Title: The Curse
Word Count: 1785
Genre: Historical Fantasy
Remember I mentioned a few months ago that I would be writing a story for Fandom For Preemies? If any of you donated and forwarded your receipt on, you'll have already read this. And I greatly appreciate your donation. Through the generous efforts of our friends and family, Fandom for Preemies raised over $400 for the March for Babies program, and over $2100 for other March of Dimes programs world-wide.
I promised that I would not post this story until May 20th, in order to allow those who did purchase the compilation a chance to enjoy it exclusively. But May 20th sounded like such an awkward day, so I decided to hold off until June 1st. And now, here we are.
This story is the backstory to a plot I came up with a couple months ago. I kept thinking about The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and wondered if someone living today would have the capability of doing that with photography. Which spun out into this elaborate plot featuring three girls (cousins, I think) who all have certain 'powers' dealing with photographs. I'm not sure I'll ever get around to writing the story that I did come up with, but I do have quite a bit of it planned out. So, motivation, once again, is the only thing lacking. Anyway, this story was the answer to my question 'How did it start?' Hope you enjoy!
The Curse
Light streamed in through the window, causing the still wet paint to glisten slightly on the canvas. The young woman seated behind it glanced at her subject again, then wrinkled her nose and dabbed a bit more paint onto the portrait.
“I know portrait sitting is all about patience, but are we almost done for today, Aliénor?” the subject of the portrait whined.
Aliénor looked up. “Hmm? Oh, yes, just a few more minutes. The light has almost gone for today.”
“Merci! Oh, dear, I don't know how you can manage to sit in one spot for hours. I normally take multiple walks a day, just around the garden, you know.”
Aliénor smiled and turned back to her work. “Yes, Comtesse Candale. You have told me many times your normal routine. I do appreciate you taking so much time to allow me to paint your portrait.”
“Oh, nonsense, dear. You are the most renounced portrait artist in the region. You know I always get the best.” The older woman's eyes sparkled mischievously.
“Naturally, Comtesse. Only a few more minutes, s'il vous plait.”
The comtesse rolled her eyes theatrically, but remained still, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards in amusement. After a few more minutes, Aliénor stood and placed her palatte on her stool. She wiped off her hands on her apron and smiled. “All done for today, Comtesse. I think one more sitting should finish it up.”
The comtesse stood and let out a squeal of delight. “Oh, you must let me see what progress you've made, dear,” she said as she moved towards the easel.
Aliénor held up her hands and shook her head. “We had an agreement. No one sees my portraits until they are complete.”
“Oh, surely you can make an exception for me...”
“Desolée, madame, but no. It takes away the magic for you to see it before it is finished.”
The older woman raised her eyebrow, then gave a short nod. “Very well. You are clearly set in your ways. I will just have to wait for the surprise.”
Aliénor smiled and pulled off her apron. “One more day should do it, and then you can see the finished work. Allow me to show you out.”
The older woman picked up a cane resting beside her chair. “I expect to be able to see it tomorrow, then. No excuses next time.” She smiled and grasped Aliénor's hand. “Do tell your mother to join us for tea, then. It's been ages since I've seen her.”
“Of course, Comtesse. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you again.”
A footman appeared in the doorway. “Oh, wonderful, Baxley. Show me out so young Aliénor here can finish her portrait. I am just dying to see the effect she has produced.”
“At your service, madame,” the footman replied, bowing and holding out his arm for the older woman.
Aliénor remained watching the door for a few moments before she turned back and walked towards her easel. Sighing, she ran her finger along the edge of the canvas, stopping when she came to the painted image of a clasped knife hovering behind the comtesse. “However am I going to cover you up this time?” she muttered to herself.
“I don't know why you continue to paint if you're so disturbed by the images you see,” a soft voice said behind her.
Aliénor shrugged and turned. “I enjoy it, maman. And not everything is disturbing. I did paint a beautiful ring on Clarisse's finger, and she ended up engaged by the end of the summer.”
“Yes, but you did have to field those questions about how you knew what Vicomte Grundie's ring would look like,” her mother reminded her.
“Yes, well. Still... not everything is disturbing.”
“This one certainly seems to be,” her mother muttered, examining the portrait.
Aliénor sighed. “I feel as if I have some duty to warn her, but I'm not sure how I could possibly start that conversation. I would be laughed out of France for even suggesting that the Comtesse was in danger.”
Her mother grasped her shoulders and squeezed them slightly. “Just because you've seen it, doesn't mean it will come true, ma petite. Just etch in some more shadows behind her chair and you'll hardly know it's there.”
Aliénor nodded silently and picked up her brush once again, hesitating only a moment before gently brushing a darker paint over the horrifying image.
~*~
“Almost done.... there,” Aliénor said triumpantly, standing back to examine her work.
“Can I see it now?” the Comtesse asked eagerly, picking up her cane and standing up without waiting for an answer.
“Of course, just don't touch it. The paint is still wet yet.” Aliénor smiled stood to the side as the older woman sidled up beside her.
“Absolutely breathtaking, dear. I've never seen such details, almost as if the ruffles of my skirt would float away with a slight breeze.”
Aliénor opened her mouth to respond when shouting erupted in the hallway.
“Unhand me! I told you I would not leave until I saw her. How dare you!” A woman with a bright red dress and hair black as night stormed into the room, several footmen on her heels.
“Sorry, madamoiselle, but we could not stop her,” one of the footmen muttered, looking down at the ground.
Aliénor dismissed his concerns with a flick of her wrist and addressed the intruder. “Very well, here I am. Speak your piece.”
The woman's eyes flashed and she straightened her back like a snake preparing to strike. “I have come to denounce you as a witch!” she announced.
The Comtesse gasped and seemed to stumble back a few steps, but Aliénor only pursed her lips. “You dare come into my home uninvited and make such callous threats?”
“Oh, you can act as sweet an charming as you wish, but I know about your magic. You think it clever, hiding your little charms in your portraits, but I see through it.”
“Madame, what is your reason for denouncing her so?” the comtesse spoke up, seeming to regain her presence.
“Oh, you must be her latest victim. See, she hides these little things in her portraits, telling of things to come. Her portrait of me resulted in my husband forcing me to leave his house.”
“A portrait caused you to become dishonored by your husband? Typically that is the work of the woman, not of her portrait artist.”
The woman glared daggers at the comtesse and turned back towards Aliénor. “You remember, don't you? You painted me with my husband's family. Except that I wasn't looking at my husband in your portrait, I was looking at his brother. Henri spotted this and became suspicious. He left town on business last week, and came back early to find his brother and I in a rather... compromising position.”
Aliénor cleared her throat, clasping her hands before her to calm her nerves. “I only paint what I see, madame. It sounds as if you were the root cause of the problem, not me.”
The woman laughed coldly, sending shivers up Aliénor's spine. “Oh, I know no one will believe me, but I've heard whispers of your other portraits. A slightly rounder belly for a newly married woman, and a short while later she gives birth. A man without his ring loses his estate within a year. An unmarried woman with a ring becomes betrothed within months. A slight alteration in a crest, and the nobleman is banished. If you truly paint what you see, then you clearly see things that normal people do not.”
“This is preposterous!” the countess shouted, gesturing towards the footmen. “Take her out of here, she is disturbing my peace.”
“Oh, I'll leave, but take note. You may be well loved, Aliénor de Monspey, but for the humiliation you have brought onto me, your children will be outcasts for their magic, until the day that they feel the same humiliation I have felt.” Her eyes flashed green for a fraction of a second, then she spun on her heel and left the room, the footmen trailing after her.
Aliénor remained rooted on the spot, her heart pounding in her chest as the woman spoke her words. She glanced over her shoulder at the portrait of the comtesse again and bit her lip as her eyes danced across the now concealed dagger.
“Don't look so frightened, dear. Scary as she seems, her words are just that: words. She's no more a witch than you are, she just wanted to take her anger out on someone, and you seemed a good target.”
Aliénor smiled weakly and nodded. “Of course. I'm just not used to such confrontations. I'll have the portrait wrapped and sent to you in the morning, once it has dried completely.”
The comtesse leaned against her cane with both arms. “I do expect you over for tea, darling. Your mother too. No later than Thursday, you understand?”
Aliénor smiled warmly. “Of course. We will send word as soon as we are available.” Pulling off her dirty apron, she leaned over and kissed each of the comtesse's cheeks. With a significant look back at the portrait, she added, “Do be careful. With women like her running around, it's a wonder we're all as safe as we are,” she added with a weak chuckle and a glance at the portrait.
The comtesse frowned slightly, but nodded. “Of course dear. I look forward to seeing your portrait in my gallery.” With her smile locked in place, the comtesse turned and hobbled towards the door.
Once alone, Aliénor picked up her supplies and sighed softly. Hearing footsteps, she turned to see Baxley standing in the doorway. “Is anything amiss, madamoiselle?”
Aliénor swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. “No, no, just a little rattled. Thank you Baxley.” She smiled and turned on her heel, leaving the room with a swirl of her skirts.
“What was all that about, cherie?”
Aliénor turned to face her mother. “One of my past clients was upset about the way her image was represented in her portrait. She accused me of being a witch.”
The older woman pursed her lips, but Aliénor shook her head. “No, maman. I don't want to hear it again. I'm going to take a break from painting. Your wish has come true.”
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Friday, June 1, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
The Rise of Huti
Title: The Rise of Huti
Word Count: 1934
Genre: Fantasy
I'm pulling out a couple of my rough drafts this weekend, since I've been letting them sit for years without really touching them now. And I have a bit of 'free' time. I actually have a lot that I need to do, I'm just completely unmotivated to do it. At any rate, this is another short story from the Kamore world. I wrote it ages ago, and recently went through and made a few edits. I'm still not sure how happy I am with it, but whatever. This isn't one I really plan on publishing, ever. Enjoy!
The Rise of Huti
Once, not too long ago, there was a time of deep unrest in our nation.
“We cannot stand for this! The Agnassen must be put down for the survival of our own people!” one man raged. Despite his old, wizened appearance, he was quite animated. His years seemed to melt away from him, though his long, gray hair remained the same. His cloak, which was stitched with a fine gold thread, showed his position as an elder. He looked around at the other elders of the village.
A young boy, sitting along the edges of the tent, worked a piece of yarn worriedly. His short black hair framed his face and put his eyes in shadow from the sun, and his worn, brown cloak indicated that he was a mere commoner in the village. He was only permitted in the elders' tent because he was the student of one of the more prominent elders, Tahi.
“Come now, Odar. War has solved nothing in the past. Why should we throw innocent lives away for such a pointless activity?” A slightly younger man, his hair still showing the brown of youth, remained calm as he sat beside the fire. The young boy straightened as his master spoke. “I think it far better if we wait it out. The winter will come soon, and it will be more difficult for the Agnassen to come over the pass to fight us. They will wear themselves out.”
Odar grew enraged at this suggestion, and responded with new fury. “How can we just sit here and wait? What if they manage to move over the pass before the white blanket settles over the land? How should we protect ourselves then?” His voice was loud and booming. “Or are you simply afraid of what might come to pass?”
Tahi remained calm and slowly rose from his seat on the floor. “I am simply showing respect for the lives of the young men that would be put in danger if we were to follow your plan, Odar. Not to mention the women and children who would be affected by such a loss.”
Odar's face turned purple in his rage. “What makes you so sure we are going to lose men? With a good plan, we can easily defeat the Agnassen, and not lose a life in the process.”
“A life is always lost when we result to war. Even if not one man of ours died, many would come back completely changed by the fighting. Is that something we would so easily wish them to deal with? War is not our only choice at this point, so why turn to it so easily?”
The others in the tent looked from Tahi to Odar, and back again. The two most respected elders had differing opinions as to what should be done about this threat to the people, and so the village would follow whichever had the most support from the other elders. Many of the younger men seemed to side with Odar, while the women and older men among them paid more heed to Tahi. The atmosphere in the tent was charged with tension.
The young boy chewed his lip worriedly. After seeming to deal with his internal struggle, he moved behind Tahi and whispered something in his ear. With a short nod, Tahi dismissed the boy, and the boy moved to the edges of the tent again. Tahi looked around at the elders. “Huti, my student, makes a fair point. Regardless of what we decide, we must ensure that the favor of the gods is on our side. It is pointless to chose a path that would only lead to our own destruction.”
The elders muttered their understanding of the idea, and Tahi continued. “Huti suggests we seek the guidance of Jaya. She would be able to empower us with the strength we need to face whatever situation is best. Her favor would be very important in determining the outcome.”
Odar seemed to glow at this suggestion, his face cracking into a frightening smile. The elders murmured their agreement, and the tension in the tent eased slightly. Perhaps they wouldn't have to choose between them.
An old woman stood and inclined her head towards Odar. “While it is clear that Odar should go, being the highest among the wise men, I believe Huti should accompany him. It was Huti's words that brought about this agreement, and he is to become an elder himself some day.”
Odar's face became tinged with pink once again. “I will not speak to the goddess with such a young boy at my side! It would be a disgrace!”
The old woman looked at him sharply. “Were you not a young boy yourself when you first made that journey up the mountain? Why should Huti be any different than you were? I can think of no one as brave as Huti in this instant, for only he and Tahi have the courage to stand up to raging men as yourself. He is to be one of our leaders some day, and must be prepared as best he can be for such a task. Do you know any better way to initiate him?” Her eyes seemed to glow with a power that her appearance did not indicate she had.
Odar looked as if he were going to retort, but backed down instead, bowing slightly to the old woman. Huti looked around uneasily, but the old woman rubbed his shoulder in reassurance. He felt strangely empowered by the gesture.
The two set off for the goddess' shrine the next morning, at the first sign of light. They left quickly, bringing only what was necessary for their travels. The journey would be a long one, as they would have to climb to the top of the neighboring mountain in order to find the goddess' shrine. It was said that from that vantage point, she could see all that was taking place through the land.
By the time they reached the shrine, night had fallen, and the only light offered was that of a waning moon. Still, the shrine seemed to glow with a soft blue light, and the two travelers set aside their packs to kneel before it.
Huti's ears perked up as he heard a soft rumbling sound, and his head raised slightly to see a sleek mountain lion sitting atop the altar. It looked at him with piercing eyes, and its tail swooshed silently across the altar. Huti didn't dare make a sound, and held eye contact with the lion for some time before Odar looked at him.
“What are you looking at, boy?” His tone was harsh and demanding, but Huti did not dare speak, only continued to look at the mountain lion. The lion stood and jumped off the altar towards them. Odar saw the movement and fell back in fear, making a strangled sound as he hit the ground. Huti stood and bowed slightly to the lion, breathing deeply so as not to let his fear show.
The mountain lion's tail swished again, and in a flash of bright light, transformed into a beautiful woman. She had light yellow hair, unlike any hair in the villagers below, and piercing blue eyes. Her dress was the color of the morning glories in the valley below, white with wisps of light blue around it. Huti stared at her, shocked into silence. Odar fell to his knees and at once began praising the goddess. She held up her hand to his praises, and he stopped immediately.
“Young one, tell me of you journey.” Her voice was angelic, light and singsong. She moved with a grace very much like that of the lion she had previously embodied.
Odar, angry with the attention she was giving Huti, began to answer. “We have journeyed far to see you, wise lady...”
She turned to him, her gaze suddenly cold. “I asked the young one, not you.”
Huti held his breath and glanced at the hateful look of his elder. The goddess turned to him, her eyes friendly and warm. He took a deep breath and began. “Jaya, we come from the Kamore people, the village in the valley. We have traveled all day up the mountain so that we might visit your shrine and ask of your assistance.”
She smiled. “And what assistance might you require?”
“Our elders are divided on how we should deal with the threat of the Agnassen. Some believe we should go to war, and others believe there is a better way, and that war should only be used as a last resort.”
“And what do you think, young one?”
Huti cleared his throat, glancing anxiously at Odar, whose face had once again turned pink with rage. “War cannot be the answer. It has been done in the past, and has not yet succeeded. If the Agnassen do not see the threat of war as dangerous, it cannot be the solution we seek.”
Jaya laughed softly and moved towards Huti. “You are very wise, young one. You can see the balance of power in play here. While it is easy enough to fight war with war, the balance of good and evil will never be equal then. Act in a way which would preserve this balance, and you will see favor in my eyes.”
Huti bowed, thanking the goddess. Odar, furious that his way was not truth, spoke quickly. “The Agnassen must be destroyed at any cost. They are a vile people, and must not influence the world anymore!”
