06-25-2013, 09:29 PM
I like to write. Here's the first chapter of a book I've been working on. Enjoy!
I hope you don't mind but I broke up your paragraphs to make this a bit easier to read. I plan on giving it a read myself when I have a bit more time.
-Petie
![[+]](images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler
The Border of
Eternity
A Fractured Science Fiction Fairy tale from the mind of
Chapter 1
Les normally did not wake up early in the morning, much less before dawn, and this was especially so after having consumed that magical drink that was the result of some poor, hard-working bacteria trying to survive that would allow the entire of process of fermentation to exist, and by extension, allow poor fools like Les become absolutely smashed.
Yes, it was a wild but lonely night for young Les. If you must know, he was a young man. Or, some would call him but a boy. Boy actually sounds better. Sixteen years old is still a mere child. After all, some are mere children all the way into their thirties. He was a tall, skinny lad; with thick, black tangled hair that fell around his shoulders like a mass of wet seaweed. Les actually had some scraggly hairs also popping out from beneath his chin amidst the peach fuzz. He wore a pair of tanned pants and a simple black vest. These, along with a simple sword and religious papers were his only possessions he always had.
But, I digress. Let us return to this young man’s early morning. As I said, Les very rarely was up early, but the pounding at the door to his simple, unkept, tilted over, smelly and dirty straw hut was so loud that the dead would have not only rose up but performed a full seven act opera just to end the incessant banging.
He rose ever so slowly to his still loose feet. He then cursed the darkness of the night for still being around. Eyes still closed, he reached for a clay bowl that normally kept the water from the leaky hole in the roof. Notice, normally kept the water. You see, last night Les actually had enough sense to make some simple stew with leftover chicken, tomato and a healthy dose of cayenne peppers for a little kick. The only object to store this delicacy had been his water bowl. Les threw the entire cold and now moldy mess into his face expecting lukewarm water to help hasten the process of waking. Instead, the burning that was in his eyes and climbing up his nasal canal that was so intense it would make a grown man cry. Les was not yet a grown man, so he cried. And bellowed. And kicked violently. And so forth.
After the pain subsided enough that it was bearable and Les was done with his cardiac workout, he turned his head slowly to the door. His normally deep blue but now blood shot eyes stared right through the door and attempted to cast a death sentence onto whatever was behind it. All the while, the banging continued.
Les threw open the door in a rage, preparing to rip apart whoever was on the other side. He never really got the chance to; because the hooded figure pushed itself in so quickly that there was simply no time to react. Les’s anger where now just very slightly stifled by his confusion. As he approached the unseen man, hands ready to shed innocent blood like a demon possessed dog, the hooded figure revealed himself. It was the village elder.
“Les, I am sorry for awakening you so early. I must speak with you. It is of the greatest urgency.”
Now, the elder was a kind and old man. He had seen 87 winters come and go. He had seen his generation pass away, and his children’s generation whittle down to a very select few. In fact, only three of his 14 grandchildren were even still living. His thin gray hair and beard was a testament to wisdom itself. His tiny body moved like a grasshopper; continually crouched low to the earth. The grinding women had all escaped from his mouth; his eyes were of no use. But, no matter who you were, when this experienced one spoke, you listened.
Les recoiled back. Not particularly quickly, but clear enough to let this old man attempt to see an 88th winter. He had some respect for this old man, much more so than any other human being in the general vicinity.
“Fine, come right sir. Oh wait, you already are. Can you just tell me quickly what on earth was the reason for nearly killing myself this morning? It had better be good.”
The elder looked straight at Les, a tear brimming in his left eye. He opened his mouth slowly, as if he was being cautiously controlled by a novice puppeteer. Finally, the words spilled out.
“Les, I’m afraid you can’t stay in this village anymore. The council of the older men spoke last night. They plan on chasing you out. I came early so you can at least pack your things in a civilized manner and escape with more than the clothes on your back.”
Les was slightly stupefied. This might have been one of his worst mornings ever. Not his worst, mind you. But it was easily one of the worst. His anger had been growing ever stronger. It had reached the boiling point.
“FINE, SEE WHAT I CARE ABOUT ANY OF THIS! TREAT ME LIKE A MERE DOG! YOU CAN JUST GET GOING, YOU OLD PIG! JUST LIE TO SO I LEAVE! JUST…GET OUT OF MY FACE!”
With that, Les shoved the old man back. It wasn’t a hard push, but the elder was simply too old and didn’t have the reflexes of a young man. He stumbled for two steps before falling onto his rear end. He wasn’t hurt by the action; but Les wouldn’t have cared. He was feeling too cold this morning for sympathy.
