I took part in a Reddit writing prompt (r/writingprompts) recently, it’s a subreddit which has always interested me, but being on the other side of the pond to most of reddit’s user-base means I’m usually far too late to any posts for commenting to be worthwhile. But I saw one which was only a few hours old recently which captured me enough to write something. It still didn’t get much traction, but with this blog now I have somewhere else to put them so I might give a few more a go.
I’ve wanted to do some creative writing pieces on here for a while, but I haven’t had much reason to (especially as most jobs I’m looking into are more non-fiction orientated). Perhaps if I find some more prompts which inspire me, or if I find I’ve got more free time in these self-isolating times, I’ll post some more creative pieces.
This piece is set in the middle of a story, though unless this receives a lot of interest I don’t intend to write any more of it any time soon. It exists in a world I could be interested in writing down some day, but I need a lot more planning before I tackle that!
Anyway, here’s The Warrior and the Sword:
Finally! A way out!
The words appeared in the warrior’s head and his hand hesitated a few inches above the hilt of the sword. Had the sword just spoken to him?
A sigh echoed through his mind, foolish to get excited so soon. The words disappearing as quickly as they formed. The warrior frowned down upon the sword, his hand still hovering inches from the handle. Was this really the ancient relic he had been searching for? Or some cursed decoy left by someone who had found it before him?
He remembered the difficulty he had faced in getting here, not only in finding information on where and how the relic was stored, but also the traps and monsters he had fought to reach the depths of this tomb. The dust behind him revealed only a single set of footprints, his own; and many traps fell apart as if they had not been attended to in centuries, let alone reset. No, he had to be the first one here.
He plunged his hand downward and firmly grasped the sword’s hilt, lifting it from its coffin-like container. He braced for traps to spring or some curse to take hold, but nothing did.
After contenting himself he was safe for a moment, he took a few test swings and was surprised at how well-weighted it was. Swishing the sword as easily as if it were weightless, yet fully appreciating the force behind each swing. He then turned it over in his hands admiring the craftsmanship and the strong yet simple design, impressed at how clean it was in spite of its supposed age.
And as he opened his hand to admire the hilt… the sword began trickling into dust. Starting at the hilt and moving upwards towards the blade. The warrior looked on in despair as the sword he had worked so hard to find disappeared in front of his eyes, leaving him with nothing but a handful of ash as finally the tip of the blade disintegrated.
He stood in the ashes of silence for a moment, wondering what cruel trick fate had played on him this time, when he heard the grinding of stone against stone coming from behind him. Turning around he saw several sarcophagi slowly opening and decayed hands reaching through the gaps being created.
He instinctively reached for his sword, forgetting his scabbard lay empty after his own sword was shattered some weeks back. As he remembered this, he saw that he had drawn… the ancient sword; the sword not moments ago he had seen turn to dust in the hand which now held it.
Ah, our goals are the same after all! The sword spoke in his mind, no longer trying to hide its sentience. But first things first…
The warrior heard a loud THUNK behind him,followed by an increasing rumble.
… Run.
Original prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/flmqdo/wp_in_the_beginning_mother_earth_and_father_time/
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