Wilderness Challenge

Alright, here's the situation. The People, they clamor for another challenge to tide them over until the next hardcore challenge. So, I am here to present you with an appropriate challenge. You are to respond to this thread with a story 250 words or less, without human characters, based on a few details I give out.

Questions? U2U them to me, I like the attention.

Alright, here is the situation:

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

Take it and run, people. Oh, and thank SIEGE for the format. He has been appropriately bribed with points.

DE

Is this what your after DE.

War

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

Beneath the loamy forest floor an army prepares for war, scouts venture forth searching for the dread enemy. Soldiers mill about restlessly, eager. Underground preperations are under way for the expected successful campaign and the expansion of the empire. The Queen holds court and imparts instructions to her trusted generals, her scent wafts on tendrils of air.

Word arrives and the war machine moves as one, a wave of single minded terror. Below the eucalypt the armies meet in a frenzy of fiery stings and ripping jaws spouting burning fluid into open wounds. Fierce visages and deadly intent surge back and forth. The battlefield resounds with the clash of armored foe, the stench of chemical distress lays pungently on the ground, causing confusion.

Soon there is a victor and those that can retreat, the others, wounded or slow are killed quickly and without compunction. The triumphant army returns to their nest, the conquered lands now another source of food for the growing colony.

Above them the night sky sparkles, the breeze continues to blow and wolves stalk quietly across the loamy forest floor on padded paw.

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The trees dance in tune to the song set by the wind, swaying in carefree easiness as the world of night slowly encompasses the wild growth below. Soon the storm will be upon them. The ancient oaks whisper of the passings of creatures over their gnarled roots, soft conversation for the waiting. Somewhere in the distance, the saplings call out of a wounded deer stalked by the pack.
So excitable are the young....how soon will they come to realize the differences between themselves and the world around them. Creatures come and go, but the roots stretch deep.
The moon illuminates the quivering leaves as the breeze threatens to take them, to scatter them to places far off and unknown. The luck of being a passenger.
What wonders extend beyond that horizon? What marvels are there, waiting, just over the edge of the younger Aspen? Only the wolves will know. Or perhaps that wondrous realization will be in the eyes of that ill fated deer, whom before this moment was so unknowing of its disastrous fate. As the clouds roll in and the thunder booms ominously above, the trees' dance grows with greater ferocity. They pound away against the wind as the rain begins to kiss their loftiest branches.
Soon, the cry of the deer is heard no more, and again the wolves take to their incessant howling. Victory. At least, for just one more night.
As the rising storm pipes the tune, the ancient oaks marvel at the verocity with which their younger cousins devout themselves to the rythym, whipping, bending, and cracking along to the rain and thunder. The Elders sigh contentedly, remenicing to their wilder days, before the time had grown so broad and heavy through their sprouting trunks. They tilt lightly with the others, their inner rings aglow with a smile of sweeter memories.
Soon the wolves are just below them, but the myriad of dancers pay no heed. The beat is upon them, and the creatures at their feet are just drifters in time.......

Our Canopy Forever

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The darkness is filled with images still revolving in our brains. Images of suffering. Images of pain. Images of ego. Images of ignorance.

Although our eyes are now shut, the sounds still reverberate through our ears. Crackling. Screaming. Machines churning. We try to shut them out, but it is impossible. Our scars prove our witness to the horrible tragedies that have occured here. The ground is littered with the limbs of those lost to us. Our skins burned by our enemies. Our very roots upturned by those that see not with their eyes but with their pride.

But not all is lost. The prize was won and one form of evil has been vanquished. The evildoers have moved on to lands more difficult to overcome than ours. Lands that are more fruitful than our humble abodes.

The moonlight shines down unmolested by the smoke and flames for the first time in weeks. And a realization comes with the glow. What is broken down can be rebuilt (if not this season, next spring). The trampled fields will spring back up. Life will go on for the forest and us trees will remain for another season.


[edit on 4-8-2006 by Fiverz]

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The darkness brings with it a stillness known only to the night. But the stillness can only last until it is broken.

First is our rhythm. The wind slowly starts to rise. With each new breath the earth’s symphony starts to play. The pines are the first. Creaking back and forth, back and forth. Then the raindrops start to fall, pitter patter, pitter patter; as each drop finds a willing target.

