David was not sure what to make of the man behind the wheel of his car. He had stopped him, told him to follow where he lead, and he would have his revenge and make the world better.
He was not sure if he should fear this man. That he could kill David without a thought he knew without a doubt, some instinct told him this. But the same instinct told him that he would not kill him, that he had plans for him. After a long silence, the street lights flashing on the slick windshield, David finally asked, "What would you ask of me? What would you have me do?"
The man spared a glance at the teenager in the passenger seat, not speaking at first. He looked so young, so innocent, excpt for his eyes. His eyes were blank, no inner light was there anymore.
"I would have you become one of us. I ask that you follow my lead to whatever end."
"Who is us?" David sounded only mildly curious, as if asking were a reflex rather than a true desire to know.
"In time you will know. I am asking you to give up your old life, all your connections, all your past. I am asking you to become what we need you to be."
"And what is that?" The same resigned voice asked.
"Mercenary, thief, commander, anything that we need."
David shrugged. "I have nothing left, no reason to stay. I guess I might as well go with you." David looked at the man, the first glimmer of life sparking in his deadpan face. "Did you give up who you were? Why do you do it? If I do well what happens?"
The man smiled, "all information in its time. As you see yourself, I once saw myself; as you see me now, you will be seen."
David settled back on the seat, thinking over what he had been told. He would become like this man. Strong, capable, someone people could look up to.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Revenge, Anger, Cruelty
Garrow knelt over The Wordsmith. He reached out, hands shaking, and checked for a pulse. The kid was alive, only barely. His lip was split and one eye was swollen shut, and ink was bleeding out from under his fingernails. He must have absorbed over a hundred books in the last day.
“Kid, talk to me,” Garrow said.
The Wordsmith moaned softly.
“Damn them.” Garrow gathered the kid into his arms, wrapped the kid in his coat, and scooped up his body.
The Wordsmith curled against Garrow’s chest and whimpered. “Hurts.”
“I know, kid,” Garrow said. “We’ll get you back to the Virtues - they’ll fix you right up.”
The Wordsmith tossed his head. “No - need to get to the vault.”
“You’re not going back there.” Garrow headed for the nearest Metro station. “Those books in the vault --”
“Are all in my blood. Destroy it.” The Wordsmith gazed at Garrow with his one good eye.
“Kid --”
“Please. So no one else has to read them.”
Garrow stopped. “Kid...”
“Garrow - please,” The Wordsmith said. His tone was pleading.
“Kid --”
“My name is Matthew.”
Garrow went still. “What?”
“Rosenkreuz. They tried to take away my name, but I remembered it. It was the first thing I absorbed, but they broke me of it - for a while. I found it in one of the books they had me absorb in the vault.” He smiled faintly.
“Matthew,” Garrow said. He reached out, brushed an unruly lock of hair out of the boy’s eyes. “Did you know that’s my name too?”
He nodded. “That made it easier to remember when the time came.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but his breath hitched, and his entire body tensed, curling in on itself.
Garrow’s eyes went wide. “Kid? Kid! Matthew? Talk to me, baby boy, let me hear your voice. Tell me one of those sonnets you always have --”
The smile slid off of Matthew’s face, and his body went limp.
Garrow went still. Then he knelt, slowly, and laid Matthew’s body on the ground. He sat beside the body for a while, stroking the boy’s hair, and then he stood up. He drew his scimitar and his shotgun, and he turned in the direction of the vault.
“Damn them,” he said again. “I’ll damn them.” He began to walk away.
On the ground, Matthew stirred, and one last time, words wrote themselves across his skin.
When Anger and Revenge marry, their daughter is called Cruelty.
“Kid, talk to me,” Garrow said.
The Wordsmith moaned softly.
“Damn them.” Garrow gathered the kid into his arms, wrapped the kid in his coat, and scooped up his body.
The Wordsmith curled against Garrow’s chest and whimpered. “Hurts.”
“I know, kid,” Garrow said. “We’ll get you back to the Virtues - they’ll fix you right up.”
The Wordsmith tossed his head. “No - need to get to the vault.”
“You’re not going back there.” Garrow headed for the nearest Metro station. “Those books in the vault --”
“Are all in my blood. Destroy it.” The Wordsmith gazed at Garrow with his one good eye.
“Kid --”
“Please. So no one else has to read them.”
Garrow stopped. “Kid...”
“Garrow - please,” The Wordsmith said. His tone was pleading.
“Kid --”
“My name is Matthew.”
Garrow went still. “What?”
“Rosenkreuz. They tried to take away my name, but I remembered it. It was the first thing I absorbed, but they broke me of it - for a while. I found it in one of the books they had me absorb in the vault.” He smiled faintly.
“Matthew,” Garrow said. He reached out, brushed an unruly lock of hair out of the boy’s eyes. “Did you know that’s my name too?”
He nodded. “That made it easier to remember when the time came.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but his breath hitched, and his entire body tensed, curling in on itself.
Garrow’s eyes went wide. “Kid? Kid! Matthew? Talk to me, baby boy, let me hear your voice. Tell me one of those sonnets you always have --”
The smile slid off of Matthew’s face, and his body went limp.
Garrow went still. Then he knelt, slowly, and laid Matthew’s body on the ground. He sat beside the body for a while, stroking the boy’s hair, and then he stood up. He drew his scimitar and his shotgun, and he turned in the direction of the vault.
“Damn them,” he said again. “I’ll damn them.” He began to walk away.
On the ground, Matthew stirred, and one last time, words wrote themselves across his skin.
