Mist and smoke shifted between Heran and the malevolent presence in the dark before him. All that Heran could see were the eyes that burned with an inner light, the presence in the dark was immense, he could at least sense that.
Heran strained his eyes to make out who he was talking to. "Why do you seek a fool?"
The rasping, growling voice came to him again, "to do my bidding in the mortal world."
"And what will I get out of this?" Heran sounded braver than he felt at the moment. He could hear the shifting of hot gravel under the presence, it grated against his ears and made him shudder involuntarily.
"You will get to live, and I will give you what you have been seeking." The promise coming from this 'person' sounded more like a threat.
'I should have never come here.' The Elders warned me about coming, they told me that if I should get what I desire, it may not be what I expected. That in seeking the Cliffs of Fate, it would seal upon me the Fate that was handed to me. But I had disregarded their advice, thinking that I knew better, that I could master fate.
Heran wanted to leave, but he felt the bindings that he had not noticed before. The bindings that had wound around his mind, ensnaring him, rooting him to the spot. He could not leave now even if he wanted to.
"What would you have me do?" Heran sounded resigned.
"All in good time, fool."
"At least show me who you are."
A low chuckle rumbled out of the mists, and the ground shuddered as the figure took a step closer. "Look upon your new master."
Heran wanted to run screaming but he was still held in place by the powerful figure before him. Black leathery skin clung to bulging muscles and steam curled from it's snout. Wickedly sharp claws were only surpassed by the gleaming rows of teeth. Vast wings were curled around his body and his tail swished from side to side.
The black Dragon of legends.
(364)
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Sliver Death
Hyun Lee huddled backstage, fiddling with his guitar, making sure it was tuned. He never let the roadies handle it, because it was his - he’d inherited it from one of his idols in Japan, and it was his most prized possession. When he’d been discharged from the Korean army after his two years’ service - no one in America questioned his being in high school, his youthful face serving him well - all he’d had were the clothes on his back and his guitar.
And now he was getting ready to rock the house. Riku was only twelve years old but a drum prodigy in his own right, and he loved everything he played, beaming to the crowd. Seiji, by contrast, was a veteran bassist, and worked in laconic solitude.
The manager knocked on the door. “You boys ready?”
“Where’s our singer?” Seiji asked.
Riku pointed to the bathroom door, and a moment later Eric emerged. He ran a hand through his green-streaked hair and grinned.
“Ready to roll?”
“Ready to rock,” Hyun said, and grinned.
Out in the club, the manager was running through his MC act. The four of them drifted onto the stage. Riku scampered up behind the drums and adjusted the cymbals with deft hands. Seiji plugged in his bass and strummed a quick riff. Once the manager was done, the rocking would begin.
“And now it’s my pleasure to introduce the one, the only Sliver Death!”
“Sliver Death?” Seiji asked, too low for the others to hear.
“After the Magic cards,” Hyun said. “We let Riku pick it.” Then he tossed his head and counted them off.
Riku crashed on the cymbals, and the guitars roared to life.
The crowd cheered.
(285 words)
And now he was getting ready to rock the house. Riku was only twelve years old but a drum prodigy in his own right, and he loved everything he played, beaming to the crowd. Seiji, by contrast, was a veteran bassist, and worked in laconic solitude.
The manager knocked on the door. “You boys ready?”
“Where’s our singer?” Seiji asked.
Riku pointed to the bathroom door, and a moment later Eric emerged. He ran a hand through his green-streaked hair and grinned.
“Ready to roll?”
“Ready to rock,” Hyun said, and grinned.
Out in the club, the manager was running through his MC act. The four of them drifted onto the stage. Riku scampered up behind the drums and adjusted the cymbals with deft hands. Seiji plugged in his bass and strummed a quick riff. Once the manager was done, the rocking would begin.
“And now it’s my pleasure to introduce the one, the only Sliver Death!”
“Sliver Death?” Seiji asked, too low for the others to hear.