Next we add some harmony. The howling of the wolves carries closer, leaving an eerie resonance in the quiet air. Fallen leaves rustle with every new gust.

Finally some vocals and effects. Lightning arches across the sky with a mighty crack, accompanied by a thunderous response. The storms violent riffs crescendo through the broken dark. Boom, Crash, Boom, Crack! The rain smashes down to earth while the pines sway with the beat. The harmony has fallen silent as if listening for its cue.

With a final thunderclap and bolt of lightning the storm plays to a close. The leaves resume their rustling and the howls of the wolves are again heard.

Wearied by her show, Mother Nature slowly returns to the rhythm of life.

The Human Story

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods,
Carrying the distant howl of wolves.
The sun has long ago set.
Bringing twilight closer yet
Forward through the brush, I creep
moving towards my friends jeep
Gasoline permeated the air
Suffocating the star-crossed pair
Anxiety in their fearful stare
cause in my hand there is a flare
I take the match and pull it towards me
Igniting the fire fairly quickly
A brilliant blaze for all to see
Their sounds were like a screaming banshee's
The blaze consumed them
Their betrayal condemned them
The wolves would eat them
And the woods would hide them
And with the murder
I was human

At first the trail was hard to find. Venturing down this low meant taking risks, and
there had already been too many close calls. Dangers lurked everywhere down
here. Just too many trees, too many bushes. And yet the utter stillness remained.
He made his way ever upwards now, anxious to get away from the lowlands, to get
back.
His mission had provided little explanation. He had found no answers as to why this
side of the mountain discouraged confidence, but it did. It was eerie.
Following the trail became easier the higher he went, and his sense of smell began
to return as he got a whiff of the cold, fresh water in a nearby stream bubbling
down to areas seemingly uninhabited and unappreciative below.
So this was the backside of Cheyenne Mountain was it? He wasn't impressed.
It offered nothing anymore. No food. No opportunities. Nothing at all, except
silence and stillness.
As he crested the mountain and stepped back over into familiar territory, she
quietly appeared by his side. He looked at her comfortably, then lovingly bit her
neck. They rubbed muzzles.
He was back, and everything felt normal again. A good normal. He felt things
again.
"A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves.
The sun had long ago set." (On mankind)

Originally posted by keymaster
A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The darkness brings with it a stillness known only to the night. But the stillness can only last until it is broken.

First is our rhythm. The wind slowly starts to rise. With each new breath the earth’s symphony starts to play. The pines are the first. Creaking back and forth, back and forth. Then the raindrops start to fall, pitter patter, pitter patter; as each drop finds a willing target.

Next we add some harmony. The howling of the wolves carries closer, leaving an eerie resonance in the quiet air. Fallen leaves rustle with every new gust.

Finally some vocals and effects. Lightning arches across the sky with a mighty crack, accompanied by a thunderous response. The storms violent riffs crescendo through the broken dark. Boom, Crash, Boom, Crack! The rain smashes down to earth while the pines sway with the beat. The harmony has fallen silent as if listening for its cue.

With a final thunderclap and bolt of lightning the storm plays to a close. The leaves resume their rustling and the howls of the wolves are again heard.

Wearied by her show, Mother Nature slowly returns to the rhythm of life.

This seems oddly familiar..........

Originally posted by EdenKaia

Originally posted by keymaster
A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The darkness brings with it a stillness known only to the night. But the stillness can only last until it is broken.

First is our rhythm. The wind slowly starts to rise. With each new breath the earth’s symphony starts to play. The pines are the first. Creaking back and forth, back and forth. Then the raindrops start to fall, pitter patter, pitter patter; as each drop finds a willing target.

Next we add some harmony. The howling of the wolves carries closer, leaving an eerie resonance in the quiet air. Fallen leaves rustle with every new gust.

Finally some vocals and effects. Lightning arches across the sky with a mighty crack, accompanied by a thunderous response. The storms violent riffs crescendo through the broken dark. Boom, Crash, Boom, Crack! The rain smashes down to earth while the pines sway with the beat. The harmony has fallen silent as if listening for its cue.

With a final thunderclap and bolt of lightning the storm plays to a close. The leaves resume their rustling and the howls of the wolves are again heard.