When Anger and Revenge marry, their daughter is called Cruelty.
The Beginning
In the gathering darkness David loaded his gun, readying it for action. He was tired of letting the injustice in the world exist. Tired of the innocent falling to the evil. A face flashed in his mind, the greatest injustice of all.
David stepped out of his car into the rain. They would pay for what they had done.
"Wait son." A voice said out of the night.
David spun around, trying to see who the voice belonged to, bringing his gun up.
"Who are you?" David yelled.
"A man who will show you a different path. A path that will make a difference in the world." The shadow of the man was wrapped in a long coat and a wide brimmed hat pulled low.
"I don't need a path! I don't need to save the world! I need vengeance!" Tears rolled down his face, David was incensed, his prey was going to get away. He was young, his hand shaking on the gun.
"You will get that too, but it would be a sad waste for you to die tonight, as I know that you would. Do you think that his men will let you live? You think that you will even get close to him? You will die, and then who will avenge her, or you for that matter?" The man remained calm.
"I have nothing. Nothing left. They took everything from me. At this point I don't even care if I live or die."
The man smiled, "Beware of him who has nothing to lose." The man took a step towards the teenager. "Come with me David."
David dropped the gun to his side. "Who are you?" he sounded resigned, lifeless.
"I will be your Captain." The man took the gun from David and lead him to the car.
David stepped out of his car into the rain. They would pay for what they had done.
"Wait son." A voice said out of the night.
David spun around, trying to see who the voice belonged to, bringing his gun up.
"Who are you?" David yelled.
"A man who will show you a different path. A path that will make a difference in the world." The shadow of the man was wrapped in a long coat and a wide brimmed hat pulled low.
"I don't need a path! I don't need to save the world! I need vengeance!" Tears rolled down his face, David was incensed, his prey was going to get away. He was young, his hand shaking on the gun.
"You will get that too, but it would be a sad waste for you to die tonight, as I know that you would. Do you think that his men will let you live? You think that you will even get close to him? You will die, and then who will avenge her, or you for that matter?" The man remained calm.
"I have nothing. Nothing left. They took everything from me. At this point I don't even care if I live or die."
The man smiled, "Beware of him who has nothing to lose." The man took a step towards the teenager. "Come with me David."
David dropped the gun to his side. "Who are you?" he sounded resigned, lifeless.
"I will be your Captain." The man took the gun from David and lead him to the car.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Hunt
“If you keep staring your eyes will fall out of your head,” Garrow said.
The Wordsmith blinked, as if he didn’t even realize he’d been staring. “I’m sorry,” he said.
The way the boy apologized was practically a reflex. Still, Garrow wasn’t going to complain. It had taken some serious sweet-talking to get the Authority to let the Wordsmith out of the Quire for the evening, and Garrow was going to enjoy every moment of it. He couldn’t tell if The Wordsmith was enjoying himself yet; his eyes were at least more alive, but he was as timid as ever, huddled in on himself and wary of anyone touching him, talking to him. Given what happened when people talked to him and touched him, Garrow couldn’t blame the kid.
Out in public The Wordsmith couldn’t go shirtless. Some more nagging with one of the older ladies in the Thrones had turned up some boxes of clothes that had to be a good sixty or seventy years old - button-down shirts, sweater-vests, ugly ties, baggy slacks - but anything fit The Wordsmith’s lanky frame, and so there they were, at Fahreed’s, Garrow dressed as sharp as he could be given the weapons he was required to carry at all times, The Wordsmith dressed like someone’s de-aged grandfather.
He was still staring at the bellydancers.
“Staring isn’t going to get you anywhere with one of them,” Garrow said.
“Where would I want to go with one of them?” The Wordsmith asked.
Garrow was seriously starting to believe that the kid had been left in the Rosenkreuz vault, brought out only to be used, before he was thrown back in again. Whatever he’d learned about the real world was secondhand, from all the books he’d absorbed.
“Look, if you want to make it with the ladies, you need a new mindset. It’s like a hunt - you’re the hunter, they’re the prey,” Garrow began.
“That metaphor was exhausted in several hundred sonnets,” The Wordsmith said.
“The hunt is what it’s all about - you’re a man,” Garrow said as blithely as possible.
The Quire Authority wasn’t even sure The Wordsmith was really a person. The Wordsmith must have caught his tone, because he cast Garrow a look. Then he turned his attention back to the dancers.
“They’ll get creeped out if you keep staring like that, and none of them will talk to you,” Garrow said. “The hunt is more subtle than that.”
“I know it is,” The Wordsmith said. “You don’t think those women aren’t hunting you right back?”
Garrow turned his attention to the stage where three women were shimmying distractingly. “Yeah right.”
The Wordsmith shrugged. “The hunt is like a dance for men; for the women the dance is the hunt.”
(461 words)
The Wordsmith blinked, as if he didn’t even realize he’d been staring. “I’m sorry,” he said.
The way the boy apologized was practically a reflex. Still, Garrow wasn’t going to complain. It had taken some serious sweet-talking to get the Authority to let the Wordsmith out of the Quire for the evening, and Garrow was going to enjoy every moment of it. He couldn’t tell if The Wordsmith was enjoying himself yet; his eyes were at least more alive, but he was as timid as ever, huddled in on himself and wary of anyone touching him, talking to him. Given what happened when people talked to him and touched him, Garrow couldn’t blame the kid.