“After the Magic cards,” Hyun said. “We let Riku pick it.” Then he tossed his head and counted them off.
Riku crashed on the cymbals, and the guitars roared to life.
The crowd cheered.
(285 words)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Interupted Thougths
The set was over with. Alastrina knew that he would not be singing again tonight. I wonder why he is so familiar. Why I can't get his out of my mind.
Alastrina flagged down a passing waiter and asked for a refill on her drink. She was not sure why she stayed; every night after she had heard him sing it was like all the other performers were flat, lifeless, almost 2D in their lack of depth. She ruminated on her problem as she stared into her drink, the ice sending out nearly invisible currents in the amber liquid. She had tried asking around to find out who he was, but no one seemed to be able to tell her. He didn't get paid for singing so the manager never needed to know his name, and as far as she was able to determine from everyone else he just seemed to vanish after he was done with his set.
"Excuse me, may I sit with you?" A deep voice said, breaking into her revery.
Startled, Alastrina looked up from her drink, a quick glance around let her know that the club was packed, and that her booth was one of the last spots that could be occupied. She looked the man over once. He was in blue jeans that hung perfectly on his hips, a black long sleeve shirt with the cuffs pushed up his forearm. He had black eyes under dark eyebrows. His hair was equally as black short on the sides and slightly longer on the top. His sculpted lips were quirked in a small smile that Alastrina found familiar, but couldn't place.
She nodded once and the man slid into the other side of the booth.
"My name is Patrick."
(262)
(I will probably edit and lengthen this one later tonight or tomorrow.)
Alastrina flagged down a passing waiter and asked for a refill on her drink. She was not sure why she stayed; every night after she had heard him sing it was like all the other performers were flat, lifeless, almost 2D in their lack of depth. She ruminated on her problem as she stared into her drink, the ice sending out nearly invisible currents in the amber liquid. She had tried asking around to find out who he was, but no one seemed to be able to tell her. He didn't get paid for singing so the manager never needed to know his name, and as far as she was able to determine from everyone else he just seemed to vanish after he was done with his set.
"Excuse me, may I sit with you?" A deep voice said, breaking into her revery.
Startled, Alastrina looked up from her drink, a quick glance around let her know that the club was packed, and that her booth was one of the last spots that could be occupied. She looked the man over once. He was in blue jeans that hung perfectly on his hips, a black long sleeve shirt with the cuffs pushed up his forearm. He had black eyes under dark eyebrows. His hair was equally as black short on the sides and slightly longer on the top. His sculpted lips were quirked in a small smile that Alastrina found familiar, but couldn't place.
She nodded once and the man slid into the other side of the booth.
"My name is Patrick."
(262)
(I will probably edit and lengthen this one later tonight or tomorrow.)
Even on the Job
The Mexican boys crowded around a shop window, peering in at the various television screens. The proprietor hovered at the door, watching them warily, but they were only interested in what was showing on the largest screen.
“Man, look at those guys pop and lock,” one of them said. “They’re like robots - it must have taken forever get that kind of control.”
“Hey,” another said. He leaned closer, narrowed his eyes. “Dude! Check it out! It’s that Asian kid who danced with us yesterday on the corner.”
The others elbowed him aside, jostling for a closer look.
“No way, man - you can’t tell who he is - they all look the same.”
“And we all look the same to them,” the first boy said. “Seriously, it’s him - Kim Jo what’s-his-face.”
“Really?” one of the younger boys asked, scrunching up his nose.
“Really,” Jo Seung said. He grinned wickedly when all five boys jumped and spun around, fists up to fight.
“The hell, man? You nearly gave us a heart attack!”
Jo Seung shrugged and smiled innocently. He kept his hands jammed into the front pockets of his hoodie - he hadn’t had a chance to wash the blood off his hands from his last kill. “I heard my name and wondered if I was in trouble.”
The leader of the boys looked him up and down. “Are you a professional dancer or something?”
“Me? No, I just dance for fun. Back in Korea I’m an actor, actually.” He let them digest that for a moment.
