The Folly of a Dare

I was not an adventurer, I was not one of those people who enjoyed crawling through dark dungeons and fighting horrific beasts. So how then did I wind up here? A sword in one hand, a dim torch in the other, walking through the twisting underground ruins. I'd accepted Rolf's dare, not really thinking things through, and if I didn't spend at least a week exploring the ruins I'd be the laughing stock of the entire town. I'd heard the stories of course, how these ruins had belonged to an ancient empire which had broken through into the Underdark, a subterranean world filled with darkness, evil, and things best forgotten. And now I was walking through the ruins, completely lost, and seeming to be going farther down no matter what I did. I had passed things down here, skeletons of adventurers, giant bats, a few automatons, but nothing that really suggested that it was anything but a normal ruin. I felt strangely disappointed, having entered on a dare, I had hoped to at least find something. And then I entered the room and the door sealed tightly behind me. Frantic I looked around, there were several old corpses, preserved with magic, lining the wall in small alcoves. In the middle of the room was a pit, which extended down into the darkness, I gulped, I seemed to have found a passage into the Underdark. I was no adventurer, so if I was attacked I had little chance of winning. And then, my torch sputtered out, plunging me into darkness. The dead eyes opened, filled with a malevolent light as the corpses rose, giving me two options. I could be hacked to pieces, or I could jump into the world of the banished, a place I would never escape. I jumped.

Meh, not really a horror story, although it would probably be scary if it was real. I based it off of the game Dungeons and Dragons, although the corpses at the ends are actually supposed to be Draugr from Skyrim. The prompt was from Nighthags Writing Corner, but I'm not especially good at writing horror, although I do read it from time to time.

Photos of the Millennium(so far) response

That is something I wouldn't mind doing, if I had enough money and room that is. But that guy looks like he's having fun, tackled and licked by all those dogs. Although the one going down the slide looks like he's thinking, 'oh no! I'm falling! He let go of my tail!' Yeah that one doesn't look to happy, unlike the rest of them. It's like someone just dumped a bunch of dogs in a school playground, only all the kids already left.

Window Poem

I can see the neighbors roof,
the empty street and,
other houses of people I don't know.
Today I can't see out of my window,
as it's in Florida.
Sometimes I see rain streak down the glass,
I see blue sky,
which slowly fades to black with the setting sun.
A lake lies just out of sight,
hidden behind the houses.

Michelangelo

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simone was born on March 6, 1475. He was born in Caprese, near Florence Italy. His father, originally a banker, had taken a job as a Judicial Administrator. When his mother died in 1481 Michelangelo lived with a nanny and her husband in Settignano, where he found a love for marble. Michelangelo was sent to Florence to go to Grammar School, but was more interested in doodling than in his classes. He preferred to hang out around artists, and eventually secured an apprenticeship with Domenico Ghirlandaio, who was a master in Fresco Painting, Perspective, Figure Drawing, and Portraiture.

Michelangelo's two most famous pieces, Pietà and the Statue of David, were completed between the years 1497 and 1504. Pietà was a sculpture made for the French ambassador to the Holy See, Cardinal Jean de Bilhères-Lagraulas. It depicted Mary morning over the body of Jesus, and was carved from marble. His other most famous piece, was surprisingly, not started by Michelangelo himself. It was an unfinished project from some 40 years before by Agostino di Duccio. Between the years 1505 and 1512 Michelangelo was commissioned to build the Pope's tomb and paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

After a great many more sculptures, paintings, and several poems, Michelangelo died on February 18, 1564. He died in Rome at the age of 88. As an interesting note, he was also the first western artist to have his biography written before he died, and not once but twice.

Comments 3

Haley

That is an interesting story. I can kinda sympathize with the guy, cause I'm kinda invisible myself. I tend to be quiet, and I don't like talking to people, so I'm often overlooked. In any case, I kinda like this story.

I really like the first two quotes. The first one because it reminds me of some stories I've read, as well as my mind(which has an annoying tendency to wander). I like the second one because it's so true, years of friendship can be destroyed with a single sentence.

I know what you mean about grammar, it and spelling are the bane of my writing. But that is what a beta reader is for, cause they are generally better at the grammar aspect than the writer. I personally don't really read horror, I prefer Fantasy and Sci-fi, but I've read some that I liked.

A nice picture to go along with a very good idea. I think that really everyone should follow their own path, not go down other peoples paths. I also like the title of your blog.

Hannah

Well, its always better to arrive late rather than never.

6 Word Memoir

Human Nature Definition: Insane, Impulsive, Greedy.

Just something I thought of. When I was younger I used to say that "human nature is the essence of insanity," because people just do things that make no sense. This is a new version of my old saying. Humans are greedy, almost everyone wants something for themselves, whether it is money or just the good feeling from helping someone else. And they all want to keep getting it. Humans do stupid things without thinking it through quite often, especially teenaged boys. And people are insane, whether they admit it or not, everyone is crazy, its just part of being human. Although the medical definition of insanity is probably different than mine.

Story from Famous First and Last Lines

Now this is nowhere even near done, and I'm not even sure if I'll end up using much of this past the first paragraph, but it's too perfect for me to not use it for the start of a story.

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story. One person told me that it started several years ago, someone else said just weeks ago. One said it began in ancient history, another said the end was where the story truly began. Another simply didn't care when it started, only what happened afterwards. It could have started with the attack, although a better place would have been the volcano. It could have started when the experiments began, or in the spell dump, but I believe that to get a full account of the story you must go even farther back than that. Back before the first visitor, before even the wars. Finding accounts from that far back is difficult, near impossible if you want them to agree, but I believe that I have discovered the true history behind the cataclysm and the rise of the Dragon Riders.

According to the journal I read, it all began, truly began, with my great-grandfather, although really everyone agrees with that. But where in his story to start? I believe that the journal I read tells the true account of the beginning. At the time he wasn't the man that I knew, the wise yet approachable, old yet powerful, friendly yet stern leader. In fact, at the time, he was not yet even an adult, he was younger than I am now. He was only fourteen, and yet he had already accomplished so much more than I have. At age eleven he defeated the shade of a powerful wizard, at age twelve he killed a Basilisk, at age thirteen he was able to drive off over a hundred minor demons(Dementors to be specific) with one spell, and then at age fourteen he was entered into a tournament for those older than him. He was my great-grandfather, Wyreleader of the first Wyre, Grandmaster of the Order of the Dragon Riders, Senior Councilman of the Magical Guilds, and master warrior and politician. He was Harry Potter. And this is his story, recorded from his journal.

So yeah, this is all I have so far. I'll post more as I write more, who knows, maybe I'll actually finish a story for once. As long as I don't get sidetracked...like I usually do.