The elder looked at Les with great sorrow. The tears that had been merely brimming in his eyes were now a waterfall. He had seen many young men confused in life before. But, Les seemed like a lost soul. He honestly wanted to see the best for the young man. He had fed him and gave him a piece of land as if he was his own son. Les may have only stumbled into the village two months before, but the elder knew that he had potential for greatness. But, one so heartless and misguided would never go anywhere. He would die in a drunken brawl in some dark alley. The elder suspected that it would occur in the next year at max.
The elder spoke again. “Les, let’s be honest here. This decision wasn’t reached quickly. I argued much for you. You have the ability to read. That is a great gift that no other in this town possesses! You would be a great help to us as a messenger to the governor. You don’t admit where you came from, but you must be royalty to have been trained so well. And, I have never seen your equal with the blade. You could guard this village much better than 10 men!”
Les kept his back turned to the old man. He growled out in a low and slow tone. “If you truly feel that way, if I am truly such a valuable asset, why are you forcing me away?”
The elder slowly rose back to his feet, crawling his hands up his walking stick. He walked up behind Les, almost whispering in his ear. “Les, you have done nothing for this village. You have not used your ability to read for any benefit at all to us. You have not helped as a guard either. You did not help reap the harvest. In fact, if it wasn’t for my kindness, you would have starved to death. All you have done in this village has been tell empty promises to the ladies and create wretched brawls due to your drink. Do you honestly think you have helped us at all? Now, please, go while you still can. It’s not as if you have a future here anyway. Go to the city of DyRoche. You can fight all you want as a mercenary there. You have no future here. Just get out while you can.”
With that, the elder slowly made his way for the door and showed himself out. Les continue standing, stiff as a stone. His head was still pounding. It was a lot to try to take in so early in the morning. His eyes slowly looked around the room. It was damp, dark and musty. The corner that he used as his restroom was covered in flies. There was the cleared spot in the dirt where he lay his head at night in the center of the room. He looked to his sword and sheath sitting on the wall. A few books lay by them; religious writings that he let no one else dare touch. They were the reminder of who he really was; the illegitimate love child of a priest and nun. He walked over slowly, picked up one of the old covers, and flipped it open.
“Father, why? Who am I really? Why am I even still alive?”
He had been raised in the monastery until he was 7. Unlike other children, who just somehow disappeared. Just gone, a way to cover up any such sin. He was trained from infancy to pick apart the holy writings of the church. He learned to read. Throughout his life, he continued to pick at these writings, continually sharpening his skill on his own. Only one with a magnificent mind could teach themselves so well.
But, this secret life couldn’t continue forever. He was the disgusting thing in the holy place. And so, he was eventually driven out. A group of traveling circus performers became his new family. It was there that he learned the skills of the sword to impress people. He also could play the flute so well that it put a siren’s golden voice to shame. But, he no longer had one in his possession. He learned acrobatic skills that dazzled the crowds. But, he left there on his own. Just struck out into the forest in a rebellious streak. For the past two years, this one of a kind child had wondered from village to village, barely getting enough to eat. This life had severely confused the boy, and he hated all authority, all things venerated.
He grabbed the sword. He looked at the ever dulling blade closely. It was by no means a civilian sword. It was a great sword, able to overpower and slash through almost anything. He needed to obtain a rapier sooner or later for duels, but this beast had saved his life on many occasions. It was what repelled the beasts in the forest so well that allowed him to eat meat. These things were all he needed.
Les slung the great weapon and it’s sheath around his shoulder. The books went in a small satchel to his side. He took one last long look through the room. There was nothing else of value here, unless one counts a poorly made clay bowl important. Anyway, Les liked to travel light.
He stepped outside. Dawn was just beginning as the sun left it’s hiding place. Les took in a breath of the morning air. He walked up a few feet to the fire. Les had been assigned to keep watch over it last night and make sure it didn’t go out as a way to scare off any of the beasts found in the forest. But, he had no desire to work at such a task and had drank the last bit of his stored brandy. He looked into the smoldering coals. A few embers still remained lit.
Les grabbed the hot thing in his hand. He threw it back with all his might back at his hut. The fire started slowly, but with a little encouragement, began to rage. Les stood mere inches from the flames, letting them lick his skin. His hair was singed more than once. The heat on his arms and arms was causing small bubbles to rise. But, Les didn’t care. Too much had happened. His head was thumping. But, this was the ultimate closure. Les felt as if he was purifying himself.
A fair voice came from behind him. “Les, I assume you are leaving us?”
Les turned back and stepped out away from the burning fire. It was a beautiful thing that stood before him. Tannah was merely a girl, great granddaughter of the village elder. Yet, she had just as a caring persona about her. She had flowing blonde hair that that she kept pushed off to the side of her face.
Les really did like her. She was beautiful and had always had been as kind as the elder. What Les did not realize was the feelings Tannah had started devolping for him. But, today was not the day for talking. Les put his best scowl on his face and walked over the fields and into the dense forest outside the village. Tannah kept her on eyes affixed on the poor soul until he was no longer visible.