Jaya turned to him quickly, her eyes once again a bone-chilling blue. “You dare speak against me, Odar? It is I from whom you draw your power, and I can easily take it away. It is only through my favor you remain a wise man. If you do not believe in my power, though, I'll transfer my favor to young Huti. He will become, I believe, the youngest wise man in your village.”
Odar looked at her, fear evident in his eyes. “No, Mistress. I did not mean to offend. I was only speaking my thoughts--”
“Thoughts that were neither asked for, nor appreciated. Huti shall take your place in the council.” She waved her hand and Huti's simple cloak became one of great elegance and power. Odar's cloak seemed insignificant in comparison, though it had not changed at all. “Take note of Odar's position, young Huti. He did not put his own people ahead of his greed and hatred, and it has cost him dearly. Do not put yourself in the same position.”
Huti bowed again, and sensing that he had been dismissed, turned and began to journey back down the mountain. The sky was turning pink in the east, and he would soon have good light to travel by. When he made it back to the village, he would be welcomed as the new elder.
And so, the Kamore entered a new era. They made peace with the Agnassen, at least for a time. Huti led his people through the challenges they would face and would keep the favor of Jaya, heeding her warning throughout the rest of his life. Odar never returned to the village. It is said that he died of shame on his journey down the mountain, though some say he still haunts the mountain, waiting for a chance to redeem himself with the goddess Jaya.
Word Count: 1934
Genre: Fantasy
I'm pulling out a couple of my rough drafts this weekend, since I've been letting them sit for years without really touching them now. And I have a bit of 'free' time. I actually have a lot that I need to do, I'm just completely unmotivated to do it. At any rate, this is another short story from the Kamore world. I wrote it ages ago, and recently went through and made a few edits. I'm still not sure how happy I am with it, but whatever. This isn't one I really plan on publishing, ever. Enjoy!
The Rise of Huti
Once, not too long ago, there was a time of deep unrest in our nation.
“We cannot stand for this! The Agnassen must be put down for the survival of our own people!” one man raged. Despite his old, wizened appearance, he was quite animated. His years seemed to melt away from him, though his long, gray hair remained the same. His cloak, which was stitched with a fine gold thread, showed his position as an elder. He looked around at the other elders of the village.
A young boy, sitting along the edges of the tent, worked a piece of yarn worriedly. His short black hair framed his face and put his eyes in shadow from the sun, and his worn, brown cloak indicated that he was a mere commoner in the village. He was only permitted in the elders' tent because he was the student of one of the more prominent elders, Tahi.
“Come now, Odar. War has solved nothing in the past. Why should we throw innocent lives away for such a pointless activity?” A slightly younger man, his hair still showing the brown of youth, remained calm as he sat beside the fire. The young boy straightened as his master spoke. “I think it far better if we wait it out. The winter will come soon, and it will be more difficult for the Agnassen to come over the pass to fight us. They will wear themselves out.”
Odar grew enraged at this suggestion, and responded with new fury. “How can we just sit here and wait? What if they manage to move over the pass before the white blanket settles over the land? How should we protect ourselves then?” His voice was loud and booming. “Or are you simply afraid of what might come to pass?”
Tahi remained calm and slowly rose from his seat on the floor. “I am simply showing respect for the lives of the young men that would be put in danger if we were to follow your plan, Odar. Not to mention the women and children who would be affected by such a loss.”
Odar's face turned purple in his rage. “What makes you so sure we are going to lose men? With a good plan, we can easily defeat the Agnassen, and not lose a life in the process.”
“A life is always lost when we result to war. Even if not one man of ours died, many would come back completely changed by the fighting. Is that something we would so easily wish them to deal with? War is not our only choice at this point, so why turn to it so easily?”
The others in the tent looked from Tahi to Odar, and back again. The two most respected elders had differing opinions as to what should be done about this threat to the people, and so the village would follow whichever had the most support from the other elders. Many of the younger men seemed to side with Odar, while the women and older men among them paid more heed to Tahi. The atmosphere in the tent was charged with tension.
The young boy chewed his lip worriedly. After seeming to deal with his internal struggle, he moved behind Tahi and whispered something in his ear. With a short nod, Tahi dismissed the boy, and the boy moved to the edges of the tent again. Tahi looked around at the elders. “Huti, my student, makes a fair point. Regardless of what we decide, we must ensure that the favor of the gods is on our side. It is pointless to chose a path that would only lead to our own destruction.”
The elders muttered their understanding of the idea, and Tahi continued. “Huti suggests we seek the guidance of Jaya. She would be able to empower us with the strength we need to face whatever situation is best. Her favor would be very important in determining the outcome.”
Odar seemed to glow at this suggestion, his face cracking into a frightening smile. The elders murmured their agreement, and the tension in the tent eased slightly. Perhaps they wouldn't have to choose between them.
An old woman stood and inclined her head towards Odar. “While it is clear that Odar should go, being the highest among the wise men, I believe Huti should accompany him. It was Huti's words that brought about this agreement, and he is to become an elder himself some day.”
Odar's face became tinged with pink once again. “I will not speak to the goddess with such a young boy at my side! It would be a disgrace!”
The old woman looked at him sharply. “Were you not a young boy yourself when you first made that journey up the mountain? Why should Huti be any different than you were? I can think of no one as brave as Huti in this instant, for only he and Tahi have the courage to stand up to raging men as yourself. He is to be one of our leaders some day, and must be prepared as best he can be for such a task. Do you know any better way to initiate him?” Her eyes seemed to glow with a power that her appearance did not indicate she had.
Odar looked as if he were going to retort, but backed down instead, bowing slightly to the old woman. Huti looked around uneasily, but the old woman rubbed his shoulder in reassurance. He felt strangely empowered by the gesture.
The two set off for the goddess' shrine the next morning, at the first sign of light. They left quickly, bringing only what was necessary for their travels. The journey would be a long one, as they would have to climb to the top of the neighboring mountain in order to find the goddess' shrine. It was said that from that vantage point, she could see all that was taking place through the land.
By the time they reached the shrine, night had fallen, and the only light offered was that of a waning moon. Still, the shrine seemed to glow with a soft blue light, and the two travelers set aside their packs to kneel before it.
Huti's ears perked up as he heard a soft rumbling sound, and his head raised slightly to see a sleek mountain lion sitting atop the altar. It looked at him with piercing eyes, and its tail swooshed silently across the altar. Huti didn't dare make a sound, and held eye contact with the lion for some time before Odar looked at him.
“What are you looking at, boy?” His tone was harsh and demanding, but Huti did not dare speak, only continued to look at the mountain lion. The lion stood and jumped off the altar towards them. Odar saw the movement and fell back in fear, making a strangled sound as he hit the ground. Huti stood and bowed slightly to the lion, breathing deeply so as not to let his fear show.
The mountain lion's tail swished again, and in a flash of bright light, transformed into a beautiful woman. She had light yellow hair, unlike any hair in the villagers below, and piercing blue eyes. Her dress was the color of the morning glories in the valley below, white with wisps of light blue around it. Huti stared at her, shocked into silence. Odar fell to his knees and at once began praising the goddess. She held up her hand to his praises, and he stopped immediately.
“Young one, tell me of you journey.” Her voice was angelic, light and singsong. She moved with a grace very much like that of the lion she had previously embodied.
Odar, angry with the attention she was giving Huti, began to answer. “We have journeyed far to see you, wise lady...”
She turned to him, her gaze suddenly cold. “I asked the young one, not you.”
Huti held his breath and glanced at the hateful look of his elder. The goddess turned to him, her eyes friendly and warm. He took a deep breath and began. “Jaya, we come from the Kamore people, the village in the valley. We have traveled all day up the mountain so that we might visit your shrine and ask of your assistance.”
She smiled. “And what assistance might you require?”
“Our elders are divided on how we should deal with the threat of the Agnassen. Some believe we should go to war, and others believe there is a better way, and that war should only be used as a last resort.”
“And what do you think, young one?”
Huti cleared his throat, glancing anxiously at Odar, whose face had once again turned pink with rage. “War cannot be the answer. It has been done in the past, and has not yet succeeded. If the Agnassen do not see the threat of war as dangerous, it cannot be the solution we seek.”
Jaya laughed softly and moved towards Huti. “You are very wise, young one. You can see the balance of power in play here. While it is easy enough to fight war with war, the balance of good and evil will never be equal then. Act in a way which would preserve this balance, and you will see favor in my eyes.”
Huti bowed, thanking the goddess. Odar, furious that his way was not truth, spoke quickly. “The Agnassen must be destroyed at any cost. They are a vile people, and must not influence the world anymore!”
Jaya turned to him quickly, her eyes once again a bone-chilling blue. “You dare speak against me, Odar? It is I from whom you draw your power, and I can easily take it away. It is only through my favor you remain a wise man. If you do not believe in my power, though, I'll transfer my favor to young Huti. He will become, I believe, the youngest wise man in your village.”
Odar looked at her, fear evident in his eyes. “No, Mistress. I did not mean to offend. I was only speaking my thoughts--”
“Thoughts that were neither asked for, nor appreciated. Huti shall take your place in the council.” She waved her hand and Huti's simple cloak became one of great elegance and power. Odar's cloak seemed insignificant in comparison, though it had not changed at all. “Take note of Odar's position, young Huti. He did not put his own people ahead of his greed and hatred, and it has cost him dearly. Do not put yourself in the same position.”
Huti bowed again, and sensing that he had been dismissed, turned and began to journey back down the mountain. The sky was turning pink in the east, and he would soon have good light to travel by. When he made it back to the village, he would be welcomed as the new elder.
And so, the Kamore entered a new era. They made peace with the Agnassen, at least for a time. Huti led his people through the challenges they would face and would keep the favor of Jaya, heeding her warning throughout the rest of his life. Odar never returned to the village. It is said that he died of shame on his journey down the mountain, though some say he still haunts the mountain, waiting for a chance to redeem himself with the goddess Jaya.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Unusual Circumstances
Title: Unusual Circumstances
Word Count: 2227
Genre: Realistic Fiction (Fantasy)
I know, you're looking at that genre and wondering 'what the heck?' But, it's difficult to put this piece into one genre. It's a character sketch I wrote years ago (back in 2008) as a part of a collaboration project (which got about 4 chapters into the story and then went belly-up). The character sketch itself is realistic fiction. There's nothing completely unusual about it, though there are clearly things out of place. But, my character, as it turns out in the course of the novel, has powers. A la Heroes. Hence the fantasy tag.
I don't think I'll use this character again (though her name is one of my favorites, so that may come back). She was written in a weird time in my life, and I don't think I can get into her head again. But, I might use her concept again. She has a rather interesting back-story. As always, let me know what you think.
Unusual Circumstances
The room was darker than usual, though if she tried, she could see the corners. One lone fluorescent light beamed down on her face, causing the detective's face to be in shadow. His mustache seemed larger now, overpowering his other features, and it was certainly what made him distinct from other men. He was also quite large, though most of it was probably not muscle. If he wore glasses and put on a plaid shirt, he would look very much like the stereotypical high school geek, just a little larger. His badge gleamed a little. 'Denver Police Department' it read, and she rolled her eyes a little at him flaunting it now.
The man cleared his throat and her eyes moved back up to his face. She couldn't see him, as he was still out of the light, but she imagined him smirking a little.
“Please state your name for the record.”
She thought about giving him a fake name, or even the name of someone else she knew, but it was pointless; they already knew who she was. That's the only way they'd been able to find her. She took in a deep breath and stared down the man.
“Elizabeth Miriam Stern.”
He jotted down her name on a piece of paper. “And your birthday?”
“June 15, 1986.”
“Ms. Stern, do you know why you are here today?” She thought she heard him laughing at her a little, mocking her for being in this position.
She smiled a bit in response, hoping her expression would indicate she was mocking him in return. “Because you thought it necessary to drag me here after work. Though I am quite grateful you decided to wait until after work to arrest—sorry, detain—me. The hospital administrators wouldn't have taken too kindly to any of their employees being taken by the police while at work.” Of course, the hospital administrators were rarely pleased with what went on in the lab. She was just a lab technician, a rather low level job, and they treated her as such. It didn't matter that she was far more efficient than anyone else in there. One of these days, she will have saved up enough to move on to bigger and better things. Maybe she'd even put her college degree to use and do a little scientific research. Or maybe she'd get another degree that would give her the influence to tell those administrators to shove it.
He leaned forward onto the metal table separating them, his face finally coming into the light. “Come now, Ms. Stern. This is no time for fun. You know just as well as I do why you are here.”
She bit her lip in thought and tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. “No... nothing is coming to me.” She shook her head a little and smiled at the detective. “Though I do know that you can't keep me here without reasonable cause. That's still illegal for U.S. Citizens. Do you have any charges?”
The man's mustache bristled slightly, giving her the impression that they didn't have exactly what they needed for an arrest. “Very well, we'll do things your way. Where were you on the night of April 10th, around seven o'clock?”
“Nothing, hmm? Alright, I'll play. That was a Thursday, was it not? I was doing what I always do on Thursdays: sitting in my living room and watching my weekly allowance of television.”
“Any witnesses?”
She rolled her eyes. “My dog. She might maul you if you try to ask her, though. She doesn't take too kindly to people threatening me.”
He smirked again and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “Tell me, Ms. Stern, are you seeing anyone?”
The picture was almost too comical for her. If she were in any other situation, she probably would have laughed. “Are you asking me out, detective?” She smiled mockingly at him, meeting his eyes in defiance. He stared her down until she relented. “No, detective. My 'significant other' and I broke up a few months ago. Last I heard, he was on his way out east to New York or Washington, or some other big city out there. I haven't thought it necessary to look for someone else as of yet.”
“Messy break-up?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but no. We parted on fairly good terms, though it was still difficult. The ending of any long relationship is difficult.” She turned her head away, closing her eyes to fight against the wave of sadness that crashed over her. The wounds were still too fresh to discuss with anyone, let alone someone who didn't know her. The break had been fairly clean, but the decision to break things off had been very difficult for her. Still was, if she was honest with herself.
He heaved a sigh and looked down at his paper. “We have a witness who says you were downtown at Cowboy's, arguing with a man on this night.”
“Your witness must be mistaken.”
“And if she's not?”
She smirked. “I already told you where I was. If you have any other proof that I was there, I'd love to hear it.”
He shifted in his chair and moved on to another line of questions. “Are there any people familiar with your habits? Friends, family, neighbors, anyone you're rather friendly with?” He stared her down, clearly hoping she would break and confess whatever it was he suspected she did.
She shrugged and folded her arms over her chest. “My neighbor, Samantha, takes care of my plants when I go out of town. I talk with her with some regularity, though I wouldn't exactly consider her a friend. All my family live out of town, and I only talk to my sister on a regular basis, every Sunday night. She's like a best friend to me, and would probably know me better than anyone. My coworkers, James and Heather, are familiar with my work schedule, should you want to interrogate them as well. I go swing dancing with a small group of friends every so often...”
“And who might those friends be?”
She glanced at him, clearly annoyed with the interruption. “Josh, Michael and Destiny. Destiny and I do things other than swing dancing as well on occasion. She's about as close to a best friend I have beyond my sister.” Of course, everyone else thought she was a tad bit too serious for her age, and opted to go out and party rather than take life seriously. “Other than my weekly television shows, and my work, I really don't have any habits for anyone to really know. I go to bed at different times every night, and do different things before I go to bed, depending on how I feel...”
He looked back down at his paper and jotted down a few more notes. She looked around the empty room while she waited for him to break the silence. There was a mirror on the other wall and she looked at herself carefully. Her long brown hair had fallen out of its bun, and wisps of it were now framing her rosy cheeks. She readjusted her glasses, knowing that she would have to go and get contacts one of these days. The threat of all those infections made her a little leery about them, though. Still, her ex, Joey, had said that she looked better without the glasses, letting her deep brown eyes actually be seen. Her face was still as youthful as ever; that's why she opted to work in the lab for a while, so that people wouldn't get so anxious about someone so young treating them, even if she wasn't really that young.
The detective cleared his throat and she went back to focusing on his face. “Do you associate with anyone named Ryan Smith?”
She thought for a moment. “The name sounds vaguely familiar, but he certainly isn't in my inner circle. He's probably come in for some blood tests or something. Are you ever going to get around to telling me exactly what you suspect I did?” She glared at him across the table, wishing she could use him as a practice dummy for her workout. He looked pudgy enough to give a little when she punched him, so it wouldn't leave her any worse for wear, and his annoying train of questions was certainly firing up her temper.
