The 100 Themes Challenge 2021 - CLOSED

Whew, making some progress through the list. I almost have my first batch of 5 themes completed. And, I have to admit, this is more challenging than I thought it would be. Am I overdoing it?

My goal was to post each batch of 5 all in a single post, since I don't want crits on these, but some of my entries are fiction, some are poetry, some will likely be memoir-type vignettes, so any opinions on where I post the first batch?

Would it make sense to have a place where we can post our challenge responses that neither gums up the challenge posts themselves nor creates no-crit clutter in the crit forums? I like clean, no-excess forums and subforums can seriously get out of hand, but would it be handy for everyone to have a subforum dedicated to our challenge responses?

Ok, so I'm just going to post my hodge-podge batch of 5-at-a-time right here in this thread. It's such a random bunch of gobbledygook, that I don't know where else to put them at this point. I don't want crits, so I'd feel bad spreading them out over in the feedback forums.

Here's my proof of completion on Blue, Water, Dreams, Days, Rivals:

20. Blue

Another blue screen! You bastard laptop. I swear, gremlins must be chewing my motherboard. Shit, did I hit save? How far back did I save? Oh, God.

I watch the system count its self-scan in tedious increments. 10% - 30% - 70% - 100%. Then it declares. “We’ll restart your system for you.” I lean in expectantly. Any second now this promise will be fulfilled, and I’ll learn how much story content, and how many hours of work, this cheerily ignorant machine just cost me. 100%. Seriously? Any second now… Why do I feel it’s mocking me? Hehe, it must be thinking, how long can I make this user sit and grind her teeth? Whenever you’re ready already! Reboot … NOW! No? Aaaaargh!

The blue screen remains, happily announcing it’s intention to reboot the laptop, which it might actually complete if I let it sit quietly for a century.

Screw this. I hold down the start button. The fans whir down as the system slows to a stop. One, two, three, four, five. I don’t know why I feel that waiting a few seconds will benefit the piece of shit, but I wait, mentally counting as slowly as my panic permits. Then I press the start button again. The fans whir to life, the start-up screen cycles, pretending nothing happened.

Glaring at the cheeky machine, and nursing a rising certainty of betrayal, I click open my document, all 297,000 words of it. A face fills the screen. It’s wrinkled like a potato, only pale blue, with wild hair full of electric static, pointed ears, a cute button nose, and teeth, teeth made for chomping documents. Those sharp little chompers are chewing, chewing, and the words on the white page of my doc are vanishing pixel by pixel. The gremlin peers out at me with eyes made large by guilt. Hand in cookie jar? Me? Maaaaaybe? conveys those large innocent eyes.

“Stop!” I shout at the screen. “Please don’t eat it. I’ve worked so hard.”

The gremlin’s potato face crinkles imp-like and it chuckles vilely. Then it ducks out of sight, vanishing beyond the monitor’s frame, a villain exiting stage left. It drags an unraveling thread of words behind it.

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13. Days

"An Age Within A Day"

As soon as I emerge from the sea, I know something is wrong. The shattered planks of my boat bob in the breakers rolling against my legs. I don’t recall going into the water. Surely I have struck my head. Or I dream. I recognize the shape of the docks, but nothing else. The coastal village, where I’d been born, and from which I had been gone for no more than a day, has grown to a full-fledged town, and the town has crumbled to ruin. I run, legs water-logged, down streets I know and some I don’t, seeking faces of friends in taverns we frequented, but the taverns are empty. My return goes unmarked by any but pigeons roosting in the rafters of broken roofs. Do I imagine it, the wail of a child? I follow the sound to the village square and find only the winch of the public well squealing on rusted cogs, a toy for the wind. No child. No one at all.

I peer down into the well’s endless black hole and will myself to wake from this nightmare. My heart clangs like a hammer on an anvil.

Wake. Wake. But there is no waking.

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79. Dreams

(on theme “illusion of self” inspired by a statement concerning Louise Glück’s poetry)

when I dream
I am someone else:
strong, accomplished, fulfilled
wielding courage
that shapes itself
into warrior weapons,
   free as horses that thunder
   me across landscapes
   of dream-matter,
      bold enough to venture
      without a ship
      through stars.

but there is another side:

bright skies suddenly dark with storms,
pillars of black cloud that chase
and cannot be avoided
like battles with you upon waking.
   auguries of strife,
   revelations of ugliness.

when I wake, I pretend I know myself.
I pretend
the hooded hag climbing the basement stairs
is not me, that her malice
is born of fear
not desire.
   auguries of danger,
   revelations of darkness:

insecure, shattered, confused.
when I wake,
I am someone else.

