader. A male cheerleader! How gay was THAT? Must've been the tights - and she made dark sardonic comments about Ted until he was laughing in his tears. She went into the Marines, he went to college. They wrote emails back and forth, as he grew more liberal and she had less and less patience with his point of view. They accused each other of being blind and not understanding - and ended up agreeing they were both right. They didn't understand. She managed to run a four day pass through on a two day notice, and she and one of her battle buddies drove 350 miles to his college when Melissa dumped him. (What WAS it about 'M' girls?) They both took turns holding him until he wanted to live again, then took turns driving on the way back. Made it to formation with fifteen minutes to spare. He hadn't even told her. "Something in your voice when we talked." Heh. It was his turn next, skipping his graduation to be there for her. He met her coming off the plane, all tears and anger. Supported her through her father's funeral, and absorbed her angry words so she could be nice in public. It was he that insisted on her going back to the grave after everyone had gone, at the stroke of midnight. He lit the candle and stuck it on the tombstone for her. When she said closure was stupid, he won her heart by pulling out the gun and taking the first shot. As the granite chips flew, she railed at her father for the secret years of abuse and incest until she cried and asked why he'd never loved her. That's when he held her - and reloaded. The next day, they snickered over the headlines of the vandalization of the beloved Mayor's grave. Had to be careful though, as they were both kinda deaf still. He'd never thought just how loud a .45 could be. When she left to return to base, he returned the gun to her father's house. It was about that time, he realized he loved her. He began to hope that she'd love him back. Yes, in "that way". She knew it of course, the very next phone call. She could always read his voice, his face. She'd once told him that's why she could trust him. She told him if she could love someone like that, it would be him. They went years like that. She advanced in rank. He advanced in his corporation. They joked about his law firm - the liberal sold out. He specialized in Federal Law, and made his name when he defended her on the recruiting charges. He had to laugh at the reporter's description of his "passionate defense" of his client. The idea that some kid who decided he didn't want to go to war accusing HER of sexual misconduct was ludicrous. Sex was his hang-up. She was as close to genderless as possible. When she retired at thirty-seven, they finally married. She said it was so they could argue more conveniently. They cuddled, but there was still no sex. She'd try to meet his needs, but he'd been too sensitive all his life. The shadows in her eyes, the acting, it just ruined it for him. If he'd been a blind rutting male, he'd have been happily fooled, but he was what he was. And she was who she was. He discussed the nuances of law with her, and wasn't surprised to find she was still smarter than he. With a live-in tutor, it took her only four years to pass her Bar exam, specializing in Military Justice. Being a petite blond with enormous green eyes and former Marine didn't hurt her in the courtroom, and was elemental in her choice as a CNN consultant. It was probably why she disappeared. He searched, the law searched. Her co-workers shed a careful tear, careful not to damage the makeup. It was, of course, a Marine who found her body. The Corp never forgot its own, and she'd become legendary with them when she'd busted out Larry King Live, in her best Drill Sergeant whip-voice. It was his last name on the tombstone, but her first name. Hope. Hope Stratera. In all his life, he'd never given up on Hope. He'd never given up Hope. And he'd never broken a promise to Hope. Which is why he shot up her tombstone that night. She would've done it for him.
Tasslehoff Posted April 7, 2003 Report Posted April 7, 2003 (edited) Sometimes hope feels like a lie.. Remember that one Christmas where you wanted thats special toy, the one that made lots of noises.. You though for SURE you were going to get it.. You hoped so badly you would get it.. That morning you run.. Fast as can, down the steps, trough the hallway and to the tree, only to find.. its not there.. your toy is not there! Once again, hope lied to you.. Remember your freshman year.. All you did was chase around boys and try to sneak out to parties.. you didnt care about school until your parents told you that you couldnt go to with your best friend to Europe unless you brought up ALL your grades.. So you buckled down.. You tried your hardest, yet your urges kept pulling you away.. As you stepped in the house thinking for sure you passed that last final, hoping you got enough right, yet as you look up at your parents you see that they arent too happy.. Once again, hope lied to you.. Remember that day.. You never expected it to happen.. BAM! I mean, literally she walked into your life.. Stopping to help pick up her bags you knowcked outta her hands you happen to brush your hands against hers.. The hair on the back of your neck tingles.. You guys glance up at each other, and from then on it was magic.. One date.. Two dates.. Soon you guys where a couple.. Always together.. Always happy.. You thought you would be together.. Actually, you hoped she felt the same way and it will last.. But then, 2 weeks later.. She had to tell you.. It wasnt another man.. It wasnt you.. But she couldnt pass up the offer.. a Modeling Agency in New York wanted her.. She had to go.. she offered for you to come, but you couldnt.. Once again, hope lied to you.. But did it? Cause now its 10 years later.. and again, you ran into her.. But this time.. No one lied.. It all came together, just ask your new born child.. Sometimes hope lies.. But sometimes.. it prevails.. So here is a poem, previously written by myself that just talks about * standing strong and weathering out the storm * Rain pouring down over my eyes; The night gone cold; No feeling left, I look up into the storm, Standing out in the middle all alone; Lost and confused, Yelling and screaming your name, Silenced by the ever so loud thunder, Running in circles; Trying to find some shelter, The pain coming and going as the memories drive me further into the hell, Cant seem to find my way out, Yelling and Screaming your name, Silenced by the ever so loud thunder, Bright flashes all around; coming and going, Sheding a brief moment of light and hope, Seeing you in the distance; Upon the horizen, Standing tall; Running your way through the darkness, Yelling and screaming your name, Silenced by the ever so loud thunder, Following the muddy footsteps; Bringing me closer, Slipping and Falling, Storm just getting worse, Seeing you call out, Giving me the extra lil bit, As I reach you; The storm clears; Clouds wanders off, Rain dripping from our slumped shoulders as the sun rises, Embracing each other under the new light; The last of the rain falls, Once again, re-united we are; Once again we made it through.. I just realized that this is late.. -sigh- Edited April 7, 2003 by Tasslehoff - AngelXIIX
Rune Posted April 10, 2003 Author Report Posted April 10, 2003 It's ok, It can be late! Thats part of why these are neat. You can write in the timeframe alloted or post afterwards, its really up to you. Its a theme is all so that you can maybe take up the challenge and write about something you are (or arnt) familiar with. That was a beautiful poem Tassie.
Recommended Posts