In response, he pushed a picture across the table. It was of a man, severely bloodied, dressed in torn and dirtied clothes. She looked at the picture with a mix of intrigue and disgust. She looked back up at the detective. “While I have no doubt I could inflict such injuries if I tried, I didn't do this. Now, unless you have any actual evidence linking me to this crime, such as the knife that caused all these wounds, I suggest you let me go.”
His head tilted in question, his eyebrows bunching together slightly. “How did you know it was a knife?”
She smiled and raised her eyebrows a little. “It's rather obvious, isn't it? The wounds are deep, and were clearly caused by at least a somewhat sharp instrument. It looks like fists—rather strong fists—could cause the bruises and potentially broken bones, but something sharp had to make the cuts. My guess is a knife, though without actually seeing the body, I couldn't tell you what shape of knife.” At his confused look, she continued. “I have a degree in biology. I know the parts of the body quite well, and took a handful of forensics classes when I was considering going into that field. I eventually decided that I would rather deal with live people than dead ones. Even if the dead ones don't talk back.”
He looked decidedly uncomfortable and looked back at his paper. “Just a few more questions, please.” He slid another photograph towards her. A close-up of a part of the body, the neck. It had a necklace around it, one with a column of progressively larger gemstones, alternating blue and white in color. “Do you recognize this?”
Of course she recognized it. It had been the necklace her sister had given her for her last birthday. It had been one of the only pieces of jewelry she would wear, along with the ring on her thumb her mother had given her before her parents disowned her. The necklace represented the strength of the relationship she still had with her sister, despite their parents' disapproval. The chain was different, of course, but the chain was most certainly hers.
She thought quickly and nodded slowly. “Yes, that's the necklace I got from my sister. It went missing about a month ago. I figured it had fallen off at work, and was devastated when I couldn't find it.” She hoped that was enough to convince the detective she was not the suspect he wanted. She wondered who would want to frame her for such a crime, and why her. She smiled at the detective, not betraying her thoughts. “Anything else, detective?”
He watched her face carefully and shook his head. “I'll be in touch. I highly advise you don't leave town until we get this all cleared up.”
She pursed her lips and stood, waiting for him to lead her out of the room. When she was finally in the bright light outside, she let out a long breath. She didn't particularly feel like riding the bus home, so she started walking, thinking the whole time. All she really wanted out of life was to help. She had long figured that the best way to do this would be through medicine, due to her fascination with science. One day, she hoped she might become a physician, but that wasn't part of her immediate plan. She didn't want to give up her entirely life quite so soon.
She knew she would have an easy time accomplishing her goals; she had graduated at the top of her class in college, and had a number of offers to work in biotechnology upon graduation. She had spent her last semester in London, and didn't want to be tied down to any one position for the rest of her life, so she turned them all down. Her parents weren't happy with her decision, but she took their disappointment in stride and did some introspection.
Of course, this all led her to reject much of what her parents clung to in belief, so they disowned her. Her sister had supported her all the way, and she guessed this was because her sister felt much the same way, but was too afraid to disappoint the parents. She did regret hurting her parents, but she didn't regret the year she spent traveling and holding temporary jobs after college. It was the best thing she could have done.
When she finally reached her apartment, she opened the door, only to be tackled by her rather crazy Golden Retriever, Lily. She took in a deep breath and smiled. It was good to be home.
Word Count: 2227
Genre: Realistic Fiction (Fantasy)
I know, you're looking at that genre and wondering 'what the heck?' But, it's difficult to put this piece into one genre. It's a character sketch I wrote years ago (back in 2008) as a part of a collaboration project (which got about 4 chapters into the story and then went belly-up). The character sketch itself is realistic fiction. There's nothing completely unusual about it, though there are clearly things out of place. But, my character, as it turns out in the course of the novel, has powers. A la Heroes. Hence the fantasy tag.
I don't think I'll use this character again (though her name is one of my favorites, so that may come back). She was written in a weird time in my life, and I don't think I can get into her head again. But, I might use her concept again. She has a rather interesting back-story. As always, let me know what you think.
Unusual Circumstances
The room was darker than usual, though if she tried, she could see the corners. One lone fluorescent light beamed down on her face, causing the detective's face to be in shadow. His mustache seemed larger now, overpowering his other features, and it was certainly what made him distinct from other men. He was also quite large, though most of it was probably not muscle. If he wore glasses and put on a plaid shirt, he would look very much like the stereotypical high school geek, just a little larger. His badge gleamed a little. 'Denver Police Department' it read, and she rolled her eyes a little at him flaunting it now.
The man cleared his throat and her eyes moved back up to his face. She couldn't see him, as he was still out of the light, but she imagined him smirking a little.
“Please state your name for the record.”
She thought about giving him a fake name, or even the name of someone else she knew, but it was pointless; they already knew who she was. That's the only way they'd been able to find her. She took in a deep breath and stared down the man.
“Elizabeth Miriam Stern.”
He jotted down her name on a piece of paper. “And your birthday?”
“June 15, 1986.”
“Ms. Stern, do you know why you are here today?” She thought she heard him laughing at her a little, mocking her for being in this position.
She smiled a bit in response, hoping her expression would indicate she was mocking him in return. “Because you thought it necessary to drag me here after work. Though I am quite grateful you decided to wait until after work to arrest—sorry, detain—me. The hospital administrators wouldn't have taken too kindly to any of their employees being taken by the police while at work.” Of course, the hospital administrators were rarely pleased with what went on in the lab. She was just a lab technician, a rather low level job, and they treated her as such. It didn't matter that she was far more efficient than anyone else in there. One of these days, she will have saved up enough to move on to bigger and better things. Maybe she'd even put her college degree to use and do a little scientific research. Or maybe she'd get another degree that would give her the influence to tell those administrators to shove it.
He leaned forward onto the metal table separating them, his face finally coming into the light. “Come now, Ms. Stern. This is no time for fun. You know just as well as I do why you are here.”
She bit her lip in thought and tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. “No... nothing is coming to me.” She shook her head a little and smiled at the detective. “Though I do know that you can't keep me here without reasonable cause. That's still illegal for U.S. Citizens. Do you have any charges?”
The man's mustache bristled slightly, giving her the impression that they didn't have exactly what they needed for an arrest. “Very well, we'll do things your way. Where were you on the night of April 10th, around seven o'clock?”
“Nothing, hmm? Alright, I'll play. That was a Thursday, was it not? I was doing what I always do on Thursdays: sitting in my living room and watching my weekly allowance of television.”
“Any witnesses?”
She rolled her eyes. “My dog. She might maul you if you try to ask her, though. She doesn't take too kindly to people threatening me.”
He smirked again and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “Tell me, Ms. Stern, are you seeing anyone?”
The picture was almost too comical for her. If she were in any other situation, she probably would have laughed. “Are you asking me out, detective?” She smiled mockingly at him, meeting his eyes in defiance. He stared her down until she relented. “No, detective. My 'significant other' and I broke up a few months ago. Last I heard, he was on his way out east to New York or Washington, or some other big city out there. I haven't thought it necessary to look for someone else as of yet.”
“Messy break-up?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but no. We parted on fairly good terms, though it was still difficult. The ending of any long relationship is difficult.” She turned her head away, closing her eyes to fight against the wave of sadness that crashed over her. The wounds were still too fresh to discuss with anyone, let alone someone who didn't know her. The break had been fairly clean, but the decision to break things off had been very difficult for her. Still was, if she was honest with herself.
He heaved a sigh and looked down at his paper. “We have a witness who says you were downtown at Cowboy's, arguing with a man on this night.”
“Your witness must be mistaken.”
“And if she's not?”
She smirked. “I already told you where I was. If you have any other proof that I was there, I'd love to hear it.”
He shifted in his chair and moved on to another line of questions. “Are there any people familiar with your habits? Friends, family, neighbors, anyone you're rather friendly with?” He stared her down, clearly hoping she would break and confess whatever it was he suspected she did.
She shrugged and folded her arms over her chest. “My neighbor, Samantha, takes care of my plants when I go out of town. I talk with her with some regularity, though I wouldn't exactly consider her a friend. All my family live out of town, and I only talk to my sister on a regular basis, every Sunday night. She's like a best friend to me, and would probably know me better than anyone. My coworkers, James and Heather, are familiar with my work schedule, should you want to interrogate them as well. I go swing dancing with a small group of friends every so often...”
“And who might those friends be?”
She glanced at him, clearly annoyed with the interruption. “Josh, Michael and Destiny. Destiny and I do things other than swing dancing as well on occasion. She's about as close to a best friend I have beyond my sister.” Of course, everyone else thought she was a tad bit too serious for her age, and opted to go out and party rather than take life seriously. “Other than my weekly television shows, and my work, I really don't have any habits for anyone to really know. I go to bed at different times every night, and do different things before I go to bed, depending on how I feel...”
He looked back down at his paper and jotted down a few more notes. She looked around the empty room while she waited for him to break the silence. There was a mirror on the other wall and she looked at herself carefully. Her long brown hair had fallen out of its bun, and wisps of it were now framing her rosy cheeks. She readjusted her glasses, knowing that she would have to go and get contacts one of these days. The threat of all those infections made her a little leery about them, though. Still, her ex, Joey, had said that she looked better without the glasses, letting her deep brown eyes actually be seen. Her face was still as youthful as ever; that's why she opted to work in the lab for a while, so that people wouldn't get so anxious about someone so young treating them, even if she wasn't really that young.
The detective cleared his throat and she went back to focusing on his face. “Do you associate with anyone named Ryan Smith?”
She thought for a moment. “The name sounds vaguely familiar, but he certainly isn't in my inner circle. He's probably come in for some blood tests or something. Are you ever going to get around to telling me exactly what you suspect I did?” She glared at him across the table, wishing she could use him as a practice dummy for her workout. He looked pudgy enough to give a little when she punched him, so it wouldn't leave her any worse for wear, and his annoying train of questions was certainly firing up her temper.
In response, he pushed a picture across the table. It was of a man, severely bloodied, dressed in torn and dirtied clothes. She looked at the picture with a mix of intrigue and disgust. She looked back up at the detective. “While I have no doubt I could inflict such injuries if I tried, I didn't do this. Now, unless you have any actual evidence linking me to this crime, such as the knife that caused all these wounds, I suggest you let me go.”
His head tilted in question, his eyebrows bunching together slightly. “How did you know it was a knife?”
She smiled and raised her eyebrows a little. “It's rather obvious, isn't it? The wounds are deep, and were clearly caused by at least a somewhat sharp instrument. It looks like fists—rather strong fists—could cause the bruises and potentially broken bones, but something sharp had to make the cuts. My guess is a knife, though without actually seeing the body, I couldn't tell you what shape of knife.” At his confused look, she continued. “I have a degree in biology. I know the parts of the body quite well, and took a handful of forensics classes when I was considering going into that field. I eventually decided that I would rather deal with live people than dead ones. Even if the dead ones don't talk back.”
He looked decidedly uncomfortable and looked back at his paper. “Just a few more questions, please.” He slid another photograph towards her. A close-up of a part of the body, the neck. It had a necklace around it, one with a column of progressively larger gemstones, alternating blue and white in color. “Do you recognize this?”
Of course she recognized it. It had been the necklace her sister had given her for her last birthday. It had been one of the only pieces of jewelry she would wear, along with the ring on her thumb her mother had given her before her parents disowned her. The necklace represented the strength of the relationship she still had with her sister, despite their parents' disapproval. The chain was different, of course, but the chain was most certainly hers.
She thought quickly and nodded slowly. “Yes, that's the necklace I got from my sister. It went missing about a month ago. I figured it had fallen off at work, and was devastated when I couldn't find it.” She hoped that was enough to convince the detective she was not the suspect he wanted. She wondered who would want to frame her for such a crime, and why her. She smiled at the detective, not betraying her thoughts. “Anything else, detective?”
He watched her face carefully and shook his head. “I'll be in touch. I highly advise you don't leave town until we get this all cleared up.”
She pursed her lips and stood, waiting for him to lead her out of the room. When she was finally in the bright light outside, she let out a long breath. She didn't particularly feel like riding the bus home, so she started walking, thinking the whole time. All she really wanted out of life was to help. She had long figured that the best way to do this would be through medicine, due to her fascination with science. One day, she hoped she might become a physician, but that wasn't part of her immediate plan. She didn't want to give up her entirely life quite so soon.
She knew she would have an easy time accomplishing her goals; she had graduated at the top of her class in college, and had a number of offers to work in biotechnology upon graduation. She had spent her last semester in London, and didn't want to be tied down to any one position for the rest of her life, so she turned them all down. Her parents weren't happy with her decision, but she took their disappointment in stride and did some introspection.
Of course, this all led her to reject much of what her parents clung to in belief, so they disowned her. Her sister had supported her all the way, and she guessed this was because her sister felt much the same way, but was too afraid to disappoint the parents. She did regret hurting her parents, but she didn't regret the year she spent traveling and holding temporary jobs after college. It was the best thing she could have done.
When she finally reached her apartment, she opened the door, only to be tackled by her rather crazy Golden Retriever, Lily. She took in a deep breath and smiled. It was good to be home.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Stronger Stuff
Title: Stronger Stuff
Word Count: 1328
Genre: Realistic Fiction
This is a semiautobiographical piece that I started writing about 3 years ago. In going through my files this summer, I found it and finished it up. I'm curious as to who you sympathize with more, the man or the woman. Both had their problems and difficulties, but one of them has to be the victim, right?
Stronger Stuff
Meet me by the bridge at dusk.
That's all the note had said. No signature, no address, nothing except the single sentence. But, she didn't need to wonder who it was from. The sharp letters were as familiar to her as her own sloping handwriting. She sighed and folded the note back up, placing it carefully in her purse.
He wouldn't have sent that note to her if it wasn't important. Despite her reservations about seeing him again, she knew she would end up going. There was no way she could deny the tug the note had over her. She sipped on the last of her afternoon tea, her one pleasure after a long day at work. It was the only thing that seemed to calm her down these days, now that he had left and taken his calming presence with him.
A quick peek out the window told her that she had to get ready. The sun was dipping low in the sky, and if she didn't leave soon, she would miss the appointment. She made her way into the kitchen and washed out her cup, thinking about what he could possibly want to meet her for. Making her way to her hall closet, she pulled out a long pink scarf, her long coat, and an umbrella. She didn't particularly want to leave the warmth of her house to go out in the drizzling cold, but she couldn't leave him waiting for her.
It was a fifteen minute walk to the stone bridge in the park. There was little foot traffic so late in the afternoon; just a few people walking their dogs before turning in for the night. She looked down at the river flowing freely under the bridge. The water seemed so calm, but she knew it ran strong. An orange leaf floating by showed the current moving along quickly, while the few raindrops falling from the sky left ripples in the surface.
It was starting to get dark. He'd be here soon, if he wasn't already waiting nearby. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She heard a few leaves crunch behind her, but she continued to look out over the water.
“Hello again.” His voice was soft, sweet, just as she remembered it. “Thanks for coming.”
She turned to him and melted at the sight of him. He stood there, proud and confident as ever, save for the small blue circles under his eyes. He smiled brightly, making her stomach flutter.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, confused as ever. Her heart ached a little, knowing she would never fully recover from the loss of him.
“I needed someone to talk to. You're the only one who would understand.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fighting the urge to bound into his arms.
She heard him sigh and lean against the railing next to her. “You know, this is where I first told you I loved you.” He paused and placed a warm hand over hers. “It's still true, you know.”
She pulled her hand away and closed her eyes, urging the tears to stay at bay. “I am well aware of what has happened here. If you love me so much, why do you keep pushing me away, only to draw me close again?”
He shrugged. “I need you. I just can't... be with you.” He shifted his weight.
She turned to him quickly, her eyes flashing with anger. “You can't be with me, and yet you won't leave me alone long enough for me to move on. To try to scrape together some semblance of my former life, before you took me by storm.” Her breathing became erratic, and lightening flashed overhead. He held his hands up in surrender and took a step back.
“Calm down now. I just wanted to talk....”
“Of course you just wanted to talk. And as soon as you have whatever it is you're worried about off your chest, you'll leave again until you need me again. You don't care about me, certainly not to the degree I care about you.” She turned her back to him, closing her eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions.
“If this is about me and Brian...”
