Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
Writings
I wake up in my cell to the sounds of the city outside stirring to life. I roll over and add a tally mark to the wall. One hundred and Seventy-Four days. It may as well be a lifetime. I rise, stretching out the soreness from the cot the guards so graciously provided, and head toward the door. Unlocked, like it always was.
It took me a week to try the door the first time. I remember the excitement in thinking that my captors had made some sort of mistake. Back when I still held onto hope. I take my morning walk, stepping outside to enjoy the bright sun and gentle breeze. Despite my extended stay I still draw looks from the locals. And why shouldn’t I? I stand out like a sore thumb. Their tall, lanky forms. Their smooth, pale skin. I’m clearly not one of them.
After my morning route, I return to my cell to find breakfast had already been delivered. Bread, cheese, and some kind of roasted root vegetable. Sustenance. I hungrily sit down, wishing once again for something more substantial. I finish my meal and head back outside, leaving my tray at the sink.
I make my way toward the market. I’m not allowed to carry money, but the sights, sounds, and smells remind me of home. I talk to the few vendors who tolerate my presence. Seeing if someone has a job for me to do in return for a small treat of some kind. No luck today, and so I move on. Out toward the city limits. It’s still a strange feeling being in a city with no surrounding walls. It looks wrong, like a drawing made by a child, missing key components. But they don’t need walls to keep invaders away. Just like they don’t need to lock my door to keep me here. Leaving the city isn’t the issue. It’s surviving the trip.
I cautiously approach the edge, laying on my stomach to shield me from any stray gusts. I peer down at the world below, a landscape of mountains and oceans laid out before me. A shimmer catches my vision as a flock of birds flies under the city, harmlessly passing through the protective bubble surrounding the city. The guards said something about it keeping the city safe and livable, but the specifics escaped me. Never been much one for details like that.
I continue on my walk. As I pass the docks, the guards eye me suspiciously. This is the only place I’ve seen any real security in the whole city. The flying machines that park here are the only safe way in or out. I make sure to give them plenty of space, making it clear I have no intention of messing with them. From a distance, I watch groups of guards systematically sorting through every incoming and outgoing crate, comparing them to the ship’s manifest. Other teams search each craft, checking for stowaways or contraband.
I return to my cell, and find one of the guards dropping off my lunch. I thank her, taking the tray from her hand as I sit down to eat. Bread, cheese, and some kind of beans. Thankfully, it’s Tuesday. Today’s cook remembers to season them, making the meal much more palatable. After I finish, I wash today’s two trays, and lay down for a nap.
Day after day, it’s all the same. I’m thankful for the rare opportunity to break the monotony. A vendor having a job for me. A large foreign ship carrying an ambassador from a country back on the surface. A scuffle in the streets over a perceived slight. Slowly biding my time, serving my sentence. If I had known who they were, I would never have attacked the caravan. I suppose everything is obvious in hindsight.
—————————
Three hundred and Sixty-Five days. A whole year spent among the clouds. If I hadn’t kept track on my wall, I’d have no idea that it was my anniversary of being up here. I talk to the same people. Eat the same foods. I walk the same routes every day. I could probably do it blindfolded at this point. Which is why I almost didn’t notice the small crate.
It was around the corner from the docks, just out of sight from the guards. I lift the lid, finding a pile of fabric. It was rough to the touch. Probably for some industrial purpose. Now it was misplaced and forgotten, just begging for my attention. I carefully pull the fabric out before pushing the now empty crate to the edge of the city. Dumping trash over the edge is technically a crime, but I know many people do it. Besides, what would they do? Put me in prison? I laugh to myself, watching the wooden box tumble toward the ground, growing smaller and smaller before it completely disappears from sight.
I return to my treasure, and carefully bring it back to my cell. A guard notices it, but all it takes was a quick lie about doing a job to earn so I can use it as a blanket to satisfy their curiosity. I wrap myself up in it, thankful for the warmth despite its coarse texture, planning my next actions.
For the next several weeks, I forgo my daily walks, instead electing to spend time in my cell practicing tying knots in the fabric. I make sure to put it away when the guards bring me my food, not wanting them to take away my prize. I experiment wrapping the fabric around myself, finding ways to secure it with simple knots.