Out in public The Wordsmith couldn’t go shirtless. Some more nagging with one of the older ladies in the Thrones had turned up some boxes of clothes that had to be a good sixty or seventy years old - button-down shirts, sweater-vests, ugly ties, baggy slacks - but anything fit The Wordsmith’s lanky frame, and so there they were, at Fahreed’s, Garrow dressed as sharp as he could be given the weapons he was required to carry at all times, The Wordsmith dressed like someone’s de-aged grandfather.
He was still staring at the bellydancers.
“Staring isn’t going to get you anywhere with one of them,” Garrow said.
“Where would I want to go with one of them?” The Wordsmith asked.
Garrow was seriously starting to believe that the kid had been left in the Rosenkreuz vault, brought out only to be used, before he was thrown back in again. Whatever he’d learned about the real world was secondhand, from all the books he’d absorbed.
“Look, if you want to make it with the ladies, you need a new mindset. It’s like a hunt - you’re the hunter, they’re the prey,” Garrow began.
“That metaphor was exhausted in several hundred sonnets,” The Wordsmith said.
“The hunt is what it’s all about - you’re a man,” Garrow said as blithely as possible.
The Quire Authority wasn’t even sure The Wordsmith was really a person. The Wordsmith must have caught his tone, because he cast Garrow a look. Then he turned his attention back to the dancers.
“They’ll get creeped out if you keep staring like that, and none of them will talk to you,” Garrow said. “The hunt is more subtle than that.”
“I know it is,” The Wordsmith said. “You don’t think those women aren’t hunting you right back?”
Garrow turned his attention to the stage where three women were shimmying distractingly. “Yeah right.”
The Wordsmith shrugged. “The hunt is like a dance for men; for the women the dance is the hunt.”
(461 words)
Wolves
"I don't know if I can do this." Steve looked a little sick.
David looked up at the younger man from his place in his bunk. "They showed you torture methods today didn't they." David knew that expression. He had worn a similar one when he had been recruited.
Steve swallowed back a little bile and nodded.
David sat up and patted the bed next to him, inviting the new recruit to sit with him. "Tell me Steve, why did you sign up for this? Why did you decide on this course for your life? There were many other paths you could have chosen."
Steve looked down at his calloused hands that were in his lap, flexing them. "I guess I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to know that I was doing something to keep my family safe." Steve twitched his shaggy hair out of his face. His commander had not required him to cut it yet. "I just don't know how I can do this."
David searched for the words that would help his friend. "It becomes easier over time. You just get used to it. After all, he who goes with wolves learns to howl."
David looked up at the younger man from his place in his bunk. "They showed you torture methods today didn't they." David knew that expression. He had worn a similar one when he had been recruited.
Steve swallowed back a little bile and nodded.
David sat up and patted the bed next to him, inviting the new recruit to sit with him. "Tell me Steve, why did you sign up for this? Why did you decide on this course for your life? There were many other paths you could have chosen."
Steve looked down at his calloused hands that were in his lap, flexing them. "I guess I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to know that I was doing something to keep my family safe." Steve twitched his shaggy hair out of his face. His commander had not required him to cut it yet. "I just don't know how I can do this."
David searched for the words that would help his friend. "It becomes easier over time. You just get used to it. After all, he who goes with wolves learns to howl."
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How Many Times?
David snapped off a shot before there was even time to think. The projectile flew true, striking the man in the chest, throwing him backwards.
"Again." David said.
Joe rolled to his feet. "Come on boss. Don't you think you have it down. I mean I have never known anybody that can do what you do. Who taught you after all? My father first taught me, but he never would have thought I would come this far. How many more times are you going to shoot me?"
"As many times as it takes."
"To do what."
To feel it."
"Why."
"Instinct is stronger than upbringing."
(kind of lame, but writers block is vexing me again. It seems I get a few good ones out and then it strikes again.)
"Again." David said.
Joe rolled to his feet. "Come on boss. Don't you think you have it down. I mean I have never known anybody that can do what you do. Who taught you after all? My father first taught me, but he never would have thought I would come this far. How many more times are you going to shoot me?"
"As many times as it takes."
"To do what."
To feel it."
"Why."
"Instinct is stronger than upbringing."
(kind of lame, but writers block is vexing me again. It seems I get a few good ones out and then it strikes again.)
Never Did
"I love you."
"You do?"
"Yes."
~~~~~~
"You lied to him."
She nodded, "better a lie which heals than a truth which wounds." She shook her head. "A kind deed for all the pain I have caused is not so much to give. I caused his pain. He needs to heal. This will help him, and when I go, he will never know that I never love him."
(Short I know. It is a Czech Republic Proverb)
"You do?"
"Yes."
~~~~~~
"You lied to him."
She nodded, "better a lie which heals than a truth which wounds." She shook her head. "A kind deed for all the pain I have caused is not so much to give. I caused his pain. He needs to heal. This will help him, and when I go, he will never know that I never love him."
(Short I know. It is a Czech Republic Proverb)
What the heart has seen.
ALastrina knew his voice. She knew it as if it were her own. The only problem was that she could not remember where she knew it from. It was only a vauge thought in her mind that she should be remembering who he was. Every night she came to the club, and every night she listened to him sing. And every night he slipped away before she could get a glimpse of him.
It had been three weeks now. Three frustrating weeks of trying to remember something that she didn't even know she was supposed to know. Every night it seemed, when she listened to him sing, there was a niggling little thought in the back of her mind, begging to be remembered. Alastrina grasped at it, but it was like trying to hold mist, insubstantial and fleeting.
