Welcome to Gaia! ::

Writers United: Where Authors are Born

Back to Guilds

This is a guild where new writers as well as old-time writers can come to improve their skills, share their stories and more!! 

Tags: Songwriting, Writing, Stories, Role playing, Poetry 

Reply Adventure Story Forum
End of Days Goto Page: 1 2 [>] [»|]

Quick Reply

Enter both words below, separated by a space:

Can't read the text? Click here

Submit

RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 10:20 am


Note: Before I post this, this is one of my older works. There are probably a hundred mistakes in it. Please notify me. I like this work alot, it has potential. Also if there is some thing in the plot you want/dislike, tell me, so I consider your suggestions. Also for formating, the stupid computer was being mean and not keeping my format, so don't tell me about it okay? But besides that everything else is open to criticism.
Oh also there is a lot of swearing in it.



Now before I tell the story next let me tell you the science. Every decision you make creates a parallel universe. If you flip a coin to decide to go right or left, it lands tails. You go right, and find an empty treasure chest. What happens if you go left? Then bam a parallel universe is created where you go left. Every decision has a price, with its consequences more obvious later on. But in each parallel universe decisions are made change its own pattern, things that are possible. Time travel, magic, defying gravity, people does this every day in other universes. Well I live in the original universe, the first one ever created. Everything is possible, and you can choose to use it or not. Now this will be important latter on, but for now it is mostly irrelevant.
As for me my name is Mike Flam. My parents died when I was twelve. I remember that day very clearly. My father walked in, he was writing a book about something or other, I didn't care enough to ask him. He strutted, saying he just needed to place the finishing touches, and he would be in the shed with my mother. He was short, with dull green eyes, short wavy black hair and a smile permanently glued to his face. My mother was a tall skinny woman with blue eyes and straight blonde hair. She was not the most beautiful woman in the land, but she was my mother and I loved her dearly. Two hours later, I wandered back into the dilapidated backyard, where the shed stood. It has an impressive appearance, tall with shining towers that stand over ten feet high. There in front of the shed lying in a pool of blood, laid my parents. I couldn't comprehend the pain that reverberated through my heart. I thought it was the end of days, the one the last day I would live. Alas I as many do survived yet the scars never did heal. They both were gone from me forever, and my father's book spared from the blood. That day I locked the book away, promising never to see it again. I was had my father's eyes and hair, yet my mother's height and resolution.
Two years later, I still live in the same house. Yet not alone. My best friend Amber Smith lives with me too. She is five foot six, with frizzled brown hair, and sharp blue eyes that penetrate all that she sees. Her family has basically abandoned her as a lost cause. They are all priests in some sense, and attend church every day. She has doubts about the validness of the churches, and doesn't accept their version of God. She fled them two years ago. I was her only friend who was willing to put up with her. We live with no parent consent and pretty do whatever we want.
Amber and I have known each other for our whole lives. We grew up in the same area, and even after he moved here we kept in contact. Besides our knowing of each other we don't have much in common. She enjoys her sleep, and I'm restless. I'm a good cook and good at fixing things.
Tomorrow we start our school. This school is one that teaches everything, not just math and writing, also magic, time traveling, politics and athletics. Amber and I had already picked which learning branches to go into. She would venture into the government branch and I would enter the engineering branch.
There was only one problem with this arrangement. Neither of us had parents to help us into the schools so we would have to be with others who lack parents to support them. I didn't mind, but Amber was terrified of meeting others. She hated her past, and I were the only ones who had shown her kindness. I know it was foolish but I felt responsible for her. She had everything besides love. Brains, looks, a little wealth, but no one had ever loved her. She had a cruel life, and I feared it wasn't going to get much better.
"Wakey, wakey Amber" I said on the morning of our first day of the ******** off" Amber said curtly
"I made bacon and eggs, your favorite"
"Still ******** off while I take a shower okay"
"Fine" I said with a laugh.
An hour later we were sitting in front of the school waiting for it to open. The school was a boring old building that stretched miles. It lacked a magical touch that you thought it would have. It just seemed like miles of office space that was just room after room, no difference in them at all. We were sitting at the entrance for freshman with no parents. At that time we were joined by twins. Their skin was black as night, their hair short and brown. They seemed cheerful folks so I attempted to start up conversation.
"You don't have parents either" I asked.
"Actually we do, their time travelers" was the response.
"I thought time travelers couldn't have children"
"They had us before they traveled, so we can't have children as we did travel with them. By the way I'm Tom and he's Tim. I plan to be an assassin and he's a time traveler wannabe."
"Mike, engineer and cook. This is Amber, who is the shyest ******** person ******** you Mike" Amber said with a piercing stare
At this time we were joined by two more, a short thick blonde, and a tall skinny red-head. We started chatting away, and quickly learned that the two were Nylad and Frank, respectively. Nylad got his name by his father who was drunk and said that his first born son would be "Nylad". The name stuck. Frank was a Conflagration Magician Apprentice or a Fire Wizard. Nylad was to be that he was a magic abuser catcher, a fancy name for bounty hunter. We heard the bell, and anticipated the arrival of who ever would let us in. Then it started raining. We stood out there trembling, cold, wet to our bones, freezing, and just waiting. Amber picked a bad shirt to wear, and already I could tell that she was absolutely frozen, so in an act of kindness, I placed my jacket over her. Then a creepy groan admitted from the door, and a shockingly deep voice with a heavy crackle, like a poor imitation of a witch to us to come in. With the option of freezing out there in the rain or facing the mysterious voice, all of us quivering in fear we walked in.
