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Hello to all. Here I will post some pictures and those of you who want to can write a short story about the picture. If you post it on the topic I would like for it to be at least a couple of good paragraphs.

I stood in the long grass, looking over the scene that lay before me. It was a scene struggling. A scene littered with remnants of our past.

Through it all, nature was doing its best to recover from what had been done to it. It was not doing very well. The trees stood leafless, broken. The grass was more brown than green. Nature struggled still. Looking at the scene before me, there was little hope it would succede.

Around me is a creek, that at first glance may have held life. Unless you noticed the radioactive symbol on the sign nearby. Few today know exactly what that sign meant, other than danger. The symbol was a remnant of a civilation that no longer exists.

Near to me, a police helicopter lay in pieces on the ground. The grass had grown up around it, nature struggling to reclaim the spot where it lay. A helicopter. Another, perhaps more significant, remnant of a civilisation that is no more. And a sign of the conflict that had shaken our world.

Near my feet stands perhaps the most significant, most blasphemous, of the relics that litter this scene. A wooden cross. The only indication that someone was buried there. But the cross were more than a mark for the dead. It was the symbol of an entire dead religion. Of course, all religions were dead now. The Reform had made sure of that. All religions were banned. Religions caused conflict. If the human race were to survive, it could no longer afford conflict. So the Leaders claimed.

Standing a little way back, Narelle called to me.
"Jonathon, we should be getting back."
She was right. I nodded distractedly, then turned back to the grave. Quickly, discreetly, I pulled a flower from inside my shirt. It was, of course, made of plastic. No flowers had survived the harsh new climate, but their memory, at least, still existed. I placed it on the grave. Let the Leaders chew on that, if ever they found it.

No one was supposed to come here, at least not as we had. To mourn for what has been lost to us, and to strengthen our resolve. We would recover the freedom of the Age of Glory. Despite the Leaders that oppressed us so, despite the odds, despite the dwindling numbers of the Resistance. Somehow, some way, we will bring freedom back to the world - or we will die trying.

(How's this sound? It's a bit messy I know. I started by describing the scene, then built on it as I wrote. Anyways, what do you think of it? Please critique, I would love some pointers if you feel you can give them.)

I enjoyed both of them. As for the long figure in the fog it could be what ever you wanted it to be. I just looked around online and found an interesting picture and posted it up. The details are entirely up to you. The rules and guidelines are the website's, we don't want the guild banned.

Elyarne to me the details that you put into it before really giving the story was good, but maybe a little more story with the details.

BeanieBaggie the overall story seemed good to me, however a little more details would add more color to the story.

The next picture I plan to post up either on Monday or Tuesday. Unless y'all want me to post one earlier.

