WRITING - NIGHTMARES

[With.]

AAR'S FIRST WRITING CONTEST.

- RULES -

- One entry per person.
- 3 entries will be chosen by With, and then those 3 will be put up in a poll to be voted on by the community, and then those people will win first, second, and third place in the contest.
- Rewards are; 100 Denarii - first place, 75 Denarii - second place, 50 Denarii - third place. ( eventually with will spice this up with other things. but for now, denarii is good. )
- You may enter both the Writing and the Art contest at the same time. Still only one entry per user per contest.
- NO ASS KISSING WITH FOR THIS SHIT. SHE DOESN'T CARE, AND IS IMMUNE TO FEAR, TAUNT, AND CHARM EFFECTS. TITS OR GTFO.

- THEME -

You will write, in no more than 5 thousand words, a nightmare for your character. They are alseep the entire time, and cannot wake up for the duration. You may use other people's characters, although the nightmare must be from yours' perspective. The nightmare will have to do with what your character anticipates will happen in the future with the plot.

- Since nobody but With knows what's actually happening with the plot, feel free to speculate and write whatever you'd like, but keep within the theme. See some of Abraxas' posts for what it's like, a bit.
- No silly nightmares like "AND HE HAD NO UNDERWEAR ON" or something. They must relate somehow to the plot, they must be serious.
- Your character may or may not know that this is a nightmare, but they cannot wake up.
- Once again, no more than 5k words.
- You may create creatures to torment your character, maim them, torture them, kill them, whatever.
- The nightmare may terrify your character psychologically, with some neat plays on themes and such, or they may be gruesome and gory.
- They should betray your character's inner heart - will your character run and hide in the chaos, or fight?


DEADLINE - SUNDAY, AUGUST 7th, 00:01:01:01:01:01 AM, PST


Post your entries below.

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[impliedcyanide]

Despite the sun soaring high above, it is cold. Freezing cold, even though logically it should be warm around this time of year. The sky is blood red, not a single cloud to be seen, and stretches over the featureless landscape, which appears nearly white in the sun. Is the sky always this color? Something nags at the mind that it shouldn't, that this color is unnatural. What color is it usually, then?
Vegas looks around, and notices four others near him. Two diagonally right, two diagonally left, so that he completes a triangle. Instinctually, he knows them to be the respective leaders and co-leaders of the other factions that have come to rule this land. He looks for his General, and notices only a blurred, indistinguishable figure standing a little behind him. For some reason, this doesn't reassure Vegas in the slightest, and he digs his talons into the dry dirt he stands upon. The area isn't one he recognizes; neutral territory, he determines. In spite of this, the others nearby glare at each other, the air tense with a hostility that's been encouraged for years, one of the few things that hasn't decayed with the passage of time.
Suddenly, there is a low groaning noise, similar to the sound large and shining structures make when the wind grows too powerful. The ground trembles, and all heads are angled upwards, watching the crimson sky in something like awe. What can only be described as a tear has opened above them, and is growing by the second. With each moment, the groaning increases in intensity, rising sharply to become a shriek. Somewhere, miles away, a building crashes to the ground, bringing several others with it.
As the wind picks up, Vegas digs into the ground, shutting his eyes. It's all he can do to remain upright. Some instinct commands him, keeping him right there instead of flying away the best he can in the windstorm. It's something he just knows- fleeing is not an option right now. In fact, the prospect of leaving brings with it images far worse than whatever could be descending from the chasm in the sky.
When his eyes re-open, Vegas sees something glowing, slowly floating down to the ground upon which he and the others stand. It comes out of the rip, which is beginning to look like a bleeding wound, its dark edges swirling and flickering. The creature lands in the middle of their little triangle, an ever-shifting hybrid of every creature Vegas has ever seen. One moment its pure white paws are hoofs, then claws, and again talons. He doesn't dare look into its eyes, another instinct warning him that it would be a very, very bad idea. Even so, the glow this creature emits is blinding, forcing him to look away regardless. At the moment this strange, fantastic creature landed, all oddities of the weather ceased, excluding only the bone-chilling cold.
For a while, the creature simply stands, watching the small group. Vegas glances out of the corner of his eye, and watches as who he presumes is the leader of Viriun falls to the ground with a cry of "My Lord!" Shortly after, the one with him copies this movement, murmuring instead of shouting. Vegas whips his head around to stare at the creature (don't look at its eyes!) and freezes. The other leader there, the one who must be Nihil, had lunged forward with a snarl, claws and fangs outstretched.
What happens next seems to occur in slow motion. Mid-lunge, a chasm opens beneath the Dominant. What seem to be hundreds of black, skinny claws reach upwards and grab him about the torso, sinking into the flesh and drawing blood. A low, bellowing roar is mixed with the leader's cries of fear and surprise before he is dragged downwards, and the chasm closes up again. For all Vegas can see, it's as if it never even existed. After staring at the spot for a few seconds, a figure that must be the Dominant's co-leader begins to scramble away, screaming. They instantly disintegrate, leaving nothing behind but a small pile of ashes.
Vegas turns to stare at the creature again, just catching a beckoning movement that's directed at the Viriun's leader. He complies, coming to stand next to the one he so faithfully served and believed in. When the creature nods, the Delegate follows. Then, the creature (who am I kidding, this is Him. It must be.) fixes its gaze on Vegas. The Dire.
"You believe your fate is going to be that of the Dominant." It's not a question. Vegas only nods, his head bowed, and oh God that voice like thousands are speaking at once. He hears that horriblebeautifulunnaturalgodly voice make something like a chuckling sound. Raising his head is unthinkable; Vegas feels as if one move will cause him to collapse. It's a wonder his trembling legs are still holding him up at all. "I...I..." he tries to choke something out, a response, but can't.
"You need not say a word towards me, Vegas. I know everything." That statement is not comforting in the least...was it even meant to be? "Dire of Kinir, you have attempted to use your god. I do not exist for your convenience, to be summoned only when needed, then tucked away for whenever I am required again." Vegas hears his General growl lowly, but not out of anger. Instead, it sounds more like...apprehension? His eyes shut tightly at some point. Suddenly, he feels a warmburningfreezingsoftcold touch at the top of his head.
The pain is unlike anything Vegas has ever imagined. His bones crack and snap, and he falls to the ground, screaming. But the creation of the sound burns his throat, makes it feel like lava, prompting the gryphon to snap his beak shut. His eyes fly open, but there is nothing but darkness now, darkness and a horrible ringing in his ears. Grabbing at whatever is nearby, Vegas only feels sharp rocks poking at him, slicing open his featherless skin. Faintly, he hears his General make a hissing noise, then a roar of unmistakable anger. Seconds later, there is a sickening crunch, and the only sound that remains is in the ringing in Vegas's ears.
An eternity later, the pain ebbs so that it's a dull throbbing. When He speaks again, His voice (voices, voices, there are so many, it can't be just one) is deafening. "Rejoice, Dire. I have made an example of you. Through you, perhaps others can be saved." Suddenly, there are chains about Vegas's neck, and he gets a brief image of his own appearance.
The thing that squats next to Him is alien. It is pinkish and skinny, naked of any fur or feathers, and sits on hind legs, its front ones similar to those of a rat. Vertebrae stick out on its back, a line that leads to a skinny neck that somehow supports a large, bald head with goblin-like ears sticking out at either side. The creature's eyes are too large, and void of any pupils, blind to the world. It has a row of sharp, tiny teeth beneath two slits that must be a nose, but no bottom jaw. Chains lead to Him, held somewhere, and attached to a metal collar about the too-thin neck.
"Now come." He jerks the chain, and the collar jostles about Vegas's neck, bruising it. Desperate to avoid more pain, the once-gryphon complies immediately. "We are going to liberate this world. The faithful," He glances at Viriun's leader, who grins, "will be saved. All else," He pulls the chain with a force that knocks Vegas off his feet, "will perish."