She wanted to scream in frustration. “Of course this isn't about you and Brian. This is about me. This is about my need to be human again, not some shade of my former self. If you actually cared about me, you would be able to see that. I'm miserable, and you're just keeping me there while you go and move on with someone else. I don't care who it is you move on with; I love you enough to wish you happiness, but I want to be happy as well.”
She could hear him breathing quietly behind her and held her breath for his reaction. She couldn't imagine it would be a good one. There was entirely too much tension in the air and his temper would flare worse than hers had. Their tempers matched so well, it always made for explosive arguments when either was stressed.
He brushed his fingers along her shoulder and sighed. She stiffened beneath his touch, her nerves on edge. “You're right,” he said softly. “I should let you go. But I find myself craving your company at the strangest of times. I'm not strong enough.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.
Her knees shook beneath her and she used her other hand to steady herself against the stone wall. “What did you need to talk to me about?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“It's my dad. He still won't talk to me.” He tugged on her hand pulled her into his arms. “I'm not sure what to do about it,” he mumbled into her hair.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Just give him time. You're his only son. He'll come around. You just shocked him.”
“It wouldn't take much to shock him,” he chuckled. “He's lived the straight and narrow his whole life.”
She nodded, but remained silent. He continued to talk, letting the weight of the world off his chest, it seemed. She listened, savoring the feel of his arms around her, the feeling of safety she felt. She reluctantly pulled away as he finished his catharsis. The rain had stopped, leaving a crisp chill in the air.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“I didn't do anything,” she muttered.
“You listened. You gave me hope again.” He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. “You make everything seem better.”
She shrugged and smiled weakly. “I should be getting back.”
He glanced at his watch and nodded. “Let me walk you back.”
“No, that won't be necessary,” she said forcefully, placing her hand on his chest. “I could use the quiet time,” she added.
He nodded and gave her one last hug, then set off for his home once again. As she stood there, watching him leave, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Goodbye. I'll miss you.”
Turning on her heel, she started the stroll back to her own house, making a mental list of the loose ends she'd need to tie up before she left town. It was a cowardly move, she knew, but a necessary one. He needed to find someone else to confide in, and she just needed to find herself again. Three long years she had spent in his company, becoming absorbed in his world. Now, it was over, and she had to become her own person again, not half of a couple.
What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Word Count: 1328
Genre: Realistic Fiction
This is a semiautobiographical piece that I started writing about 3 years ago. In going through my files this summer, I found it and finished it up. I'm curious as to who you sympathize with more, the man or the woman. Both had their problems and difficulties, but one of them has to be the victim, right?
Stronger Stuff
Meet me by the bridge at dusk.
That's all the note had said. No signature, no address, nothing except the single sentence. But, she didn't need to wonder who it was from. The sharp letters were as familiar to her as her own sloping handwriting. She sighed and folded the note back up, placing it carefully in her purse.
He wouldn't have sent that note to her if it wasn't important. Despite her reservations about seeing him again, she knew she would end up going. There was no way she could deny the tug the note had over her. She sipped on the last of her afternoon tea, her one pleasure after a long day at work. It was the only thing that seemed to calm her down these days, now that he had left and taken his calming presence with him.
A quick peek out the window told her that she had to get ready. The sun was dipping low in the sky, and if she didn't leave soon, she would miss the appointment. She made her way into the kitchen and washed out her cup, thinking about what he could possibly want to meet her for. Making her way to her hall closet, she pulled out a long pink scarf, her long coat, and an umbrella. She didn't particularly want to leave the warmth of her house to go out in the drizzling cold, but she couldn't leave him waiting for her.
It was a fifteen minute walk to the stone bridge in the park. There was little foot traffic so late in the afternoon; just a few people walking their dogs before turning in for the night. She looked down at the river flowing freely under the bridge. The water seemed so calm, but she knew it ran strong. An orange leaf floating by showed the current moving along quickly, while the few raindrops falling from the sky left ripples in the surface.
It was starting to get dark. He'd be here soon, if he wasn't already waiting nearby. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She heard a few leaves crunch behind her, but she continued to look out over the water.
“Hello again.” His voice was soft, sweet, just as she remembered it. “Thanks for coming.”
She turned to him and melted at the sight of him. He stood there, proud and confident as ever, save for the small blue circles under his eyes. He smiled brightly, making her stomach flutter.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, confused as ever. Her heart ached a little, knowing she would never fully recover from the loss of him.
“I needed someone to talk to. You're the only one who would understand.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fighting the urge to bound into his arms.
She heard him sigh and lean against the railing next to her. “You know, this is where I first told you I loved you.” He paused and placed a warm hand over hers. “It's still true, you know.”
She pulled her hand away and closed her eyes, urging the tears to stay at bay. “I am well aware of what has happened here. If you love me so much, why do you keep pushing me away, only to draw me close again?”
He shrugged. “I need you. I just can't... be with you.” He shifted his weight.
She turned to him quickly, her eyes flashing with anger. “You can't be with me, and yet you won't leave me alone long enough for me to move on. To try to scrape together some semblance of my former life, before you took me by storm.” Her breathing became erratic, and lightening flashed overhead. He held his hands up in surrender and took a step back.
“Calm down now. I just wanted to talk....”
“Of course you just wanted to talk. And as soon as you have whatever it is you're worried about off your chest, you'll leave again until you need me again. You don't care about me, certainly not to the degree I care about you.” She turned her back to him, closing her eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions.
“If this is about me and Brian...”
She wanted to scream in frustration. “Of course this isn't about you and Brian. This is about me. This is about my need to be human again, not some shade of my former self. If you actually cared about me, you would be able to see that. I'm miserable, and you're just keeping me there while you go and move on with someone else. I don't care who it is you move on with; I love you enough to wish you happiness, but I want to be happy as well.”
She could hear him breathing quietly behind her and held her breath for his reaction. She couldn't imagine it would be a good one. There was entirely too much tension in the air and his temper would flare worse than hers had. Their tempers matched so well, it always made for explosive arguments when either was stressed.
He brushed his fingers along her shoulder and sighed. She stiffened beneath his touch, her nerves on edge. “You're right,” he said softly. “I should let you go. But I find myself craving your company at the strangest of times. I'm not strong enough.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.
Her knees shook beneath her and she used her other hand to steady herself against the stone wall. “What did you need to talk to me about?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“It's my dad. He still won't talk to me.” He tugged on her hand pulled her into his arms. “I'm not sure what to do about it,” he mumbled into her hair.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Just give him time. You're his only son. He'll come around. You just shocked him.”
“It wouldn't take much to shock him,” he chuckled. “He's lived the straight and narrow his whole life.”
She nodded, but remained silent. He continued to talk, letting the weight of the world off his chest, it seemed. She listened, savoring the feel of his arms around her, the feeling of safety she felt. She reluctantly pulled away as he finished his catharsis. The rain had stopped, leaving a crisp chill in the air.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“I didn't do anything,” she muttered.
“You listened. You gave me hope again.” He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. “You make everything seem better.”
She shrugged and smiled weakly. “I should be getting back.”
He glanced at his watch and nodded. “Let me walk you back.”
“No, that won't be necessary,” she said forcefully, placing her hand on his chest. “I could use the quiet time,” she added.
He nodded and gave her one last hug, then set off for his home once again. As she stood there, watching him leave, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Goodbye. I'll miss you.”
Turning on her heel, she started the stroll back to her own house, making a mental list of the loose ends she'd need to tie up before she left town. It was a cowardly move, she knew, but a necessary one. He needed to find someone else to confide in, and she just needed to find herself again. Three long years she had spent in his company, becoming absorbed in his world. Now, it was over, and she had to become her own person again, not half of a couple.
What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Michael's Mission
Title: Michael's Mission
Word Count: 1,144
Genre: Fantasy
Yes, I know it's been forever and a day since I posted something. But between writing and school, school will always come first. But now that I'm out for summer break, I'll have a little more time to write and edit and whatnot.
First up is another character sketch. This one is for Michael Cline, the second main character in my Hidden Souls universe (the first is Sophia Carson, and her character sketch can be found here). I started writing this back in November, just to try to get inside Michael's head, but he didn't want to let me in too far. So I picked up the document again a couple days ago and banged out the rest.
Note once again that this is a rough (as in almost hot off the press) draft. It's unedited, probably full of mistakes (both grammatical and chronological), and gives a little more away than I'd like, but as the novel is about Sophia, and not Michael, I figure that's okay too. Enjoy!
Michael's Mission
People were walking up the hill, gathering in a small circle at the top. He stood at the bottom, watching them idly, before seeking shelter from the sweltering sun under a large oak on the edge of the circle. A man within the circle pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead to stop the sweat from running down his face and onto his freshly pressed shirt. Several of the ladies had papers that they were using as fans, while others didn't seem to notice the heat at all, too focused on the speech in the center of the crowd. He stood out in his jeans and black t-shirt, but no one seemed to notice.
The crowd bowed their heads in prayer, and he took the time to watch the faces. Everyone he knew, even some he didn't, were standing there. People he hadn't seen in years had gathered here on this bright summer day. His family stood in the center of the crowd, huddled together as if for warmth despite the heat. The steady cadence of the prayer came to a conclusion and the crowd collectively murmured 'Amen.' There was a slight paused before the crowd shifted, moving closer to the center, then dispersing one by one.
He watched as the older couples filed out one by one, followed by his friends, heading down the hill to their cars parked along the narrow road. None even glanced his way, almost as if they were purposefully avoiding him. He appeared unfazed by this, as if it were a normal turn of events.
Finally, the crowd thinned enough that he could see his mother and father standing next to the preacher, his mother leaning against his father for support. His younger sister stood a little off to the side, her eyes blank and unfocused. He straightened and walked towards her, holding out his hand to offer her support. She shook her head slightly, then turned away and stalked down the hill to where a man was leaning against a small blue car.
His mother let out a soft sob, then turned to her husband and clung to him for support. He whispered reassuring words in her ear, though tears were streaking down his own face. After a moment, both walked slowly towards their own car, leaving only him and the preacher. The preacher looked down at the ground and mouthed a few words, then followed the rest of the crowd towards the waiting cars.
He remained, looking down at the hole in the ground where they had lowered his body. There was a pile of dirt artfully hidden with a black cloth, the edge of a shovel sticking out slightly. He swallowed, then turned to watch the cars as they drove away, one by one. Never before had he felt this alone, looking down at his tombstone.
Michael Richard Cline
Son taken before his prime
June 9, 1984 – August 10, 2007
Letting out a groan of frustration, he looked up at the sky. “Why? Why me? Why did you have to take me away and then curse me by leaving me here?” he shouted, falling to his knees and letting out a sigh of despair.
Glancing down the hill, he saw his sister standing there in the arms of the man who had been waiting by her car. Feeling a sudden surge of anger, he marched down the hill to them. The wind picked up slightly as he moved, rustling the leaves of the trees and his sister's skirt. She shivered and huddled further into the man's arms. As he approached, he heard her sobbing softly.
“It's all my fault, Simon,” she cried. Michael slowed his approach.
Simon shook his head and rubbed her back slowly. “Nat, it's not your fault. It was an accident...”
She shook her head quickly. “I asked him to drive home. I knew he couldn't leave until late, but I insisted he come anyway. And then it started raining...”
Michael shook his head. “Natalie, it wasn't your fault. I'd made that drive hundreds of times.”
Simon held her at arms length. “It was an accident, Nat. Someone was driving too fast down the mountain, and he just got unlucky and went through the light at the wrong time.”
She whimpered softly. “If I hadn't insisted that he drive down that night, he would have come the next morning, when it wasn't raining, and he would have made it home safely...”
Michael reached out a hand for her, but Simon pulled her to him instead. “You can't blame yourself. He wouldn't want that, and you know it,” Simon argued.
Michael sighed softly and nodded, then looked at Simon with narrowed eyes. “You had better take care of her. If you hurt her at all, there will be hell to pay.”
Simon kissed Natalie's forehead, then opened the door to the car and led her in. A few minutes later, the pair was driving away into the distance. Michael stood on the side of the road and watched them, even as they drove out of sight.
“It's not very healthy to hang out around your grave, you know,” a soft voice chimed behind him.
Startled, Michael spun on his heel towards the voice, only to find a girl that looked as if she were only ten dressed in a short white dress. “Who are you?”
She shrugged. “Who I am doesn't particularly matter. You're upset that you died, and you're upset that you're stuck here. Not what you were expecting out of the afterlife, I take it.”
He frowned slightly. “I don't... How can you see me when no one else could?”
She smiled. “Not everything is as it seems, Michael. You have not yet completed your purpose in life, so you'll remain here until you do.”
“What if I don't want to remain here? And what is my purpose?” Michael asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
The girl's eyes twinkled. “You'll figure it out eventually, when the time comes.”
His jaw clenched. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? No one can see me or hear me, so I can't interact with anyone, and I can't touch anything. What am I supposed to do in a physical world when I'm not a physical being?”
The girl tilted her head and watched him for a moment. “You're very educated, Michael. Perhaps you would best be suited exploring the interests you didn't have a chance to explore during your life.” Without waiting for a reply, she faded, leaving Michael to shout in frustration at his new situation.
“Have it your way, then,” he shouted. “I'll find my way, but I'm not going searching for it. I'm going to do things my way.” With a sudden burst of wind, he disappeared, leaving the cemetery empty once again.
Word Count: 1,144
Genre: Fantasy
Yes, I know it's been forever and a day since I posted something. But between writing and school, school will always come first. But now that I'm out for summer break, I'll have a little more time to write and edit and whatnot.
First up is another character sketch. This one is for Michael Cline, the second main character in my Hidden Souls universe (the first is Sophia Carson, and her character sketch can be found here). I started writing this back in November, just to try to get inside Michael's head, but he didn't want to let me in too far. So I picked up the document again a couple days ago and banged out the rest.
Note once again that this is a rough (as in almost hot off the press) draft. It's unedited, probably full of mistakes (both grammatical and chronological), and gives a little more away than I'd like, but as the novel is about Sophia, and not Michael, I figure that's okay too. Enjoy!
Michael's Mission
People were walking up the hill, gathering in a small circle at the top. He stood at the bottom, watching them idly, before seeking shelter from the sweltering sun under a large oak on the edge of the circle. A man within the circle pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead to stop the sweat from running down his face and onto his freshly pressed shirt. Several of the ladies had papers that they were using as fans, while others didn't seem to notice the heat at all, too focused on the speech in the center of the crowd. He stood out in his jeans and black t-shirt, but no one seemed to notice.
The crowd bowed their heads in prayer, and he took the time to watch the faces. Everyone he knew, even some he didn't, were standing there. People he hadn't seen in years had gathered here on this bright summer day. His family stood in the center of the crowd, huddled together as if for warmth despite the heat. The steady cadence of the prayer came to a conclusion and the crowd collectively murmured 'Amen.' There was a slight paused before the crowd shifted, moving closer to the center, then dispersing one by one.
He watched as the older couples filed out one by one, followed by his friends, heading down the hill to their cars parked along the narrow road. None even glanced his way, almost as if they were purposefully avoiding him. He appeared unfazed by this, as if it were a normal turn of events.
Finally, the crowd thinned enough that he could see his mother and father standing next to the preacher, his mother leaning against his father for support. His younger sister stood a little off to the side, her eyes blank and unfocused. He straightened and walked towards her, holding out his hand to offer her support. She shook her head slightly, then turned away and stalked down the hill to where a man was leaning against a small blue car.
His mother let out a soft sob, then turned to her husband and clung to him for support. He whispered reassuring words in her ear, though tears were streaking down his own face. After a moment, both walked slowly towards their own car, leaving only him and the preacher. The preacher looked down at the ground and mouthed a few words, then followed the rest of the crowd towards the waiting cars.
He remained, looking down at the hole in the ground where they had lowered his body. There was a pile of dirt artfully hidden with a black cloth, the edge of a shovel sticking out slightly. He swallowed, then turned to watch the cars as they drove away, one by one. Never before had he felt this alone, looking down at his tombstone.
Michael Richard Cline
Son taken before his prime
June 9, 1984 – August 10, 2007
Letting out a groan of frustration, he looked up at the sky. “Why? Why me? Why did you have to take me away and then curse me by leaving me here?” he shouted, falling to his knees and letting out a sigh of despair.
Glancing down the hill, he saw his sister standing there in the arms of the man who had been waiting by her car. Feeling a sudden surge of anger, he marched down the hill to them. The wind picked up slightly as he moved, rustling the leaves of the trees and his sister's skirt. She shivered and huddled further into the man's arms. As he approached, he heard her sobbing softly.