Alastrina sat in her usual spot now, closer to the stage than when she had started coming to the club, but still not close enough to see him, only his smile, and his bright eyes.
The lights dimmed and the curtain moved aside. Alastrina sat up straight as he began a beautiful song.
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
A scene flashed in her mind. A stormy day in February, standing in the rain. Then it was gone.
"The eye never forgets what the heart has seen." She muttered to herself. She didn't bother to try to get a better look at him this time. "I just wish I could remember."
(266 Bantu proverb)
It had been three weeks now. Three frustrating weeks of trying to remember something that she didn't even know she was supposed to know. Every night it seemed, when she listened to him sing, there was a niggling little thought in the back of her mind, begging to be remembered. Alastrina grasped at it, but it was like trying to hold mist, insubstantial and fleeting.
Alastrina sat in her usual spot now, closer to the stage than when she had started coming to the club, but still not close enough to see him, only his smile, and his bright eyes.
The lights dimmed and the curtain moved aside. Alastrina sat up straight as he began a beautiful song.
Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
A scene flashed in her mind. A stormy day in February, standing in the rain. Then it was gone.
"The eye never forgets what the heart has seen." She muttered to herself. She didn't bother to try to get a better look at him this time. "I just wish I could remember."
(266 Bantu proverb)
Trusting in Miracles
“We’re doing exactly what Jibril told us not to do,” Cassiel said. He folded his wings down over his body and hunched his shoulders against the cold.
“It’ll take a miracle for us to get out of here,” Raguel agreed amiably.
Remiel fluffed his wings and huffed indignantly. “Listen to yourselves. Who are we and why are we complaining about miracles not happening?”
Cassiel sulked. “Like your heavenly thunder is useful right now. We’re Watchers, Remy. We’d need Uriel or Sammael or Zerachiel or --”
“What was it Jibril told us not to do?” Remiel asked. He sounded testy.
“Do not stand in a dangerous place trusting in miracles,” Cassiel muttered.
“This is a pretty dangerous place,” Raguel said. “Maybe we should head west to Angel’s landing and hope Israfel or Abbadon pick us up on their way back to the choirs.”
“I don’t like it here,” Cassiel said.
Remiel thumped him in the shoulder. “You’re a Watcher and you know it, but you insisted on coming down with the rest of us.”
“Raguel’s a Watcher, and --”
“And Raguel is also sometimes the wrath of God,” Remiel said. “Now suck it up and start behaving. The mortals will be along to fret over the nuclear contamination. We should head over to Jerusalem to record the last battle.”
Cassiel’s shoulders drooped. “If you insist.”
“I do,” Remiel said. “March!”
Raguel held out one hand. “Look - it’s raining!”
Cassiel perked up. “It’ll wash the earth clean! See? It’s a miracle.”
Remiel wore an expression of long-suffering. “To the chariot. Now.”
(258 words)
“It’ll take a miracle for us to get out of here,” Raguel agreed amiably.
Remiel fluffed his wings and huffed indignantly. “Listen to yourselves. Who are we and why are we complaining about miracles not happening?”
Cassiel sulked. “Like your heavenly thunder is useful right now. We’re Watchers, Remy. We’d need Uriel or Sammael or Zerachiel or --”
“What was it Jibril told us not to do?” Remiel asked. He sounded testy.
“Do not stand in a dangerous place trusting in miracles,” Cassiel muttered.
“This is a pretty dangerous place,” Raguel said. “Maybe we should head west to Angel’s landing and hope Israfel or Abbadon pick us up on their way back to the choirs.”
“I don’t like it here,” Cassiel said.
Remiel thumped him in the shoulder. “You’re a Watcher and you know it, but you insisted on coming down with the rest of us.”
“Raguel’s a Watcher, and --”
“And Raguel is also sometimes the wrath of God,” Remiel said. “Now suck it up and start behaving. The mortals will be along to fret over the nuclear contamination. We should head over to Jerusalem to record the last battle.”
Cassiel’s shoulders drooped. “If you insist.”
“I do,” Remiel said. “March!”
Raguel held out one hand. “Look - it’s raining!”
Cassiel perked up. “It’ll wash the earth clean! See? It’s a miracle.”
Remiel wore an expression of long-suffering. “To the chariot. Now.”
(258 words)
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sorrows from the Heart
“The sight of books removes sorrows from the heart,” Austin said wisely.
Garrow shot a glance at The Wordsmith, who lingered in the doorway, small and hesitant. For some reason the choir bunkers were always cold, and it had been someone’s bright idea - probably Austin’s - to make the poor Wordsmith go shirtless. All the time. Mite looked like he was freezing.
And terrified.
“He doesn’t look so great,” Garrow said.
Austin glanced over her shoulder at The Wordsmith, but she shrugged and continued prowling along the shelves of lovely leather-bound volumes.
“It’s an African proverb,” The Wordsmith began. He took a deep breath, then eased over the threshold of the library. “Did you know that the oldest book - in the codex form that we consider books, as opposed to scrolls - is two-thousand five-hundred years old and was written in Etruscan on twenty-four-carat gold plates?”
Austin rolled her eyes. “Not again with the trivia, Smith.” She peered closer at a title on a spine, then plucked the book off a shelf. She turned to The Wordsmith and beckoned. He approached tentatively; Garrow didn’t blame him. Austin used The Wordsmith whenever and however she pleased, and Garrow was tired of seeing the boy’s eyes go from animal-blank to dead.
Even now, though, The Wordsmith was eager to please, so he hovered at Austin’s side like a dog at heel.
