Tag: writing exercise

Writing/Articles

Daily Writing Challenge #6

nicholasjgoodsell

Hello readers, and welcome back for my Day #6 of my Daily Writing challenge! It’s based off the image by Tara Spruitt above—give her a follow on social media (@taratjah), her art is amazeballs—and it was actually quite a fun prompt that I personally selected. I feel like there is plenty of stories to come up with in this image of four young wanderers in the woods with some magical bird perched in the heroine’s arm. Read below what I came up with!

~~~

“The Guardians of Sparak”

“Did you hear that?” Caleb already had an arrow tight against the coil of his bow as he stared out amongst the thick foliage of the forest. Serena followed where Caleb’s eyes traveled and frowned.

“No, what did you hear?” she whispered as she tried to calm down Sparak, the young phoenix they’d ran away with. Sparak was still easily spooked, and her feathers ruffled as small embers began to fall off the edges of her tail. 

“I guess there’s nothing,” Caleb replied. His brown eyes darkened as they continued to dart through the dense trees, a deep sigh hummed from his chest.

Sparak cooed a few times while almost unfurling her wings, and even though that alone caused a bead of sweat to run down Serena’s face from the heat, she got her guardian to calm down and rest on her nearby perch. 

Serena’s shoulders sagged in relief, one crisis averted, and peered over at Caleb. His rusty brown hair had grown longer than how he usually wore it, and a bit of stubble coated his jawline, and she had to admit that being on the run for almost four months was really doing wonders for his appearance. Back home at Cresthaven, the former head ranger for the royal family usually kept his looks more sharp and clean-cut, but now they had no time to worry about grooming requirements. 

Her chest ached at the memories of them training together, both firing bows at their targets, passing secretive looks during strategy meetings with the much older captain when he wasn’t looking, and sneaking a pitcher at the pub after hours when they had free time afterwards. She especially remembered the night he’d been selected to be the head ranger, and what almost happened. Now it seemed like Caleb didn’t even know how to release the breath he was always holding, the tension never fully leaving his shoulders, and Serena couldn’t remember the last time he’d even smiled. 

Sparak lightly pecked at her shoulder for attention, so it brought Serena back from her inner thoughts, and she smiled as she reached into her satchel to grab a small treat for the needy little firebird. 

“Did Aerin or Lyssa say when they’d return?” Caleb asked as he returned to their campsite and sat down on a fallen log near the firepit. 

“They said it’d take a while if they wanted to catch something for dinner,” Serena replied, and threw him a grin. “I remember you’d take extra long whenever it was our turn to go check the traps back home.”

Caleb gave her a look. “Sorry If I couldn’t face looking at whatever got caught.”

“That’s what I like about you, Caleb. No matter what, you’re still a big softie on the inside.”

Caleb looked away, but Serena caught his face turning red. “Don’t let the others know. Lyssa still looks up to me,” he admitted under his breath.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Caleb’s lips tilted at the edges, but he got up to get their fire started. He grabbed a handful of twigs from their nearby pile and laid them out in the pit, and Serena silently watched him with worry in her eyes. There was much she wanted to say, but never felt like it was the right time to bring it all up. For the moment, it was just the two of them; it was the perfect timing to be able to say what’s been on her mind. If only she wasn’t so much of a coward when it came to her childhood friend. Instead, she silently helped Sparak clean off some loose feathers that’d turned to ash along her back. 

They all jumped at the crunch and crackles of two pairs of feet drawing near, and Sparak cawed while she ruffled her feathers once again. Smoke began to protrude from the flaps of her wings, but Serena knew no real threats would make their appearance so obvious. 

Lyssa and Aerin returned, the former having a bit more swagger in her step than ever before. 

“Check it out, folks. We’ll be eating like kings and queens tonight,” Lyssa boasted as she held up two large trout from the nearby river, and shook her hips with two dead rabbits swinging from her belt. 

Aerin scoffed under his cloak. “Please, you got bored and decided to go chase a squirrel, so I caught everything before you scared it all off.” 

“That sounds more likely.” Serena smirked at Lyssa, who glowered at Aerin. “But I’m sure you provided excellent moral support, Lys.”

Lyssa crossed her arms. “Well, someone obviously never had fun growing up, so I figured ‘better late than never.’”