“Well,” the leader finally said, “you’re good at what you do, man. If you’re ever around here and want to dance with us again, you’re welcome.”
Jo Seung bowed politely. “Thank you. And if you ever come to Korea, I will be a gracious host.” His commander’s voice blasted over his earpiece, but his expression didn’t waiver.
“So that’s why your hood is up, then?” the leader asked.
Jo Seung nodded. “Almost got mobbed by some girls in K-town.” He cast a mock-nervous glance over his shoulder. “I should get back to the hotel. Keep dancing!” And he walked away. This was why he liked coming to America - he could have innocent moments of fun even while on the job.
(377 words)
“Man, look at those guys pop and lock,” one of them said. “They’re like robots - it must have taken forever get that kind of control.”
“Hey,” another said. He leaned closer, narrowed his eyes. “Dude! Check it out! It’s that Asian kid who danced with us yesterday on the corner.”
The others elbowed him aside, jostling for a closer look.
“No way, man - you can’t tell who he is - they all look the same.”
“And we all look the same to them,” the first boy said. “Seriously, it’s him - Kim Jo what’s-his-face.”
“Really?” one of the younger boys asked, scrunching up his nose.
“Really,” Jo Seung said. He grinned wickedly when all five boys jumped and spun around, fists up to fight.
“The hell, man? You nearly gave us a heart attack!”
Jo Seung shrugged and smiled innocently. He kept his hands jammed into the front pockets of his hoodie - he hadn’t had a chance to wash the blood off his hands from his last kill. “I heard my name and wondered if I was in trouble.”
The leader of the boys looked him up and down. “Are you a professional dancer or something?”
“Me? No, I just dance for fun. Back in Korea I’m an actor, actually.” He let them digest that for a moment.
“Well,” the leader finally said, “you’re good at what you do, man. If you’re ever around here and want to dance with us again, you’re welcome.”
Jo Seung bowed politely. “Thank you. And if you ever come to Korea, I will be a gracious host.” His commander’s voice blasted over his earpiece, but his expression didn’t waiver.
“So that’s why your hood is up, then?” the leader asked.
Jo Seung nodded. “Almost got mobbed by some girls in K-town.” He cast a mock-nervous glance over his shoulder. “I should get back to the hotel. Keep dancing!” And he walked away. This was why he liked coming to America - he could have innocent moments of fun even while on the job.
(377 words)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A Kind Deed
He couldn't believe that she was dying, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He looked on her sallow face, the light reflecting off of her bare scalp. The treatments had really taken it out of her. He knew she didn't have much time left.
Her breathing had become that much labored even over the last few hours he didn't think that she would last the night.
Sara's eyes fluttered open one last time and she smiled up at him. "I love you Kyle."
~~~~~~~~~
Sara snuck out of the hospital, the drugs that they had given her had worn off and she had come too in the morgue. She didn't know or care what body they would put in the casket, if they put in any body at all. Sara ran her hand over her scalp and muttered darkly, it would take a while for it to grow to a respectable length.
~~~~~~
Sara found it impossible to not go to the funeral, to say goodbye to a life. 'How cliche' she thought as the rain began to come down in the middle of the service. She was wearing a wig and standing in the back, no one would notice another body under all the umbrellas that were being opened.
Sara caught sight of Kyle, he was kneeling beside the grave after the others had trickled away, crying. She was sorry to hurt him again, even though he didn't know that the original hurt had come from her, she had hurt him again and she felt a stab of regret.
As she turned to go she realized that she had lied.
And when I go, he will never know that I never loved him.
(273)
Her breathing had become that much labored even over the last few hours he didn't think that she would last the night.
Sara's eyes fluttered open one last time and she smiled up at him. "I love you Kyle."
~~~~~~~~~
Sara snuck out of the hospital, the drugs that they had given her had worn off and she had come too in the morgue. She didn't know or care what body they would put in the casket, if they put in any body at all. Sara ran her hand over her scalp and muttered darkly, it would take a while for it to grow to a respectable length.