Finally, more than a month after acquiring my treasure, I work to put my plan in action. I resume my daily walks, checking the landscape below, waiting for the sight of some kind of civilization. When the day finally comes, I strike. I tie the fabric around myself in the way I had been practicing before throwing my cloak over myself, hiding my escape plan beneath. I feel my heart pounding as I navigate the now all too familiar streets, back out toward the edge. I reach the outer limit around the city, holding my cloak tight to avoid it blowing open. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and leap.
As I fall, I look behind me at the city now rapidly getting further away. From this perspective, I can see the array of glowing crystals that presumable keep the city afloat. Once I am satisfied with how far I’ve fallen, I finally let my cloak fall away, praying that my hard work will pay off. I tug on the carefully tied knot on my chest, releasing the excess fabric bundled around me. It billows up behind me, catching the wind and slowing my fall. I feel the makeshift harness tighten around me, but my practiced knots hold it in place and prevent it from becoming too uncomfortable.
I slowly drift down toward the city below, the time giving my mind plenty of opportunity to bombard me with questions I don’t know the answer to. How long will it take them to realize I’m gone? Will they hunt me down once they do? Who lives in that settlement below? Will they even allow me to stay? Will I even survive all the way to the ground?
Only time will tell. For now, I have escaped the sky fortress.
I was walking in the sky castle one night, trying to escape. The stars were really bright that night, and I couldn’t get away. I tiptoed in my blue water dress and and layed my crown on the pillar. I left a goodbye note, for I didn’t want to be rude. I just didn’t want for them to know that I was leaving…they are very strict. I lept and flew.
“I am leaving” I thought “ I am leaving to see the earth, and to get to know humans.
That’s the end of pt 1! Follow and like and comment for pt 2n
IT IS BELIEVED that when one falls, it feels as though it is never-ending. On the way down, you nearly burn up in the sky. That being said, the trip down is incredibly tolerable and generous compared to the landing, where you would be lucky to have at least one unbroken bone in your new physical body. It is no wonder why thwarting The Great Plan is considered a distasteful option by many of the Sky Realm’s people. The consequences of disobeying leaves little to the imagination.
However, there are a limited few who have still chosen this path despite the terrifying tales of falling to Earth. Anthony, Anita thought, was unfortunately one of them. While she recognizes she should not have pity for him, she can’t help but look back on memories they shared before he fell. He just seemed so good, so….well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?
Anthony was one of The Fallen who loudly debated the tales of “falling out of the sky”. According to Anthony, that only happened a handful of times; (1) during a catastrophic elevator malfunction (a technical issue he claimed to have ranted to the Higher Ups about months prior) and (2) An accidental slip and fall down the steps, possibly after a drunken night out at the pub (Heaven has never had a “pub”, and the only other explanation to this would be a sheer lack of coordination).
When asking Anthony how he fell, he refuses to disclose that information. Come to think of it, Anthony would rather not disclose anything. This has been mildly infuriating for the Sky People and is part of the reason why Anita believes they should just cut their losses. Afterall, there was no reason to transport Anthony back to the realm after he had already fallen. He was of no use here, hence the entire concept of falling to begin with.
But Anthony was dangerous, the Higher Ups had warned. He’s too cunning, you never know what he might be planning. They were thoroughly convinced that he wasn’t just working with Hell, but that he was also working amongst the humans. Poisoning their minds, They’d say. To her, he just seemed like a bloody fool that had no place to go and no idea what he was doing.
Alas, Anthony had been locked away in Confinement, for fear that he had some proverbial trick up his sleeve. Anita couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that very thought.
Confinement wasn’t all that bad- you still had decent living quarters, and the surrounding guards provided plenty of company to make sure you weren’t alone. Confinees could still eat, socialize in a common room for approximately 30 minutes each day, and participate in “Uno”, a human card game. They’ve tried implementing “Monopoly”, however far too many scuffles have broken out during it. The game was then deemed the work of the Devil, as it would surely tear apart friends and families alike. Anita never understood the concept of a shoe buying property anyway.
Anita shuffled down the bright hallway, following behind two of the guards. Cell 32B, Anthony’s cell, was not too much farther. The Confinees were divided between two units. Unit A was mainly composed of individuals who simply began associating with the wrong crowd, but were actively working to get back into God’s good graces. Unit B…well, that unit hosted individuals like Anthony. Unit B consisted of traitors and treasonists, those who were beyond redemption. Those who had fallen, but were considered an imminent threat to the will of God, too dangerous to be let loose on Earth.