Caleb looked on while he started a fire. “It’s getting dark quick, so bring that all over here.”

“You guys are no fun.” Lyssa deeply sighed as she stomped over, and she eyed Sparak from the corner of her eye. “Tell me again why we can’t just have her start a fire?”

“Because she’s still a chick, and can’t control her fire quite yet,” Caleb reminded her. “We can’t risk her burning down the whole forest.”

“Yeah, I suppose we better wait on that,” Lyssa agreed.

Serena watched as Aerin went into his tent and reappeared with the thick volume he’s been reading on their journey. He gave her a slight nod as he sat down on the same log as her, head already buried deep within the book’s pages. Serena turned her attention towards Caleb and Lyssa; their heads bowed close together while she watched him clean the fish and slap the meat onto the flat stone they used as a skillet. Lyssa intently listened to every word he spoke, and Serena couldn’t help but smile at the scene. 

Lyssa was the young daughter of a merchant, and has never had an older brother growing up to help take care of her, and now her whole family was dead for helping them all escape from Cresthaven. Lyssa may hide any pain she’s suffering, but Serena’s heart broke for all that the young child has been through, especially with the situation the four of them were currently stuck in. Because of Sparak, and what their court had planned for her, now the four of them were on the run from their own kingdom, and who knew what was probably coming for them in search of the last known phoenix in existence. 

No kingdom should want to go to war, and with the hope of somehow crossing the Baltric Sea to get to the Western Continent for answers, Serena took a deep breath as she reminded herself of their mission; the fate of everything they know hangs in the outcome, even if it means betraying their homeland. 

The skyline above the canopies grew to a deep cerulean with hardly any clouds, and the four silently ate their portions as they watched the flames dance along the twigs and logs… well three out of the four did; Caleb went back to scanning the tree’s surrounding them. 

“Does anyone remember that song from back home?” Serena inquired as she fed a small helping of trout to Sparak. “You know, the one about the ogre and the donkey?”

Both Caleb and Aerin looked at her with bemused expressions, but Lyssa perked up with rabbit still in her mouth. “Oh yeah! The one where they battle an ox in order to be able to drink with the King? Then they battle it out with the guards because they beat him in a chugging contest?”

Aerin snorted. “Always a fan favorite around the campfire.”

Caleb nodded. “Give Serena a couple pints of ale and she would sing louder than anyone else in the guild.”

“Well at least I sang well whenever I did,” Serena retorted.

“Says you.”

Serena mock-gasped. “Caleb Mallier, you should hear yourself sing whenever you’ve got the guts to try.”

Lyssa snickered. “Sounds like we’ve got a sing-off happening.”

Aerin’s face lit up in slight amusement. “Not even pints of ale can make his singing any better.”

Everyone but Caleb laughed at that, but he couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared on the edge of his frown. He looked at Serena, and at her playful shrug, finally cracked a small smile as he took another bite of his dinner.

It was like a weight lifted off Serena’s shoulders at the long awaited sight of Caleb’s smile. With its return, the air shifted, and it felt like the group could finally lean back and breathe for one night since they’d narrowly escaped the kingdom. Specks of ember floated up from the crackling of the fire, and Sparak nipped at them in amusement, and the others chuckled as they watched her happily caw as she caught a stray flicker with her sharp beak. Even Caleb relaxed his shoulders as he watched the phoenix play along the edges of the flames. 

Serena’s eyes met his, and they shared a look that said so many things still unspoken between them. Things they hardly had the privacy to discuss, but the mere thought of them caused her heartbeat to quicken. Maybe once Lyssa and Aerin were both asleep, the two of them could sneak off, and she could try again.

Unfortunately, their mutual gaze meant neither of them caught the dark shape that jumped from the trees hanging over their campsite.

Thanks for Reading!

— Nick Goodsell

Writing/Articles

Daily Writing Challenge #5

nicholasjgoodsell

Hello Readers! Here is my next daily writing challenge, and my friend and I switched it up this time around when she selected a song for our prompt! It’s a catchy, bouncy, and whimsical song performed by Celtic Woman, and I even embedded a Youtube video for anyone to listen!

I was inspired when I did some research and read the lyrics about one urging their lover to join them on a quest, and was told in Tolkien’s Elven language. It inspired me to think about two traveling Elves, and went on from there. Enjoy below!