~~~~~~
Sara found it impossible to not go to the funeral, to say goodbye to a life. 'How cliche' she thought as the rain began to come down in the middle of the service. She was wearing a wig and standing in the back, no one would notice another body under all the umbrellas that were being opened.
Sara caught sight of Kyle, he was kneeling beside the grave after the others had trickled away, crying. She was sorry to hurt him again, even though he didn't know that the original hurt had come from her, she had hurt him again and she felt a stab of regret.
As she turned to go she realized that she had lied.
And when I go, he will never know that I never loved him.
(273)
Yet Another Beginning
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.
They drove in silence, picking up speed as the hit the highway, leaving the city behind, leaving behind his revenge.
"So where are we going?" DAvid asked eventually.
"A training facility." The man didn't take his eyes off the road.
"Where is it?"
"Far away."
"Can you at least tell me your name?"
The man glanced at David briefly, "Hayes, commander Hayes."
"Who do you work for?" David sounded tired, more and more as if he didn't care.
"Officially, we work with the Marines."
David shrugged, the brief spark of life that was in his eyes was dimming again, he huddled back in his seat, withdrawing into himself. After a while he dozed off, the stress of the day getting the better of him.
Hayes looked over at his passanger. "Some wounds go to deep, but eventually they do scar over," he said to the silence.
~~~~~~
David found himself being shaken awake. He sat up abruptly and rubbed his eyes, he stepped out of the car into the painfully bright, dry desert morning. The wind whistled over the barren landscape, and all David could see was scrub brush and cacti aside from a small bunker like hut.
"Come this way David," Hayes lead him towards the bunker and out of the daylight. "This will be your home for the next year or so if you decide to stay." Hayes said as he swiped a security badge and an elevator opened. "Remember you can always leave before you sigh up with us officially."
"I have no where to go, no one to go to." David said at last as the elevator opened onto an empty hallway.
"Yes, but what we do is not for everyone."
"I will have my revenge eventually?"
"Yes you will, but when that point comes, you may decide not to exact your revenge. You may find that you have changed and that you no longer need revenge."
"I doubt it."
(323)
They drove in silence, picking up speed as the hit the highway, leaving the city behind, leaving behind his revenge.
"So where are we going?" DAvid asked eventually.
"A training facility." The man didn't take his eyes off the road.
"Where is it?"
"Far away."
"Can you at least tell me your name?"
The man glanced at David briefly, "Hayes, commander Hayes."
"Who do you work for?" David sounded tired, more and more as if he didn't care.
"Officially, we work with the Marines."
David shrugged, the brief spark of life that was in his eyes was dimming again, he huddled back in his seat, withdrawing into himself. After a while he dozed off, the stress of the day getting the better of him.
Hayes looked over at his passanger. "Some wounds go to deep, but eventually they do scar over," he said to the silence.
~~~~~~
David found himself being shaken awake. He sat up abruptly and rubbed his eyes, he stepped out of the car into the painfully bright, dry desert morning. The wind whistled over the barren landscape, and all David could see was scrub brush and cacti aside from a small bunker like hut.
"Come this way David," Hayes lead him towards the bunker and out of the daylight. "This will be your home for the next year or so if you decide to stay." Hayes said as he swiped a security badge and an elevator opened. "Remember you can always leave before you sigh up with us officially."
"I have no where to go, no one to go to." David said at last as the elevator opened onto an empty hallway.
"Yes, but what we do is not for everyone."
"I will have my revenge eventually?"
"Yes you will, but when that point comes, you may decide not to exact your revenge. You may find that you have changed and that you no longer need revenge."
"I doubt it."
(323)
Draining the Node
The shield came down as soon as Morgan’s spear pierced it, and then the room was bristling with people, Orphan mages armed with all manner of arcane, banal and bizarre foci. One boy was swinging a pair of fuzzy dice as if they were hunting bolas.