Anita and the guards rounded the corner, stopping in front of the cell that read: 32B. Anita took a deep breath, mentally preparing for the interview. The Higher Ups had been sending numerous officials to interview Anthony over the past several months, but they have consistently turned up empty-handed regarding intel. She was no stranger to the interview process, however she was doubtful that the outcome would be different this time around.
She heard the click of the door as it flashed green, allowing entry into the cell. She braced herself as the guards pushed through the door quickly, causing Anthony to stand up from the bed abruptly in confusion. They began grabbing Anthony by the arms without warning.
“Rise and shine,” One of them said smugly, roughly maneuvering him through the cell door. Anita looked Anthony up and down, realizing how long it has been since she last seen him. He was a completely different person. Between the rugged complexion, the wild, untamed hair, and Earthly clothing, she didn’t even recognize him. It absolutely shocked her.
“Grace,” He said quietly, nodding in acknowledgement to her, addressing her presence. She looked away from him sternly as they walked quickly down the hallway, Anthony restrained by the two guards. He had always been the only one who had referred to her by the meaning of her name.
“Anthony,” she said cordially, not bothering to look his way. “Please address me properly.”
“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit.”
“It’s a pity to see that you have. You look ridiculous,” she advised, glancing at his clothing. They were both silent for a moment as they continued to walk.
“It’s been a long time,” he said casually, as if he was talking about the weather.
“Indeed it has,” she agreed, guiding him to the interrogation room. She held her hand out, gesturing him to walk inside. “We’ve much to talk about.”
They stepped inside the white room, filled with nothing but some chairs and a table, sleek walls, and florescent lighting. The guards escorted Anthony to a chair on one side of the table, securing him to it with cuffs and chains. Anita sat down across from him, folding her arms across her chest. The guards left the room just then, shutting the door behind them. The sound of the door clicking signaled that they were alone. Both of them were quiet for a moment.
“What brings you here, Detective?” Anthony calmly inquired.
“I could ask you the same question,” she quipped.
“Here to pick my brain? See what I’m ‘planning’?”
Anita folded her hands and set them on the table, watching him intently. She refused to be intimidated by his own questioning.
“We have reason to believe you’re a threat,” she said seriously. “If so, that’s a huge problem for you. Make no mistake that we do not take this lightly. Do you understand?”
“Oh, I understand, Detective,” Anthony said lowly, matching her tone. “I think I understand a lot more than you do.”
Anita looked away from him, focusing down at his file instead.
“What exactly are you doing on Earth?” she asked him after a beat. “The humans…they’ve begun to do more and more unspeakable things. The past several decades, our documentation has been piling up. You can’t be doing this alone. Who else did you recruit to corrupt them further?”
Anthony looked up at the ceiling for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not doing anything. The humans don’t even need someone like me to intervene; they think of these things by themselves. Humans do have free will, after all. I’ve just been living on Earth.”
“That’s a lie,” Anita called out.
“Is it a lie because They say it is?”
“You would not be spending your days in Confinement if you were simply ‘living on Earth’!” she snapped back. Anthony tensed, lowering his voice to a whisper so that only Anita could hear him.
“You’re right, I would not. Except that I know something. Call it what you will. Perhaps, ‘your people’ feel threatened by the humans,” He whispered venomously, gritting his teeth. “Years of technology, evolution, advancement….perhaps, They are worried that humans may evolve to the likes of which They have never seen, nor could They handle.”
Anita remained silent, listening to his words. Anthony looked around wildly before continuing, making sure he could not be overheard. His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to understand.
“Grace, They want to depopulate the Earth,” he warned. “They want to get rid of the humans, and They do not want anyone knowing why. They don’t want an equal; They want to rule.”
Title: Escape from the Sky Fortress
High above the clouds, where the sky burns gold at dawn and purple at dusk, the Sky Fortress hung like a citadel of steel and glass, suspended by anti-gravity engines that hummed with an eerie, ceaseless power. It was a marvel of ancient engineering, a relic from a forgotten age when humanity had sought refuge above the ruined lands below. Few who entered its walls ever left—because most did not want to, and those who did... never found a way out.
Kal Orin was one of the few who wanted to leave.
They had captured him in the dust-choked canyons of the earth below, one of the scavengers from the lowlands, surviving on scraps of metal and food from the decaying cities. The fortress guards—a mix of human enforcers and automated drones—had dragged him, bleeding and bound, into the massive flying city.