“It's all my fault, Simon,” she cried. Michael slowed his approach.
Simon shook his head and rubbed her back slowly. “Nat, it's not your fault. It was an accident...”
She shook her head quickly. “I asked him to drive home. I knew he couldn't leave until late, but I insisted he come anyway. And then it started raining...”
Michael shook his head. “Natalie, it wasn't your fault. I'd made that drive hundreds of times.”
Simon held her at arms length. “It was an accident, Nat. Someone was driving too fast down the mountain, and he just got unlucky and went through the light at the wrong time.”
She whimpered softly. “If I hadn't insisted that he drive down that night, he would have come the next morning, when it wasn't raining, and he would have made it home safely...”
Michael reached out a hand for her, but Simon pulled her to him instead. “You can't blame yourself. He wouldn't want that, and you know it,” Simon argued.
Michael sighed softly and nodded, then looked at Simon with narrowed eyes. “You had better take care of her. If you hurt her at all, there will be hell to pay.”
Simon kissed Natalie's forehead, then opened the door to the car and led her in. A few minutes later, the pair was driving away into the distance. Michael stood on the side of the road and watched them, even as they drove out of sight.
“It's not very healthy to hang out around your grave, you know,” a soft voice chimed behind him.
Startled, Michael spun on his heel towards the voice, only to find a girl that looked as if she were only ten dressed in a short white dress. “Who are you?”
She shrugged. “Who I am doesn't particularly matter. You're upset that you died, and you're upset that you're stuck here. Not what you were expecting out of the afterlife, I take it.”
He frowned slightly. “I don't... How can you see me when no one else could?”
She smiled. “Not everything is as it seems, Michael. You have not yet completed your purpose in life, so you'll remain here until you do.”
“What if I don't want to remain here? And what is my purpose?” Michael asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
The girl's eyes twinkled. “You'll figure it out eventually, when the time comes.”
His jaw clenched. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? No one can see me or hear me, so I can't interact with anyone, and I can't touch anything. What am I supposed to do in a physical world when I'm not a physical being?”
The girl tilted her head and watched him for a moment. “You're very educated, Michael. Perhaps you would best be suited exploring the interests you didn't have a chance to explore during your life.” Without waiting for a reply, she faded, leaving Michael to shout in frustration at his new situation.
“Have it your way, then,” he shouted. “I'll find my way, but I'm not going searching for it. I'm going to do things my way.” With a sudden burst of wind, he disappeared, leaving the cemetery empty once again.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Real Original Sin
Title: The Real Original Sin
Word Count: 3,333
Genre: Mythological
This is another challenge piece I wrote, for a contest called 'All About Eve'. Basically, the premise was to write about the real story behind the first woman, whether it be Eve, Pandora, whatever.
I originally decided to go off and talk about Lilith, who, according to Jewish lore, was really the first woman. She was made out of the dust like Adam, and turned out to be too rebellious. There are various traditions for her after that, including the idea that nocturnal emissions fathered her demon children. It's an interesting myth if you ever get the chance to read about it.
Unfortunately, I lost that story, and wasn't able to recreate it. So I came up with a different angle. You should know the story of the Original Sin, how Adam and Eve had their 'eyes opened' to the world around of them. In this story, I play with that idea, suggesting that perhaps that was the only way that humans can really appreciate what they've been given is to experience hardship and pain.
Without further ado, here is The Real Original Sin:
~*~
They blame me for casting mankind out of paradise. They blame me for releasing evils upon the world. They ultimately blame me for every bad thing that has happened since my “transgression,” as if my action could permeate through the ages to affect them now. As if they would make a different choice than I did all those years ago. Even as if my actions were, dare I say it... evil.
Then again, I can't entirely blame them. They don't know the circumstances surrounding my actions. The details of that day, and the days before it, have become lost to all but those who lived then. Only a vague reference is made to me, to my choice, enough to let them think this was all my fault.
I have been called many things throughout the ages: Chavah, Heua, Ge'ez, but most people know me simply as Eve. It's high time my story was told; the whole story, not just the fragment children learn about in school or church, written so long after my death. It's time the truth came out.
Most know how it began. My master created the heavens and the Earth, the sun, moon, and stars, the beasts that roam the Earth and swim in its oceans. He also created my husband, Adam, and placed him in paradise, Eden. Adam did as he was told; he tended to the animals and plants in Eden, slept at night, and ate the fruits of the trees when he was hungry. He would speak to the animals, for we were all on the same level then, but none of them fulfilled Adam's need for companionship.
Adam became restless in those first days. He was lonely, and became irritated with the needs of the animals he was tending to. Though Eden was supposed to be a paradise, Adam was not happy. So, our Master created me. I was made from Adam's rib, a shelter for his life essence. Since I was only a part of Adam, I was physically weaker, but my essence was more concentrated. I was better able to deal with emotions and feelings from the start, because I came from a part of Adam that remains hidden.
Being in Eden, though, there wasn't much need for these emotions. Why did I need to be able to deal with great sadness or hurt when we lived in a perfect place? I was created with the capacity for them, but never felt it in those first few days of my existence. I merely completed Adam, gave him a companion who would suit him better than the animal companions he previously had. We knew each other perfectly, as no other couple would ever know each other again. Like him, I did what was expected of me; I tended to the plants and animals, and served as a wife to my husband. I enjoyed it. At least, I thought I did.
I was an excellent caretaker; all of the plants flourished in my care, and the animals sought me out to tend to their needs. Doing what I was told, I also stayed away from one plant, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It stood proudly in the middle of the garden, rising above all the other trees and bearing the most beautiful fruit in the garden. I enjoyed looking at it, though I did not dare approach. After all, what need did I have for its fruit when I had ample fruit all around me, however much it seemed to pale in comparison? I didn't understand why it would be necessary to defy the wishes of our Master.
A serpent approached me one day while I was gazing upon the Tree. I heard a rustling in the leaves of the bush next to me and jumped, momentarily startled by the movement in the otherwise still garden. After a moment, I calmed and noticed the serpent's tongue slide in and out of its mouth, tasting the air around it.
“Why do you tend all these plants, and yet shy away from that tree there?” he asked me slyly, moving around me in slow circles.
I shrugged, busying myself with collecting nuts that had fallen from the trees around me. “My master says we are not to tend to that tree, for we are not to eat that fruit. Besides,” I noted, “that tree does not need our tending. It flourishes perfectly well without us.”
“Do you always do what your master tells you to do?” he asked, a distinct challenge in his voice.
I turned my attention from the plant to the serpent and furrowed my eyebrows. “Of course. Don't you?”
His long tongue flicked out and his hiss came out in an amused tone. “I have no master. I take care of myself and enjoy it immensely.”
The concept of being your own master was so completely foreign to me that I could not fathom what he was telling me. “But, why would you not want someone to take care of you? Even if you did not need to be taken care of, why would you want to be alone? My husband tried that for a time, and could not stand it.”
“Your husband was never his own master. There is much to be said for independence.” With that, he slid between the leaves again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Though his words intrigued me, I quickly dismissed the conversation. After all, what need did I have for independence from my master? I was provided everything I could possibly want and enjoyed my time in the garden. I had food, companionship, and a purpose. The serpent was more than cunning, though; his purpose that first day was just to plant a seed of doubt. He approached me again the next day, remaining in the shadows as he spoke with me.
“You are nothing more than a slave here,” he taunted. “There is a whole world outside this garden, filled with more wonders than you can fathom.”
“The Garden is perfect. What else is there to explore?” I asked, not pausing in my tasks.
It is only perfect to you because you were told it was perfect. You only know what you can see now. With nothing to compare it to, how do you know it is perfect? Perhaps there is another garden that is better than this one, filled with other creatures and more flowers than you can imagine. But enslaved here in this garden, how do you know?” His tongue flicked out into the air before him as he spoke and I moved away unconsciously. Even then, I recognized that something was different about this creature, something that did not make me feel safe and secure.
“I am not enslaved here. I am free to do whatever I choose,” I argued, placing some seeds on a leaf for the birds to enjoy.
The serpent hissed malevolently. “Oh yes, you can do whatever you choose. So long as it is tending to these pathetic animals and staying away from the fruit of that tree. Do you even know why you do these tasks?”
I shrugged, keeping my face away from the serpent. “I am happy tending to these plants and animals, and I do not need to eat that fruit with all this other fruit available to me. Why should I disobey my master when there is no need?”
“Silly girl. You think that this is all there is to life. You have companionship, certainly, but you can't experience any real feelings. You aren't happy being a caretaker; you are content.” The serpent chuckled and slipped away once again, without waiting for any sort of response from me.
This time, his words puzzled me. I was happy, so why did he assert that I was only content?
My master found me wandering the garden that evening, looking for Adam so I could speak with him about the serpent.
“My child, what disturbs you?” The voice was perfect, velvet an soothing, like the babbling of a stream as it moves over the rounded rocks on the riverbed.
“I am... confused,” I declared, not knowing if that word described my feelings.
“What is it that you are confused about?”
I thought hard about how to phrase my confusion. Certainly my master already knew the source of my confusion; I was only being asked to find the answer for myself. A child cannot grow if the parent gives her no opportunity to. “The forbidden tree, I don't understand why we cannot eat from it.”
It was only a moment before I got a response, but the tension in that moment seemed to compress my chest uncomfortably. “You are not yet ready, my child. Be happy with all the other wonders available to you.”
I nodded, accepting that my master knew what was best for me. “When will I be ready?” I asked.
“I cannot tell you that. You will know then.”
Adam, not being quite as curious as me, accepted my tale without complaint. He felt no need to question our master's words, and no desire to find out more of what that meant. “Why concern yourself with something that you do not need?” he asked me. “If we were meant to eat from the Tree, there would be no prohibition against it.”
His words made sense to me, but I continued to puzzle over why we needed to be ready for what eating the fruit would do. Would it change us? The serpent had made it seem as though it would bring us independence from our master. But how? What about the way we felt about our situation? The serpent assured me I was only content, that I couldn't be happy, that I only knew what I was told. Would the fruit change that? The thought was at the back of my mind throughout the night and into the next day. At that point, I knew I had to speak to the serpent again.
Apparently sensing my need to speak with him, the serpent didn't show up that day, or the next. I was left to attempt to answer my own questions, becoming more and more unsatisfied with the answers I was finding. I became irritable, upset at the animals for disturbing my thoughts. I was angry with my master for giving me an answer I was not satisfied with. Frustrated, I smashed my foot into a melon growing out of the ground. The tension that had been building up over the past few days seemed to dissipate. While I was certainly not calm, I was no longer frustrated either. I stared blankly at the destroyed fruit resting at my feet.
That's when the serpent found me again.
“My, my. Aren't we testy this afternoon?” he hissed as he crawled up a tree.
I stared at the damaged melon at my feet. “I don't understand why I'm feeling this way. I want something, but I don't know what I want.”
The serpent hissed in pleasure. “Of course you don't. You're now breaking those bonds that have held you back. There's just one thing left for you to do.”
I looked up at him and frowned. “What bonds?”
He dropped down from the tree so his face was even with mine. “You were loyal to your master, and thus would not feel anything besides what you were told you could feel. When you began to question that loyalty, by desiring to eat the fruit, you were able to tap your potential. Just think of what it would be like when you can experience everything. You must eat the fruit.”
I shook my head slightly, feeling a sort of remorse for my defiance. “My master said I would know when I could eat from the Tree, that I was not ready yet.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You have changed a great deal in the past few days. Are you not ready to eat it now?”
I shifted my weight, uneasy with the way the serpent was watching me. “I don't know...”
His head shook slowly. “That is the Tree of Knowledge, yes? You won't know anything about the rest of the world if you do not eat from the Tree. Your master just wants to keep you under his control, keep you as a slave. But you're beyond that now. You want to know how to feel and be happy and know when something is beautiful without Him telling you so. You simply can't do that without eating from the Tree.”
I bit my lip as I considered his proposal. Over the past few days, I had come to understand that I was missing something, but I could not yet understand what it was that I was missing. Now, I had the opportunity to discover that, to really see the world for what it was. How could I possibly turn down an opportunity like that?
Instead of giving him a definite answer, I walked towards the Tree, taking small, unsteady steps as I went. I glanced back at him and noted the urging look in his eyes. As I approached the tree, I saw it begin to glow slightly, as if sunlight was radiating out of its bark. It was comfortably warm around the Tree as well, more so than in the rest of the Garden. I felt my heart beating faster, sure that this meant I was ready at last. I reached my hand out and plucked a juicy red apple from one of the lower branches of the tree. When nothing happened, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. Unconsciously, I assumed that since eating the fruit was forbidden, so too was taking the fruit from the Tree. I had expected some sort of punishment to come right there, for my master to banish me for even considering this transgression.
The apple was heavy in my hand, but also cool. It contrasted greatly with the warmth of the air and I felt my mouth water at the thought of tasting the perfect fruit. The serpent hissed impatiently and I brought the apple to my lips, tasting the earthy skin reluctantly. Finally, I took a deep breath and bit a large chunk out of the apple.
I'm not sure what I expected, exactly, to come from eating the apple, but no major change took place. It wasn't as if my eyes were suddenly looking at a whole new world. Rather, the change took place slowly. I became upset that the change wasn't something spectacular, then annoyed with the serpent for coaxing me to eat the apple. After a few moments, I realized that these were new emotions, and yet I could somehow name them now. Other than this simple change, I didn't recognize anything different.
Still, I savored the taste of the apple, its brilliant flavors unlike any other fruit in the garden. It was richer, somehow, more potent.
Without paying heed to the serpent, I went to find Adam to share the experience. After all, if any change did take place, I couldn't very well handle the change alone. I was created to be Adam's companion, and yet now I was on a higher level than him. I knew more about the world than he cared to, and I wanted to open his eyes as well. How could I be his equal, his companion, if I had to treat him as a child, as an innocent?
I found Adam tending to a nest of birds. The mother was trying to teach the younger birds to fly, and was doing so by flapping her wings in demonstration. I watched the scene for a moment, entranced by the simple act of teaching. The mother then seemed to give up and just pushed one of her chicks out of the nest. Adam deftly caught the chick, then turned to scold the mother.
“Teaching takes time. Your chick isn't going to learn right away, it needs time to learn how to fly, to appreciate that it can fly.” Adam set the chick back in the nest, smiling.
“But, the chick isn't going to learn how to fly unless it is required to fly. Why would anyone leave the safety of the nest, where mama will feed and nourish you?” I asked, stepping forward. Adam turned to me with a slight frown on his face.
“Should the chick have to be hurt to learn to fly? When the time is right, the chick will want to leave the nest, create a new nest for itself,” he argued, petting the baby chick on the head gently.
I watched the mother bird for a moment, then turned back to Adam. “She knows it won't be hurt. The baby chicks can fly now, they just don't have the motivation to use their wings.”
“That motivation will come in time.” Adam nodded to himself.
“But what might the babies miss in that time?” I countered.
The mother bird, using this opening, pushed another of her chicks out of the tall nest. Adam moved to catch it again, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. The chick fell several feet before flapping its wings wildly and catching the air. With a happy chirp, the chick flew around in circles and made its way back up to the nest.
“See? He's happy now, and no harm came to him.” I smiled and patted Adam's hand slowly.
“How did you know that would happen?” he asked, confused.
I placed the apple in his hand, thinking carefully about my response. “Mothers always want what's best for their children. She would not have done that if she knew they would come to harm.” The words came easily, and I knew they were true, that I just had never considered the possibility before.
He moved the apple around in his hand for a moment, examining it closely. “What's this?”
“It's an apple from the Tree,” I said, motioning towards the center of the garden.
His eyes widened slightly and he nearly dropped the apple in surprise. “We're not to eat this. What have you done?”
I shrugged. “I have opened my eyes to the world around me. There's much you don't understand, that you can't understand. Eat the apple and you'll see.”
Of course, you know what happens now. Adam did eat the apple, and our master found us in our new state of knowledge. Angry that we defied His wishes, we were exiled from the Garden of Eden, made to work for our food and suffer. Looking into my children's eyes, though, I've come to learn how sweet this suffering makes life. After all, how could I have appreciated the twinkle in my Abel's eyes when he helped heal a sheep's leg, or when Cain made his first loaf of bread from the grain he so arduously cultivated? If everything had simply been handed to us for the rest of our lives, what sort of life would we have had? An easy one, certainly, but one without the joy of being together after working all day, or without the sense of accomplishment we felt when we did something new.