Lyle’s magic was on the ball. “Take the node!” He lunged at the nest of voodoo dolls and scattered them with a swift kick. Then he had to hop aside as someone let loose a blast of mage fire.
“Node it is,” Cyrus said, and Selene was momentarily distracted by the graceful arc of his arms as he slid into a kung fu form - pheonix, from the looks of it.
One of the Orphans laughed. “What are you going to do, dance us to death?” And he was knocked backward by sheer percussive force of Cyrus’s elemental projection.
Curses littered the air. “He’s Akashic! Take him down!”
Morgan bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “You’ll have to get through me first,” she said. With a twining of her hands, one over another, running up her forearms, she was armed with a pair of scimitars. The battle cry she loosed filled the cathedral to the ceiling, and then the screaming began.
Selene fanned her cards with a quick flick of her wrist, and then she braced herself behind Lyle while he worked on dismantling the node. He had Tass to transfer the node’s contents, but a transfer for a node this big took time, and they were starting to run high on paradox. The Orphans were half-trained and their lack of shielding on the place ran up the vulgarity cost of casting exponentially, and Selene could feel the warp and weft of the Tapestry begin to protest.
There was one thing she could do, one last thing before the universe slapped her in the face for her audacity. She knelt and dealt a wheel of life, slapped an incomplete Celtic Cross down in the middle, and then everything -- stopped.
“The hell?” Cyrus asked.
“I froze their time,” Selene said. “Now get over here and help Lyle.”
Morgan, whose forearms dripped with blood, looked surprised. “You can do that?”
“I’m gonna get paradoxed into next week, but yeah. So hurry!”
“Hurrying, hurrying,” Cyrus said.
(380 words)
Lyle’s magic was on the ball. “Take the node!” He lunged at the nest of voodoo dolls and scattered them with a swift kick. Then he had to hop aside as someone let loose a blast of mage fire.
“Node it is,” Cyrus said, and Selene was momentarily distracted by the graceful arc of his arms as he slid into a kung fu form - pheonix, from the looks of it.
One of the Orphans laughed. “What are you going to do, dance us to death?” And he was knocked backward by sheer percussive force of Cyrus’s elemental projection.
Curses littered the air. “He’s Akashic! Take him down!”
Morgan bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “You’ll have to get through me first,” she said. With a twining of her hands, one over another, running up her forearms, she was armed with a pair of scimitars. The battle cry she loosed filled the cathedral to the ceiling, and then the screaming began.
Selene fanned her cards with a quick flick of her wrist, and then she braced herself behind Lyle while he worked on dismantling the node. He had Tass to transfer the node’s contents, but a transfer for a node this big took time, and they were starting to run high on paradox. The Orphans were half-trained and their lack of shielding on the place ran up the vulgarity cost of casting exponentially, and Selene could feel the warp and weft of the Tapestry begin to protest.
There was one thing she could do, one last thing before the universe slapped her in the face for her audacity. She knelt and dealt a wheel of life, slapped an incomplete Celtic Cross down in the middle, and then everything -- stopped.
“The hell?” Cyrus asked.
“I froze their time,” Selene said. “Now get over here and help Lyle.”
Morgan, whose forearms dripped with blood, looked surprised. “You can do that?”
“I’m gonna get paradoxed into next week, but yeah. So hurry!”
“Hurrying, hurrying,” Cyrus said.
(380 words)
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Hurry
“What’s the hurry?” Thom asked.
Jesse dragged him into the shop, out a side door, into the next shop, down a flight of stairs, and onto an entirely different street. Best as Thom could tell, Jesse had no clue where he was going.
“You just outed me to a public street,” Jesse said.
“But you’re not gay,” Thom said. He was very confused.
“But that girl I was talking to had no idea who I was until you shouted my name for the world to hear.” Jesse checked both ways before he darted out of the alley, Thom stumbling along behind him, and ducked behind a line of German tourists.
“What does it matter if she knows your name?” Thom asked.