Now, weeks later, Kal stood before one of the enormous windows in his cell, watching the world drift by far below. His breath fogged the reinforced glass as he stared out, his mind working furiously. The fortress was beautiful in a way that unsettled him: pristine, orderly, and cold. Its spires reached up into the thin air, glowing faintly with the energy that kept it aloft. But beneath that beauty, Kal had seen the truth. This place was a prison for those who knew too much or didn’t belong—and soon, it would become his tomb unless he could find a way out.
His cell door slid open with a hiss, interrupting his thoughts. Two guards entered, their faces obscured by visored helmets. They stood still, weapons holstered, waiting for him to follow. Kal wiped his mouth, squaring his shoulders as he fell in step behind them.
They marched him down narrow corridors of gleaming metal, past towering rooms filled with machinery that thrummed with life. Every now and then, a drone would whiz past overhead, scanning them with its blue sensor lights. Kal had memorized every turn, every doorway. He had no choice. If he failed today, they would execute him.
The guards led him into a chamber larger than any he had seen before. It was circular, with a domed ceiling made entirely of glass, providing an unbroken view of the open sky above. At the center of the room was a raised platform, and on it stood the figure who ruled the Sky Fortress: Governor Sorn.
Sorn was a man of unsettling calm, his every movement precise, his voice low and measured. He wore a deep crimson coat lined with silver thread, the symbol of the fortress’s control, but his most striking feature was his eyes—ice blue, colder than the void beyond.
“Kal Orin,” Sorn said, as if savoring each syllable. “The lowlander who dared to enter our skies without permission.”
Kal remained silent, his eyes flicking to the exits. He’d been planning for this moment, memorizing every detail of the fortress for weeks. He could feel the energy humming through the walls, the air tingling with power from the engines that kept the fortress afloat. This was it—his only chance.
Sorn continued speaking, but Kal was no longer listening. He had already scanned the room, finding the weak points in the floor panels and the control systems. He had only seconds to act.
With a sudden movement, Kal twisted, grabbing the guard’s stun baton and slamming it into the other’s chest. The first guard reacted too slowly, and Kal was already on him, knocking him out cold. Alarms blared, and red lights flashed throughout the chamber.
Sorn raised a hand, but Kal was faster. He sprinted toward the central console, where the fortress’s power systems were controlled. His fingers flew over the keys, recalling everything he had learned from overhearing the engineers and studying the fortress schematics.
“You won’t get away,” Sorn’s voice cut through the alarm. His calm demeanor faltered as he advanced toward Kal, drawing a sleek energy blade from his coat.
Kal didn’t answer. His heart pounded in his ears as he typed in the sequence he had memorized, praying it would work. He hit the final key, and the hum of the engines grew louder, the entire fortress shaking slightly beneath his feet.
“Override initiated,” a mechanical voice intoned from the console. “Manual controls unlocked.”
Kal turned, just in time to dodge Sorn’s blade. It sizzled through the air, inches from his neck. He rolled across the floor, grabbing one of the fallen guard’s blasters, and fired at the governor. Sorn dodged with fluid grace, closing the distance between them, but Kal wasn’t aiming to kill. The blaster shot hit the control panel behind Sorn, sending sparks flying and causing the governor to stagger.
Kal didn’t hesitate. He sprinted toward the exit, his legs burning as he ran through the labyrinthine corridors of the fortress. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footfalls of more guards, and the whirring of drones giving chase. His breath was ragged, his muscles screaming for rest, but he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close.
He reached the hangar bay, a vast chamber filled with sleek skimmers and transport ships, all neatly docked and waiting for their pilots. Kal dove into the cockpit of the nearest skimmer, fingers moving over the controls. The engines roared to life, and he punched the throttle just as the bay doors began to close.
The skimmer shot out of the hangar, into the open sky.
For a moment, Kal’s heart soared. He had done it—he was free.
But then he saw them. The fortress’s hunter drones, black as night and faster than any skimmer he had ever flown. They were already on his tail, their blasters lighting up the sky as they fired at him.
Kal banked hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a shot that would have taken out his engines. The world blurred around him as he dove through the clouds, weaving between the towering spires of the fortress. He could feel the heat from the drone’s blasters as they streaked past him, each shot closer than the last.
He needed a plan—and fast.
In the distance, he saw it: the power core of the Sky Fortress, a massive structure that glowed with the energy keeping the city afloat. If he could destroy it, the entire fortress would lose its anti-gravity field, and it would plummet back to the ruined earth below. It was risky—suicidal even—but Kal knew it was the only way.