~~~

Two cloaked travelers entered through the thick wooden doors of a pub near the river in town as soon as the sun had completely set. It was a calm summer night, but there was an air of tension between the two figures as they went straight towards the bar. 

The heavy-set barkeep looked them both up and down while he wiped down a glass mug, his expression revealing nothing. “What’ll it be, boys?”

Dior, the younger of the two, peered over towards his companion. “I don’t think we need anything. Do we, sir?”

“Actually, we’ll take two ales, and we’ll both take the special if there is one tonight, kind sir,” Raegel replied with a small smile. He placed a few coins down, probably more than what his order was worth, but the barkeep nodded in confirmation before he turned away, a little pep in his step. 

Raegel decided to lower his hood and even on the dim lighting, his silver-white hair gleamed like starlight as it fell almost halfway down his back, and he swiped a few strands behind his elongated ear. Dior followed suit, and his eyes darted around their entire setting, not missing a single face or possible danger. 

“Where did your informant say to meet again?” Dior whispered to Raegel. 

The older Elf sensed an uneasiness about his companion, which was uncommon for their kind. An elf always exuded calm confidence in any situation. Dior was almost adolescent when compared to him; his aqua eyes were filled with naive wonder and his golden-amber hair was only half his own length. He knew he was beginning to advance in his years, but Raegel knew he still had a lot to teach his apprentice currently sitting next to him up by the bar. But first, their mission. 

“They made sure to keep it as brief as possible,” Raegel answered. He gestured for Dior to turn in his seat so they faced opposite directions. “They couldn’t risk any information being revealed, which based off the information they could share with us tonight, only proves how necessary it is to take these precautions.”

Dior frowned. “So we have absolutely no idea what they’ll look like?” 

“Remain calm, the letter they sent informed me they’ll make a signal when they make themselves known,” Raegel calmly assured Dior, noticing the returning barkeep with his hands full. “In the meantime, breathe and enjoy yourself. there’s no need to be impatient.” 

“Here ye go boys, just what ye ordered,” the barkeep set two bowls of a warm soup in front of them, then placed the full mugs of ale down next, not spilling a drop. “Pleasure to serve, it’s not every day we see yer kind around these parts.”

“Suppose that means business is usually in abundance,” Raegel commented.

The barkeep chuckled. “Ye could say that. Usually elves only visit Shirewood on serious business, I always forget yer kind need to eat too.”

Raegel made it a point to sip his bowl of soup. Not too bad, but he’s had better. “Not as often as most, but we need sustenance just like any living creature.”

Dior turned around on his stool. “Luckily, we are just passing through, so there’s nothing to cause much concern..” 

“Right, right, well happy to have ye here tonight.” the barkeep nodded. “Let me know if ye need anything.” 

The two elves both politely thanked him before he walked down the bar to serve other patrons, no doubt to wager on why the two of them were in their small riverside town in the first place. It must be an uneventful area for the two of them to receive this much attention. 

Raegel took another sip of his soup before he turned back to Dior. “I quite liked the man, I wouldn’t have minded continuing our exchange with him, like how he referred to me as ‘boy’ even though I’m most likely three-hundred his senior.”

Dior didn’t even bother eating his meal. “If he’s not our informant, then why waste our breath?”

“Because our presence already draws much attention, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Raegel paused as Dior once again eyed the room and felt everyone’s stares while none of the conversations ended. “Why draw more attention to ourselves? It looks quite suspicious if two elves come into a bar, and don’t even bother to purchase a meal or refreshment, don’t you think?”

Catching the subtle dig, Dior finally lifted his spoon to his mouth. “I see your point.”

Raegel chuckled, and could sense the newfound relief wash across the room after. “There’s no need to rush these meetings. I know you have many years left, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take the time to enjoy these small moments from time to time.”

Dior took a large gulp of his ale, his shoulders dropping just an inch. “Yes sir, I just detest remaining in the dark on any of the information we need. You know how important this information is, and how much our Queen requires this information.” 

“Our informant should have arrived already,” Raegel assured Dior. “Now, we simply wait for a signal.”

A curvaceous woman stepped up onto a small stage towards the back, and a small troupe of musicians began to strum their instruments. The woman immediately joined in and sang a song about two lovers; one urging the other to join them on a journey, of the ancient sun, and to seize the day. It was a campfire song that Raegel remembered from his younger days, before he became a soldier, and he’d lost his first love. He was impressed at the perfect elven pronunciation the human woman sang, so he turned his head to give her his full attention. 

On stage, she smiled as she continued on, and even got most of the other patrons to gather around and joyously dance along; she even joined after a few other patrons gestured for her. Her smile was infectious, and her hair shimmered as it caught the light of a nearby oil lamp. 

