seeking_brilliance

?Stories by the Fire?-- a short story mega-thread

93 posts in this topic

I'll read one of the book suggestions sometime when I have more time on my hands, thanks for the suggestions. 

I'm so used to thinking before writing something down, so I'm sure it'll be quite the different experience

 

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I'm gonna try it again, haven't done it in a long time. It's really like surrendering control. @SirVladimirhad a similar thread, about automatic writing.

The automatic writing I've been doing is an adaptation of it, because with some practice you learn to listen for the words. This is how I Channel and write fiction. I am able to write consciously and then suddenly switch to receptive. It's alot of fun. 

(I just got an insight you can probably direct the conversation telepathically... For example your hand has been taken over and instead of breaking the trance by asking questions you use mental pictures (and as few words as possible) to direct the flow.  ((Sorry, that probably sounds weird but I needed to write it down and it came up while I was editing this..)) .) 

I'm going to pick a story prompt this weekend.  It's not expected for you to participate but I do enjoy your stories if you have the time and muse. 

 

 

Edited by seeking_brilliance

Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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@Myioko

A recent flash fiction from the group:

(please see picture first)

     The kid knew he was destined for greater things. For example, this painting depicts his first trip to the market alone when mother had finally trusted him with a small amount of money. Of course he would need a sword and sheild to protect what precious little he was given. 

     He was one of those kids who really didn't know how happy he was, until much later when everything falls to pieces.

     At some point the older self would curse the kid- unaware this is coming from jealousy, not spite. To him, nothing is worse than remembering what was lost. The child is put behind him and forgotten. 

     The wise adult looks back and blesses the child - for the days he spent frolicking through seedy alleys and bustling streets were not a foolish waste after all. Fun and games can also be practice. But not only that... he was sending forth as a beacon of youth... or a calling to remember. 

     Remembering the kid, the wise adult passes away for the resurrection of the child; but this does not mean mortal death. You see, it's realized that there never was a wise adult--there has only ever been the Kid. One who merely pretends to grow up.

 

ARTIST'S PAGE :

https://www.artstation.com/pav327

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Edited by seeking_brilliance

Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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I'm happy to see you post here, I always love reading your stories (and others too!) :) 

I especially like the lines 'To him, nothing is worse than remembering what was lost', 'for the days he spent frolicking through seedy alleys and bustling streets were not a foolish waste after all', 'there never was a wise adult--there has only ever been the Kid.'

 

Edited by Myioko
Just saw that your post said ‘from the group’ so - good job for whoever wrote it.

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Here's something I've been working on, I had the idea last week to draw out a sort of nightmare I had a long time ago, and then decided to incorporate the image prompt into it - the fire monster, the child, and the sword. This was suuper fun to write and draw, as weird as it turned out, so thank you for the image inspo

 

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Edited by Myioko

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(From MindVenture club) 

Listening music:

 

 

Painting and Story title :

The Forgotten City 

It's been so long since I've seen the City, I had almost forgotten the fragrance of lilles and roses wafting out from the palace gardens deep within. It was the first thing you'd notice, when riding a carriage up the winding bridge to the great arched doors. Then came the heavenly sound of music- choirs and symphonies reverberating through the stone walled city; funnelling out toward the lifeless sea in perfect blended harmony.

They say the sea grew jealous of the exuberant life spewing from the city like iridescent smoke-- and that one night it swallowed it up whole under a bright full moon.

Centuries passed, then millennia. I watched as the ocean swelled and found a life of its own. Then wanting a city, it retreated just enough to have room to walk and build. It sent life forth and the cities created were marvellous achievements of water. They did not, however, come close to the beauty of My City. 

The sea has become a beautiful creature, but it forgets way too easily: there is no need to build. My City has been in there the whole time, don't you remember? You swallowed it.

It has always been there, singing. Pushing you, guiding you. Calling you back. Retreat now, under the full moon. Retreat and remember the city which sparked 'your' life. For you are not the sea as you've always thought. 

You are the City.

Edited by seeking_brilliance

Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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There once stood a mountain, hiding amongst all the rest, in a place of existence far beyond worldly measure. The mountain was of heavenly form both within and without, and deep inside its echoing depths was built a kingdom--a vast network of earthly chambers all connecting in interlocking cylindrical patterns.

Here Terrance the fourth, king under the mountain, ruled for countless ages. His daughter Sophia knew the kingdom like the back of her hand... better, even. She had spent many a youths wandering it's mysterious halls, godly palaces and candlelit courtyards, quiet as stone.

Soon she would be mature enough to venture to the surface. Mother and father had been preparing her for this longer than she could ever know, despite all of the accumulated wisdom. There was just one final test... One last chance to prove she was ready.