I'm convinced now that we were always meant to eat from the Tree. Our master simply made it forbidden to give us the choice between knowing good and evil, and suffering as a result, or living in ignorance and being unable to realize the true beauty He created. We still catch small glimpses of Eden in the world around us, whether it be a waterfall in a secluded forest, or watching a mother bird teach her chicks to fly. Maybe one day we'll be able to see the whole of paradise again. Maybe one day people will be able to understand why I made that initial choice, and why I still do not regret it to this day. Just maybe.
Word Count: 3,333
Genre: Mythological
This is another challenge piece I wrote, for a contest called 'All About Eve'. Basically, the premise was to write about the real story behind the first woman, whether it be Eve, Pandora, whatever.
I originally decided to go off and talk about Lilith, who, according to Jewish lore, was really the first woman. She was made out of the dust like Adam, and turned out to be too rebellious. There are various traditions for her after that, including the idea that nocturnal emissions fathered her demon children. It's an interesting myth if you ever get the chance to read about it.
Unfortunately, I lost that story, and wasn't able to recreate it. So I came up with a different angle. You should know the story of the Original Sin, how Adam and Eve had their 'eyes opened' to the world around of them. In this story, I play with that idea, suggesting that perhaps that was the only way that humans can really appreciate what they've been given is to experience hardship and pain.
Without further ado, here is The Real Original Sin:
~*~
They blame me for casting mankind out of paradise. They blame me for releasing evils upon the world. They ultimately blame me for every bad thing that has happened since my “transgression,” as if my action could permeate through the ages to affect them now. As if they would make a different choice than I did all those years ago. Even as if my actions were, dare I say it... evil.
Then again, I can't entirely blame them. They don't know the circumstances surrounding my actions. The details of that day, and the days before it, have become lost to all but those who lived then. Only a vague reference is made to me, to my choice, enough to let them think this was all my fault.
I have been called many things throughout the ages: Chavah, Heua, Ge'ez, but most people know me simply as Eve. It's high time my story was told; the whole story, not just the fragment children learn about in school or church, written so long after my death. It's time the truth came out.
Most know how it began. My master created the heavens and the Earth, the sun, moon, and stars, the beasts that roam the Earth and swim in its oceans. He also created my husband, Adam, and placed him in paradise, Eden. Adam did as he was told; he tended to the animals and plants in Eden, slept at night, and ate the fruits of the trees when he was hungry. He would speak to the animals, for we were all on the same level then, but none of them fulfilled Adam's need for companionship.
Adam became restless in those first days. He was lonely, and became irritated with the needs of the animals he was tending to. Though Eden was supposed to be a paradise, Adam was not happy. So, our Master created me. I was made from Adam's rib, a shelter for his life essence. Since I was only a part of Adam, I was physically weaker, but my essence was more concentrated. I was better able to deal with emotions and feelings from the start, because I came from a part of Adam that remains hidden.
Being in Eden, though, there wasn't much need for these emotions. Why did I need to be able to deal with great sadness or hurt when we lived in a perfect place? I was created with the capacity for them, but never felt it in those first few days of my existence. I merely completed Adam, gave him a companion who would suit him better than the animal companions he previously had. We knew each other perfectly, as no other couple would ever know each other again. Like him, I did what was expected of me; I tended to the plants and animals, and served as a wife to my husband. I enjoyed it. At least, I thought I did.
I was an excellent caretaker; all of the plants flourished in my care, and the animals sought me out to tend to their needs. Doing what I was told, I also stayed away from one plant, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It stood proudly in the middle of the garden, rising above all the other trees and bearing the most beautiful fruit in the garden. I enjoyed looking at it, though I did not dare approach. After all, what need did I have for its fruit when I had ample fruit all around me, however much it seemed to pale in comparison? I didn't understand why it would be necessary to defy the wishes of our Master.
A serpent approached me one day while I was gazing upon the Tree. I heard a rustling in the leaves of the bush next to me and jumped, momentarily startled by the movement in the otherwise still garden. After a moment, I calmed and noticed the serpent's tongue slide in and out of its mouth, tasting the air around it.
“Why do you tend all these plants, and yet shy away from that tree there?” he asked me slyly, moving around me in slow circles.
I shrugged, busying myself with collecting nuts that had fallen from the trees around me. “My master says we are not to tend to that tree, for we are not to eat that fruit. Besides,” I noted, “that tree does not need our tending. It flourishes perfectly well without us.”
“Do you always do what your master tells you to do?” he asked, a distinct challenge in his voice.
I turned my attention from the plant to the serpent and furrowed my eyebrows. “Of course. Don't you?”
His long tongue flicked out and his hiss came out in an amused tone. “I have no master. I take care of myself and enjoy it immensely.”
The concept of being your own master was so completely foreign to me that I could not fathom what he was telling me. “But, why would you not want someone to take care of you? Even if you did not need to be taken care of, why would you want to be alone? My husband tried that for a time, and could not stand it.”
“Your husband was never his own master. There is much to be said for independence.” With that, he slid between the leaves again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Though his words intrigued me, I quickly dismissed the conversation. After all, what need did I have for independence from my master? I was provided everything I could possibly want and enjoyed my time in the garden. I had food, companionship, and a purpose. The serpent was more than cunning, though; his purpose that first day was just to plant a seed of doubt. He approached me again the next day, remaining in the shadows as he spoke with me.
“You are nothing more than a slave here,” he taunted. “There is a whole world outside this garden, filled with more wonders than you can fathom.”
“The Garden is perfect. What else is there to explore?” I asked, not pausing in my tasks.
It is only perfect to you because you were told it was perfect. You only know what you can see now. With nothing to compare it to, how do you know it is perfect? Perhaps there is another garden that is better than this one, filled with other creatures and more flowers than you can imagine. But enslaved here in this garden, how do you know?” His tongue flicked out into the air before him as he spoke and I moved away unconsciously. Even then, I recognized that something was different about this creature, something that did not make me feel safe and secure.
“I am not enslaved here. I am free to do whatever I choose,” I argued, placing some seeds on a leaf for the birds to enjoy.
The serpent hissed malevolently. “Oh yes, you can do whatever you choose. So long as it is tending to these pathetic animals and staying away from the fruit of that tree. Do you even know why you do these tasks?”
I shrugged, keeping my face away from the serpent. “I am happy tending to these plants and animals, and I do not need to eat that fruit with all this other fruit available to me. Why should I disobey my master when there is no need?”
“Silly girl. You think that this is all there is to life. You have companionship, certainly, but you can't experience any real feelings. You aren't happy being a caretaker; you are content.” The serpent chuckled and slipped away once again, without waiting for any sort of response from me.
This time, his words puzzled me. I was happy, so why did he assert that I was only content?
My master found me wandering the garden that evening, looking for Adam so I could speak with him about the serpent.
“My child, what disturbs you?” The voice was perfect, velvet an soothing, like the babbling of a stream as it moves over the rounded rocks on the riverbed.
“I am... confused,” I declared, not knowing if that word described my feelings.
“What is it that you are confused about?”
I thought hard about how to phrase my confusion. Certainly my master already knew the source of my confusion; I was only being asked to find the answer for myself. A child cannot grow if the parent gives her no opportunity to. “The forbidden tree, I don't understand why we cannot eat from it.”
It was only a moment before I got a response, but the tension in that moment seemed to compress my chest uncomfortably. “You are not yet ready, my child. Be happy with all the other wonders available to you.”
I nodded, accepting that my master knew what was best for me. “When will I be ready?” I asked.
“I cannot tell you that. You will know then.”
Adam, not being quite as curious as me, accepted my tale without complaint. He felt no need to question our master's words, and no desire to find out more of what that meant. “Why concern yourself with something that you do not need?” he asked me. “If we were meant to eat from the Tree, there would be no prohibition against it.”
His words made sense to me, but I continued to puzzle over why we needed to be ready for what eating the fruit would do. Would it change us? The serpent had made it seem as though it would bring us independence from our master. But how? What about the way we felt about our situation? The serpent assured me I was only content, that I couldn't be happy, that I only knew what I was told. Would the fruit change that? The thought was at the back of my mind throughout the night and into the next day. At that point, I knew I had to speak to the serpent again.
Apparently sensing my need to speak with him, the serpent didn't show up that day, or the next. I was left to attempt to answer my own questions, becoming more and more unsatisfied with the answers I was finding. I became irritable, upset at the animals for disturbing my thoughts. I was angry with my master for giving me an answer I was not satisfied with. Frustrated, I smashed my foot into a melon growing out of the ground. The tension that had been building up over the past few days seemed to dissipate. While I was certainly not calm, I was no longer frustrated either. I stared blankly at the destroyed fruit resting at my feet.
That's when the serpent found me again.
“My, my. Aren't we testy this afternoon?” he hissed as he crawled up a tree.
I stared at the damaged melon at my feet. “I don't understand why I'm feeling this way. I want something, but I don't know what I want.”
The serpent hissed in pleasure. “Of course you don't. You're now breaking those bonds that have held you back. There's just one thing left for you to do.”
I looked up at him and frowned. “What bonds?”
He dropped down from the tree so his face was even with mine. “You were loyal to your master, and thus would not feel anything besides what you were told you could feel. When you began to question that loyalty, by desiring to eat the fruit, you were able to tap your potential. Just think of what it would be like when you can experience everything. You must eat the fruit.”
I shook my head slightly, feeling a sort of remorse for my defiance. “My master said I would know when I could eat from the Tree, that I was not ready yet.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You have changed a great deal in the past few days. Are you not ready to eat it now?”
I shifted my weight, uneasy with the way the serpent was watching me. “I don't know...”
His head shook slowly. “That is the Tree of Knowledge, yes? You won't know anything about the rest of the world if you do not eat from the Tree. Your master just wants to keep you under his control, keep you as a slave. But you're beyond that now. You want to know how to feel and be happy and know when something is beautiful without Him telling you so. You simply can't do that without eating from the Tree.”
I bit my lip as I considered his proposal. Over the past few days, I had come to understand that I was missing something, but I could not yet understand what it was that I was missing. Now, I had the opportunity to discover that, to really see the world for what it was. How could I possibly turn down an opportunity like that?
Instead of giving him a definite answer, I walked towards the Tree, taking small, unsteady steps as I went. I glanced back at him and noted the urging look in his eyes. As I approached the tree, I saw it begin to glow slightly, as if sunlight was radiating out of its bark. It was comfortably warm around the Tree as well, more so than in the rest of the Garden. I felt my heart beating faster, sure that this meant I was ready at last. I reached my hand out and plucked a juicy red apple from one of the lower branches of the tree. When nothing happened, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. Unconsciously, I assumed that since eating the fruit was forbidden, so too was taking the fruit from the Tree. I had expected some sort of punishment to come right there, for my master to banish me for even considering this transgression.
The apple was heavy in my hand, but also cool. It contrasted greatly with the warmth of the air and I felt my mouth water at the thought of tasting the perfect fruit. The serpent hissed impatiently and I brought the apple to my lips, tasting the earthy skin reluctantly. Finally, I took a deep breath and bit a large chunk out of the apple.
I'm not sure what I expected, exactly, to come from eating the apple, but no major change took place. It wasn't as if my eyes were suddenly looking at a whole new world. Rather, the change took place slowly. I became upset that the change wasn't something spectacular, then annoyed with the serpent for coaxing me to eat the apple. After a few moments, I realized that these were new emotions, and yet I could somehow name them now. Other than this simple change, I didn't recognize anything different.
Still, I savored the taste of the apple, its brilliant flavors unlike any other fruit in the garden. It was richer, somehow, more potent.
Without paying heed to the serpent, I went to find Adam to share the experience. After all, if any change did take place, I couldn't very well handle the change alone. I was created to be Adam's companion, and yet now I was on a higher level than him. I knew more about the world than he cared to, and I wanted to open his eyes as well. How could I be his equal, his companion, if I had to treat him as a child, as an innocent?
I found Adam tending to a nest of birds. The mother was trying to teach the younger birds to fly, and was doing so by flapping her wings in demonstration. I watched the scene for a moment, entranced by the simple act of teaching. The mother then seemed to give up and just pushed one of her chicks out of the nest. Adam deftly caught the chick, then turned to scold the mother.
“Teaching takes time. Your chick isn't going to learn right away, it needs time to learn how to fly, to appreciate that it can fly.” Adam set the chick back in the nest, smiling.
“But, the chick isn't going to learn how to fly unless it is required to fly. Why would anyone leave the safety of the nest, where mama will feed and nourish you?” I asked, stepping forward. Adam turned to me with a slight frown on his face.
“Should the chick have to be hurt to learn to fly? When the time is right, the chick will want to leave the nest, create a new nest for itself,” he argued, petting the baby chick on the head gently.
I watched the mother bird for a moment, then turned back to Adam. “She knows it won't be hurt. The baby chicks can fly now, they just don't have the motivation to use their wings.”
“That motivation will come in time.” Adam nodded to himself.
“But what might the babies miss in that time?” I countered.
The mother bird, using this opening, pushed another of her chicks out of the tall nest. Adam moved to catch it again, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. The chick fell several feet before flapping its wings wildly and catching the air. With a happy chirp, the chick flew around in circles and made its way back up to the nest.
“See? He's happy now, and no harm came to him.” I smiled and patted Adam's hand slowly.
“How did you know that would happen?” he asked, confused.
I placed the apple in his hand, thinking carefully about my response. “Mothers always want what's best for their children. She would not have done that if she knew they would come to harm.” The words came easily, and I knew they were true, that I just had never considered the possibility before.
He moved the apple around in his hand for a moment, examining it closely. “What's this?”
“It's an apple from the Tree,” I said, motioning towards the center of the garden.
His eyes widened slightly and he nearly dropped the apple in surprise. “We're not to eat this. What have you done?”
I shrugged. “I have opened my eyes to the world around me. There's much you don't understand, that you can't understand. Eat the apple and you'll see.”
Of course, you know what happens now. Adam did eat the apple, and our master found us in our new state of knowledge. Angry that we defied His wishes, we were exiled from the Garden of Eden, made to work for our food and suffer. Looking into my children's eyes, though, I've come to learn how sweet this suffering makes life. After all, how could I have appreciated the twinkle in my Abel's eyes when he helped heal a sheep's leg, or when Cain made his first loaf of bread from the grain he so arduously cultivated? If everything had simply been handed to us for the rest of our lives, what sort of life would we have had? An easy one, certainly, but one without the joy of being together after working all day, or without the sense of accomplishment we felt when we did something new.
I'm convinced now that we were always meant to eat from the Tree. Our master simply made it forbidden to give us the choice between knowing good and evil, and suffering as a result, or living in ignorance and being unable to realize the true beauty He created. We still catch small glimpses of Eden in the world around us, whether it be a waterfall in a secluded forest, or watching a mother bird teach her chicks to fly. Maybe one day we'll be able to see the whole of paradise again. Maybe one day people will be able to understand why I made that initial choice, and why I still do not regret it to this day. Just maybe.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
NaNo Treat!
Title: On A Dark Night
Word Count: 1,346
Genre: Realistic Fiction
It's National Novel Writing Month, and I'm attempting to write a novel, again. It's the story of a college aged girl who unwittingly witnesses a kidnapping. She discovers she has some interesting abilities, which leads her to track down the kidnapper and save the young girl. It's tentatively called Hidden Souls.
Part of my preparation for this was to try to do character sketches for my two main characters. However, I only managed to write a little bit of my female main character's sketch. I got ahead on my novel again tonight, though, so I decided to sit down and finish writing that (I dedicated three hours to writing, and finished well above my word count in about 1 1/2).
So, I'm offering it here. It's the very first draft, so keep that in mind when reading it, but it might give you some insight into Ms. Sophia Carson. Let me know what you think!
On A Dark Night
“Something doesn't feel right about this, Maggie,” Sophia complained as she squirmed in the leather seat. “Are you sure you're allowed to be out like this?”
“Chill out Soph. Daddy doesn't care what I do so long as I don't interrupt his precious poker game,” Maggie muttered, rolling her eyes and snapping her gum obnoxiously.
“Still... it's kinda late to be out, and you just got your license, and it looks like rain...” Sophia bit her lip to stop the stream of words from her mouth.
“No worries. I've had plenty of practice.” Maggie smiled as she put the sports car into gear and slowly pulled out of the driveway.