"Oh God," I said, squinting in the sunlight. I took out my glasses out and put them on, brushing red curls off my face. "What is that thing?"
Jon turned and smiled at me.
"Only you would curse a dead religion's god, Narelle," he said, then frowned, turning back to the thing, "It's a train, I think. People used them to go from place to place. It's quite overgrown now though."
"Like that heli-thingo we saw last week?"
"Helicopter." he corrected, "Yes, but different. Trains used to travel quickly on tracks on the ground. Helicopters could fly. Of the two, trains were far more common."
"Why?" I asked, "Why would you go along the ground when you could fly instead?"
"Flying was more expensive, and it was harder to find someone who could direct a helicopter. Trains were used in everyday life to go short distances as well as long."
"Oh. So where's the guy we were supposed to meet?" I asked. Jon frowned for a moment before answering.
"I don't know," he said, "He said to meet at the train station, near that old statue."
"The Statue of Liberty, New York’s most famous landmark," I said. Jon knew everything there was to know about old technology, but culture was in my area of expertise. "Jon, they say you could see it for kilometres. Or rather, for 'miles' as they said in old times. If trains were as common as you say, there could be any number of these… these 'stations' all around the city."
“True, but there’s only one station with the four-six-oh-nine at it. Trust me Narelle, we’re in the right place.”
Before I could respond, I saw a figure walk into view, in the distance ahead at the far end of the station. The figure did not approach.
“Jon, could that be him?” I said hopefully, then worriedly, “He couldn’t be a Lawkeeper could he? Jon what if this is all a set up?”
“If it was,” Jon said calmly, “They would not reveal themselves to us. They would already be upon us if this was an ambush.”
“Jon, I don’t like this. What if they’re waiting for us to incriminate ourselves first?”
“We’ve incriminated ourselves enough just by showing up. It’s fine Narelle. He’s just checking us out first. Come on.” He started down the station. I followed reluctantly. As we drew closer, I could make out the man more clearly. He was a tall man, big, muscly, with broad shoulders. He wore an old fashioned suit. Garb like that was forbidden now. Mankind was to throw off all ties to the old life and begin anew. The Resistance supposedly wore suits as a sign of rebellion, to cast allegiance to the old ways and the old way of governing. That was what we had heard. He had a square face, with dark hair and a short beard. His eyes were blue, I noticed as we came yet closer. He held up a hand to stop us.
“Identify yourselves,” he said gruffly.
“I’m Jonathon Reed,” said Jon, proffering his right hand as he had been instructed to do. “And she is Narelle Cook. You called me here?”
“You were supposed to come alone,” said the man, but he took Jon’s hand and shook it. Just as the people of old would have done upon meeting.
“Narelle and I are… close. We come as a package. You want me, she comes too.”
“Very well,” said the man, “Walk with me, and we shall talk.”
We walked along, me nervously, Jon casually, the nameless man with a sure and dangerous gait.
“I represent the Resistance, as you well know,” began the man, “and we need your assistance. Of course, to become one of us you need to make the Pledge before a Council, but for now, do you swear that no word of this meeting will go outside the Resistance?”
“I so swear,” Jon said formally.
“I swear too,” I said, less formally but no less sincerely.
“Good.” said the man.
“Excuse me sir,” I interjected into the momentary silence, “But do you have a name we can call you?”
“My true name is none of your concern. But you may call me Mr Badger.”
“Why badger?” I asked.
The man smiled. “A minor character in one of my favourite books. As I am only a minor member of our society, it seems fitting.”
“So what do you need us for?” Jon asked.
“We are always looking for new recruits,” said Mr Badger, “But we need you for more than that. We need your… particular expertise. Let me get straight to it. We need you to get the trains up and running again.”
“Why?” I said, feeling quite irrelevant.
“Numerous reasons,” Mr Badger said, “Many of our bases are built around train stations. We need to cart weapons, funds, people, from place to place with speed. A working railway system under our control would be greatly advantageous. It would give us quick access to much of the continent!”
“Doesn’t sound as important or as exciting as it hoped,” Jon said disappointedly. “But I think we could do it. Narelle and I. Together, mind you.”
“Of course. And it’s a much more important mission than you might think,” said Mr Badger, “For one thing; this is only one step in our plan. After that, we have a much more exciting project for you.”
“Do tell.”
(I thought that picture looked very similar in theme to the other picture, so I continued the story from the other character’s point of view. I realise it’s a bit slow, but I did enjoy writing it. Anyways, please critique!)

From deep within my cave, I heard the clanging echoing off the stone walls and groaned. Not again. Why did they always have to come here? I uncurled from the warm embrace of my mate and started for the entrance tunnel.
"What is it, Eirlys?" he asked in a voice like the toll of a great iron bell.
"Nothing I can't handle on my own, Edur," I responded softly. "Just some more knights come to try their luck. Go back to sleep, love."
He grunted and curled tighter around himself, asleep almost instantly. I smiled to myself. This was how it always went: I fought off the knights and princes and thieves while Edur slept, and in return, he went out to hunt and brought back food for both of us. It was a good, even trade.
Outside the cave, the men in armor were waiting for me, brandishing their harpoons and swords. They thought themselves invincible. Ha! I let out a mighty roar and lashed my tail, flinging snow in the humans' faces. Blinded, they scrambled back and flung their harpoons wildly. None of the weapons made it past my scaly hide. All of them bound off with a light tinkling sound. I roared again, taunting the puny men; challenging them. As always, when they saw that their weapons did not work, they turned tail and ran. I let out a puff of cold air at their retreating backs and returned to my cave and my mate's welcome warmth.

Here is the next picture. You three are the only ones that showed any interest in this. Please continued to post either here or else where in the guild.
Have fun and be creative.

Here is another picture. If you three still want me to continue to post up pictures I can, or I can stop. And anyone else in the guild can post if they want to. Be creative and have fun.