Fred Thread 2

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Fred Thread 2

Fred Thread 2

For me, fantasy writing is closely connected to the natural world. Although a fantasy may involve imaginary creatures, magical objects, and unusual landscapes, yet certain aspects of good stories come straight from real life. I suspect you know what I mean. When you're outdoors on a summer evening, doesn't the world seem enchanted, as if anything might happen? Do you sometimes see a story idea in the way sunlight strikes a tree, making the leaves glow green and golden, and casting deep, cool, purple shade beneath? In fact, it's these details that help the story come alive for the reader. If we can hear the whisper of the leaves or feel the sunlight baking us through our scratchy shirts, then it's easier to believe that the whole forest is on an island floating in the air, or that a unicorn is standing beside us.
 
I was thinking today about how the interaction of nature and human structures—like the abandoned road in the previous thread—can lead us into fantasy stories. I remember the old barn I used to play in when I was a kid. One wall of it was covered by leafy Virginia creeper vines, so from that side it looked more like a hill than a barn. Some of the old, weathered trapdoors were crisscrossed and sealed shut by the vines. Nature seemed to want them shut; to us kids, they seemed too sacred to open. Yet there were hatchways among the leaves, doorways into an inner world of wooden beams, passageways leading, perhaps, into the world of Faery.
 
On this thread, I invite you to write a sentence or two about something very real—a detail you've actually seen—where nature is interacting with something people have built. This is an important aspect of fantasy story writing, because believe me, these images provide just as much of the story's "fire" and "zing" as the three-headed giants and flowers that shine like lanterns. Tell us about snow on a fence post, about tree roots that squeeze a brick foundation, about water trickling from the crack in a stone wall. . . .
 
Here's my example: Forty or fifty years ago, someone had carried a broken gate from the fence and leaned it here against the young maples. As the trees grew, they absorbed it, and now its planks and rusted bars were half-buried in the trunks, forming a strong, enchanted wall behind the garden.
submitted by Fred Durbin, Ukraine
(May 9, 2014 - 2:21 pm)


The roof of the playhouse was entirely covered in mosses, succulents, and
wildflowers, the vines hanging down from the eaves suggesting a greater than
anticipated growth. It almost looked as if someone had placed a meadow there, a
soft pillow of a garden.


submitted by Benjamin F.
(May 19, 2014 - 4:09 pm)

As I crept through the gate (whose lock had rusted off), I slowly walked into the stone courtyard. Before me rose the towering house, with old bits of vegetation lodged here and there. My heart was in my throat. I stepped forward towards a large tree off to the left side of the house, but immediately, I checked my pace. In the tree's roots there lay, a head, not a human head nor an organic head, but a stone dragon head. I looked around and saw the pedestal a few feet away. But something caught my eye. As I turned around to the opposite side of the tree, I saw a stone dragon tail. It appeared as if a dragon had crawled under the tree, fallen asleep, and turned to stone. It was quite intriguing. However, at that moment, I heard a noise from upstairs in the house, and, fearing ghosts, ran away as quickly as I could. Strangely, I somehow never managed to get the opportunity to go back and have another look at the dragon, but I did find a ten-dollar bill the next day, so I assume it was a good-luck dragon.

submitted by Malum, age 14trillion, Arúz
(May 22, 2014 - 5:55 pm)

I LOVE this!!! 

“Heave, Ho!” commanded the dwarf king. Slowly, but surely,
the twisted tree was shoved into the creek. A cheer went up through the crowd,
and for the first time in forever, there was peace.

 

People forgot the tree and its meaning. The tree lay in the
creek alone, its magic and meaning running out. Until all of the magical worth
slipped away. But soon it would be remembered, and dark tales would live again,
devouring all.

Hope you like it!

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submitted by E.m.i.l.y., age 11, Some Where, Indiana
(May 26, 2014 - 9:34 pm)

I have some interest in computer programming; where would one put this code, and what would it do once placed?

submitted by A Crowd Sorcerer, age 13, New Hampshire
(June 6, 2014 - 5:25 pm)

This is one of my favorite threads on Crowd Sorcery, and you're all doing a fantastic job here! This interaction between constructed objects and the green, growing world of nature often gives me story ideas.

Just to cheer you on, I'd like to tell you about an amazing place here in the city of Rivne, western Ukraine, where I'm currently visiting. There's a quiet park at the edge of the city -- it's called Hydro Park. Mainly, it's a large pond or small lake surrounded by old, gnarled, giant willow trees. They march all along the pond's edge, all the way around. Their green crowns are thick, the leafy strands of branches hanging down, some into the water, some onto the path. Some of the trees are so thick with leaves that they're almost like huts -- once you step underneath the shelter of the foliage, you're in a secret space of dim emerald light. I was there at dusk, when the evening shadows were purple. The whole place truly seemed like the border of a magical world such as Faery.