Sophia pulled at her seat belt to make sure it was secured and looked around her anxiously. It seemed as if there were eyes in the shadows watching her, waiting until just the right moment to spring out and raise the alarm.
She shook her head. The stress of finals must be getting to her. Nothing was going to happen, just like Maggie had said.
Tend minutes later, they were on the mountain, turning around the corners with the top down and the cool air running through their hair.
“This is so awesome!” Maggie shouted, bringing the car around another corner. “Aren't you glad I talked you into this?”
“Yes! This is just what I needed after a day like today!” Sophia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. A few minutes later, they pulled into a pull out overlooking the city.
Sophia smiled as she gazed at the glittering lights below. “It's so beautiful up here. And so quiet.”
Maggie nodded and leaned back in her seat. “I know. I come up with the best ideas ever. I'm sure you'll find some way to repay me.”
Sophia laughed softly and nudged her friend. “Maybe I'll make you a cheesecake or something.”
“Mmm... cheesecake. Make it with Oreos and you've got a deal.”
“Oreos it is,” Sophia confirmed. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she paused, taking in the scents and sounds around her. A drop splashed on her eyelid and she blinked slowly. Rain was beginning to fall steadily around them. “Guess that means we should head back,” she muttered.
“Spoilsport,” Maggie replied, turning the key in the ignition and putting up the top.
“Well, I certainly wouldn't want to drive down the mountain in a torrential downpour...”
“Yeah, yeah. I'm going...” Maggie backed out onto the road far more smoothly than might be expected from a newly licensed 16 year old, then put the car into gear and started the descent down the mountain. She wisely took the curves much more slowly, especially as the rain started coming down in sheets.
The windshield wipers were swiping at full blast and still Maggie squinted over the dashboard to see the road ahead of them. The sky was a dull gray, and the lights of the city below provided little illumination. The headlights of the car only extended a few feet in front of them, so they had slowed to a crawl to avoid missing a turn.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Sophia muttered, sitting on the edge of her seat.
“Shut up and keep an eye out for me. You can yell at me all you want once we're safe,” Maggie snapped, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.
“Someone's coming this way,” Sophia said, pointing to a light on the road ahead of them. “Maybe you should pull off til they pass.” She glanced at the small stretch of dirt to her right.
Maggie's eyes darted to the shoulder, then back to the road. “It's too muddy. If I pull off now, we'll be stuck til morning.”
Sophia bit her lip, but nodded slowly She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, watching the progress of the other car. A few minutes later, they passed without incidence, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Shaking her head, she turned back to the road and sat on the edge of her seat as they slowly coasted down the mountain.
Ahead, at the bottom of the stretch of road, a stoplight changed from red to green, and Maggie responded by letting off the brake a little more. The car sped up, moving closer and closer to the stoplight as it flicked to yellow, then back to red. She reacted quickly, smashing her foot against the brake, but quickly lost control of the car. The back wheels fishtailed back and forth across the road as she turned the steering wheel violently in an attempt to get a better control of the car.
Sophia tried to focus on the road ahead of them, and saw a white pair of lights coming to the intersection. She tensed, gripping the armrests and sending up a silent prayer that they would be able to stop. The car refused to slow as it got closer, though, and she pressed her eyes closed tightly. She heard a horn blaring to her right, but refused to open her eyes, muttering prayers to herself. A flash of light crossed her face and she heard the squeal of tires, followed by a loud crash and a jolt of the car beneath her.
“We're okay,” Maggie sighed, her hands still fastened to the wheel.
Sophia slowly opened her eyes, then patted herself down, clearly unsure of whether or not to believe her words friends. As her senses caught up with her thoughts, she started looking around frantically. They had come to a stop on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the stoplight. The jolt she felt was the car bouncing up over the curb.
Maggie was still gripping the steering wheel, as if she were physically unable to let go. Sophia opened her door and stepped out into the rain, trying to assess the car for damage. She couldn't see any, and wondered what the crash that she heard was. She scanned the street, and saw the source of the crash. The car that had been about to hit them had slammed into the pole holding up the streetlight, its hood crunched badly and steam coming out of the now dead engine.
“Oh my god... Maggie. There's been an accident. We've got to help them!” Sophia said frantically, looking through the window at her friend.
The words seemed to snap Maggie out of whatever trance she was in, and she looked at Sophia, then turned and looked at the accident. Biting her lip, she turned back to Sophia. “Get in,” she said in a deadly calm voice.
“What? No... we've got to see if they're alright!” Sophia shouted, gesturing wildly towards the car.
“No... we've got to get home. We can call 911 on the way and tell them we passed an accident. The ambulance will come and take care of them,” Maggie said, the dead calm still present in her voice.
“What are you talking about? They could be hurt! We've got to help!” Sophia argued, her voice breaking slightly.
“No, we've got to get to safety. We can't help them. We will call someone who can. Get in.” When Sophia didn't move, Maggie added, “I'll leave you here and you can explain how we caused the accident. I don't think your dad would appreciate that, Soph.”
Sophia bit her lip, but slowly slipped back into the car, tears springing to her eyes. Maggie pulled out her phone and tossed it into Sophia's lap, then pulled the car off the sidewalk and back onto the road home.
Sophia's fingers were numb as she dialed. “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
Sophia took a deep breath. “There was a car accident on the corner of Jefferson and Holly. It looked pretty bad. You should get someone out there right away.” Without waiting for the operator to respond, Sophia clicked the phone shut and set it in the center console. She remained silent for the ride back to her house, barely acknowledging the goodbye Maggie gave her.
Word Count: 1,346
Genre: Realistic Fiction
It's National Novel Writing Month, and I'm attempting to write a novel, again. It's the story of a college aged girl who unwittingly witnesses a kidnapping. She discovers she has some interesting abilities, which leads her to track down the kidnapper and save the young girl. It's tentatively called Hidden Souls.
Part of my preparation for this was to try to do character sketches for my two main characters. However, I only managed to write a little bit of my female main character's sketch. I got ahead on my novel again tonight, though, so I decided to sit down and finish writing that (I dedicated three hours to writing, and finished well above my word count in about 1 1/2).
So, I'm offering it here. It's the very first draft, so keep that in mind when reading it, but it might give you some insight into Ms. Sophia Carson. Let me know what you think!
On A Dark Night
“Something doesn't feel right about this, Maggie,” Sophia complained as she squirmed in the leather seat. “Are you sure you're allowed to be out like this?”
“Chill out Soph. Daddy doesn't care what I do so long as I don't interrupt his precious poker game,” Maggie muttered, rolling her eyes and snapping her gum obnoxiously.
“Still... it's kinda late to be out, and you just got your license, and it looks like rain...” Sophia bit her lip to stop the stream of words from her mouth.
“No worries. I've had plenty of practice.” Maggie smiled as she put the sports car into gear and slowly pulled out of the driveway.
Sophia pulled at her seat belt to make sure it was secured and looked around her anxiously. It seemed as if there were eyes in the shadows watching her, waiting until just the right moment to spring out and raise the alarm.
She shook her head. The stress of finals must be getting to her. Nothing was going to happen, just like Maggie had said.
Tend minutes later, they were on the mountain, turning around the corners with the top down and the cool air running through their hair.
“This is so awesome!” Maggie shouted, bringing the car around another corner. “Aren't you glad I talked you into this?”
“Yes! This is just what I needed after a day like today!” Sophia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. A few minutes later, they pulled into a pull out overlooking the city.
Sophia smiled as she gazed at the glittering lights below. “It's so beautiful up here. And so quiet.”
Maggie nodded and leaned back in her seat. “I know. I come up with the best ideas ever. I'm sure you'll find some way to repay me.”
Sophia laughed softly and nudged her friend. “Maybe I'll make you a cheesecake or something.”
“Mmm... cheesecake. Make it with Oreos and you've got a deal.”
“Oreos it is,” Sophia confirmed. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she paused, taking in the scents and sounds around her. A drop splashed on her eyelid and she blinked slowly. Rain was beginning to fall steadily around them. “Guess that means we should head back,” she muttered.
“Spoilsport,” Maggie replied, turning the key in the ignition and putting up the top.
“Well, I certainly wouldn't want to drive down the mountain in a torrential downpour...”
“Yeah, yeah. I'm going...” Maggie backed out onto the road far more smoothly than might be expected from a newly licensed 16 year old, then put the car into gear and started the descent down the mountain. She wisely took the curves much more slowly, especially as the rain started coming down in sheets.
The windshield wipers were swiping at full blast and still Maggie squinted over the dashboard to see the road ahead of them. The sky was a dull gray, and the lights of the city below provided little illumination. The headlights of the car only extended a few feet in front of them, so they had slowed to a crawl to avoid missing a turn.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Sophia muttered, sitting on the edge of her seat.
“Shut up and keep an eye out for me. You can yell at me all you want once we're safe,” Maggie snapped, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.
“Someone's coming this way,” Sophia said, pointing to a light on the road ahead of them. “Maybe you should pull off til they pass.” She glanced at the small stretch of dirt to her right.
Maggie's eyes darted to the shoulder, then back to the road. “It's too muddy. If I pull off now, we'll be stuck til morning.”
Sophia bit her lip, but nodded slowly She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, watching the progress of the other car. A few minutes later, they passed without incidence, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Shaking her head, she turned back to the road and sat on the edge of her seat as they slowly coasted down the mountain.
Ahead, at the bottom of the stretch of road, a stoplight changed from red to green, and Maggie responded by letting off the brake a little more. The car sped up, moving closer and closer to the stoplight as it flicked to yellow, then back to red. She reacted quickly, smashing her foot against the brake, but quickly lost control of the car. The back wheels fishtailed back and forth across the road as she turned the steering wheel violently in an attempt to get a better control of the car.
Sophia tried to focus on the road ahead of them, and saw a white pair of lights coming to the intersection. She tensed, gripping the armrests and sending up a silent prayer that they would be able to stop. The car refused to slow as it got closer, though, and she pressed her eyes closed tightly. She heard a horn blaring to her right, but refused to open her eyes, muttering prayers to herself. A flash of light crossed her face and she heard the squeal of tires, followed by a loud crash and a jolt of the car beneath her.
“We're okay,” Maggie sighed, her hands still fastened to the wheel.
Sophia slowly opened her eyes, then patted herself down, clearly unsure of whether or not to believe her words friends. As her senses caught up with her thoughts, she started looking around frantically. They had come to a stop on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the stoplight. The jolt she felt was the car bouncing up over the curb.
Maggie was still gripping the steering wheel, as if she were physically unable to let go. Sophia opened her door and stepped out into the rain, trying to assess the car for damage. She couldn't see any, and wondered what the crash that she heard was. She scanned the street, and saw the source of the crash. The car that had been about to hit them had slammed into the pole holding up the streetlight, its hood crunched badly and steam coming out of the now dead engine.
“Oh my god... Maggie. There's been an accident. We've got to help them!” Sophia said frantically, looking through the window at her friend.
The words seemed to snap Maggie out of whatever trance she was in, and she looked at Sophia, then turned and looked at the accident. Biting her lip, she turned back to Sophia. “Get in,” she said in a deadly calm voice.
“What? No... we've got to see if they're alright!” Sophia shouted, gesturing wildly towards the car.
“No... we've got to get home. We can call 911 on the way and tell them we passed an accident. The ambulance will come and take care of them,” Maggie said, the dead calm still present in her voice.
“What are you talking about? They could be hurt! We've got to help!” Sophia argued, her voice breaking slightly.
“No, we've got to get to safety. We can't help them. We will call someone who can. Get in.” When Sophia didn't move, Maggie added, “I'll leave you here and you can explain how we caused the accident. I don't think your dad would appreciate that, Soph.”
Sophia bit her lip, but slowly slipped back into the car, tears springing to her eyes. Maggie pulled out her phone and tossed it into Sophia's lap, then pulled the car off the sidewalk and back onto the road home.
Sophia's fingers were numb as she dialed. “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
Sophia took a deep breath. “There was a car accident on the corner of Jefferson and Holly. It looked pretty bad. You should get someone out there right away.” Without waiting for the operator to respond, Sophia clicked the phone shut and set it in the center console. She remained silent for the ride back to her house, barely acknowledging the goodbye Maggie gave her.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
The Great Mother
Title: The Great Mother
Word Count: 1,214
Genre: Mythological
My last post was the death myth for the Kamore people. This short story is the actual start of their mythology. I wrote this as a part of a mythology challenge, where we had to write a new myth. Creation myths are pretty common and I had studied several as a part of one of my history classes in college, so I went for that. I actually won second place in that competition, so I got a banner and an icon made for this one. Enjoy!
As the last light of day faded in the west, Huti watched the tribe members gather in anticipation of the dance. The drummers along the edges of the fire pounded violently on their drums, calling everyone to gather here. Clad in bright colors of yellow and red, the dancers were covered with beads and masks of varying designs. The masks told a story themselves, one that Huti would put into words tonight, the night they celebrated Medomai.
As the drums faded and the dancers took their positions next to him, Huti threw a fine dust into the fire. It flared, momentarily blinding the people watching the fire, and then died down, producing a bright smoke above it. Shapes twisted and turned in the smoke, fading in and out of the foreground. Huti smiled at the children of the tribe, seeing this presentation in a new light each year, oohed and ahhed at the images.
“Tonight, we gather to celebrate Medomai, the Great Mother. It is she who gave our ancestors their lives, and it is she who we shall all return to in the end.” Huti's voice had a chant-like quality to it, lulling many in the tribe into a trance-like state. The images in the smoke showed a large woman making small objects from the clay. She smiled and formed the objects as if she were a mere child playing in the clay. Two dancers had begun to dance, one with a mask with large blue eyes like the sky, deep wooden-brown skin of trees, and green hair like the leaves and grass of plants; the image of the Great Mother. The other wore a full green dress and a mask of yellow, a representation of all the plants.
“It is said that in the beginning, Medomai longed for companionship. She was different from the rest of the Greats, as she did not have any herds of bison or flocks of birds to take care of. She had only the Earth itself, the land and plants that inhabited it. While she enjoyed listening to the plants singing to her, she wanted a companion more like herself, one who could speak with her, one who could feel sadness and pain and happiness and joy, and one who would help her take care of the Earth. So, from the bark of an aspen and clay from the Earth, she formed the first human.”
Out of the smoke came the images of trees and a small, roughly shaped girl. A slight murmur rose through the crowd as they stared in wonder at the images. Another dancer joined the group now, showing reverence to the Great Mother and care towards the plant. The small girl wore a mask with deep red hair, small, green eyes, and ashen skin.
“This human was a great companion to Medomai, but could not function as Medomai did, especially with the burden of emotions Medomai felt. Medomai wanted the best for her creation, so she created a companion to this human as well in order to complement and complete the frail girl. With that, the first human couple was created, man and woman. They shared all the emotions of the Great Mother between them, and thus were able to be more like the Her. They shared the responsibilities of tending to the plants of the Earth.” Huti watched a fourth dancer join the group, one with a mask similar to that of the girl, but larger and more masculine. The two dancers representing the humans moved around together, gathering plants and seeds for food and planting.
“So great was their combined intelligence and compassion that they made new plants as well, bringing more and more joy to the Great Mother. This capacity for knowledge and growth did not stop in their tending, but also extended to the very emotions they could not bear alone. They had learned a new emotion: love. It was not the maternal love the Great Mother felt while tending the plants, but rather a true love of companionship.”
The male and female dancers began a more intimate dance, no longer noticing the dances of the Great Mother and her plant. The dance was fluid and beautiful, and moved all around the fire as the images in the smoke mirrored their movements.
“This love grew more and more over time, and the Great Mother allowed it to flourish, even at the expense of losing her two companions. Eventually, she allowed the woman to feel the joy she herself had had in creating a companion; she allowed the woman to create a child. This child, too, would grow and Medomai would create a new companion for the child. And so, the people of the world were created, and, over time they forgot their original purpose to act as companions to the Great Mother.” More dancers joined in, each obviously ignoring the dance of the Great Mother, though they danced around the plant, as if asking for its fruits to use as food. The smoke showed the population of the Earth growing more and more.
