bloody late again. 😦  however, at least i made it! 🙂

this (last) week’s weekend writer challenge looked like this:

and sounded like this:

Every week I’ll post a picture of your prompt. And the prompt will be posted no later than Friday at midnight(EST). I invite all writers, no matter your genre or your style, to try your hand at this challenge. Short, long, prose, poetry, I welcome all!

Your challenge…to write a piece that meets the prompt. Once completed, please link yourself in the comments and crow your success on twitter under the hashtag #WeekendWriter! If you don’t have a blog to post to, please feel free to post it in the comments!

here is my offering:


As you sit on the bench with your eyes closed, you hear a distant roaring, rising and falling.  You smile slightly, as it reminds you of your home so long away.  Concentrating harder, you catch a faint whiff of fresh salt air and the iodine of the shore.  In your mind, you walk hand in hand with your beloved, gentle waves erasing your footprints from the strand, as though you were only spirit. A rhythmic ringing breaks through your reverie, and you frown, opening your eyes to observe the blacksmith swinging his hammer as he works to repair dented and broken implements.  Your situation comes back to you in a rush, pushing a tremor through your body.  You know why you are here, but you wished a little respite from thoughts of your immediate future.

However, no-one can escape their future for long, so you lift your chin a little, staring at the stones in the wall in front of you.  The sea you hear is not as calm as the one in your mind.  Without the intervention of your imagination moulding it to your wishes, the roar and crash of it pulls you to the northernmost waters you sailed in your youth.  White towers passing stealthy and stately as you hauled lines frigid with the water of the Northern Ocean.  An angry ocean, that.  You were glad when the skipper turned the bows south once more, each day bringing a little more warmth.  The roar builds as you listen, rising to the white heat of a tropical storm, the gods howling their madness as you and your hearties clung to the rigging lest you be blown from the haven of your vessel.

As the roar peaks to fever pitch, it is suddenly louder, as one of the doors at the far end of the corridor fly open, crashing against the walls.  Still you stare straight ahead, and your vision is obscured briefly.  Sandwiched between white-shrouded bodies, a thing of brown and red, decorated with stark white flecks, hurtles past.  Outwardly calm, you swallow hard, and refuse to look as your comrade is rushed to the infirmary.  Your other comrade was clearly not so lucky as the partially pulped one that has just passed, the only movement that which was caused by the jouncing of the stretcher.  You refuse to think if you will ever joke together over dinner again.

A featherlight touch on your shoulder draws your gaze from the wall to the figure beside you.  Rising, you follow as you are bid, towards the once again closed and barred doors.  You halt a few paces from them, and plant your feet firmly.  It will not be long, now.  You take a moment to check your equipment, and then you still.  You centre yourself.  And then you nod to the gate guardian.

As the gates swing wide, the wall of sound hits you.  Momentarily stunned, you rock back on your heels, and then you steady yourself, striding into the arena with a confidence you do not feel.

With an inhuman screech, the grotesque thing across the vast floor raises its gore-splattered head and cranes its sinuous neck around to regard its newest tormentor.  As you draw your sword, it wheels and attacks.