He gunned the engines, heading straight for the power core. The drones followed, their fire intensifying. His skimmer rocked as a blast hit the side, sending a shower of sparks into the cockpit.
But Kal didn’t slow down.
With one final burst of speed, he angled the skimmer toward the core, setting the controls for a collision course. He ejected at the last second, tumbling through the air as the skimmer slammed into the core.
There was a deafening explosion, and the entire sky seemed to light up as the power core erupted in flames. The drones were caught in the blast, disintegrating in the shockwave. The Sky Fortress shuddered violently, its engines sputtering and failing.
Kal free-fell through the sky, watching as the great citadel above him began its slow, inevitable descent toward the earth. His parachute deployed just in time, and he drifted down to the ground, breathless but alive.
As he touched down on the dusty, cracked surface of the world below, Kal looked up at the falling fortress, knowing that he had done the impossible.
He had escaped.
Kal stood on the ground, his legs trembling as he watched the colossal Sky Fortress plummet toward the earth, a burning shadow against the dimming sky. The once-mighty citadel, home to thousands of the elite and their guardians, was now just a smoking ruin falling in slow motion, trailing fire and debris.
The wind howled around him as the distant rumble of the fortress's engines failing grew louder. The ground beneath his feet vibrated, and Kal felt the full weight of what he had done. He had toppled something ancient and powerful, something that had ruled the skies for generations.
As the massive structure neared the ground, he shielded his eyes from the blinding light of the final impact. The crash was deafening—a thunderous roar that sent tremors through the earth. A plume of dust and smoke shot up into the air, covering the horizon in a thick, black cloud. The fortress, once a symbol of untouchable power, lay shattered, its remains scattered like forgotten relics across the wasteland.
For a long moment, Kal stood in the silence that followed, catching his breath and trying to process everything. The fortress was gone. Sorn, the governor who had ruled with an iron fist, was likely dead or buried beneath the wreckage. The drones, the guards, the gilded halls—everything had been consumed by the destruction.
But what now?
Kal turned, looking at the wasteland stretched out before him. The lowlands were still as desolate as ever, the landscape a barren desert of cracked earth and decaying cities. He had escaped from the fortress, but now he was back where he had started—alone in a dying world.
Still, something was different. Kal had seen what lay above the clouds, the opulence, the oppression, the secrets they kept hidden. And now, with the Sky Fortress gone, there was nothing left to stop the people of the lowlands from reclaiming their world, from finding a way to rebuild.
His heart pounded with new resolve. He wasn’t the same scavenger he had been when they captured him. He had faced death, fought against impossible odds, and brought down an empire. He was free—truly free—and that freedom came with a new sense of responsibility.
He couldn’t stay here in the wasteland, not when there were others out there who would need to know what he had done. Others who would need to rise from the ashes of this broken world and make something new.
Kal took a deep breath, the air tasting of smoke and dust. He looked at the path ahead, at the distant silhouette of a ruined city on the horizon. It was a long way off, but it wasn’t unreachable.
With one last glance at the wreckage of the Sky Fortress, Kal turned and started walking.
He didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in his life, the future felt wide open—like the endless sky above.
“Jim. Help me!” I say as I pull up on the bars. I start chiseling away at the cement at either end of the bars. “Why should I? We’re not getting out unless we do something crazy.” I sit there trying not to belive in those words. I hear footsteps signaling for me to retreat back to my corner. “Wait” he says as he jumps up and runs to the side of the door. “What are you doing?” I say in hushed whisper. “Just be. I’ll handle the rest.” He says. I nod in agreement. I know what he’s doing. It’s risky though. But after all you have to try everything when your trapped in a city above the ground. The guard walks in after the door clicks and stands with the food tray like a sad boy at school who has nowhere to sit. Jim jumps him from the back and brings him to the floor. I know for a fact he won’t be able to sit for a while after he wakes up. Or if he wakes up. “Come on” Jim says as we run out of the cell. We grab the guards gun and run. As sprint by all the doors I pray no one will open any of them. We get to the landing pad as the guards find us and corner us. “Come with us” one of them says. Jim looks at me with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry but I can’t go back there.” He says and he gives me a kiss. “I love you.” He jumps.