Wearied by her show, Mother Nature slowly returns to the rhythm of life.

This seems oddly familiar..........

Before you get a big head, I didn't read your entry until you posted the above. Honestly where else are you going to take wind, wolves, and the forest without human characters.

My inspiration was Fantasia in the Canadian wilderness and I do not appreciate the implication of plagarism. This is why I don't usually enter these contests anymore. I write for me, not you.

Alright, alright, simmer. Any accusations, recriminations, or plain old malice should be brought to my doorstep via U2U. Anymore fighting and NO one gets a challenge. Want to fight? Go find Souljah or Skippy.

DE

It took picoseconds, just like the laws of nature said it would.

There was a neutron, and that neutron joined up with an atom. The atom couldn’t really handle the neutron and it blew apart. When the atom blew apart it sent a bunch more neutrons hurtling toward a bunch more atoms. The same misunderstanding occurred again and again: a neutron invited in, an atom blown apart. It was quite a mess.

It took picoseconds.

The whole process started up in the air. The report called it an “air burst.” That just means that the first neutron met the first atom only thirty feet from a flock of geese making their way north. High in the air. The geese were up there due to an instinctual knowledge of weather patterns and aerodynamics. The neutrons and atoms were up there because an “air burst” maximizes blast and thermal effects.

Inhabitants of the forest didn’t really know what to think of the new resident. It was loud. It made the air hot. It shook everything. It came in and blew everything apart. It was quite a mess.

Now the air cools. The air rings with that impossible sound. A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

Forsaken

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

The moon casts eerie reflections upon the uppermost boughs, ghostly light filters down to the forest floor, illuminating the passage of a lone hunter. He moves slowly, gliding through the tangled foliage without a sound. The breeze blows gently against his face as he moves upwind of his prey. He sniffs the air and cocks an ear, one foot raised, tail down.

He stands dormant now, stone cast in silvery contemplation, waiting. Subtle movement catches his indomitable gaze and he reacts, eager for the kill. No need for silence now, hunger drives his body violently through the brush upon an unsuspecting doe. Tearing, slavering jaws search for and find an unprotected jugular, clamping, rending. Sweet life flows from one to the other, staining fur and forest floor. Thrashing limbs slowly subside then cease and are lowered reverently to the ground.

He feeds, though never taking his eyes from the surrounding greenery, ears pricked. Soon he is sated, though loathe to leave the carcass, he waits, and offers up silent thanks for what he has received. Sound and scent reach his ears, the pack is coming near. He remembers the pain, the scars of his departure lay heavy upon his skin, and his soul, and he utters a mournful cry before sliding silently away. Exiled. Alone.

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the nearby howl of wolves answering their forsaken brother. The sun begins to rise.

The twilight was done and night was upon the forest. A gentle breeze as soft as the voice of all creation wafted gently among the closing buds of flowers and plants. The very heart of life and matter seemed to be drifting off to sleep.

The gentle breeze was too much for a once mighty Oak and the last tendrils of its strength gave way. Slowly at first and then with force it came crashing to the ground. The end had finally arrived for the long life of a beautiful tree.

No human was there to hear it fall, only the wilderness from whence it had been born and thrived. In the last of its moments it was alone with those who had brought it forth.

The very stars in the heavens wept.

Originally posted by keymaster
Before you get a big head, I didn't read your entry until you posted the above. Honestly where else are you going to take wind, wolves, and the forest without human characters.

My inspiration was Fantasia in the Canadian wilderness and I do not appreciate the implication of plagarism. This is why I don't usually enter these contests anymore. I write for me, not you.

Calm down, honestly. It was a jest. Why get so defensive? And if this is really why you don't enter these contests anymore, just curious, did you often run into implications of plagarism in the past? I really am not jibing at you, I am just curious.

Siberian Musk Deer-- Moschus moschiferus

------------

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

A lonely musk deer stands in brittle attention to the approaching danger, it's eyes frozen in the darkness.

Silence.

The deer moves on, searching for cover in a snowy landscape of leafless trees and foodless terrain. It's thin sinewy legs find their steps with cautious precision, piercing the snow with simple clean movements that nonetheless betray the animal's sense of urgency.

Shelter is not easily found.