It's common for a mountain dweller to forget everything when rising to the surface (really, it's a welcome part of the journey). Sophia was tasked with remembering herself, with no help from outside forces.

Queen Clara blinded her daughter's mind for just a moment - - then asked: "Do you know who you are?"

Sophia looked around her bedroom with bright eyes, seeing it again for the first time.

The Queen repeated - - "Do you know yourself?"

Sophia now locked eyes with the questioner, as if finally recognising their presence and inquiry. Her eyes closed gently and she just laughed, whole-heartedly.

Pleased, the Queen restored her daughter and wrapped around her in a loving embrace.

"Go now, my child. Explore! I'll be seeing you around..."

 

(art by Patrick McCollum) 

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Edited by seeking_brilliance

Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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On 4/8/2021 at 0:50 PM, seeking_brilliance said:

@Myioko that's so amazing..

 

@abrakamowse you see this? Hey I'd like you to make a comic for my Facebook group if you feel inspired 

Yes, looks great... I didn't know you have a Facebook group. I see it is in your signature... Ok... I'll be there!

:-)

Edited by abrakamowse

Don’t you realize that all of you together are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God lives in you?
1 Corinthians 3:16

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Song of the Siren

(art by Patrick Jeremy McCollum)

             *******************
Captain's log - May 22nd, 1783

     We spotted land today, and are sure to arrive by tomorrow's morn. The search has been long and wearisome, but the crew has found a new vigor in hope of sand beneath their feet once more. Or perhaps it’s the song we've been hearing, rising up from the crashing waves in sweet intoxication. A maiden's voice I believe, I can hear it even now.  Jensen, a close friend and counsellor, assures us that it is naught but an effect of cabin fever-- simply a wistful mirage in the last stretch of our journey. 

                   **********

     Coming back now, I wast drawn away for a moment. While I wrote, the singing appeared to grow louder- as if coming from directly under the windows across the back of my cabin. It grew fainter as I approached; yet by the hair on my chin I surely saw a fine lass  bobbing up and down amongst the waves. She was gone in a flash, but even now the song penetrates the cabin-- calling me. Her voice is as an angel, but what she sings is not of any tongue I've ever heard. However, my mind swims with something I wish to put into words:

     Come now, down to the sea
     Down you plunge, down to me.
     Bring no possessions- nothing you'll need
     Give up the air, the grass and tree,
     down to the sea- down, down to me.

     Perhaps I need to get off this damn ship. Yes, tomorrow's light will be good for us all.

Captain's log - May 24th, 1783

Oh great and merciful God, save us all!  Deliver us from this wretched place and have pity on all poor souls who needlessly stumble upon these accursed shores! Never again shall I strike your name if you save what remains of my crew from the sea hag's grasp. How thou could create such a foul creature of evil is far beyond this mere mortal to understand. I only pray that you have planned a dark fate for this grotesque lady of the water. Her song still echoes in the corners of my mind. Her face haunts me in the darkness, even when I close my eyes. I shall be mad by the ring of dinner's bell.

  To recount: we lost five good, strong men yesterday. Upon reaching the shores of a strange land not drawn on any of our maps, the seductive song stole our legs as well as our minds- and one by one my crew marched for a nearby cave.  Even I felt the ghastly pull, though something held me back, along with some men who are perhaps of stronger will. Still, we could only stand immobile on deck, eyes transfixed upon the mysterious cave by the shore. Never has such a spell wrapped around my heart, an icy grasp in an angel's glove.

   Suddenly the song was accompanied by a multitude of echoing screams, and for one stupored moment they seemed to harmonise in some etherial chorus. Such was the spell of the siren of the sea: our souls entranced as she feasted on the bones of my crew. How the spell was broken, no one rightly knows. Perhaps she had her fill. Perhaps the devil himself stepped in to drag his wicked daughter back to her watery grave. No matter. What remained of my crew scurried back to the ship and we fled as quickly as possible.

For all who sail these seas, beware the siren's song. If you hear it, turn around immediately and retreat. I pray your soul be spared....

 

@abrakamowse @Myioko

 

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Edited by seeking_brilliance

Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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The Day of the Dragon by Greg Margolis

Part I

If The Initiate had to classify a moment as the most challenging he ever experienced, it would be the morning The Dragon appeared in The Forbidden City. The evening before, the initiate completed the last in a series of three initiations that were conducted by his master. The initiate practiced meditation throughout the night. By the time the first rays of sunshine crept up the eastern horizon, his master came to the main training field.

Master: How are you feeling?

Initiate: I’m scared, master.

