Awesome Writing Prompt #7
16 Mar
One of my students alerted me to a legendary piece of bad writing called “The Eye of Argon” by Jim Theis. TEOA is so bad that people get together, read it aloud, and try to see how far into the story they can get without laughing. (It’s called “competitive reading.” Here are the rules.)
Here’s a taste:
The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome cargoes of their struggling overseers.
“Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of hell, barbarian”, gasped the first soldier.
“Only after you have kissed the fleeting stead of death, wretch!” returned Grignr.
A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive barbarians hide enameled shield as his rippling right arm thrust forth, sending a steel shod blade to the hilt into the soldiers vital organs. The disemboweled mercenary crumpled from his saddle and sank to the clouded sward, sprinkling the parched dust with crimson droplets of escaping life fluid.
You have two choices:
1. Rewrite this excerpt and make it good.
2. Write something worse.
Three soldiers rode up the dusty trail, their horses struggling in the midday heat.
The barbarian Grignr had spotted them hours earlier, three wisps of smoke on an empty horizon. Now they were within striking distance. The black diamond on their helmets was unmistakable. A death squad from the Norgolian empire, sent for him, the killer of thousands.
He stepped from behind an outcropping of rock, blocking the trail. Surprise was a crutch for the weak.
The lead rider looked up. A flicker of recognition.
“Prepare to die,” he said, drawing his sword.
Grignr smiled. Then in one swift movement, he ran at the soldiers and became airborne, impossibly fast, impossibly high. The blade of his sword swept a merciless arc through them, cutting throat, wrist and belly.
Gore sprayed the parched earth. The first rider slumped dead in his saddle, while the second cast about with his remaining hand. The third stared at the loops of his innards drooping slowly to the ground.
The barbarian rose from where he had landed, his sword running red. Two clean strokes later, he was alone again on the rocky trail.
Brilliant! You made it clean and clear but still kept the turgidity.
…and as a fan of Howard’s original Conan stories, I took an inordinate amount of pleasure doing it.
Lars–More!!
Tempting… but my turgidity credit line is now maxed out.