COMMENTS: The others there may or may not be realistically represented; Vegas hasn't met the other schism leaders, so his subconscious sort of made something up. I was gonna tweak this, but ended up forgetting, so...yeah 8D;;

[Shadow.]

(Warning in advance. Typed this up on an Itouch in a rush so please forgive it's crudeness.)

The sand burned, not only his feet but his eyes. It's vastness had turned into a blazing white sheet, covering the expanse Tshor could see. The large wolf didn't run just from the pain. It was following him, under the sand. Large mounds rising and shifting as it followed him. If he could only getto his oasis he knew he'd be safe from this giant unseen foe.

It was water he feared above all. Dispite it's life saving use in his desert. He almost didn't stop when the river appeared before him. The sun had almost cast the reflection so bright he could have sworn it was still sand. Tshor had skidded to a halt. Nails just dipping into the water and the sand he'd sent away with his momentum was gone in seconds as it passed into the rush. His heart was racing and it took him a moment to remember to his horror why he was snout to edge with the water. Slowly turning his bad side catching sight of the creature first. One whip-like tail caught him below the eye before he could fathom what his perssuer had been.

His yelp of startled pain let out more breath than he'd have wanted as he plunged into the water. Trying to break the surface as he struggled to keep what little air he had managed to keep. Tshor grew desperate in his panic. Air seeping past his teeth and from his nose the less he focused on keeping in and more on trying to return to the burning sands.

The voice seemed so clear in his words. Despite the water seeming to seep into him to dull his senses. It seemed to echo through his head. One little thing that told him so much about the speaker. "Nonbeliver". Tshor shivered as he found himself falling away from the water's surface. It was boiling too at this point. Further down he sank the cooler he got. One last struggle of hope was destroyed as he felt his back legs being bitten into. A jerk pulled him down faster than he was sinking. A cloud of red passing around him and a sweet copper taste passed through his clenched teeth.

The last of his air rushed out as he felt the bottom. It was like gravity was pinning him down in place. Belly pressed to the hard stone that seemed to make up the space below the river's depths. In vain Tshor looked up at the far away surface that churned and boiled. Lungs screaming out as water filled them, pressure becoming almost unbearable.

The small creature didn't appear to have a fixed shape but it was young. It looked like it shifted between the creatures of Tshor's world. Each looking so real it made him question if his clouded mind had really showed him the one before. In any form though it kept the same old merciless eyes. Contrasting with the youthful look. He knew he wasn't mortal. As it strode through the water as if it was only air. Bowing it's head down to sniff Tshor it slowly turned it's shape to a more canine appearance. It's sneeze cast up no bubbles but Tshor heard it clear as day. "worthless nonbelievers" it spoke before turning away from Tshor and moving to wander on down the riverbed.