And Tannah wept.
Eternity
A Fractured Science Fiction Fairy tale from the mind of
Chapter 1
Les normally did not wake up early in the morning, much less before dawn, and this was especially so after having consumed that magical drink that was the result of some poor, hard-working bacteria trying to survive that would allow the entire of process of fermentation to exist, and by extension, allow poor fools like Les become absolutely smashed.
Yes, it was a wild but lonely night for young Les. If you must know, he was a young man. Or, some would call him but a boy. Boy actually sounds better. Sixteen years old is still a mere child. After all, some are mere children all the way into their thirties. He was a tall, skinny lad; with thick, black tangled hair that fell around his shoulders like a mass of wet seaweed. Les actually had some scraggly hairs also popping out from beneath his chin amidst the peach fuzz. He wore a pair of tanned pants and a simple black vest. These, along with a simple sword and religious papers were his only possessions he always had.
But, I digress. Let us return to this young man’s early morning. As I said, Les very rarely was up early, but the pounding at the door to his simple, unkept, tilted over, smelly and dirty straw hut was so loud that the dead would have not only rose up but performed a full seven act opera just to end the incessant banging.
He rose ever so slowly to his still loose feet. He then cursed the darkness of the night for still being around. Eyes still closed, he reached for a clay bowl that normally kept the water from the leaky hole in the roof. Notice, normally kept the water. You see, last night Les actually had enough sense to make some simple stew with leftover chicken, tomato and a healthy dose of cayenne peppers for a little kick. The only object to store this delicacy had been his water bowl. Les threw the entire cold and now moldy mess into his face expecting lukewarm water to help hasten the process of waking. Instead, the burning that was in his eyes and climbing up his nasal canal that was so intense it would make a grown man cry. Les was not yet a grown man, so he cried. And bellowed. And kicked violently. And so forth.
After the pain subsided enough that it was bearable and Les was done with his cardiac workout, he turned his head slowly to the door. His normally deep blue but now blood shot eyes stared right through the door and attempted to cast a death sentence onto whatever was behind it. All the while, the banging continued.
Les threw open the door in a rage, preparing to rip apart whoever was on the other side. He never really got the chance to; because the hooded figure pushed itself in so quickly that there was simply no time to react. Les’s anger where now just very slightly stifled by his confusion. As he approached the unseen man, hands ready to shed innocent blood like a demon possessed dog, the hooded figure revealed himself. It was the village elder.
“Les, I am sorry for awakening you so early. I must speak with you. It is of the greatest urgency.”
Now, the elder was a kind and old man. He had seen 87 winters come and go. He had seen his generation pass away, and his children’s generation whittle down to a very select few. In fact, only three of his 14 grandchildren were even still living. His thin gray hair and beard was a testament to wisdom itself. His tiny body moved like a grasshopper; continually crouched low to the earth. The grinding women had all escaped from his mouth; his eyes were of no use. But, no matter who you were, when this experienced one spoke, you listened.
Les recoiled back. Not particularly quickly, but clear enough to let this old man attempt to see an 88th winter. He had some respect for this old man, much more so than any other human being in the general vicinity.
“Fine, come right sir. Oh wait, you already are. Can you just tell me quickly what on earth was the reason for nearly killing myself this morning? It had better be good.”
The elder looked straight at Les, a tear brimming in his left eye. He opened his mouth slowly, as if he was being cautiously controlled by a novice puppeteer. Finally, the words spilled out.
“Les, I’m afraid you can’t stay in this village anymore. The council of the older men spoke last night. They plan on chasing you out. I came early so you can at least pack your things in a civilized manner and escape with more than the clothes on your back.”
Les was slightly stupefied. This might have been one of his worst mornings ever. Not his worst, mind you. But it was easily one of the worst. His anger had been growing ever stronger. It had reached the boiling point.
“FINE, SEE WHAT I CARE ABOUT ANY OF THIS! TREAT ME LIKE A MERE DOG! YOU CAN JUST GET GOING, YOU OLD PIG! JUST LIE TO SO I LEAVE! JUST…GET OUT OF MY FACE!”
With that, Les shoved the old man back. It wasn’t a hard push, but the elder was simply too old and didn’t have the reflexes of a young man. He stumbled for two steps before falling onto his rear end. He wasn’t hurt by the action; but Les wouldn’t have cared. He was feeling too cold this morning for sympathy.
The elder looked at Les with great sorrow. The tears that had been merely brimming in his eyes were now a waterfall. He had seen many young men confused in life before. But, Les seemed like a lost soul. He honestly wanted to see the best for the young man. He had fed him and gave him a piece of land as if he was his own son. Les may have only stumbled into the village two months before, but the elder knew that he had potential for greatness. But, one so heartless and misguided would never go anywhere. He would die in a drunken brawl in some dark alley. The elder suspected that it would occur in the next year at max.
