Daily Freewrite - The Mark

Finding out my wife was pregnant was the happiest moment of my life. The masters told us it was to be a girl bearing the mark of a saint. The mark of the saint was the greatest mark a newborn child could have. It signified that they would be a shining beacon of hope, to aid humanity in ushering in a new golden age. I was a lowly factory worker and my daughter - MY daughter - was to be someone great. I swear I did not stop smiling all those long 9 months. I was the envy of my peers and was met with glares of admiration everywhere I went. The day had finally arrived. This day was going to go south so fast, and I did not even know it. My wife went into labor and in 8 long hours, gave birth to our baby girl. I held her in my arms. She was the sweetest thing I had ever laid eyes on. Such purity and innocence, unparalleled to anything I had ever known. She was perfect. She was mine. The doctors and I watched with anticipation as her mark began to form. "That doesn't look like the mark of the saint," said one of the doctors. I watched in horror as the unthinkable happened. My baby girl had the blood mark on her forehead. This mark signified that the bearer would commit unspeakable atrocities and unthinkable acts of mass slaughter and genocide. The masters were wrong - dead wrong. She would have to be put down. I cried out in lamentation. I was angry. Angry with the masters, angry with my wife, even angry with God. My beautiful child would become a vessel of maniacal horror, and for that, she couldn't be left alive.

CM

Daily Freewrite - Showdown

It had all come down to this. After all we had been through, Chuck had succumbed to whatever damned affliction was affecting these parts. What was left of Chuck had run rampant across these here plains and burned the grasses to a crisp. Seeing my brother in this state was killing me. I had to put him out of his misery or run the risk of letting him spread the disease to me. "Bill, help me, please!" Chuck shrieked as his clothes were being reduced to ash and his skin cracked and crumbled like bread. "You have to be put down, Chuck, I'm sorry," I replied, fighting back the tears. "After all we've been through, you're going to put me out like this," Chuck yelled in exhausted rage. "You won't do this, Bill. I will kill you!" He drew his pistol and charged me, bones snapping and limbs breaking with each movement. "I'm sorry," I whispered. And with that, a bullet was lodged in Bill's broken head. My name is Bill Daniels, and this was only the beginning to the pandemic known as the skintaker.

CM

Might go somewhere with this, who knows. I know I say that a lot but I kind of like this idea, like a red dead redemption zombie type deal. Keep you posted, Conner out!

Writing Prompt - Life in the Wasteland

I am going to start a writing prompt series for those few who look at this blog. Unlike my disparate freewrites spread out across different days, I will try to post an image prompt once a day. So if you're looking for a source of inspiration of any kind, check here every day.

Tell this guy's story:

Writing Music

So nice.

Daily Freewrite - Plague - Based on Darksiders

I am sickness. I am disease. I am infection. I am Plague. They never wrote about me in their holy book or ancient texts but I have always been there. The other four take the glory. The Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse not the four. That is what they call us. War, Conquest, Famine, Death, and myself.. Plague. We were created from the blood of angels and demons for the one singular purpose of ushering in the end of the world. It is too early. War has moved too early and broken the seven seals prematurely. If what the Council says is true, then War has betrayed us, but I doubt their judgement. This has been orchestrated by a far more sinister and malevolent being than one such as War. I find myself curious as to who that might be. The list of suspects grows ever more. The Destroyer, the angels, an ambitious Demonlord, or even God himself. One thing is for certain: I will find out who. The name of the Five Horsemen must be cleansed. My diseases will wipe out all responsible for tarnishing our name. The malignancy that I will put forth won't leave a heart left beating. My anger will wait in silence within all of our enemies until it bursts. If the humans know nothing of my presence in the Horsemen, they soon will.

NOTE: I'm probably going to continue this as a little FanFic mini series. Got the idea for the fifth horsemen off of a writing prompt on Reddit: http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/24yk18/wp_you_are_the_lesserknown_fifth_horseman_of_the/

Picture credit to Paolo Puggioni via google images.

Horses of the Night Poem - Daily Post

Decided to post a little poem I wrote for an English project with a short story called horses of the night.

They can’t hear

They can’t understand

They can’t comprehend 

All of these tears

My name is Chris

I’m kind of different

I’m miserable because 

I would never be missed

My mind is a wreck

My sanity shattered

No one has bothered

Ever to check

I am in trouble

No one can see

My brain has crumbled

Been reduced to rubble

Now a blight

On what could have been

My life has been taken

By the horses in the night

CM

Chevelle - The Red - My Writing Playlist

I don't know why The Red helps me come up with ideas but it just does. Maybe it will for you.