Austin thrust a book at him. “Here, absorb this.”
The Wordsmith blinked. “Right now?”
“Later. There are still some other books you need to absorb, but I have to find them first.” Austin craned her neck to peer at Garrow, who had gone still.
He’d never seen The Wordsmith absorb a book, but by all accounts it was an agonizing procedure.
Austin rolled her eyes at him and said, “Help me find the Necronomicon.”
(307 words)
Garrow shot a glance at The Wordsmith, who lingered in the doorway, small and hesitant. For some reason the choir bunkers were always cold, and it had been someone’s bright idea - probably Austin’s - to make the poor Wordsmith go shirtless. All the time. Mite looked like he was freezing.
And terrified.
“He doesn’t look so great,” Garrow said.
Austin glanced over her shoulder at The Wordsmith, but she shrugged and continued prowling along the shelves of lovely leather-bound volumes.
“It’s an African proverb,” The Wordsmith began. He took a deep breath, then eased over the threshold of the library. “Did you know that the oldest book - in the codex form that we consider books, as opposed to scrolls - is two-thousand five-hundred years old and was written in Etruscan on twenty-four-carat gold plates?”
Austin rolled her eyes. “Not again with the trivia, Smith.” She peered closer at a title on a spine, then plucked the book off a shelf. She turned to The Wordsmith and beckoned. He approached tentatively; Garrow didn’t blame him. Austin used The Wordsmith whenever and however she pleased, and Garrow was tired of seeing the boy’s eyes go from animal-blank to dead.
Even now, though, The Wordsmith was eager to please, so he hovered at Austin’s side like a dog at heel.
Austin thrust a book at him. “Here, absorb this.”
The Wordsmith blinked. “Right now?”
“Later. There are still some other books you need to absorb, but I have to find them first.” Austin craned her neck to peer at Garrow, who had gone still.
He’d never seen The Wordsmith absorb a book, but by all accounts it was an agonizing procedure.
Austin rolled her eyes at him and said, “Help me find the Necronomicon.”
(307 words)
Follows the Foot
“Are you serious?” Thom asked.
Jesse nodded and shouldered his pack. “Completely.”
“You’re just going to take off to America and hope you find her.” Thom’s expression was dubious.
“Not just America,” Jesse said. “I listened to her when we talked. She gave me some clues, so I think I’ve figured out where to find her.”
“She made a deliberate point of not telling you where she lives, mate,” Thom said. “And you don’t know anything about her - for all you know, she lives with her parents.”
Jesse shook his head. “She’s an orphan. She had foster brothers and a guardian she called ‘Uncle,’ but I at least know she lives alone.”
Thom studied his friend for a long moment. “If you’re so good at all this detective word and inductive reasoning and rot, then where does she live?”
“Utah,” Jesse said.
Thom blinked. “Where?”
“It’s next to Nevada - you know, Las Vegas.”
“What makes you think it’s there?”
“She mentioned there’s a Shakespearean festival, mountains, renaissance fairs, and deserts, rivers, and green jello,” Jesse said. “I found it on the internet.”
“Green jello?” Thom echoed.
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Look, the cab’s waiting. I’ll call you when I land, all right?” And he headed out the front door.
Leonard ambled into the kitchen in a dressing gown, cradling a mug of tea.
“Not right when you land!” Thom cried, but the door banged shut. “There’s an eight hour time difference,” he finished lamely.
“What’s with him?” Leonard asked.
“He’s gone to America to find Asia,” Thom said.
Leonard blinked, confused.
“Asia the girl, not Asia the continent.” Thom rolled his eyes.
Leonard watched the cab drive away, then said, “Where the heart would go, there follows the foot.”
It was Thom’s turn to blink.
“Afghan proverb,” Leonard said, a little defensively.
“Fortune cookie,” Thom shot back. “What kind of tea is that?”
(313 words)
Jesse nodded and shouldered his pack. “Completely.”
“You’re just going to take off to America and hope you find her.” Thom’s expression was dubious.
“Not just America,” Jesse said. “I listened to her when we talked. She gave me some clues, so I think I’ve figured out where to find her.”
“She made a deliberate point of not telling you where she lives, mate,” Thom said. “And you don’t know anything about her - for all you know, she lives with her parents.”
Jesse shook his head. “She’s an orphan. She had foster brothers and a guardian she called ‘Uncle,’ but I at least know she lives alone.”
Thom studied his friend for a long moment. “If you’re so good at all this detective word and inductive reasoning and rot, then where does she live?”
“Utah,” Jesse said.
Thom blinked. “Where?”
“It’s next to Nevada - you know, Las Vegas.”
“What makes you think it’s there?”
“She mentioned there’s a Shakespearean festival, mountains, renaissance fairs, and deserts, rivers, and green jello,” Jesse said. “I found it on the internet.”
“Green jello?” Thom echoed.
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Look, the cab’s waiting. I’ll call you when I land, all right?” And he headed out the front door.
Leonard ambled into the kitchen in a dressing gown, cradling a mug of tea.
“Not right when you land!” Thom cried, but the door banged shut. “There’s an eight hour time difference,” he finished lamely.
“What’s with him?” Leonard asked.
“He’s gone to America to find Asia,” Thom said.
Leonard blinked, confused.
“Asia the girl, not Asia the continent.” Thom rolled his eyes.
Leonard watched the cab drive away, then said, “Where the heart would go, there follows the foot.”
It was Thom’s turn to blink.
“Afghan proverb,” Leonard said, a little defensively.
