Your name

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I call and call into the void

A name peculiar to my ears,

A word they say I should avoid

But that chases away my fears.

I shout and shout into a sea

Of thousands of bright stars and moons

Hoping someone will hear this plea,

Hoping for them to reply soon,

Sadly my voice echoes against

A wall of emerald and silver

– Strong standing rocks, trees that shiver –

And my answer, I have long sensed,

Shall not return to put to rest

The aching of my wounded soul

For in this infinite forest

None can keep long their feelings whole.

I call and call as the days part

A name familiar to my lips,

A word that has come to eclipse

Even the bright Sun in my heart.

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Concept #3 – The Guardian

minecraft_desert_temple_by_algoinde-d7trjdf

Beautiful art by Algoinde


Prompts & Concepts

Context: supernatural/suspense story set in a universe with magic maybe – MC = Main character


MC was imprisoned for years (centuries? immortal?) in some sort of dungeon or labyrinth (in a desert? somewhere very isolated and long forgotten) with something they were supposed to guard. MC is released one day without knowing how, why or by whom, doesn’t know how long it has been at first and doesn’t understand what is going on. The object MC was guarding (or person? or concept? magic?) has been stolen? And MC has been set free to go and retrieve it?

Or someone tried to steal the object and failed because it was hidden too well, with MC and so they left “leaving the door open” for MC to leave. One day he realizes he is not ‘bound’ to that place anymore (the spell has been broken?) and he decides to leave.

The object (or person or concept) he is guarding could be anything (a powerful gem that is actually a person, some knowledge that only he knows about and that the world must never learn but he doesn’t know that he knows nor that the world must not know, or an object that must not be stolen [and that perhaps has not been there for a long time or has never been there]).

The whole point of the story is the search for an explanation as to why they were imprisoned like that and also the quest to find the thief and get back the object or protect it from the thieves.

MC was a completely normal person at first but became something else after having been imprisoned in that place for no real reason (was chosen? against their will? their choice? –> no clear recollection): immortal (each time MC is wounded or dies, their wounds slowly (or quickly?) turn into ashes and disappear, leaving them fully healed), amnesic (doesn’t know why they were imprisoned) and intelligent/wise (centuries old, lots of experience because lots of time to read, learn and experiment) but no practical experience in the real world.

As MC travels the world, they try to find out what was stolen and who stole it. Then, progressively they begin to question why they were imprisoned/chosen as guardian, why they were prisoner/what they were guarding and who did that to them. It’s a little fuzzy because of the time spent in the dungeon/temple/prison. They also try to understand why they are sort of immortal, what has happened to them?

The first part of the story would be the quest to protect/retrieve the object but it would slowly begin to be about himself and what his existence means as it progresses on. Perhaps the beginning of a series of books/stories about this character? The whole mystery of MC being either the guardian or the prisoner or both must remain until late in the story, it’s one of the central parts of the plot. The whole psychological part of doubt MC has inside themselves could be very interesting.


Well here you go, another concept I have had in mind for a while now. I don’t really know where it could lead because it seems fuzzy and not well designed for the moment (and I apologize if it was explained in such a way, I couldn’t really come up with a clear explanation) but I hope you will be at least a little inspires by it.

Feel free to enjoy this gift as you want and to do whatever you feel like doing with it!

Return to ConceptsGo to Prompts

Book of sins

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There’s a leather-bound book somewhere in this world or the next

Where in gracious letters of dark red blood or gleaming gold

Are written all the things I’ve done since the day I was born

All the sins I have committed and all the oaths betrayed,

And there, on the final page, as the end is being drawn

Lies in a single word my fate, so dark and so painful.

I am no saint, ’tis the truth, and never have I been hexed,

I am no brave white knight like those in the stories of old,

Nothing but pure evil, monster full of hate, full of scorn!

My destiny was accursed for from the path I had strayed

Into the twisted old shadows long before my first dawn,

Never before had the world seen existence so baneful.

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Onwards

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Twilight has gone and dawn has come

Both in the sky and in my heart:

Time is not yet for us to part,

We shall be still gifted with some

Bright mornings together;

I feel my spirit lift off-ground,

Soar up into the atmosphere,

And the sun’s warm light melt my fear,

I truly hope the world around

Retains this nice weather.

.


Pathetic fallacy. Or is it?

Sombre prédateur

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Le calme plane au dessus de ma tête

Attendant, cette cruelle et affamée bête

Soudain, avec une grande lenteur,

Voila ses crocs s’enfonçant dans ma chair, douleur !

Proie tentant faiblement de se débattre

Je compte chaque seconde : une, deux, trois, quatre,

Et ma vision s’efface dans le noir

De l’ennui insidieux dont ma vie est miroir.

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Lyrics

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You had it all: power, money, fame, oh… and love,

You were perfect, so pure and of us all, above

But when night came and it was time to go to bed

Your body froze, your heart came to a stop and fled.