“One child, though, heard stories of the beginning, and sought to find Medomai, to restore the relationship that had long been lost. She found Medomai among the many trees in a forest, listening to the plants singing to her. The Great Mother welcomed the girl with open arms and the girl spent many years as the Great Mother's companion. Still, this girl longed for what she had seen her kin achieve, the love that would complete her. The Great Mother realized this, and fashioned for the girl a man she would fall in love with and live with happily. Accepting that she could no longer have a companion who sought happiness elsewhere, the Great Mother left the Earth in the care of her numerous creations.” The smoke showed Medomai looking down upon the humans, each finding love and tending to their own needs, without her help. She seemed to be torn between being happy at the success of her creation and sad at her loss of companionship.
“She took special care, though, to watch over the girl and her love. This girl was Elissa, and her partner Rai, the first of the Kamore, and it is from her attentions to the Great Mother that we have such a knowledge of the Earth today. In order to not forget where we came from, Elissa instituted a festival for the Great Mother Medomai, to occur twice a year, with the coming of each new crop.” Huti smiled as the dancers went into a frenzy, chanting along with the crowd. The entire tribe had become very involved in the story of their own beginnings. Many of the children were now dancing among the masked dancers, and couples were dancing off to the sides, emphasizing the growth of the tribe from the first of the Kamore.
Huti watched the crowd and said softly to himself, “It is said that Medomai watches the Kamore, and seeks her perfect companion from among us. One who will complete her as each love completes a couple. When she finds this perfect companion, she will return to Earth and live among us, sharing with us her knowledge and celebrating the life she long ago created.”
Word Count: 1,214
Genre: Mythological
My last post was the death myth for the Kamore people. This short story is the actual start of their mythology. I wrote this as a part of a mythology challenge, where we had to write a new myth. Creation myths are pretty common and I had studied several as a part of one of my history classes in college, so I went for that. I actually won second place in that competition, so I got a banner and an icon made for this one. Enjoy!
As the last light of day faded in the west, Huti watched the tribe members gather in anticipation of the dance. The drummers along the edges of the fire pounded violently on their drums, calling everyone to gather here. Clad in bright colors of yellow and red, the dancers were covered with beads and masks of varying designs. The masks told a story themselves, one that Huti would put into words tonight, the night they celebrated Medomai.
As the drums faded and the dancers took their positions next to him, Huti threw a fine dust into the fire. It flared, momentarily blinding the people watching the fire, and then died down, producing a bright smoke above it. Shapes twisted and turned in the smoke, fading in and out of the foreground. Huti smiled at the children of the tribe, seeing this presentation in a new light each year, oohed and ahhed at the images.
“Tonight, we gather to celebrate Medomai, the Great Mother. It is she who gave our ancestors their lives, and it is she who we shall all return to in the end.” Huti's voice had a chant-like quality to it, lulling many in the tribe into a trance-like state. The images in the smoke showed a large woman making small objects from the clay. She smiled and formed the objects as if she were a mere child playing in the clay. Two dancers had begun to dance, one with a mask with large blue eyes like the sky, deep wooden-brown skin of trees, and green hair like the leaves and grass of plants; the image of the Great Mother. The other wore a full green dress and a mask of yellow, a representation of all the plants.
“It is said that in the beginning, Medomai longed for companionship. She was different from the rest of the Greats, as she did not have any herds of bison or flocks of birds to take care of. She had only the Earth itself, the land and plants that inhabited it. While she enjoyed listening to the plants singing to her, she wanted a companion more like herself, one who could speak with her, one who could feel sadness and pain and happiness and joy, and one who would help her take care of the Earth. So, from the bark of an aspen and clay from the Earth, she formed the first human.”
Out of the smoke came the images of trees and a small, roughly shaped girl. A slight murmur rose through the crowd as they stared in wonder at the images. Another dancer joined the group now, showing reverence to the Great Mother and care towards the plant. The small girl wore a mask with deep red hair, small, green eyes, and ashen skin.
“This human was a great companion to Medomai, but could not function as Medomai did, especially with the burden of emotions Medomai felt. Medomai wanted the best for her creation, so she created a companion to this human as well in order to complement and complete the frail girl. With that, the first human couple was created, man and woman. They shared all the emotions of the Great Mother between them, and thus were able to be more like the Her. They shared the responsibilities of tending to the plants of the Earth.” Huti watched a fourth dancer join the group, one with a mask similar to that of the girl, but larger and more masculine. The two dancers representing the humans moved around together, gathering plants and seeds for food and planting.
“So great was their combined intelligence and compassion that they made new plants as well, bringing more and more joy to the Great Mother. This capacity for knowledge and growth did not stop in their tending, but also extended to the very emotions they could not bear alone. They had learned a new emotion: love. It was not the maternal love the Great Mother felt while tending the plants, but rather a true love of companionship.”
The male and female dancers began a more intimate dance, no longer noticing the dances of the Great Mother and her plant. The dance was fluid and beautiful, and moved all around the fire as the images in the smoke mirrored their movements.
“This love grew more and more over time, and the Great Mother allowed it to flourish, even at the expense of losing her two companions. Eventually, she allowed the woman to feel the joy she herself had had in creating a companion; she allowed the woman to create a child. This child, too, would grow and Medomai would create a new companion for the child. And so, the people of the world were created, and, over time they forgot their original purpose to act as companions to the Great Mother.” More dancers joined in, each obviously ignoring the dance of the Great Mother, though they danced around the plant, as if asking for its fruits to use as food. The smoke showed the population of the Earth growing more and more.
“One child, though, heard stories of the beginning, and sought to find Medomai, to restore the relationship that had long been lost. She found Medomai among the many trees in a forest, listening to the plants singing to her. The Great Mother welcomed the girl with open arms and the girl spent many years as the Great Mother's companion. Still, this girl longed for what she had seen her kin achieve, the love that would complete her. The Great Mother realized this, and fashioned for the girl a man she would fall in love with and live with happily. Accepting that she could no longer have a companion who sought happiness elsewhere, the Great Mother left the Earth in the care of her numerous creations.” The smoke showed Medomai looking down upon the humans, each finding love and tending to their own needs, without her help. She seemed to be torn between being happy at the success of her creation and sad at her loss of companionship.
“She took special care, though, to watch over the girl and her love. This girl was Elissa, and her partner Rai, the first of the Kamore, and it is from her attentions to the Great Mother that we have such a knowledge of the Earth today. In order to not forget where we came from, Elissa instituted a festival for the Great Mother Medomai, to occur twice a year, with the coming of each new crop.” Huti smiled as the dancers went into a frenzy, chanting along with the crowd. The entire tribe had become very involved in the story of their own beginnings. Many of the children were now dancing among the masked dancers, and couples were dancing off to the sides, emphasizing the growth of the tribe from the first of the Kamore.
Huti watched the crowd and said softly to himself, “It is said that Medomai watches the Kamore, and seeks her perfect companion from among us. One who will complete her as each love completes a couple. When she finds this perfect companion, she will return to Earth and live among us, sharing with us her knowledge and celebrating the life she long ago created.”
Saturday, October 30, 2010
What Dies Will Come Anew
Title: What Dies Will Come Anew
Word Count: 1,089
Genre: Mythological
This piece was originally inspired by a challenge piece that I wrote. Basically, for the original challenge, we had to write a mythology piece. It could either be a myth already in existence, or we could write a completely new myth. I opted to write a completely new myth, the creation story for the Kamore people. This is their death myth.
Huti looked up at the blackness surrounding him, dispersed slightly by the warm glow of the campfire. The little ones had been sent to him again to learn more of the history of their people, and he figured this would be the best setting for the tale he planned to tell tonight.
The faces of the little ones were curious, glancing around every so often to make sure that nothing would sneak up on them. He smiled, showing the wrinkles on his face better than ever.
“Gather around now as I tell you a story of our Great Mother, Medomai.” The children moved closer to him, many resting on their knees to get the best view. They were so excited to have a new story to tell, though many of them would likely forget it when they grew up.
“Medomai was very much like all of you. She had her own mother and father: the Earth and the Sun, and she had a brother. His name was Motmai. Motmai was often kept separate from Medomai, as he tended to the animals of the night; the owl, the coyote, and the bat.” Huti paused for effect and watched as the children looked around them, still innocent in their musings.
“She, on the other hand, tended to the plants, which thrived in the rays of the sun. She was a great caretaker; all of her plants grew very large and would entertain her with their songs. They would also drop their fruits as food for the animals who would wander over with curiosity at the new noise.” The children smiled at the image of singing plants, and swayed a little with the slight chanting in Huti's voice.
“One day, Motmai came out during the sunlight hours, and watched his sister tend to her plants. He became very jealous of his sister's abilities, and how her plants loved her so. So, he brought darkness over her plants. Without the light of the sun shining on them, they shriveled up, crying in agony all the way.” Huti once again gestured to the darkness around him, and many of the children's eyes grew wide, as they moved a little closer to the fire, to the light.
Huti smiled, and chastised them slightly with his next words. “Medomai was not to be deterred though. She was, after all, a great caretaker. She grew up new plants from the shriveled ones, and they grew even larger than before. Each plant contained a bit of new life, along with the old life that had passed by.” The children brightened at the words, comforted by the fact that their Great Mother was so resilient.
“Motmai was very upset with his failure, though, and sought some other way to destroy Medomai's spirit. He studied her, and looked for a way to destroy the things she loved best. That was when he learned of her new creation, the humans. He saw how she loved them so, how she put so much effort into creating them, and the hope she had of their futures. And so, one by one, he brought death to them.” Some of the children had started crying by now, and Huti's voice had taken on a distinctive sad tone.
“Medomai could not replace the humans as easily as she could her plants. They took time to create and grow, and she could not replace them as fast as they were being taken from her. So, she turned inward, no longer caring about her other creations as her favorite creation disappeared. Motmai took the opportunity to destroy her plants as well, leaving their remains shriveled on the ground for all to see. Medomai, in her sadness, did not act to replace them.” There was a unearthly quietness among the children. They were riveted on Huti's words, begging for a happy ending to the story.
“The Great Fionn saw her distress, and hid her plants beneath a blanket of white, seeking Motmai to chastise him for his actions. But Motmai was elusive. He hid well in his darkness, and enjoyed watching Medomai in her sadness. He thought he had finally triumphed over her, broken her spirit so that she could no longer rise above him in skill. The humans had a part of her spirit, though, and did not let the loss of their family destroy them. Rather, they began to celebrate the passings. They saw it as a way for their family to return to the Earth, to help feed the Great Mother's plants and bring new life to her other creations.” Huti smiled as the children began to understand the purpose of the story. Those who remembered death began to look at it in a new light, closing their eyes and remembering their families with joy, rather than the guilt and sadness of death.
“When the Great Mother saw her creation celebrating, she was renewed in her joy. She began to cultivate her plants again, celebrating along with the humans. The Great Fionn saw her happiness and removed the blanket from the Earth. Where there had been brown and sickly plants before now grew dozens of new varieties of plants, strong and powerful in the soil. All of Medomai's creations rejoiced at the change in her mood. It was a great time, and a large festival was held to celebrate it.” Many children had jumped to their feet and began dancing around the fire, laughing merrily with the joy in which the story was taught. Huti smiled and waited for the sounds to die down enough for him to complete his story.
“Motmai was not ruined, though. He was dismayed, and spent his time plotting for the time in which he could destroy his sister anew. Each year he destroys her plants, and Fionn covers the death with the Great White blanket. Each year, we must celebrate the death as a new start, so that the Great Mother's spirits are raised again and she brings us new crops.” Huti looked to the sky and chanted indistinctly. Some of the children made attempts to join him, chanting their own words until the small camp was filled with the joyous sounds.
Huti stopped suddenly and looked at the little ones again. He smiled and stroked one girl's hair in a loving gesture. “We cannot let death stop us, little ones. We must see it as a new beginning, just as the new plants contain a bit of the old with them, so do we. Our ancestors never leave us.”
Word Count: 1,089
Genre: Mythological
This piece was originally inspired by a challenge piece that I wrote. Basically, for the original challenge, we had to write a mythology piece. It could either be a myth already in existence, or we could write a completely new myth. I opted to write a completely new myth, the creation story for the Kamore people. This is their death myth.
Huti looked up at the blackness surrounding him, dispersed slightly by the warm glow of the campfire. The little ones had been sent to him again to learn more of the history of their people, and he figured this would be the best setting for the tale he planned to tell tonight.
The faces of the little ones were curious, glancing around every so often to make sure that nothing would sneak up on them. He smiled, showing the wrinkles on his face better than ever.
“Gather around now as I tell you a story of our Great Mother, Medomai.” The children moved closer to him, many resting on their knees to get the best view. They were so excited to have a new story to tell, though many of them would likely forget it when they grew up.
“Medomai was very much like all of you. She had her own mother and father: the Earth and the Sun, and she had a brother. His name was Motmai. Motmai was often kept separate from Medomai, as he tended to the animals of the night; the owl, the coyote, and the bat.” Huti paused for effect and watched as the children looked around them, still innocent in their musings.
“She, on the other hand, tended to the plants, which thrived in the rays of the sun. She was a great caretaker; all of her plants grew very large and would entertain her with their songs. They would also drop their fruits as food for the animals who would wander over with curiosity at the new noise.” The children smiled at the image of singing plants, and swayed a little with the slight chanting in Huti's voice.
“One day, Motmai came out during the sunlight hours, and watched his sister tend to her plants. He became very jealous of his sister's abilities, and how her plants loved her so. So, he brought darkness over her plants. Without the light of the sun shining on them, they shriveled up, crying in agony all the way.” Huti once again gestured to the darkness around him, and many of the children's eyes grew wide, as they moved a little closer to the fire, to the light.
Huti smiled, and chastised them slightly with his next words. “Medomai was not to be deterred though. She was, after all, a great caretaker. She grew up new plants from the shriveled ones, and they grew even larger than before. Each plant contained a bit of new life, along with the old life that had passed by.” The children brightened at the words, comforted by the fact that their Great Mother was so resilient.
“Motmai was very upset with his failure, though, and sought some other way to destroy Medomai's spirit. He studied her, and looked for a way to destroy the things she loved best. That was when he learned of her new creation, the humans. He saw how she loved them so, how she put so much effort into creating them, and the hope she had of their futures. And so, one by one, he brought death to them.” Some of the children had started crying by now, and Huti's voice had taken on a distinctive sad tone.
“Medomai could not replace the humans as easily as she could her plants. They took time to create and grow, and she could not replace them as fast as they were being taken from her. So, she turned inward, no longer caring about her other creations as her favorite creation disappeared. Motmai took the opportunity to destroy her plants as well, leaving their remains shriveled on the ground for all to see. Medomai, in her sadness, did not act to replace them.” There was a unearthly quietness among the children. They were riveted on Huti's words, begging for a happy ending to the story.
“The Great Fionn saw her distress, and hid her plants beneath a blanket of white, seeking Motmai to chastise him for his actions. But Motmai was elusive. He hid well in his darkness, and enjoyed watching Medomai in her sadness. He thought he had finally triumphed over her, broken her spirit so that she could no longer rise above him in skill. The humans had a part of her spirit, though, and did not let the loss of their family destroy them. Rather, they began to celebrate the passings. They saw it as a way for their family to return to the Earth, to help feed the Great Mother's plants and bring new life to her other creations.” Huti smiled as the children began to understand the purpose of the story. Those who remembered death began to look at it in a new light, closing their eyes and remembering their families with joy, rather than the guilt and sadness of death.
“When the Great Mother saw her creation celebrating, she was renewed in her joy. She began to cultivate her plants again, celebrating along with the humans. The Great Fionn saw her happiness and removed the blanket from the Earth. Where there had been brown and sickly plants before now grew dozens of new varieties of plants, strong and powerful in the soil. All of Medomai's creations rejoiced at the change in her mood. It was a great time, and a large festival was held to celebrate it.” Many children had jumped to their feet and began dancing around the fire, laughing merrily with the joy in which the story was taught. Huti smiled and waited for the sounds to die down enough for him to complete his story.
“Motmai was not ruined, though. He was dismayed, and spent his time plotting for the time in which he could destroy his sister anew. Each year he destroys her plants, and Fionn covers the death with the Great White blanket. Each year, we must celebrate the death as a new start, so that the Great Mother's spirits are raised again and she brings us new crops.” Huti looked to the sky and chanted indistinctly. Some of the children made attempts to join him, chanting their own words until the small camp was filled with the joyous sounds.
Huti stopped suddenly and looked at the little ones again. He smiled and stroked one girl's hair in a loving gesture. “We cannot let death stop us, little ones. We must see it as a new beginning, just as the new plants contain a bit of the old with them, so do we. Our ancestors never leave us.”
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