“Fortune cookie,” Thom shot back. “What kind of tea is that?”
(313 words)
Overview #15 - Point of View
Wow, I just realized that this means fifteen weeks of writing. I can't remember the last time I did something for fifteen weeks straight! Anyway, this exercise was fun and a challenge. Even though I understand the basic technicalities that go into writing the different points of view, I'm really not comfortable with anything but third person limited. I usually have a good enough grasp on character to be able to switch points of view from chapter to chapter, but I feel that I don't have the right sense of voice for first and second person. I sort of enjoy the mysticism that can come from 2nd person POV, although I think that option is abused a lot, and I had fun trying out different voices with first person. Technical exercises can be surprisingly fun. The conversation I chose was pretty boring, but I wanted to be able to see the differences in everything surrounding the actual dialogue, see how different characters would interpret things.
Third Person Limited: Matthew
“Did you like it?” Jenna asked hopefully.
Matthew didn’t look up from his coffee, didn’t want to make it too obvious with too much eye contact.
Thomas said, flatly, “Not at all.”
It took a moment, but then Matthew realized Jenna was talking about last night’s party and Thomas, who had no clue what she was talking about, was being a jerk. Time to be a hero.
Matthew pasted on his most innocent expression. “Really? I thought it was at least halfway decent.”
It didn’t work. “Halfway decent? That’s not really flattering,” Jenna said.
Matthew thought quickly. He had to distract her from blowing up at Thomas. Even though Thomas was his best friend and had it coming, Jenna didn’t need any more stress. “Were you asking for flattery? Because last night you insisted on a whole lot of honesty --” Thomas was buried behind the paper, so Matthew grinned at Jenna wickedly.
Horror stole across her face, and she darted a glance at Thomas. “I wasn’t talking about last night, and you know it!” She was trying not to giggle and covered it up by throwing at towel at Matthew. He smirked, pleased, when he caught it mid-air. Superjock like Thomas he may not have been, but he’d always had good reflexes.
Gina stumbled into the kitchen and broke up the fun. Gina hung over was a monster, really.
“Now, now, children,” Thomas said. Matthew saw Jenna flinch automatically, and his mood darkened. Jenna was only like that around her father - or when Thomas reminded her of him.
“Don’t even start with the children. Please. Not this morning. I never want to see another human being under the age of fourteen for the rest of my life.” Gina sounded well on her way to being a monster.
Why Thomas was in love with her, Matthew didn’t know, because he was insensitive. “Don’t you teach first grade?”
As much as Gina loved him right back, she would take his head off with the right provocation. It would be best to deflect attention. Matthew poker her. “A little hung over, are we?”
Her response was typical Gina-monster. “Not so hung over I can’t pound you into the ground.”
In the spirit of sibling love, Matthew decided he’d keep up the charade and play the over-confident class clown. He puffed out his chest. “I’d like to see that.”
Gina glared and closed her eyes.
She wasn’t taking the bait, and Matthew floundered for what to do next, but then Jenna smiled, genuinely cheered up, and said, “So would I.”
(429 words)
Matthew didn’t look up from his coffee, didn’t want to make it too obvious with too much eye contact.
Thomas said, flatly, “Not at all.”
It took a moment, but then Matthew realized Jenna was talking about last night’s party and Thomas, who had no clue what she was talking about, was being a jerk. Time to be a hero.
Matthew pasted on his most innocent expression. “Really? I thought it was at least halfway decent.”
It didn’t work. “Halfway decent? That’s not really flattering,” Jenna said.
Matthew thought quickly. He had to distract her from blowing up at Thomas. Even though Thomas was his best friend and had it coming, Jenna didn’t need any more stress. “Were you asking for flattery? Because last night you insisted on a whole lot of honesty --” Thomas was buried behind the paper, so Matthew grinned at Jenna wickedly.
Horror stole across her face, and she darted a glance at Thomas. “I wasn’t talking about last night, and you know it!” She was trying not to giggle and covered it up by throwing at towel at Matthew. He smirked, pleased, when he caught it mid-air. Superjock like Thomas he may not have been, but he’d always had good reflexes.
Gina stumbled into the kitchen and broke up the fun. Gina hung over was a monster, really.
“Now, now, children,” Thomas said. Matthew saw Jenna flinch automatically, and his mood darkened. Jenna was only like that around her father - or when Thomas reminded her of him.
“Don’t even start with the children. Please. Not this morning. I never want to see another human being under the age of fourteen for the rest of my life.” Gina sounded well on her way to being a monster.
Why Thomas was in love with her, Matthew didn’t know, because he was insensitive. “Don’t you teach first grade?”
As much as Gina loved him right back, she would take his head off with the right provocation. It would be best to deflect attention. Matthew poker her. “A little hung over, are we?”
Her response was typical Gina-monster. “Not so hung over I can’t pound you into the ground.”
In the spirit of sibling love, Matthew decided he’d keep up the charade and play the over-confident class clown. He puffed out his chest. “I’d like to see that.”
Gina glared and closed her eyes.
She wasn’t taking the bait, and Matthew floundered for what to do next, but then Jenna smiled, genuinely cheered up, and said, “So would I.”
(429 words)
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Project Assignment # 16 - Proverbs
This week should be fun. Write a piece that incorporates a proverb. It can be any proverb. If you can, give a link if you think it is needed, but it is not imperative that you do. you can include at the bottom the source of the proverb, i.e. Russian, French, Japanese, etc.
Lets set the limit to 500 words. I'll do my best to behave on the word limit.
