One x One Processed Stardust's Writing Samples

[Straw-Berry Milk]

Hey! Here I'll be posting some of my writing samples, as the title suggests. If anyone reads it, feel free to give me feedback and constructive criticism! I tried to have different lengths here, as most posts I'd make wouldn't be five paragraphs long.

 

[Straw-Berry Milk]

YANA SALKO'S SAMPLE

Thinking.

Thinking.

Thinking.

Thinking.

She repeated the words in her mind like a mantra, an old teaching she learned as a child when she first was introduced to The Practice. Her skin was pale from the cold winter, the soft breeze waving her hair as tiny snowflakes fell, contrasting brightly against the raven locks. Yet she did not feel the cold. It must have been an hour since she awoke and left her bed, pulling the warm blankets aside before taking a Lesser Warmth Potion she kept stacked during the winter and walking out of her cabin to sit atop a rock, cross-legged.

Her mind was racing. Weird dreams troubled her all night long, as they had been for weeks. Yana had brought up the subject with Zula, but the Elder only graced her with mysterious words, saying it would all be evident in the future. It was not her place to argue with the Leader, so instead, she just nodded her head, lowering her blue gaze to the ground. So with the racing thoughts, it was harder to meditate, therefore the thinking mantra. “Whenever you have a thought, label it for what it is, and once again draw focus to your breath.” That had been the teaching.

She usually would meditate drawing energy from the forces of nature, the sun, or the moon, using a more effective mantra, but for this morning, this is what she needed.

“Yana.”

She heard a soft voice calling in front of her. Slowly, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the icy air. She held the air for a few seconds, regaining consciousness of her surroundings while at it, visualizing the old wooden cabin in front of her, the rock underneath her buttocks. Her toes were hard from the extreme weather, so she carefully wiggled them, letting out the breath as she moved her body. Suddenly she felt the cold against her skin, and ever so slowly, she opened her eyes.

Lareen, one of her Sisters, was in front of her. A bit shorter than herself, hair of medium length and reddish-brown hue, and eyes the color of a forgotten lake.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the girl said with an uncertain smile, her brows drew a little in her forehead.

“It’s okay, Lareen. I probably shouldn’t stay out in the cold like this, anyway,” she answered, offering the girl a broader smile. “I certainly don’t want to get sick.”

“I suppose,” Lareen answered, still looking unsure about calling Yana in the middle of her meditation. “Zula was looking for you. It uh… It seemed important.”

Yana raised her eyebrows and uncrossed her legs. “Zula?” She looked down for a second, looking at the snow that had accumulated around her on the rock, wondering what she could want with Yana. “Well, I better not keep her waiting. Where is she?”

“She said she’d be in her quarters. Oh, and she also asked you to get Nastya.”

“Thank you, Lareen.”

The cold was starting to affect her more than before, and first, she headed back to her cabin, waving at her roommate before walking into her room and getting appropriately dressed. A thick, black wool coat that had belonged to her mother before her and spent leather boots that still served their purpose. It only took her a couple of minutes before she left the cabin. She headed to Nastya’s house, which was located right next to the greenhouse and garden.

The settlement was mostly empty -- it was early in the morning and the sun was still rising, illuminating the snow with a soft orange glow. The stone pathway was buried in the snow, but Yana followed the path anyway, as it was fenced with thin and long flowerbeds on either side. The crocus peaked out of the snow, reaching towards the sky with their leaves and petals like arms, the bright purple contrasting strongly against the snow. She reached the large greenhouse. Walking up to it, she couldn’t see inside very well, as the green blurred inside the frosted glass. Instead of walking in, she took a left, and only a couple of minutes later she was at Nastya’s doorstep.

She was about to raise her hand to knock, but the door opened by itself. A soft voice followed, telling her to get inside because of the cold, and Yana realized she had been standing there without moving or saying anything, her gaze going from the giant pair of eyes lost in a sea of white and the plant trying to reach for the teacup. She walked into the room, seeing all kinds of plants and flowers, and walked up to Nastya, closing the front door behind her.