Still seated, Raegel watched over the whole scene with a mix of nostalgic joy and melancholy. He took a deep breath at the memories the song brought back to him. All the while, Dior finished his meal, then his eyes returned to scanning the pub as it began to fill up as the night grew late.

When the woman’s eyes met his own, Raegel knew that instant that he’d found their informant. 

Thanks for Reading!

— Nick Goodsell

Writing/Articles

Daily Writing Challenge #3

nicholasjgoodsell

Hello readers! Here’s my third writing challenge during the pandemic; it’s a short story based off the image above. This one is about of a man named Roman and him trying to survive in unfamiliar territory. Nothing too trigger-worthy for me to mention going in, hope you guys enjoy!

“Frozen Isolation”

The fur of the bear he’d had to kill was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Just inside a sloped stone window of an abandoned structure, a burly man named Roman huddled closer into the corner, peering out into the crisp, pale landscape. Other than the many layers of snow and the brisk wind reminding him he was somewhere out in the frigid north, he had absolutely no idea where he was. For three days now, he had managed to set up a small camp within a mile or two off the road.

Roman coughed and reached for his leather canteen, but groaned in agitation as nothing poured out. His limbs ached as he wrapped the mass of fur tighter around himself, made sure the laces of his boots were tightened, and slowly rose up to head out back into the frosted wasteland. 

The trees surrounding the grounds carried many winding branches; twisting and intricately laced like a spider’s web. While immobile and calm for now, the possibility of him becoming trapped prey didn’t ease Roman’s mind. No, he made sure his eyes captured everything he could during his stroll, and slowly squatted down to fill his canteen up with a handful of clear snow. He decided to go back to the indentation he’d left the last time he traveled outside his fortress. 

A crunch in the snow behind his left shoulder had Roman twisting around, muscles tense and his heartbeat rapid. His ears rang with the high pitched scream, and his adrenaline spiked. He was ready for the unseen predator poised to strike, nothing but madness and hunger in its cruel eyes. 

Roman almost pissed himself when a small shape jumped out of the snow. A single rabbit made a brief appearance in midair before its white fur helped blend it back into its surroundings; the perfect hiding spot out in the open. 

When his heartbeat returned to normal, Roman couldn’t help but remember how exhausted he truly was. Tired of the ache of every inch of his body, especially from the bump on his skull. He was tired of constantly jumping at every inch of movement at the edge of his vision, every sound heard that wasn’t his own, and resorting to portioning out any food he’d been able to hoard around.

Roman wanted to go get home to his old bed. 

He wanted to shoot that damned critter in retaliation, but he’d left his bow and arrows back inside, and there was no way he was going to use his spear and risk being empty handed for even just a few precious moments. Besides, he knew he didn’t have the energy to throw it fast enough to actually catch the little pest, plus he still had some venison thanks to his coat’s former owner too. 

Roman reminded himself to think of some traps to possibly set up later. 

Back within the safety of the decaying stone structure, he tried to recollect his memories of three days ago: the neigh of his horse, the felt of his saddle, the laughter of him and his companions, the wheels of the wagon trudging through the snow, and of course  his immediate hatred of the cold from exposure for the first time in his life.

The last thing Roman remembered was always the same: a large, white shape with six legs falling from the trees much like the ones just outside, silent as if it hadn’t even been really there. It latched onto the side of someone’s steed, the piercing screech when it bared its daggers for fangs, then the red stark against the white of the land, right before everything went dark.

The bump on his head throbbed, and Roman could no longer concentrate. Just like every other time. 

The long night was fast approaching, and Roman still had to make a fire to warm up his dinner for the night. He was relieved nothing had wandered by and attempted to fight him over his stash of food, but based off the last couple of days, he shouldn’t count on his luck to hold out, just to hope enough that someone would come to rescue him. Someone, and not something. 

The long night always came faster than it normally should up in this frozen sea of snow and crooked trees, and Roman hated how the cold always got more grueling than it already was.

He pleaded with whoever would listen above that someone would take notice of his troop’s absence by now, that they’ve sent out rangers or some sort of search party to investigate. Hope was a bigger weapon he had in his arsenal than either his spear or his bow, but soon enough that wouldn’t help keep him alive either. Hope that whatever put him in this mess wouldn’t return for more blood.

As Roman’s small fire warmed his feet, and the cooked venison filling his gurgling stomach, he peered out that large slanted stone window, out into the black depths of the frozen wilderness,  and waited for whatever came for him first.

Thanks for Reading!

— Nick Goodsell