Here is a handy Proverb Generator.
Lets set the limit to 500 words. I'll do my best to behave on the word limit.
Here is a handy Proverb Generator.
Overview #15 POV
This week was interesting and fun. I used this week not only to practice the shift in POV, but to flesh out a bit the characters that I had recently created. It forced me to think more about what these people would be like. Are they observant, are they deceptive, what kind of idiosyncratic behavior do they have.
I ran long in a couple of posts. And the Second persons point of view really sucked. But at least now I have been exposed to that POV, hopefully I can do it better next time.
I really enjoyed reading Master's scene shifts in the perspective. It really helped me to see what was going on.
I ran long in a couple of posts. And the Second persons point of view really sucked. But at least now I have been exposed to that POV, hopefully I can do it better next time.
I really enjoyed reading Master's scene shifts in the perspective. It really helped me to see what was going on.
Third limited: The Twins
"You take point Joe," Steve ordered as we laid out our plans.
"Why me?" Joe asked petulantly. Mark wanted to elbow him, he knew that Joe was just putting it on, and that he was not really that way.
"Because you are the best at spinning a line of bull. Plus, I told you to." Steve replied, staring down the younger man.
Joe still looked sullen. Mark and Brian had to try not to laugh.
"Brian and Mark, you two are responsible for acquisition and deployment." Steve said. Brain and Mark were pleased with their assignment. Each thinking the same things, their thought patterns so close that there was no hesitation in their actions.
"What will you be doing?" Joe asked, he sounded resigned, but Brian knew better. He loved practicing his deceptions.
"I will be running the op from here. Someone needs to make sure it goes smoothly." Steve rolled up the plans as he spoke. "Alright men," Steve continued in an official voice, Mark and Brian rolled their eyes behind him. "We have a go. Meet back here at 17:30. Full deployment by 19:00."
"Yes sir!" Mark and Brian slipped away from the table and out into the night. Their target was a party store. They quickly found everything that they needed, stowing it in a black duffel bag, and heading home.
Brian and Mark looked extremely pleased as they walked into the living room of the safehouse. "We've got it!" Mark said. "Yeah, everything," Brian added.
"Excellent. You know what to do." Steve said. He was still busy with the cake.
Mark and Brian grinned and moved about the room, placing items everywhere. Some were tossed with little regard to where they landed, usually Mark, while others were placed very carefully, Brian's work. They were finished in a short time.
Steve and the twins turned out the light just before the deadline. They could hear Joe in the hallway.
"They told me to tell you that they were going out to the club. They were just going to leave a note, but Steve put me on disciplinary, so I had to stay." Joe's voice had a pout to it.
"I don't care, you should have stopped them. Do you have any idea how much this could jeopardize..." David opened the door and flicked on the light switch.
"Surprise!"
"Happy Birthday!" The twins chorused
Happy Birthday!"
David stared in surprise at the sight before him. The room was strung with streamers and balloons. There was a large cake in the middle of the table that had a picture of his Camero in black icing. Twenty-seven candles glowed along the perimeter of the cake.
David swallowed back emotion. "Thank you guys."
"Well boss, make a wish and blow out the candles."
David leaned in, drawing in a breath. He paused for a moment and then blew out all the candles. David and Steve were talking quietly when Brian and Mark were surprised.
"Stealth Attack!" Joe yelled and hosed down the Brian and Mark with the slightly sticky stuff. The twins quickly grabbed cans of their own, and the party was under way.
(521)
"Why me?" Joe asked petulantly. Mark wanted to elbow him, he knew that Joe was just putting it on, and that he was not really that way.
"Because you are the best at spinning a line of bull. Plus, I told you to." Steve replied, staring down the younger man.
Joe still looked sullen. Mark and Brian had to try not to laugh.
"Brian and Mark, you two are responsible for acquisition and deployment." Steve said. Brain and Mark were pleased with their assignment. Each thinking the same things, their thought patterns so close that there was no hesitation in their actions.
"What will you be doing?" Joe asked, he sounded resigned, but Brian knew better. He loved practicing his deceptions.
"I will be running the op from here. Someone needs to make sure it goes smoothly." Steve rolled up the plans as he spoke. "Alright men," Steve continued in an official voice, Mark and Brian rolled their eyes behind him. "We have a go. Meet back here at 17:30. Full deployment by 19:00."
"Yes sir!" Mark and Brian slipped away from the table and out into the night. Their target was a party store. They quickly found everything that they needed, stowing it in a black duffel bag, and heading home.
Brian and Mark looked extremely pleased as they walked into the living room of the safehouse. "We've got it!" Mark said. "Yeah, everything," Brian added.
"Excellent. You know what to do." Steve said. He was still busy with the cake.
Mark and Brian grinned and moved about the room, placing items everywhere. Some were tossed with little regard to where they landed, usually Mark, while others were placed very carefully, Brian's work. They were finished in a short time.
Steve and the twins turned out the light just before the deadline. They could hear Joe in the hallway.
"They told me to tell you that they were going out to the club. They were just going to leave a note, but Steve put me on disciplinary, so I had to stay." Joe's voice had a pout to it.
"I don't care, you should have stopped them. Do you have any idea how much this could jeopardize..." David opened the door and flicked on the light switch.
"Surprise!"
"Happy Birthday!" The twins chorused
Happy Birthday!"
David stared in surprise at the sight before him. The room was strung with streamers and balloons. There was a large cake in the middle of the table that had a picture of his Camero in black icing. Twenty-seven candles glowed along the perimeter of the cake.
