I've been wanting to do some writing exercises as I have been writing exclusively in comic format and fear I have not exercised my other storytelling muscles. So I came up with this thing called PPG which stands for Person (or creature or thing), Place, Genre. I randomly put up a PPG request on a website and them someone comes up with the three. Taking the three, whatever they are, I write a quick short story. The idea is it really forces me to think outside of the box.
The first PPG came from Ruthless on io9.
Person: Highlander
Place: Machu Picchu
Genre: Western
And it was tough! And fun! I have a vague knowledge of Highlanders (swords and immortal is the extent of said knowledge) so it's probably far from canon. Anywho, enjoy what spewed from my imagination in the span of 30 mins.
He didn’t understand how men could live like this.
Perhaps Europe was in a slump right now, poisoned with war, however it was at least cool. Here it was humid, the air wet and heavy in his lungs. However he told himself he had wanted to travel. To see the whole world before the Gathering.
It was more than just a flat shelf they talked about in the kingdoms, there was no place to fall off into the ether, one just had to know to to cross the water. For him it had been a long and cold trek to the small passage up near the ice, however once across it had warmed as he had gone further south and now it was downright tropical.
“What a world it is.” He mutters under his breath, pulling at the collar of his cloak. His boots sink into the damp earth as he marvels at how green everything is. Focusing his grey eyes up the snaking rode he sees the glittering stone city high above on the mountains, fog curling around her. Pack animals dotted the hillside and the sight of them made him release a hopeful sigh. He had been relying on the hospitality of the indigenous tribes. The satchel at his waist carried trinkets he would pick up and he would use them to barter for supplies. That was if they were welcoming. More than once he had been forced to flee from a hail of arrows or the thundering hooves of warriors mounts.
A leaf crunched off of the side of the path and the birds fell silent.
Pausing, his muscles locking he steadied his breathing. “Hello?” He spoke as calmly as possible, correcting his posture as he did not want to appear as a threat. “Hello, is anyone there?”
He could hear them, a low murmur of an unknown dialect beyond the thicket.
“I’m no threat to you.” Resisting the urge to draw his sword he slowly, carefully turned his head both ways, surveying the lush vegetation for signs of men. “I’m just looking for a bit of hospitality.”
He heard the bow’s hum before he saw the arrow. Within that second his hand flew to the hilt, and his sword sung against it’s scabbard as it was drawn. Swinging it up, her gleaming blade deflected the arrow. It futility bounced off, tumbling onto the earth.
“I don’t want to harm you.” He pleaded. “Just want-”
The other bows made the same hum.
Bolting into the vegetation on the other side he avoided the attack with ease. However pushing through a large plant he suddenly found himself face to face with two men. They were as startled as he was, gawking at his pale form and alien clothes. Shouting, thrusting their spears they forced him to leap back. Swinging his sword in front of them, they backed up as well, fearing the unknown weapon.
“Please.” He said to them, fearing the others would rush in. “Please, understand, I mean no harm.”
They stared him down weapons aimed at his chest.
“Alright, just-” Carefully he set his sword down, watching their every move. Reaching over to untie the satchel he watched their muscles twitch in anticipation. He hoped what he had would satisfy them, for their sake at least.
originally posted June 23 2011
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