Master: I’d consider you a fool if you weren’t. If you had answered any differently I would have kicked you out of the initiation and had you deported from China.

Initiate: Will he come?

The master pondered this. Meanwhile, The initiate felt his heartbeat stabilizing and his breathing regulated.

Master: One never knows.

Stillness.

Initiate: Today?

Master: Yes.

Initiate: 10 O’clock?

Master: Yes.

Initiate: AM?

Master: 10:03.

Initiate: Thank you, master.

Master: How good is your Kung Fu?

The Initiate remains silent.

Master: Ah! He who speaks, does not know. He who knows, does not speak. I’m sure you’re masterful. The Dragon won’t manifest himself unless one is ready for him.

Initiate: Am I ready?

Master: Not yet. If you were, he’d be here with us right now.

Initiate: It’s the fourth initiation, isn’t it?

The master smiled.

Master: Yes.

Initiate: You never told me there were more than three.

Master: True.

Initiate: Why not?

Master: I didn’t know there were more.

Initiate: How can you not know? You’re the master.

Master: Right, I’m a master. Not a prophet.

Initiate: Are there prophets?

Master: Oh, but of course!

The initiate's Chi flows through his meridians.

Initiate: Where are they?

Master: They’re amongst us. Undercover.

Initiate: Why undercover?

Master: The spiritual level of most humans on earth is not sufficient for them to understand the truth. Not yet, anyway.

Initiate: The Dragon… is he one of them?

Master: No. He is something else.

Initiate: What is he, master?

Master: He’s not a WHAT, Chang. He’s a WHO.

Initiate: Who is he, then?

Master: An Over Soul.

Initiate: What is that mean?

Master: He is one of 72 Over Souls. A divine spirit that enters the universe and envelops all human souls.

Initiate: Enters from WHERE?

Master: The Realm of the Absolute.

Initiate: He’s immortal, isn’t he?

Master: He’ll live as long as he desires.

Initiate: Have YOU ever met him, master?

Master: Yes. A long time ago.

I wonder.

Initiate: You told me there IS no time.

Master: I did.

Initiate: And now you say “Long time AGO”. Since there is no PAST, you just contradicted yourself.

Master: Contradiction is impossible.

Initiate: Explain.

Master:  Let's leave the specifics of your doubts aside for a moment and look rather at what is going on behind the scenes. Do you know the future?

Initiate: No.

Master: Do you have any idea at ALL about what will happen in the future?

nitiate: No idea at all.

Master: Do you feel like you have any CONTROL over the future?

Initiate: No control whatsoever.

Master: Uncertainty is bliss. It stimulates The Chi. You just felt it, didn’t you?

Their eyes met. The Initiate smiled.

Initiate: Yes!

Master: You just completed the fourth Initiation.

Initiate: So what do we do now?

Master: We don’t DO anything. We BE.

Initiate: Right.

Stillness.

Initiate: How many initiations are there?

Master: An infinite number.

Chi.

Initiate: It’s never ENDS?

Master: Never.

Initiate: So does this mean then that you are, still, an initiate yourself?

Master: Correct.

Shi Zen.

Initiate: How many initiations have YOU completed?

Master: Sixteen.

Initiate: After which one you were ordained with the title “Master”?

Master: After my eighth.

Initiate: So I have four more to go.

Master: That is a fair observation.

Initiate: But not perfect?

Master: Every master who ever lived became a master at different stages in their training. Let’s revisit. Come with me.

The initiate exited his mediation and followed his master.

***

Master:

Kung Fu Initiation One: Basic Movements and Body Alignments

Beginning students study until they are competent in the basic movements and body alignments. The overwhelming majority of China’s active Kung Fu instructors belong in this category.

Kung Fu Initiation Two: Intensive Study

Junior students study regularly for at least five years with a master and actively practice for at least ten years. Their advancement to the next initiation depends on natural talent, hard work and other factors.

Kung Fu Initiation Three: Study Directly with a Master

Senior students take classes with a master several days a week—if not daily—for at least a decade. You, my friend, completed that one yesterday.

Kung Fu Initiation Four: Disciples of the Sacred Oath

Masters are the formal disciples of The Lineage Holders. They receive the deepest and most secretive levels of specialized knowledge available in Kung Fu. Masters can be truly exceptional at some but not necessarily at all aspects of Kung Fu.

Kung Fu Initiation Five: Lineage Holder

Lineage Holders are Masters who over time are chosen and profoundly trained in the entire tradition by the previous Lineage Holder. To hold ALL - not only selected parts - of the tradition.

Although some masters are issuing teaching credentials to students who passed instructor trainings, the vast majority of Kung Fu teachers lack such credentials, much less the authority to contrive them.