David swallowed back emotion. "Thank you guys."
"Well boss, make a wish and blow out the candles."
David leaned in, drawing in a breath. He paused for a moment and then blew out all the candles. David and Steve were talking quietly when Brian and Mark were surprised.
"Stealth Attack!" Joe yelled and hosed down the Brian and Mark with the slightly sticky stuff. The twins quickly grabbed cans of their own, and the party was under way.
(521)
First person: Joe
"You take point Joe," Steve ordered me as we laid out our plans to surprise David. This was going to be fun. I don't think that David even knows that we know it is his birthday.
"Why me?" I asked petulantly, I had certain rolls to fulfill. They expected me to complain about it, and I would not disappoint them.
"Because you are the best at spinning a line of bull. Plus, I told you to." Steve replied, staring me down. I smiled internally, but I pouted for good measure. The other two were trying not to laugh.
Steve gave the twins their assignment, motioning to the schematic that was stretched out on the table. One that we had memorized in the first few minutes.
The twins were smiling at each other. They would be getting the party supplies.
(574)
"What will you be doing?" I asked.
"I will be running the op from here. Someone needs to make sure it goes smoothly." Steve rolled up the plans as he spoke. "Alright men," Steve continued in an official voice, Mark and Brian rolling their eyes behind him. "We have a go. Meet back here at 17:30. Full deployment by 19:00."
"Yes sir!" I snapped off a sharp salute and left the table. I walked down the hall and took my position as the twins left the safe house. I ran through various excuses and scenarios in my mind, different ways to distract David if we needed more time.
It seemed like it was no more than ten minutes before the twins were back, though I knew it had been at least an hour. We did not know when David would be back, but we would be ready.
I could hear the twins reporting to Steve and the ensuing ruckus of the preparations.
A short while later I could hear David's car coming. It was not hard to miss it. I clicked the walkie-talkie in my pocket to give them some warning.
David walked in the door. He seemed a little surprise to see me in the hallway.
"What is going on Joe? Why are you not in your bunk?" David asked. He sounded almost to tired to care why.
"They told me to tell you that they were going out to the club. They were just going to leave a note, but Steve put me on disciplinary, so I had to stay." I said.
"I don't care, you should have stopped them. Do you have any idea how much this could jeopardize..." David opened the door and flicked on the light switch.
"Surprise!"
"Happy Birthday!"
Happy Birthday!" I yelled, slapping him on the back.
David stared in surprise at the sight before him. The room was strung with streamers and balloons. There was a large cake in the middle of the table that had a picture of his Camero in black icing. Twenty-seven candles glowed along the perimeter of the cake.
I watched David swallow back emotion. "Thank you guys."
"Well boss, make a wish and blow out the candles."
David leaned in, drawing in a breath. He paused for a moment and then blew out all the candles.
I slipped past our leader and palmed a can of silly string. I could hear David and Steve talking behind me.
"Stealth Attack!" I yelled and hosed down the twins with the slightly sticky stuff. They quickly grabbed cans of their own, and the party was under way.
"Why me?" I asked petulantly, I had certain rolls to fulfill. They expected me to complain about it, and I would not disappoint them.
"Because you are the best at spinning a line of bull. Plus, I told you to." Steve replied, staring me down. I smiled internally, but I pouted for good measure. The other two were trying not to laugh.
Steve gave the twins their assignment, motioning to the schematic that was stretched out on the table. One that we had memorized in the first few minutes.
The twins were smiling at each other. They would be getting the party supplies.
(574)
"What will you be doing?" I asked.
"I will be running the op from here. Someone needs to make sure it goes smoothly." Steve rolled up the plans as he spoke. "Alright men," Steve continued in an official voice, Mark and Brian rolling their eyes behind him. "We have a go. Meet back here at 17:30. Full deployment by 19:00."
"Yes sir!" I snapped off a sharp salute and left the table. I walked down the hall and took my position as the twins left the safe house. I ran through various excuses and scenarios in my mind, different ways to distract David if we needed more time.
It seemed like it was no more than ten minutes before the twins were back, though I knew it had been at least an hour. We did not know when David would be back, but we would be ready.
I could hear the twins reporting to Steve and the ensuing ruckus of the preparations.
A short while later I could hear David's car coming. It was not hard to miss it. I clicked the walkie-talkie in my pocket to give them some warning.
David walked in the door. He seemed a little surprise to see me in the hallway.
"What is going on Joe? Why are you not in your bunk?" David asked. He sounded almost to tired to care why.
"They told me to tell you that they were going out to the club. They were just going to leave a note, but Steve put me on disciplinary, so I had to stay." I said.
"I don't care, you should have stopped them. Do you have any idea how much this could jeopardize..." David opened the door and flicked on the light switch.
"Surprise!"
"Happy Birthday!"
Happy Birthday!" I yelled, slapping him on the back.
David stared in surprise at the sight before him. The room was strung with streamers and balloons. There was a large cake in the middle of the table that had a picture of his Camero in black icing. Twenty-seven candles glowed along the perimeter of the cake.
I watched David swallow back emotion. "Thank you guys."
"Well boss, make a wish and blow out the candles."
David leaned in, drawing in a breath. He paused for a moment and then blew out all the candles.
I slipped past our leader and palmed a can of silly string. I could hear David and Steve talking behind me.
"Stealth Attack!" I yelled and hosed down the twins with the slightly sticky stuff. They quickly grabbed cans of their own, and the party was under way.
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