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Writing Sample from theProse

  Writing Sample from the Prose The following was written for a writing challenge on theprose.com. The prompt was as follows: Grey Wall  Check out the original over at  Grey Wall . Grey Wall Towering over everything was the Grey Wall. For a thousand generations the Grey Wall had separated the worlds, looming above each in silent threat of what lay on the other side. Looming in the heart of the unchosen. No being had every crossed the Wall. No human would try for the abject terror it brought the imagination. Even the birds, circling and wheeling about the azure sky would not cross the line of demarcation. The Wall meant safety and the Wall meant death. Zenyassa did not care for safety and she did not fear death. She was Unchosen. What did it matter? What was life without the risk of losing it? She could not feel alive sitting before a thatch hut milling grain while the men of her village hunted wild yissana beasts. Their hunt brought them adventures and risk for the great ...

Another Writing Sample from theProse.com

There was not a prompt this time, just some free writing. I do not know why I thought of this, but it just flowed out like snot during a cold (NOT COVID! CALM THE F DOWN!). 

viking funeral

Funeral Ship


Crossing on the water, I feel the world relax. I stand outside myself watching as I drift upon the cerulean sea. The wind is blowing, but I do not feel it. The air is cold, and the ground is held firm in the grasp of frost. Snow will soon join its icy brother.

I will not be there to witness the long dark of winter’s shadow.

I will not be there to draw swords with my clan.

My blood is spent in this world.

My body may no longer join my brothers on the field of battle, but my fight is not over nor is my spirit lost.

A fine ship bears me onward, from this world of flesh to the world of the soul.

I have my axe and I have my sword. There is my shield and my spear. My iron mail, glimmering. A golden torc rests upon my head and a horn of war hangs by my shoulder. Barrels of mead line my flanks.

I am well set for the afterlife.

I go to the eternal halls of Valhalla where I will await the final battle.

The world is alight with darts aflame.

My body, my ship, erupt in an orange radiance, opening the gateway.

I feel the world grow hot as I am pulled into the light. Then it is cool until my journey ends.

I fade away into the roaring cheers and warm embrace of my ancestors.

For now, I feast in mighty company.

Until Ragnarök.

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