But most wondrous of all: at Hydro Park, there's a stone statue of a crocodile, much bigger than an actual crocodile. It's made in a pose as if crawling up out of the water. If you approach from one direction, you see the crocodile's huge head and forelegs thrusting through the willow-wands. If you first glimpse it from the path farther along, you see what looks like the back and tail of a dinosaur in the twilight. It's quite a place!

And you're suggesting some enchanting places and objects on this thread -- three cheers! I'm enjoying every line!

submitted by Fred D., Rivne, Ukraine
(June 10, 2014 - 6:00 pm)

At daybreak, you can hear happy birds chirping as the sun starts to rise, illuminating the ocean waves lapping at the beach in the distance. You can feel the chilly wind whipping all around you in the crow's nest. You can taste the salty sea spray in the air as your ship sets fourth into the sunrise.

submitted by Watermelon, age ?, VACATION!
(June 22, 2014 - 5:55 am)

The twisted vines elegantly wove in and out through the brush, as the grass swayed delicatly in the breeze, like fine porcelin. The air was sweet and thick with excitement, and then as the smell flew past us, it whipped our hair in its hurry and swept it in a gracefull arc around our glowing faces.

submitted by Edie the bewildered, age 12, middle of no where
(June 25, 2014 - 7:07 pm)

A long time ago, someone buried a box under a young sapling. As the tree grew, its roots winded around the box, creating a safe gate around whatever treasures it may carry.

submitted by Alice W., California
(June 27, 2014 - 3:12 pm)

Ok..... writing for one of my villains!

The place Lycan put the bones after the he devoured their previous owners was not noticed for fifteen years. A freak storm washed them underground, but they were pushed up again as a tree grew. The skull was forever encased in the wood, leering out like a demon. Some rightfully thought it was a skull; some thought it was a bizarre growth. No one knew about Lycan, of course. 

submitted by Brooke E., age 11, Arkansas
(June 27, 2014 - 7:43 pm)

 

The old willow sighed in the wind as it leaned over the abandoned shack it had protected so long.  Soon that old tree would die but her children live on surrounding, growing, thriving in and around the old shack, into the crack, becoming part of them. 

submitted by Juniper L., Elsewhere
(July 2, 2014 - 2:51 pm)

Where an old greenhouse lay forgotten a sprout emerged from the soil within. After many years the small sprout, still undisturbed, grew and broke free from its quiet home, creating beauty because this abandoned greenhouse was once empty but now is thriving with life.

submitted by Clara D, age 12, California
(July 2, 2014 - 6:58 pm)

The water flowed around, swirled up, and drained. That was it. It happened over and over again. 

submitted by S.E.
(July 4, 2014 - 9:44 am)

No one knew how they could make the bush stop growing. It's hands and legs were so quick to attack anyone that came near it. Every year, it's mouth ate up land and space with relish. And it's thorns. Oh lord, the thorns cut deep wounds in your fingers, that blood would gush up right away, and keep bleeding for hours. 

submitted by Sophia H., age 11, New Jersey
(July 4, 2014 - 6:43 pm)

No one but the dwarfs knew what lay underground. Man suggested only dirt and soil, and bugs as long as your house. Others suggested nothing. Just endles spaces of dust making you sneeze and walk out to the comfort of aboveground. But the truth was nothing like that. If anyone knew they would search night and day for it, not stopping even if their body's were begging them too. The truth was mines.

Piles of gold lay glinting underneath, reflecting off the electiric lights that were placed underneath. Jewels of all shapes and all colors were put carefully in enormous, dirty chests, that looked completely ordinary. The jewels would lay asleep on the mattress of velvet cushining while the dwarves would heave up the chests and bring them to trade for other good. Iron axes and diamond pixaxes lay in heaps spread across of digging sites ready to be grabbed at or cursed at for breaking.

All the meanwhile while digging, the dwarfs would sing merry songs and congratulate each other at a very good find.

 

Thx 

submitted by Sophia H., age 11, New Jersey
(July 4, 2014 - 7:42 pm)

I walked slowly down the path. The trees cast eerie shadows in the twilight, and I shivered. This was not a friendly place. The cobblestones clicked under the soles of my shoes, causing echoes in the silence. Scraggly grass poked through the worn down bricks, and occasionally I had to push away vines and branches that obscured the way. I passed a wooden sign with the words completely faded. Over time lichen had eaten it away. A cold wind blew the dried leaves across the stones, creating a creepy sound I wished I hadn't heard. 

submitted by Fairen S., age 12, Vermont
(July 5, 2014 - 9:43 am)