Her eyes began to well up, the first traces of realization. They blurred her vision, and yet she did not blink them away, instead letting the droplets build and flood out what she thought was an impossible thing. Though the rest of her remained in a subtle state of shock. As if time had slowed the moment they arrived. She was still there, standing among the curious crowd, waiting to see why they had arrived here of all places. And yet, here she sat, staring down at a sealed scroll that had been thrust into her hands. She blinked finally, her lashes giving way as tears began to stream down her face. And still she was silent, mentally reliving moments not long ago passed. “It is our great honor to present this to you.” They had asked her her name. They hadn’t even known her name. “Airella” She said, and it felt in that moment that she had sealed her fate. The carriage jostled abruptly, having rolled over a deviation in the dirt road, and suddenly she moved, turning in her seat to see them all still gathered together at the village’s front gate. She had been among them just moments ago, in awe as the most pristine golden-white carriage arrived in Eversmith Village. Airella choked out a cough, finding it increasingly hard to swallow—harder even to breathe. "Gods, it’s hot in here.” She fell back against the padded walls, fingering desperately at the buttons around her collar, pulling the fabric open and away from her chest. Breathing in short, sudden gasps, she lifted her long brown hair up and off her neck, doing everything she could to alleviate the building heat she felt inside. Her head lulls back, falling to a side as more tears roll down her cheek. The Eversmith fields gliding past. She remembered the crowd yelling in joy when she accepted the scroll from the guard, who remained atop his brilliantly white horse. “The gods have chosen!” they declared, and the crowed of her peers cheered with conviction. Why were they so happy? The sight of the scroll, with its cream colored papyrus paper and gold seal, angered her. Grabbing hold of it, feeling it crush in her fist, she hurled it across the coach floor. A quick glance backwards, she could just make out the vibrant persimmon-dyed skirts of two women. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. “They chose wrong!” She screamed, and the coachman’s whip cracked. “They’re wrong…” |||| Standing on the dais of centuries-old architecture, Ariella’s hair is whipped over her shoulders. The high altitude wind howled in her ears. Her body, dull from weeks of travel and little nourishment, shook against the force of the wind. It's gusts threatening to send her to her knees with every wave. It seemed the fortress built suitable for gods achieved the added purpose of human intimidation. “You have been brought here from all reaches of the realm.” A woman of around five and fifty stands on the lowest dais. Though it’s impossible to be sure of her true age if the rumors are to be true. Ariella marvelled at the confidence this woman had in her ability to resist the wind, fearing she might at any moment be swept backwards and over the edge. Though the woman was sturdy as stone. Odd, she realised, not even her elegantly draping clothes shuttered at the wind's force. “Each of you has been handpicked for the honor of a lifetime. I welcome you warmly, as I too have stood where you now stand and understand the excitement you must feel.” Suddenly the wind picked up, and Ariella could feel that chill against her neck, and with it a deep moan from the halls of the fortress behind them. A thin woman beside her stumbles forward and quickly repositions herself back in line with the group. Ariella turned to smile but quickly corrected her gesture. As she is met with a soul in turmoil, tears roll down the woman's cheeks. “You may refer to me as the Lady Prim from here on.” The lady continued. “I am the lady of the house of cloth. We know that our governance is not known to those who dwell below. Though, in time, you will learn. For now, know that each of the six of you is here to fill vacancies that have unexpectedly opened in houses of rose, script, cloth, nourishment, and contentment. Depending on your assignment, myself or another in my standing will be your guide here.” The six of them stand in silence on the dais of the second inner ring as the Lady Prim continues to speak about duty. A spin-off from the version Ariella was given upon choosing day weeks ago. The words rattled through her head, and she can hear the crowd of her peers cheering for her once more. She seldom left the confines of the carriage, only leaving to sleep and bathe in the most luxuriously constructed tents. In which those who waited on her spoke very few words toward her. The majority of her time she spent alone with her grief, all the while staring down at the scroll that remained rolling around the carriage floor, unopened. Ariella had pulled the curtains aside as they rolled into the Sky City, horns announcing their arrival. She had never seen the city before today. Though, as a child, she’s heard many stories. Ariella was immediately struck by the immense power of symbolism on display. She felt those hot tears well up again in her eyes at the sight of it. One who documented this day might say she had been struck by the beauty of it all, but it was the deep, unrelenting fear of this place that truly brought her to such emotion. There were thousands of them, people prostrating in prayer, their heads lining the road in such practiced perfection. Some with painted crimson-red palms held up high, reaching out towards the fortress that loomed over them all. Another horn sounded, and heads turned away from her. More carriages entered from behind, through the city gates. The impending arrival moved her into action. As she tore open the seal and unfurled the paper, she read the words she had been avoiding. ~ You journey now to the Sky Fortress. A god has chosen you. Humble yourself, for this is a great honor.