A shriek pierced the air. “It’s Jesse! Jesse Carlisle!” A dozen other shrieks rose, all stabbing people’s eardrums with Jesse’s name.
Thom’s eyes went wide in horrified realization.
“That’s why it matters,” Jesse said. He dropped Thom’s wrist and broke into a sprint. “Come on!”
(166 words)
Jesse dragged him into the shop, out a side door, into the next shop, down a flight of stairs, and onto an entirely different street. Best as Thom could tell, Jesse had no clue where he was going.
“You just outed me to a public street,” Jesse said.
“But you’re not gay,” Thom said. He was very confused.
“But that girl I was talking to had no idea who I was until you shouted my name for the world to hear.” Jesse checked both ways before he darted out of the alley, Thom stumbling along behind him, and ducked behind a line of German tourists.
“What does it matter if she knows your name?” Thom asked.
A shriek pierced the air. “It’s Jesse! Jesse Carlisle!” A dozen other shrieks rose, all stabbing people’s eardrums with Jesse’s name.
Thom’s eyes went wide in horrified realization.
“That’s why it matters,” Jesse said. He dropped Thom’s wrist and broke into a sprint. “Come on!”
(166 words)
T-shirt or Something
Garrow’s eyes went wide. “The Necronomicon? Are you insane?” He reached out and batted Austin’s hand away from the bookshelf. “No. I’m not going to let you do that to him.”
Austin glanced over her shoulder at The Wordsmith, who was obediently holding the book on the flat of his palms, ready for her to pile more on top of it if she so chose.
“Hey, The Authorities’ orders are pretty straightforward, and that’s to get prepped for this next mission. It’s gonna be a long haul, and we need all the background info we can get. It’ll be handy to have the kid absorb everything we need to know.” She tugged her wrist out of Garrow’s grip and continued to peruse the spines of books.
Garrow suppressed a growl of irritation. “He’s a person, Austin, not a damned pocket computer. And we’re supposed to know the background for this mission, not tug it out of him when we get stumped. If you want to get informed, do it the old-fashioned way and read for yourself.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you all of a sudden, Mr. Defensive?” She glanced over her shoulder again; The Wordsmith was shivering and doing his best to pretend he couldn’t hear their argument.
“I’m sick of the way everyone around here treats him,” Garrow said.
After a moment, Austin snickered. “Oh, hell no, you’ve got to be joking. You’re sweet on our boy, aren’t you?”
Garrow’s eyes flashed, and he shoved Austin in the shoulder too hard for it just to be play. “You’re being a brat and you know it. Unless it’s something absolutely vital or The Authorities hand down the title of a book specifically, he’s not absorbing a thing.”
Austin tugged a volume - bound in black leather, spine blank of a title but slowly cracking - and spun away. “You’re such a sissy underneath it all, aren’t you?” She thrust the book at The Wordsmith. “Here, absorb this.”
The Wordsmith set the first book aside and accepted the black volume, hands hesitant. He flipped it open - it was the Necronomicon. “Right now?” He bit his lip.
Austin nodded. “Yeah. Right here, right now.”
“Are you sure?”
Austin’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just...” The Wordsmith shrugged, the motion a little defensive. “The Elders never liked to watch is all.”
Garrow felt his blood run cold. If the Elders of Rosenkreuz couldn’t stand the sight of an inkbearer absorbing a book, it had to be fairly horrific.
Austin gestured carelessly. “Seriously, do it. So Garrow will stop being a sissy.”
The Wordsmith took a deep breath and reached out, placing his palm on the first page.
Garrow caught his wrist, tugged his hand away from the book. He leveled a look at Austin. “No. Come on, kid, let’s get you a t-shirt or something.”
Maybe it was just Garrow’s imagination, but the kid looked relieved as Garrow led him away.
(492 words)
Austin glanced over her shoulder at The Wordsmith, who was obediently holding the book on the flat of his palms, ready for her to pile more on top of it if she so chose.