What was it you could not bear? What dark memories,

So twisted they came haunting your night reveries?

Your soul was strong, always firmly stuck to the ground,

When did you lose yourself in this flurry of sound…?

Oh why did I not see? Did I not read the sign?

You had it all: power and love, both theirs and mine.

.


King – Lauren Aquilina

L’évadation

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L’horizon à mes pieds

Ne m’entoure ni me sied,

Ma soif de liberté

Ne peut être sustentée,

À qui la voit grandir

Et, par la force, brandir

Mes espoirs et mes peurs,

Par là chassant ma torpeur,

Ne me retenez point,

Que mon esprit vole loin !

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A l’heure

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A l’heure où les fleurs fanent

Sur la tombe dorée

Et où les esprits glanent

Les bribes colorées

De souvenirs passés,

Ces corps vivants lassés

Qui marchent à pas lourds

Sur des chemins étroits

Et vivent à rebours

Le temps qu’on leur octroi,

Ne voient l’étincelante

Beauté de la galante

Dame qu’est la nature,

Reine de toute vie,

De toutes leurs envies

D’amour et d’aventure.

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The grand illusion

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Let us meet again when it is all said and done

Under the lush pine tree atop the grassy hill,

Leave quarrels to the past and in the wind be gone,

Let our new friendship grow as warms the morning chill.

My heart shall be lighter then, than it is today

For among my brothers many fell in the fray

And I can feel my soul haunted by this vision.

War is not the answer but a grand illusion.

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My art, your art

Art belongs, in my mind, as much to the artist as it does to the audience but in different ways.

A creation is completely dual in the way it can never be separated from its creator if one wants to understand it but at the same time it doesn’t need any context to be appreciated for what it is, to be given value. So being able to determine to whom it belongs in the end – to the author who created it with some intention behind it or to the reader who gives it his or her own meaning? – is very difficult.

Some say a creation belongs solely to the creator and cannot be dissociated from them. But what do you do in the case of someone who did things or thinks things that are completely opposite to your way of living? Can you still appreciate their art? What about Hitler’s paintings? Are they still art, knowing what he has done? Can you really enjoy Edgar Allen Poe’s POEtry (see what I did there? #lol) without knowing the tortured soul he was? Or The Rocky Horror Picture Show without knowing the political/cultural context of the time?

And others that it belongs to the readers/viewers/public who enjoys that art. But what if they use it in a way that was not designed by the author and that might contradict his or her view of their art? Or what if they change it from its original form to make it ‘better’ or more ‘politically correct’, can it still be considered as having the same meaning, the same impact as the original work? What if they read the meanings wrong or attribute it false ones?

How does one define the line of property for a piece of art (whatever it may be)?

I don’t have an answer to that question, I don’t know for sure. But It’s something that I think about quite frequently. I believe that, just as life in general is complicated, it is the same for art. There are so many different cases and scenarios… What I think I am able to say right now is that a creation should be able to stand on its own to a certain extent, that the public should be able to find beauty/interest in a piece of art just by experiencing it. And then, if they learn how it was created, what it means or what the artist wanted to represent with it, then the art piece can only become even more beautiful/interesting. So it’s paradoxical. The art and the artists are two different things that should be separate but at the same time completely merged together, thus creating a great piece.

I’d like to finish on the fact that I, for one, often insert meanings and references in my art (if I dare call it that), some of which are obvious and others are hidden from the public eye. There are some references I want my public to get, whether I hide them or not, then there are some that I design so that only people privy to the knowledge of my person will get, and then there are some that I insert here and there that may seem comprehensible and obvious (or not at all) but that no one except me will probably ever get. There are many layers to [my] art and I love that about it.

Now, I also think that, beyond what I meant to say, to make people understand through what I write (for example) I people should be able/free to understand/take out what they want from my creations. They are made to make you think, feel and be interested but not just in the way I designed them to be, also int he way you want them to be. And we come back to the paradoxical concept of art here because I want my creations to carry a message but at the same time I want them to be understood on a personal level by each individual who discovers them and in their own original way too.

Is there an answer to this in the end? I don’t, and probably never will, know if I am truly succeeding in this venture but I do truly hope that I do because that makes everything more beautiful. All I can hope is that some people do enjoy discovering and experiencing it as much as I enjoy making it.

PS: I realize now that I haven’t spoken about context until now but it is very important in my opinion. Because the context in which I write (or any artists creates) adds meaning and intent to a creation and so does the context in which people discover said art, it can change something beautiful into something ugly and despicable or inversely.


Sorry if this appeared as a bit of a rant or if it was incomprehensible, I just wanted to put into words what I was feeling and I pray that I did it in a sufficiently coherent manner. Also, example might have been a bit weird, I know…