Story idea 1

Keep in mind this is a first draft which needs much refinement, and is hardly finished.
The criteria are for 3,000 to 10,000 words, and I'm only at 405. Quite a ways to go, but it allows for more fleshing of the story.
The premise for this particular version is that of a Scourge minion who begins having flashbacks to his prior life, starting with memories of his childhood and family, eventually leading up to his redemption, in some form or another. I haven't quite figured out exactly how to get where I want this story to go.
I actually have another version, but think I may abandon it for this one. I'd originally intended the story to be about a stiched-zombie type character, whose body parts retained memories of their original hosts. Those body parts would begin to infect the zombie's brain with those memories, and would eventually cause the zombie to redeem himself as well.

So, without further ado, here is a snippet of version 1 of the story of Gurgle.


The young man looks out over the field of bright flowers, breathing in the thick scent of spring. His sisters play nearby, giggling while playing with a butterfly. The plough horses grunt as his father slaps their sides to keep them moving. It’ll be harvest time soon enough, then planting season soon after. A never ending schedule of reaping and sowing, day in and out. He sighs, twirling a flower in his hand, already calloused from field work, at such a young age.
“Ulfblud, round up your sisters, and tell your father supper’s on the table,” his mother calls from the porch….

Gurgle, startled, looks up from his meal, gazing out over the battlefield where a gray cloud has started to settle. He feels an itch, somewhere in what little brain is left, something familiar that he can’t quite place. He grunts, dismissing it and going back to the leavings of the recent battle laid out in front of him. So much food, so little time. Across the field, the flesh shapers are hard at work raising new recruits from the recently perished soldiers. Their incantations and the murmurs of the newly raised mingle with the moans of injured and dying, as well as the calls of the carrion birds waiting for their chance at the feast below. The pickings will be slim, for after the flesh shapers have done their work, most of the bodies and parts remaining will be mobile or bound for a cooking cauldron for the army of scourge camped nearby.

As Gurgle finishes his meal he raises his head, looking out across the battlefield at the mountains beyond. For an instant he sees things differently, feeling that itch in his rotting brain again. The battlefield, with it’s bodies, craters and stinking heaps is transformed into that field of bright flowers, and the moans and groans, murmurs and chants have turned into giggles. “Ulfblud, did you hear me? It’s time for din…”
Gurgle yelps in pain as the mounted death knight lashes him once again, “You! I said get back to work, there’s more that needs done before you’ll get your dinner!” Gurgle hurries forward, collecting the weapons of the fallen which might very likely end up in the same hands, albeit transformed hands. As he goes about his task, he can’t help but think, with his tiny brain, about that beautiful view from his vision, and what it might mean.