In an effort to bring some vitality to this section of the forums, I've decided to try to create a Challenge thread to help encourage authors to get their creative juices flowing. I've already sent a message to a OWbA mod so that we can get a Challenges subforum going, but until then, I think this thread will suffice.

Here's how it works:

An author will post a snippet or a full blown story based upon a premise that has been previously posted by another author in this master thread. The thread will be prefaced by the [Premise] tag so that mods can know which threads to move to the Challenges subforum when one is created.

At the end of their story post, the author will provide a premise of their own in their thread AND the master thread for another author to work with in a new thread.

More than one author can use the same premise, so long as they still provide new premises for other authors to use. If you are writing for an already existing Premise, make sure you properly label your thread so readers can know what premise you're building off of.

You can post as many snippets/premises as you like in this thread in order to help encourage other authors to write.

Example of post structure:

Thread Title = [Premise] <Premise type>

"Original premise"

"Body of snippet pertaining to original premise"

"Author posts new premise for other authors to work with"

I will provide an example of how to post and get this thing started!
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Original Premise: Write a scene involving a captive and their captor.

***
He’s lost all sense of time. Of course, time has no meaning when one is in the pits of Hell. There is only the here and now, which stretches on into infinity.

A key turns in a lock and a door opens smoothly on well oiled hinges.

A woman enters, dressed in simple robes of deep crimson, the color of dried blood. She only wore red for him. She once explained that these crimson robes were the only thing that could hide the tell tale signs of one of their sessions. Most days, she didn’t even bother to change out of it. And somehow, that gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. As if her garb was the only thing he could control; a minute measure of power that the captive held over his captor.

Her face was somber today. Inwardly, he gathered himself for a particularly gruesome session. The days that she smiled were actually less intensive than the rare days that she entered his cell with a grim expression on her pale face.

Her black hair, streaked with handsome threads of gray, was pulled back into a simple ponytail, something that seemed absurd on her aristocratic features.

He dangled wearily from his chains, the manacles digging cruelly into his thin wrists, which had long since been rubbed raw and bloody during his furious thrashing and struggling. He’d tried to accept the pain and take it into himself to lessen it, but he was no hardened warrior, trained to withstand torture of the worst sort.

She began to circle him, walking in counter clockwise direction. Despite himself, he tensed at her touch; perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly on his bare torso. Scars had been etched painstakingly into his skin, then healed lovingly so he could be a fresh canvas the next day. There were very few places that he wasn’t scarred.

“Today is my birthday, you know.”

Jonas had long since learned that speaking to her was the fastest way to get her angry. So, he remained stoically silent, chin rested upon his scarred chest.

“I was given baubles as presents, pretty things to charm the eye and please the soul. I do so love beautiful things.”

She came to a stop in front of him, her somber mood having regressed into something melancholy. He wondered what could possibly make her sad. Everything she’d ever wanted was in this room, steeped in the color of her crimson robes. She’d told him so, often enough.

“You can’t really enjoy a pretty thing, Jonas, unless you pluck it from its pedestal and hold it in your own two hands.”

With a graceful flick of her wrist, her knife, gleaming wickedly in the low light, flowed into her hand.

“I find that beauty is accentuated by destruction. Have you ever had the urge to destroy something beautiful? I have. Quite often, to tell you the truth.”

Her knife began trailing nonsensical patterns on his chest.

“I broke all of my baubles. Thankfully, there is still one left I can enjoy. You truly are beautiful, boy.”
***

New Premise: Master and Apprentice