“Hey, The Authorities’ orders are pretty straightforward, and that’s to get prepped for this next mission. It’s gonna be a long haul, and we need all the background info we can get. It’ll be handy to have the kid absorb everything we need to know.” She tugged her wrist out of Garrow’s grip and continued to peruse the spines of books.
Garrow suppressed a growl of irritation. “He’s a person, Austin, not a damned pocket computer. And we’re supposed to know the background for this mission, not tug it out of him when we get stumped. If you want to get informed, do it the old-fashioned way and read for yourself.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you all of a sudden, Mr. Defensive?” She glanced over her shoulder again; The Wordsmith was shivering and doing his best to pretend he couldn’t hear their argument.
“I’m sick of the way everyone around here treats him,” Garrow said.
After a moment, Austin snickered. “Oh, hell no, you’ve got to be joking. You’re sweet on our boy, aren’t you?”
Garrow’s eyes flashed, and he shoved Austin in the shoulder too hard for it just to be play. “You’re being a brat and you know it. Unless it’s something absolutely vital or The Authorities hand down the title of a book specifically, he’s not absorbing a thing.”
Austin tugged a volume - bound in black leather, spine blank of a title but slowly cracking - and spun away. “You’re such a sissy underneath it all, aren’t you?” She thrust the book at The Wordsmith. “Here, absorb this.”
The Wordsmith set the first book aside and accepted the black volume, hands hesitant. He flipped it open - it was the Necronomicon. “Right now?” He bit his lip.
Austin nodded. “Yeah. Right here, right now.”
“Are you sure?”
Austin’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just...” The Wordsmith shrugged, the motion a little defensive. “The Elders never liked to watch is all.”
Garrow felt his blood run cold. If the Elders of Rosenkreuz couldn’t stand the sight of an inkbearer absorbing a book, it had to be fairly horrific.
Austin gestured carelessly. “Seriously, do it. So Garrow will stop being a sissy.”
The Wordsmith took a deep breath and reached out, placing his palm on the first page.
Garrow caught his wrist, tugged his hand away from the book. He leveled a look at Austin. “No. Come on, kid, let’s get you a t-shirt or something.”
Maybe it was just Garrow’s imagination, but the kid looked relieved as Garrow led him away.
(492 words)
First Sighting
"Hoist all sails!" The bosun called as the ship crept out of the safety of the harbor. The men on board were quick to obey the orders. They chanted in unison as they worked the sails, the call and the rhythm setting the pace. There was a chant for leaving the harbor and for coming in. There were many for short hauls, for halyarding , and for the capstan.
Men scuttled up the netting and out onto the yardarms, loosing the sails that would catch the wind. The men below hauled on the lines to put them in place.
The breeze was freshening and the day promising. The perfect day to be off on the sea; to wherever the wind and currents took them. The old men and the young men alike raised their voices in the chant to raise the sails. The broad squares of white cloth boomed as the wind caught them, filling and rapidly baring the ship away into the horizon.
Ryan pulled with the others, raising his clear tenor voice with the others. They were leaving and their song echoed over the sea.
In the Black Ball line I served my time
To me way-aye-aye, hurray-ah
And that's the line where you can shine
Hurrah for the Black Ball Line
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryan tied off his line with the others to the chains. Ryan was just a midshipman, only one step above a cabin boy, but he wore his new uniform proudly. He had high hopes to have a commission before to much longer and he went about his work with a spring in his step.
"Mr. Raines!" The bosun hollered.
"Yes Sir?" Ryan hurried over to where the great bull necked man stood, adapting is gait to the particular roll of the ocean.
"You have watch in the nest." The bosun said as Ryan approached him. "Get up there and keep an eye out."
"Yes Sir!" Ryan saluted smartly and hurried over to the shrouds. Grasping the bottom most rope, Ryan began to pull himself up the precarious ladder to the nest, the pitch and roll of the ship becoming more pronounced the higher he climbed. The wind's fingers plucked at his hat and tossed his necktie into his face. He passed the men working on the yardarms, adjusting the tension of the sails for maximum speed, the men called friendly greetings to him as he passed.