Jack never imagined the startling outcome that awaited him at the top of the beanstalk. All Jack could think about was, “I need to earn enough to cover this month's rent,” especially given the grave condition of his parents' health. Unbeknownst to him, they had fallen victim to the Bubonic Plague, a relentless disease ravaging his small seaside town.
Yet, that was far from the extent of his worries. He was in imminent danger, confronted by the giants that loomed around the opening of his beanstalk, and they were far from pleased.
“A mortal?! A mere MORTAL dares to climb one of MY beanstalks and ascend to Mt. Olympus?!” thundered Zeus, his voice resonating like a storm as thunder and lightning crackled ominously behind him, unleashing a tempest upon Jack's village.
“Zeus, mighty King, let us unleash the storm of war upon these mortals to remind them whom they trust in prayer,” Ares chimed in, stepping forward at Zeus's right side. “Brother, there’s more to war than mere bloodshed. You’ve already afflicted them with the Black Death. Allow me—”
“ENOUGH!” Zeus bellowed, cutting off Athena’s protest. “We shall address this issue in a different way…”
The wind rippled violently, nearly blowing him off his feet. He caught his breath, a fall from this height would mean certain death. Everybody who visited the fortress always had the same thought: how beautiful and tranquil it was, surely it was a place fitting of the gods. But they didn’t know the truth. As often with a place as beautiful as this, the darkness was just as great. Deep within, it’s insides burst with the cries of its feathered prisoners. The only thing that kept this monstrosity airborne. Back to the escapee at hand, his wings clipped to prevent a dive into open air. He clung to the brick wall, his only way to leave this prison was to hitchhike on one of the air balloons that visited daily. It was now or never.
Sweat drips down my face. I dash out of the Castle and hop in the nearest grass car. A wind angel flows above me, bringing a gust of wind as I open the door. My short dirty blonde hair brushes against my pink cheeks. I slam the door and slump into the brown seat.
"The cost is {}15 to get anywhere today. What'll it be?" "Umm," I bite my lip. I wanted to escape, but I hadn't figured out where yet. "Bridge town, I guess." "Will that be in wishes or coins?" "Ha! Wishes... " I murmur. He has a stern look on his face. Oh well. I could only dream of being a wisher.
"Uh, coins. Sir." I hand him 3 nose sized oval coins. They shimmer as the light shines down from the window. My mouth stings, and I relize I've been biting my lip. Bad habit.
The car ride is silent. Were on smooth roads, grass to be exact. I look out the window the whole ride, watching cloud angels, wind angels, ground angels, sky angels and so on.
The town is huge, as I have been taught it's much smaller than the castle. The sun is shining, and with less sky angels than outside the castle. As we cross the bridge, some light fades away, in the distance of gem town. We stop at the main building, which is tallish and bridge shaped. I turn back as see the castle, in it's glory gold hour. It's a monstrosity, as I have necer seen it at a distance below.
Huge white fluffy clouds are near to the castle, probably Puff town. All the cloud angles live their, with some sky angels and wishers. I open the door and murmer a thanks to the driver. None of the cars are green, as most all of them are city cars, not grass cars.
🫶🏻
Ok that's it for now, but I do want to do a part two, just got some writers block 😅🥲
She types, the sound echoing off of the practically empty room, the sound being absorbed by the white. White walls, white floor tiles, white bed, white desk, white typewriter. Like being encased in a pearl. Beautiful, dizzying, mesmerizing. Maddening. She has been at the same task for hours, writing everything that comes to her head, but nothing can ease the discordance of her mind. In a fit of rage, she claws at the walls with her sharpened nails. Counting 1. 2. 3. 4. 5… She rises, feet barely on the ground, practically floating, recovered from her bout of hysteria. She looks to the door, the door she has watched for years. The door that never opens. Her hand reaches out toward it, lacking her normal hesitation. What would happen if it just… opened? The world, the wonder, the glory. The freedom. The temptation could make her go mad. Staring at the door that never opens. Except there it is, the outside. The outside she only dreams about. A perfect meadow, a soft bed of grass, the heat of a sunset. She lies down there with the animals of the wild, with the little fox she loved as a child. Laughing and crying while she types. Her life is the stuff of dreams.