“Hey, Nastya. I’m sorry for barging in like that.” She looked at the cookies the girl had and felt a sudden hunger pain in her stomach. She hadn’t had breakfast yet, and those cookies looked delicious. She had already offered, so she took one of them and took a bite, her teeth breaking the dough apart, making it crumble in her mouth. It was the perfect mixture of sweet and buttery, and it was crunchy without being hard. “Wow, these are delicious.”

TEMPLATE © BOKEH
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YANA SALKO'S SAMPLE 2

The girl grabbed her arm so quickly and with so much firmness that Yana jumped in place startled. It took a few seconds for her heart to calm down. She slowly moved away her hand and carefully placed it inside the pocket of her winter coat, as if to make sure Mr. Butterworth wouldn’t try to grab her hand even from that distance. Her eyes moved from Nastya to the plant, who looked genuinely sad about what the blonde had said. She wasn’t a stranger to magickal plants, after all, she worked in an herb shop and half of their products, if not more, were infused with magick, and all of those were gathered by her own family from the family garden, and sometimes from the greenhouse. But it was funny seeing a plant with so much personality. Usually, the magickal plants she got in contact with didn’t have as much life as Mr. Butterworth. It was incredible. She let out a nasal laugh, despite almost having had her hand amputated only a minute ago.

”Perhaps you can take him to therapy,” she suggested to the girl half-jokingly.

She heard Nastya saying her mom probably had been a terrible cook and let out a good laugh when she seemed immediately embarrassed by it. ”I wasn’t going to say anything, but yes, most people would find whatever excuse not to eat her food. I grew to like it as a kid. We didn’t have much to eat when I was a child, so it’s not like I could refuse it anyway. I haven’t had her food in years, but your cookies brought up this sentimental value I used to have for her baking.”

She watched silently as Nastya seemed to freak out a bit over being summoned by Zula. Yana didn’t know why, she didn’t think she had done anything wrong, so she wasn’t worried, just curious as to what the Clanmother would want with her. It’s not usual for people to simply have ordinary chats with the Elder, with any of the Elders for that matter, only about matters of more importance. Last she spoke with Zula it had been a couple of weeks back, about the odd dreams she had been having. They were ominous enough that she sought out the woman in hopes of an explanation or advice, but got neither, only vague words about things being revealed in the foreseeable future.

Nastya came back after a few minutes and they left.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*​

They walked back to the main part of the village and headed to Zula’s cottage. It was a stone-angled-roof cottage like most of the ones in this part of the village, as the houses were built in the same time period and only later the village expanded. It had a small stone path leading to the front steps, a wooden table and benches on the deck. One of the Elders opened the door for them and led them through the house and out through the back, into the garden and up the steps leading to the council room.

Yana was starting to get nervous, when Lareen said Zula was looking for them she didn’t imagine it would be the whole council of Elders. They stood in front of all the chairs taken by the women and men in their coven, with Zula, the Clanmother, in the middle. She bowed her head slightly in greeting.

”Thank you for coming over today, children,” Zula started, smiling softly at both of them. Her frail wrinkly skin and long white hair showed the woman was old, although no one knew exactly how old. For some reason, despite all her power, she almost always looked like she had been attacked by a ferocious cat, always dressed in rags. ”Yana, you came to me a few weeks ago asking what your dreams meant. There’s a prophecy passed down by generations of Elders that speaks about the end of the war, it talks about a witch who will finally put an end to this torment, for better or worse. As, you see, the prophecy doesn’t have an end, and it doesn’t say who the witch is exactly. We have reasons to believe she has been imprisoned by the Church. But time is nigh, as there’s an evil approaching. We all have sensed it. And it seems there’s no escaping it this time. One thing the prophecy did speak of, was of the ones responsible for finding the savior. Forgive us for keeping this from you, my children, but it was necessary.”

She made a pause and looked back at the Elders behind her, then looked back at the girls.

”There’s been controversy about telling you this, but we’ve received word that the Church might have found our village, or at least learned about its existence. That’s why we cannot wait any longer, even if the time for the prophecy to be fulfilled hasn’t yet arrived. We cannot risk the Children of Destiny being killed or captured.”