Ryan climbed over the railing to the crows nest and took up the glass. There was no land behind them anymore, and none ahead that he could see. The wind raked through his sandy blond hair, his keen green eyes scanning the horizon. Below him he could hear the chanting of the line and he hummed along as he sat his post.
Ryan was scanning the sea when he caught on the edge of the horizon a ship. Bringing the glass to his eye he focused it on the ship. He cold see a field of black, white, and red on the flag or the other ship and his heart leapt.
"Bosun!" he hollered from the top of the mast, "Pirates to the port side!"
Ryan scuttled down the rigging as quickly as he could and took up arms to defend the ship as the Captain called, "Men to the ready!"
Men scuttled up the netting and out onto the yardarms, loosing the sails that would catch the wind. The men below hauled on the lines to put them in place.
The breeze was freshening and the day promising. The perfect day to be off on the sea; to wherever the wind and currents took them. The old men and the young men alike raised their voices in the chant to raise the sails. The broad squares of white cloth boomed as the wind caught them, filling and rapidly baring the ship away into the horizon.
Ryan pulled with the others, raising his clear tenor voice with the others. They were leaving and their song echoed over the sea.
In the Black Ball line I served my time
To me way-aye-aye, hurray-ah
And that's the line where you can shine
Hurrah for the Black Ball Line
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryan tied off his line with the others to the chains. Ryan was just a midshipman, only one step above a cabin boy, but he wore his new uniform proudly. He had high hopes to have a commission before to much longer and he went about his work with a spring in his step.
"Mr. Raines!" The bosun hollered.
"Yes Sir?" Ryan hurried over to where the great bull necked man stood, adapting is gait to the particular roll of the ocean.
"You have watch in the nest." The bosun said as Ryan approached him. "Get up there and keep an eye out."
"Yes Sir!" Ryan saluted smartly and hurried over to the shrouds. Grasping the bottom most rope, Ryan began to pull himself up the precarious ladder to the nest, the pitch and roll of the ship becoming more pronounced the higher he climbed. The wind's fingers plucked at his hat and tossed his necktie into his face. He passed the men working on the yardarms, adjusting the tension of the sails for maximum speed, the men called friendly greetings to him as he passed.
Ryan climbed over the railing to the crows nest and took up the glass. There was no land behind them anymore, and none ahead that he could see. The wind raked through his sandy blond hair, his keen green eyes scanning the horizon. Below him he could hear the chanting of the line and he hummed along as he sat his post.
Ryan was scanning the sea when he caught on the edge of the horizon a ship. Bringing the glass to his eye he focused it on the ship. He cold see a field of black, white, and red on the flag or the other ship and his heart leapt.
"Bosun!" he hollered from the top of the mast, "Pirates to the port side!"
Ryan scuttled down the rigging as quickly as he could and took up arms to defend the ship as the Captain called, "Men to the ready!"
Project #18: Expansion
Sorry for the lateness of this post. This week's project is to take a previous post and expand on it. Any post you choose. Include the original post or at least a link to the original post. Explore the possibilities.
Lets keep the word count of the new portions to 500 words. Don't include the word count from the previous post.
Lets keep the word count of the new portions to 500 words. Don't include the word count from the previous post.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Overview #17 - Growing Up
I had fun this week getting to know David. At times he did not want to cooporate and tell me what was going on. I knew from the off set that I would be revising these posts, and I did. After rereading them and some very helpful input from Master, David is starting to take shape. It was interesting for me to explore the birth to death, what events would shape his life. I had the most trouble with his death. I think that that is only the second or third of my characters that have died. I think I can get to attached to characters and I don't want them to go away. I enjoyed working with David, he is the first paramilitary character that I have created. He is actually kind of a cross between military and Weiss Kreuz. I definitely had fun this week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)