Writing Dares

Sure!

I was also wondering if you ever come across a music video that makes the perfect writing propmt? I've found two good ones so far and if you would like to see them they are:
The Proof of Your Love: For King and Country
Darkest Part: Red

The wind whipped his hair wildly as he struggled to lift his sword. The trees were gripping, pulling, grasping his hands and legs, winding their way around his body, relentlessly pulling him deeper into the dark abyss. He couldn't hold on to his weapon. He dropped his face and turned against the wind. His cloak swirled around him, tearing in the gale. His eyes blurred and clouded over. Ice fell from the sky, pelting his face and neck, stinging his bare skin.
Where had she gone? He had lost her. She was out here...somewhere...he had...to...find her. Move...you need...to...move. You'll...die...soon..."
His mind screamed at him, echoing over and over the fear in his heart.
"She's gone. I lost her. She's gone."
The piercing cry of a bird broke through the wild winds. A messenger flacon swooped closer. Down it spiraled, fighting its way through the storm. At last it reached him and dropped a small broach into his hand. Her broach.
"Where is she?" he screamed above the gusts of wind. "Show me!"
The falcon cried again and leapt into the air, winging his way south. He forced strength into his muscles, willing himself away from the dark, gnarled fingers clawing at him. He stood and faced the wind.
"I'll find you Eiwyn!" The yell burst from his chest with such power, it rang through the air and echoed through the valley.
"I'm coming! I'll find you! Eiwyn!"


Wow. That picture is amazing.
I don't know about music video, but if I want inspiration, then I listen to anything by Emily Black. She writes songs for her father's books. I especially like Strike of the Caralynx, and Maria.

That was awesome Anne!

I love writing short scenes too. I can write short scenes, and I can write books and novellas, but I can't write short stories well.

I've based the setting of this story off my Song of the Sword...though this probably took place about 100 years before that story.


He should have known. He should have guessed. The finding of the legendary wingmaster’s blade should have given him more than a hint that something was wrong.
But the late spring snow, the early darkness, and the encroaching mist sweeping through the Melody Realm had been enough to deal with. Even drawing on the power of the song in the Melody, it had been all I could do to beat the joy stealing fog back towards the south. It had been an everyday enough occurrence that I should have known the sword was for something else.
Something worse.
But I’d relaxed. I’d attended the celebration like a normal citizen of Aslaria instead of one of the few who knew about, much less could entered, the reflection realm of song. And I’d left the sword in my lodging.
The swift beat of Frithren’s wings during a jubilant dance was the first sign something was terribly wrong.
He’s here.
The words sent ice though my veins and I pulled away into the shadows even as the lamps flickered out. And, under the startled cries, which I knew would soon turn to pleas of fear, I could hear the heavy drumbeat of the traitor’s song.
The traitor. As I dashed into the night, snow falling gently around my, I racked my brains but could come up with no name to couple to the shadow who had been sweeping though the country. A rumor, may thought it was.
I’d thought it was.
Except he was real. And he was here.
I snatched up the wingmaster’s sword, my vision blurring then clarifying as I saw the real realm and the Melody at once. My chest tightened as I glimpsed the mist, seeping in about the castle walls. But there was no time to deal with it now. Summoning the song, I dashed back to the great hall.
Silence met my ears. Silence, mingled with the recent memory of bloodshed and weeping. And the traitor’s faint song.
I choked at the sight. The motionless bodies. The stained floor. The lifeless hall.
I staggered back outside, my sword hanging limply from my hand. Frithren’s wings beat against the air and I turned, lifting my hand for the messenger falcon.
He’s headed south. Frithren declared grimly.
I nodded and swallowed hard, then closed my eyes. The Prince forgive me. I’d been given the sword, and I’d failed before I’d even started. I’d failed, but more would die unless I could stop the shadow. Clenching the sword, I took a deep breath, then turned toward the south.
And I ran. Ran through the night. Though the snow. Though the mist. Though the song. With death behind me, danger ahead, and an oath throbbing though my blood, I ran towards the fulfillment of my doom.

Thanks, Anne. I feel like making a legend or something about the character in the short scene I wrote. I like him already...I just need to figure out what happened.