Yana’s heart beat fast in her chest, the blood pulsing in her neck and ears. So that was why she had been having dreams about blood and death recently. She just hoped it meant they would prevent that from happening and not the contrary. She didn’t want to leave if the village was at risk if they could be attacked at any minute, but she knew better than to argue with the Clanmother, and she understood the responsibility that had been bestowed on them.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

 

[Straw-Berry Milk]

JAN KÖHN

He had his hands in his pocket while they walked and talked. The old dirty stone street gave place to a carefully laid out brick street, opening up to the center of the city. The houses there gave an air of “expensiveness”, something that Jan knew all about. It wasn't that the houses were completely different, but certain details in the architecture of the building, or the entrance decorated in a certain way, made it look like this area housed people that are currently in a higher financial status. The houses were farther away from the sidewalk than the houses they had just passed, and most of them exhibited a path surrounded by a well-groomed front yard, some with planters covering the garden with flowers, others with taller bushes and an occasional fruit tree. The choice of neutral colors with one or two accent ones brightened the place up, and while the houses behind them were absolutely charming with their bold colors, mismatched Christmas decorations, heavy old curtains with antique prints in dark navy and maroon, it was undeniable that this neighborhood was meant to look superior in every way. Perfect porches with perfect sitting areas, the perfect gardens, and potted plants up the stairs. The doors with a pretty but generic Christmas garland and classy lights were all of very good taste, but to Jan it all looked kind of dead. He didn’t prefer one neighborhood over the other, and God knows he would’ve done quite a long list of things to get a better bed, but he couldn’t help but think the boldness of the other houses made him feel warm. But this is what he was born to do. While his cousins would all run around playing some silly children’s game, he had to sit in the library and study battle tactics with his father, if he was lucky to catch him at home.

Jan looked around them. He was used to people making a point of showing they have more money than others, and seeing that here, in a place so ravished by war where people should be helping each other instead of beautifying their houses, was depressing. By no means did this neighborhood compare to Jan's personal life experience, this area would be considered low class by most in Gen. Köhn's circle.

Looking around with attention, Jan noticed that despite their obvious efforts, it was still clear to him that they were also struggling. In the documents that Jan received, he was briefed on the current socio-economic situation of the country, but particularly this area still somewhat close to Marsenia. It was the location suspected of hiding a coven of witches, after all. However, Jan couldn’t help but wonder why the Cardinal wanted to pursue a small coven that didn’t really seem to be doing much if anything at all instead of the rebels up North, causing chaos and killing as many as they can. Maybe he really just wanted Jan to help Raphael and this was a tranquil enough expedition for them to do just that.

Anastasya continued telling him about where she was from, and as much as she tried to hide it, Jan knew the feeling too well, and he could hear the bitter sadness of a lonely child in her swerving voice. ”You’ve got your cousin, though, right? I admit, she’s very quiet and it’s obvious she’s out of place, but you two seem to have a good connection with each other.” He attempted to brighten her up by reminding her of the friendship she did have.

They passed in front of one of the houses and Jan raised his hand to pluck an orange from a tree in the front yard. He looked at the orange for a few seconds, turning it around in his hand, then handed it to Nastya. ”Here, you’re going to need snacks if you intend to have any energy to train and then make the walk all the way back. Ah, speaking of which…”

They turned and up ahead they could see a lively farmer’s market. ”Come on, let’s get you more snacks.”

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

 

[Straw-Berry Milk]

JEMMA PRICE'S SAMPLE

It was hard to see what he was doing while focusing on the road, but she saw movement with the corner of her eyes. A little peek and she saw he was staring at her and was soon questioning her reasoning not to hate him, as if it was such a rare occurrence he had to make sure it was real. She wouldn’t say he was easy to deal with and that he was the most polite and sensitive person when speaking to people, but she didn’t see that as a reason to hate him.

Her ears still burned red. She couldn’t psychoanalyze him without proper consultation, with several sessions, but while studying she had seen truly horrible people, real sociopaths. Professor O’Callaghan seemed to be entertained with his antics, making his students suffer, but even he had told her it was a favor to them. She knew he cared about people in his own way, even if it wasn’t the most orthodox. ”I have no reason to hate you, so why would I? Interacting with you might be tiring at some points,” ”And maybe embarrassing,” ”but that isn’t reason to harbor such a strong feeling. This might sound hippie, but I don’t want all that negativity in my head.” She already had enough negativity to deal with.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​