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32. Water

"I, Fideal"

I descend among cold water-weeds that still smell of you. I lured thousands into the lake with my song, all forgotten the moment their final breath escaped their lips, but you were different. I remembered you. You alone did not come willingly. Now I cannot unremember you. Your yellow bones crown the hill of bones, the centerpiece of my watery grotto. There, you haunt me, as once I haunted this benighted lakeshore, singing my irresistible song. I caress the hollows of your eyes, eyes that bewitched me. The song you sing is silent, and I am lured away from myself.

------

89. Rivals

(from WIP “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

“Please, I didn’t do anything!” The sack over Axaeus’s head absorbed his shout. “Who are you people?” His captors pinned his wrists to his shoulder blades and hustled him along the street. The music and cheers pouring from the Golden Hand game hall faded fast behind him.

Powers help him, had he forgotten to pay a bill? Had he offended a rival? Gods knew he’d lost more at the dice tables than he’d won; had hadn’t used charmed dice in months.

Within the sack, the sound of his breath was a roaring pant. He inhaled to declare his innocence, but the fabric filled his mouth. The silence of his captors was worse than threats. They jostled and shoved him along a premeditated route. The scuff of their footfalls echoed more sharply now; they must’ve hauled him into an alley.

Just give me a little room, you scoundrels, and I’ll sear the skin from your bones!

------

Got my next 5 finished. Sweet. All these came from the WIP I'm reworking.


99. Waiting

(from WIP: “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

     Was any effort quite so exhausting as that of waiting? He slouched in an armchair, a glass of brandy warming in his fingers, but he did not drink. He listened for the clatter of hooves stopping outside the inn, or the ringing of the bell on the gate, anything that might indicate the arrival of a courier. If Honor was wise, she would be more discreet. A note slipped under his door, perhaps.

---

64. Touch

(from WIP: “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

     Sanjen had nothing but time, however, down here in the silence beneath the river. So he chanted in brief stints, for as long as he could stomach the pain, and slept (or fainted) when he couldn’t.
     The wrappings had dried out and begun to smell less than wholesome, so he had tossed them into the corner with the piss bucket. The only light came from a lantern across the corridor, and it was feeble at best, too dim for Sanjen to gauge if he made much progress. Worse, the sword or dagger, or whatever it was, had stuck him in the back of the leg, just beneath his arse. He needed a goose’s neck to inspect the wound properly, so he worked by touch alone.

---

56. Breakfast

(from WIP “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

     She gestured at the drab row of advisers. “I used to chide Filixes for permitting his breakfast to be spoiled this way. I prefer quiet in the morning, eating alone upstairs, but those days are over. And I see now why he insisted on this arrangement. There’s simply too much to be done. One must combine the pleasure of dining with the displeasure of business if one is to get it all done.” She looked to Brentorien. “Is there anything else?”
     “Er, yes, a rather urgent matter, ma’am. We have apprehended Lady Rosella.”
     “Oh, splendid. Have her brought in.”
     The general hesitated. “This may not be a matter for the breakfast table, ma’am.”
     “Undoubtedly. But do so.”

----

35. Earth

(from WIP “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

     As if the airship were a prize horse, Honor caressed the black lacquered hull. “She’ll serve you now.”
     “Wh—? Me? Whatever for?” Oh, Ahilis and the blessed Four Winds, no, no, no. His feet belonged on the ground. Earth. Earth was his element. Surely Ahilis would detect this and send the ship plummeting. He had flown once before, in a contraption he designed himself, and he’d nearly been killed.

---

75. Balcony

(from WIP “Anthem of Honor and Glory”)

     He retreated and searched for the best means of escape. The balcony, yes. He opened the glass door, slipped outside, and softly latched it shut as the study door stormed open.
     The glass panes muffled Virien’s rage. “Where is he? You! Search the house. You! Fetch Mace.”
     Sanjen measured the distance to the ground. Fifteen feet? Twenty? Maybe the sculpted shrubs would break his fall. He eased over the railing and lowered himself, stretching his toes downward, willing the ground to rise and ease his landing, but it didn’t. He grit his teeth and let go. Branches cracked under his fall. He’d count his scrapes later, but at least the shrub spared him broken ankles.
     The crash alerted Virien. The glass door burst open. Sanjen ducked beneath the balcony.
“Sumbra celaris!” he hissed. The shadow beneath the balcony fluttered like fabric. He clenched hold of it and dragged it over him like a cloak.

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Got a couple more checked off the list:

"Girl" linked here in the ASC for Jessie Lone Horse, Complication Part 1: HERE

"summer" in this chapter of Jessie's ASC: HERE

"moon" from Jessie's ASC, Complication Part 2: HERE

Aw. No worries though. I'm definitely not going to finish it by end of October.

If I majorly break a rule and use the same short story for multiple theme words, maybe I'd get close.... which I kinda already did by using a novel-length work for several, but I figured that was different. Bent the rule till the breaking point? Probably so. Oh well.

I forgot to award myself the Honor Points most times, so I guess that makes up for it.