The howl of wolves returns- but this time from behind and not so distant.

The musk deer stops, heavy air tumbling from its flared nostrils and its wild eyes attempting to pierce the darkness. Perhaps the wolves will move on.

Another few steps... Another series of howls... Much, much closer now.

Panic begins to set in.

Where to run?

A shadow of grey descends from behind, fangs sinking into helpless prey. A cry of distress and agony fills the air. Another set of jaws moves to silence it.

Only the trees stand witness to the carnage below.

Once sated, the wolves move on, leaving behind a pool of blood stained snow.

Silence.

And then...

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves.


[edit on 11-8-2006 by loam]

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

Night moves across fields on stealthy predator feet, and meets the cool damp of leaves beneath the trees with a smoky uprising.

Inside a hollow log lying across the path of shadows, a small body twists into itself, seeking the last seconds of sleep. More small bodies begin to stir, to creep, and then to peek above the entry hole. Squeaks of greetings quicken the air above the log, and the bodies swarm over the closely packed leaf carpet of the forest.

Now separated, each small furred creature quickly takes on the protective stillness of hunters who are also hunted, and even in movement make scarcely a sound. The sounding of the wolves is still distant and the small hunters hasten to seek out their prey.

The moon has risen in its full state, casting light patterns where the hunters could wish no light to be, had they the ability to desire what was not.

The hunted huddle, squirm, and wriggle to escape the fingers of light, causing the leaf pack to appear alive with the small movements.

The hunters note and take advantage of the hints until the mighty sun peers above the log. Then they hurry to swarm over and into it, to seek out their beds for the long day's sleep.

[edit on 12-8-2006 by curiousity for grammar]

[edit on 12-8-2006 by curiousity]

Originally posted by DeusEx
Alright, here's the situation. The People, they clamor for another challenge to tide them over until the next hardcore challenge. So, I am here to present you with an appropriate challenge. You are to respond to this thread with a story 250 words or less, without human characters, based on a few details I give out.

Questions? U2U them to me, I like the attention.

Alright, here is the situation:

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.

Take it and run, people. Oh, and thank SIEGE for the format. He has been appropriately bribed with points.

DE

When is the contest to end? Can we make more than one entry?

Ends the twentieth, I guess. Prizes will be distributed, no more than two entries per person. Have fun!

DE

A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.
The World is slowly set in motion, and the moon light shimmers off the distant lakes ripples of water. Through the world all is unseen nothing can be understood. It is all just beginning. Nothing at all has ever been seen like this.
Through the sky is alive, every star is dancing and the wind is making dreams within the leaves it passes through. Deep below where light is not seen, not felt, not ever around. There emerges a slight spec of truth. A meaning to all life, to all answers, the meaning of the question. The question of what is never answered, not is the question ever asked. The distant noises in background change the mood to fear and send a chill throughout the land. Beyond the hope of all the question to be ended, there will finally be an answer.
The answer was given, pain and fear is taken away from all there is to see, the answer was time, an it all began with a quiet breeze...

A quiet breeze. One of silence or tranquility? Rustles through the woods. As if
sneaking up on the stillness? Slightly disturbing the leaves? Carrying the distant
howl of wolves. The howls ride lightly on the breeze because they are so far off?
The sun has long ago set. It's past dark, with only streaks of red and orange
showing the sinking of the sun?

And so my mind plays games as I sit on the mountaintop, my legs hanging over
the edge, kicking at nothing but air and overseeing the valley below. I have sat
here now for three hours, drinking in the cool fresh air and watching the colors of
day turn into the shadows of darkness. At first, sitting so close to the edge brought
swift pangs of vertigo, the dizzying height almost too much to bear. But as night
approached I found it easier to not be afraid. I feel free and peaceful. And I am not
alone!

The breeze is up here with me. A warm, comforting wind. I hear it rustling through
the forest, alive. And the wolves, I can see them on the rocky outcrop across from
me, across the canyon. They're baying at the brightening moon, but I can only hear them when the breeze blows. The sun has disappeared completely now, so
I guess I'll get up and head down, carefully choosing my stepsss . . . .Ahhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !!!!

"A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves.
The sun had long ago set" . . . . . (when the passive creature fell).

(edit by request)

[edit on 17-8-2006 by masqua]