Creative Writing: A Warrior's Cave

Straight ahead she hears cries and screams from a woman coming from a creek bed. Not only did it grab her attention, it also caught the attention of the hunters.

“AAH, I must have overslept!” The Hero rushed towards the window, and he saw that Monster Zero must have been busy for at least a few hours. He gathered all his weapons, and ran towards Monster Zero, somewhere where he could not be seen. “Alright, all monsters have a weak point, so where could it be……..aha! Monster Zero’s neck isn’t covered by any scales, so I must attack there!”

Whatever obscure scene he had found himself in, it had passed. He closed his eyes and let out a small sob of relief, but refused to lower his guard all the same. The darkness had still yet to lift from his vision; because his eyes remained painfully scrunched shut. Whether it was a refusal on his part or simply his that his body coping with the trauma, he simply could not bring himself to see a thing.

She tries to fight back, but her strength is no match for Trevor’s. As she begins to settle down, they hear the pounding of footsteps coming to a near. In a moments notice, they see a young girl, around their age, rushing past the turn they just traveled by. Trevor’s breath quickens as he sees the monster following her. A dark blue creature comes running after her, a fiery red tail swishing behind. The long claws click against the pavement as it hunts its prey. Its sharp fangs bruising its lips, longing for the taste of blood. The two begin to look around, aching for the sight of a weapon, an escape, yearning for their freedom of the terrors that lurk through the shadows. They take a step back, trying to hide in the encasement of the vines, but the sudden snap of a branch under their feet reveals their camouflage to the horror ahead. Their heartbeat quickens because they can’t

She let out a long breath, releasing tension that she had been holding back nearly all day. She felt she could barely stand. In a few moments, they would have to move. Then she would question what Aither was going to do now that he had the sword, and what she needed to do now. Doubts would sink in, the horrors of the day would come back-

After some time it was apparent they had no idea which way they were going, time seemed relative. Minutes seemed like hours, and hours seemed even longer when you fear for your life. Each gunshot seemed to slow the clock even more.

And ahead, tantalizingly close, was the dim outline of the cave entrance. But something shuffled toward them, silhouetted by the pale light of the outside world.

“One of the knights horses ran off in battle yesterday. I helped to find it and to see the injured.” The queen answered, her voice was more drained and weary than usual. It gave the person's hearing a distraught, unsettling expression. As she passed she heard two older women, speaking as they unhooked clothes from drying

“My name,” she snapped sharply, ”is Loriel….as you well know.” She paused, then drew in a slow breath to try and calm herself. To everyone else in this room, fighting and injuring and being injured and killing and watching others be killed and capturing and being captured might be old-hat; to her, it wasn’t. Now that the adrenaline and euphoria of this situation was wearing off, the strain of the predicament she was in was starting to get to her.

Crashes of thunder ricocheted off the jagged walls creating a cacophony of obtrusive echoes bellowing into the fibers of their cochleas. Inside, the cave walls were a smooth mud brown color wet with the perspiration from the cold temperatures. The only light was the wet coating of the cave illuminated at the strike of a sporadic lightning bolt, shining like the glaze of finished pottery. While the entrance of the cave was inviting with the light from the storm and boulders which the men could sit upon, slightly past the entrance stalagmites bloomed covering the ceiling with the consistency of a poppy field. Growing in size as the cave grew in distance, the stalagmites grew into chandeliers of spikes threatening to collapse with each eruption and quake of thunder. Each wop of thunder ricocheted off the entrance of the cave propelling down the walls of the cave like a wave of sound only to be swallowed by the black abyss. There was no end to the cave

My surroundings then melted before me and before me stood a cave of impenetrable darkness. I could no longer see my shadow on the rust filled ground. I crinkled my nose to the smell of something old, when I heard a roar. DESCRIBE CAVE more

​This small noise caused the warrior to awaken. He chased Emma as he pulled out his weapon, a knife that shot fire. In just a few milliseconds, the bottom half of Emma's comfy jacket was scorched badly beyond repair. Emma turned a corner and realized she was in a dead end. She thought her end was near, but just as the boy raised the knife to deliver a killing blow, Emma's hand landed on part of the hedge. She fell through a now open hole which instantly closed. She fell into a different part of the maze. Happy as she had avoided her death, she crept around the new exciting part of her doom

We sit shaking with fear as the creature stares with it’s red beady eyes into the cave. It moves back from the opening of the cave and it gets quiet. We can’t see him. OUCH! I get slammed against the cave wall. I hear Charlie yell, “DANNY!” The creature’s hairy arm slides past me. Danny slides past me. Danny?

Sitting close to her like that, one could see hints of delicacy, in the plumpness of full bowed lips, the softness of her jaw, the almond wideness of her eyes. Perhaps that mouth could tenderly graze and massage, perhaps there was refinery beneath layers and layers of dented, gritty bulk and iron. Her hair might've been wild, but it fell just sweet about her blushing cheeks, and her gaze, though predatory, was somehow understanding. And when she spoke after a second or so, her voice was undoubtedly woman with a minor lilt. "I wonder...did the king lose his balls somewhere? Surely, he would not want to talk with any other murderer on my level. How scared, he must be." She targeted the two men of his standing on either side of the table, and her gaze alone could rip their faces

She was skinny, ragged. The bones stood out against her fish-pale skin. A snarl of dull gold hair hung long to her waist, obscuring part of her face. Her features themselves might have been pretty, once – broad across the cheekbones, with full lips and a small, firm chin. Now the skin stretched tightly over the bones. There were muddy circles under her eyes, and the left was ringed in purple - a recent bruise. There were older bruises, too, on the long legs that stuck out from her sackcloth dress, and on her arms. The worst were at her wrists and ankles, where the heavy manacles had cut into the skin, leaving angry welts.