The elder spoke again. “Les, let’s be honest here. This decision wasn’t reached quickly. I argued much for you. You have the ability to read. That is a great gift that no other in this town possesses! You would be a great help to us as a messenger to the governor. You don’t admit where you came from, but you must be royalty to have been trained so well. And, I have never seen your equal with the blade. You could guard this village much better than 10 men!”
Les kept his back turned to the old man. He growled out in a low and slow tone. “If you truly feel that way, if I am truly such a valuable asset, why are you forcing me away?”
The elder slowly rose back to his feet, crawling his hands up his walking stick. He walked up behind Les, almost whispering in his ear. “Les, you have done nothing for this village. You have not used your ability to read for any benefit at all to us. You have not helped as a guard either. You did not help reap the harvest. In fact, if it wasn’t for my kindness, you would have starved to death. All you have done in this village has been tell empty promises to the ladies and create wretched brawls due to your drink. Do you honestly think you have helped us at all? Now, please, go while you still can. It’s not as if you have a future here anyway. Go to the city of DyRoche. You can fight all you want as a mercenary there. You have no future here. Just get out while you can.”
With that, the elder slowly made his way for the door and showed himself out. Les continue standing, stiff as a stone. His head was still pounding. It was a lot to try to take in so early in the morning. His eyes slowly looked around the room. It was damp, dark and musty. The corner that he used as his restroom was covered in flies. There was the cleared spot in the dirt where he lay his head at night in the center of the room. He looked to his sword and sheath sitting on the wall. A few books lay by them; religious writings that he let no one else dare touch. They were the reminder of who he really was; the illegitimate love child of a priest and nun. He walked over slowly, picked up one of the old covers, and flipped it open.
“Father, why? Who am I really? Why am I even still alive?”
He had been raised in the monastery until he was 7. Unlike other children, who just somehow disappeared. Just gone, a way to cover up any such sin. He was trained from infancy to pick apart the holy writings of the church. He learned to read. Throughout his life, he continued to pick at these writings, continually sharpening his skill on his own. Only one with a magnificent mind could teach themselves so well.
But, this secret life couldn’t continue forever. He was the disgusting thing in the holy place. And so, he was eventually driven out. A group of traveling circus performers became his new family. It was there that he learned the skills of the sword to impress people. He also could play the flute so well that it put a siren’s golden voice to shame. But, he no longer had one in his possession. He learned acrobatic skills that dazzled the crowds. But, he left there on his own. Just struck out into the forest in a rebellious streak. For the past two years, this one of a kind child had wondered from village to village, barely getting enough to eat. This life had severely confused the boy, and he hated all authority, all things venerated.
He grabbed the sword. He looked at the ever dulling blade closely. It was by no means a civilian sword. It was a great sword, able to overpower and slash through almost anything. He needed to obtain a rapier sooner or later for duels, but this beast had saved his life on many occasions. It was what repelled the beasts in the forest so well that allowed him to eat meat. These things were all he needed.
Les slung the great weapon and it’s sheath around his shoulder. The books went in a small satchel to his side. He took one last long look through the room. There was nothing else of value here, unless one counts a poorly made clay bowl important. Anyway, Les liked to travel light.
He stepped outside. Dawn was just beginning as the sun left it’s hiding place. Les took in a breath of the morning air. He walked up a few feet to the fire. Les had been assigned to keep watch over it last night and make sure it didn’t go out as a way to scare off any of the beasts found in the forest. But, he had no desire to work at such a task and had drank the last bit of his stored brandy. He looked into the smoldering coals. A few embers still remained lit.
Les grabbed the hot thing in his hand. He threw it back with all his might back at his hut. The fire started slowly, but with a little encouragement, began to rage. Les stood mere inches from the flames, letting them lick his skin. His hair was singed more than once. The heat on his arms and arms was causing small bubbles to rise. But, Les didn’t care. Too much had happened. His head was thumping. But, this was the ultimate closure. Les felt as if he was purifying himself.
A fair voice came from behind him. “Les, I assume you are leaving us?”
Les turned back and stepped out away from the burning fire. It was a beautiful thing that stood before him. Tannah was merely a girl, great granddaughter of the village elder. Yet, she had just as a caring persona about her. She had flowing blonde hair that that she kept pushed off to the side of her face.
Les really did like her. She was beautiful and had always had been as kind as the elder. What Les did not realize was the feelings Tannah had started devolping for him. But, today was not the day for talking. Les put his best scowl on his face and walked over the fields and into the dense forest outside the village. Tannah kept her on eyes affixed on the poor soul until he was no longer visible.
And Tannah wept.
I hope you don't mind but I broke up your paragraphs to make this a bit easier to read. I plan on giving it a read myself when I have a bit more time.
-Petie