Initiate: Are you a lineage holder?

Master: Yes. I have been a lineage holder for 25 years.

Initiate: How old are you, master?

Master: Ninety-three.

End of Part I

 


"I believe you are more afraid of condemning me to the stake than for me to receive your cruel and disproportionate punishment."

- Giordano Bruno, Campo de' Fiori, Rome, Italy. February 17th, 1600.

Cosmic pluralist, mathematician and poet.

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@seeking_brilliance Yes, it is mine. I am Greg Margolis. Completed first draft on April 25th, 2021. You won't find it on Google because It wasn't published. Yet.

It is a story out of a longer novella I am writing called Quantum Warriors.

What do you think? Any good? Are you interested in Part II?

 

Thanks,

Greg.


"I believe you are more afraid of condemning me to the stake than for me to receive your cruel and disproportionate punishment."

- Giordano Bruno, Campo de' Fiori, Rome, Italy. February 17th, 1600.

Cosmic pluralist, mathematician and poet.

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@seeking_brilliance Your story is great (: The wording was very fitting with the painting and gave it an old timy feel, very eloquent and draws me the reader in.

@Eternal Unity I'm interested in a part two. :) And the name 'Quantum warriors' is really intriguing.

 

 

Here's a poem

 

O siren,

Do you hear me calling?

I called at break of day and set my oars and sails at bay

There’s trouble in the wind, a December’s hush and lull that’s 

Waitin' for a storm

I work from dawn to dusk and wearily await your call

O siren,

You guard the skulls with eyes of envy

Or is it mine, that subtle wish,

For rest, bountiful and plenty? 

This song I sing has turned afloat

I think I am deceived

with who's voice is who's, and which song is where

is it your call I hear?

 

Edited by Myioko

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@Myioko yes! let´s wright the poems

 

In a deep ocean

In a blue see

They catch your notion -

You´d better flee

 

They´ll drink your soul

They´ll eat your heart

You´ll never be whole

Only a part

 

The song they sing

it flows sweet

but fills your ears

With a gift

 

The water is deep

The sky is high

You´ll fall asleep

But never you´ll die

Neither you´ll live

 

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@seeking_brilliance Nice!

@Myioko Liked your poem!

Alright, then. Part II coming up. Quantum Warriors is under construction :)


"I believe you are more afraid of condemning me to the stake than for me to receive your cruel and disproportionate punishment."

- Giordano Bruno, Campo de' Fiori, Rome, Italy. February 17th, 1600.

Cosmic pluralist, mathematician and poet.

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@Hulia Nice poem! 

Ok. You and I. Poetry battle - second round, go! (just kidding :P) 

@Eternal Unity Awesome, GL with your writing process for part two :) 

 

Here's one last thing I wrote

 

A Sirens Bitter Song:

At daybreak I wake, wrapped in my blanket of water. I’m with my family, our scales are shining and sharp nails glinting in the rays. We rest on the leaves of seaweed that coil way up to the ocean’s top. The only humans here are dust and turned to mucky stone.

As routine, I swim up to the air and view the surroundings. Peering towards the horizon line, I spot a sailing ship and I think of the voices I heard in past desperation. Why were they so afraid?

I don’t understand.

You say it’s my fault, that my fury causes pain. But isn’t it you who has caused all the corrupt things on the surface of this planet? My rage isn’t the same rage that you feel, we are not in agreement. But what are either of us to know? My place isn’t on the Earth, but neither do I want your place to be up there. 

I take pride in my voice, and satisfaction in collecting my human prizes. You say that I’m a destroyer, but I don’t view my home as a place of destruction. I like to create beautiful things, rare things. I weave gemstones and seaflowers into a garden of ivory sculptures. I’ll consider your words...for a moment. I think on this as I stare into the distance, waiting for you to come, watching the morning mist evaporate and the clouds pass. But soon these thoughts will be swept away.

But my children and I are hungry, and we thrive on collective shattered dreams and devouring anger til it reaches the bottom of the ocean to never be seen or used as fuel to destroy again. So please…don’t mock me, don’t tell me I’m wrong. All I hear is lies. 

 

 

Edited by Myioko

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@Myioko @Hulia both of your poems are great! I would love for either of you to post them in the club. If you decide to, I will send you the image and then you post the poem with the image as a club contribution. (the club is private now Btw) no pressure of course. 


Check out my lucid dreaming anthology series, Stars of Clay  

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@seeking_brilliance

I signed up for it recently so I can post it there later today! Yeah if you can send me the image then that'd be great, if I can't just copy and paste it. (not really sure how it works yet)

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