When we entered we were surprised to see a nicely lit fire, and six chairs lined in a perfect row. Then the voice told us to sit down, relax and have some whiskey. I noticed that the seventh chair was now moved in front of us, and there sat a man who seemed to be made of whale blubber. "Hello children my name is Fallnor" he said in a high squeal. "I am Headmaster of this school, if you have any questions please ask now."
"Just one" said Amber in a haughty voice "Why the ******** did we have to stand out in the damn rain all this time. I mean it's rude to treat a future student of yours like that.
"I had to clean the office before you laid eyes on it. Anything else you want to ask?"
"No we all charmed in."
"If I may be able to I ask what happened to your parents, and what core subject you are interested in." In turn we each tell him our stories; with Frank omitting the tale of his parent's meeting the gypsy. We weren't worried about being captured, and held for ransom, as the emperor had only control in name, not power. After listening to our tales he gave us all maps of the school. "Well, on you go to your classes; they are marked on your map. Meet me here next week same time, same entrance. Ta Ta for now." We then left the office excited to go and meet our teachers.
On our way to the main section of the school, we stopped just a minute to spilt, when suddenly Amber asked the whole group to come to my house to congratulate ourselves on a good start of the school years. All agreed besides me, since now it meant that I would now have to cook for six instead of two. Yet even despite that I was happy, content with my life, and now I might have friends. Which sounds very attractive unless, you're a complete hermit, which I'm not, I may add. As the school day went I met many more people who all seemed to either take extreme interest in me or ignore my completely. I met two people who interested me intensely too Steve, who was a complete hunk and also knows a lot about military tactics, and Suzanne, a person who believes that each subject can be learned in a life time, since you only need x amount of hours of studying to learn a subject, but after the x hours your learning will decrease rapidly to a plateau. So I guess she was a Jill of all trades. Suzanne or Suzie as she liked to be called had a natural beauty to her, and even though I doubt she could compare to others who had plastic beauty. The day passed with a sense of dread in how to cook enough food for people I don't know. The contingency plan, flee.
Once home, I started cooking the largest meal I've ever attempted. Amber was sitting at the table, looking very pissed at me. "What's the matter I asked?"
"You are. You simply assume that I won't help you cook, and try to do a too large of a task by yourself."
"That's because you suck as a cook."
"I could learn."
"You lack the attention span to."
"Eventually I will need to know how to. Otherwise how else will I eat? I could still, I don't know, live with you." Amber suddenly blushed, her face turning bright red. I pretended not to notice and continued chatting.
"Yeah right, if you want to help then come here and learn."
Two hours later and many failed attempts to show Amber on how to cook a simple spaghetti dish the door rang and Amber full of relief went to answer the door. Eight people walked in calmly, while I freaked out. I ran into my bed room and locked the door and waited for an hour to see if I was dreaming. Instead only more people came to the party. I reluctantly slunk down stairs to see how many people had arrived. Only twenty people had entered the party, yet to me used to solitude and quite it seemed to be a million. I sat in the corner acting miserable when the second of many events to change my life occurred. Susie and Tim happened notice me sulking in the corner. "Nice house Mike" Susie commented staring around room. I did have to admit that it was a beautiful house with old furniture that had a certain dignity about it.
"Ah but you haven't seen the best part, the one thing that makes this house special." I said smiling to myself.
"What is it Michael, please tell us" Tim asked me with sarcasm laced in the words.
"Let me show you" I walked to the shed, a place I rarely dared tread. There hidden behind the many tools and pieces of broken wood, laid a machine. This machine was like any other I had seen. It was a pentagonal shape, and a dark grey color. It had always been there, and even with my knowledge of machines, it was way past anything I could comprehend.
"Oh my word, that's a beauty" Tim ejaculated excitedly.
"What is it" I inquired, my heart racing like men during a 200 meter.
"That my friend is a time vortex machine."
"What the hell is a time vortex machine"
"It allows you to access any time in any universe. They aren't perfect, new ones will transport you within a two mile radius and a five minute time period. Yet as they decay, the range is wider. You can physically see the difference, as the machine gets smaller as they decay. This one is special. There used to be guardians who maintained them. However they all died in a war. The machines all fell into decay, and none work. This one however still has some power. But the inscriptions on the side show that it was modified by the guardians to decay as the end of days comes. That's scary"
"Your point is."
"The machine is almost dead"
"Oh s**t"
"Oh s**t is right"
Suzie stood there as our conversation moved on, and she then suddenly lunged into the machine, grapping my arm and pulling me arm first into the black void the machine created. From there we fell, for an eternity it seemed, yet also seemed to be a microsecond. Then there was glass shattering pains, and my leg collapsed inwards, and some how it stayed intact. My bones though split into two, rendering them useless. So there I was with Suzie who didn't seem to suffer one bit by this action of her, possibly on an new planet, and I have a broken leg. This day I thought couldn't get much worse.
So anyway we found ourselves in a city called London. A nearby newspaper tells the year as 2098 AD, what ever that means. So new planet check. Then a very attractive girl, no older then us, wearing a tank top and jeans, runs by, with men, and the word police on their jackets running after her. I expertly took a pistol out of the police's pockets and shot them all in the back. The girl looked at us in surprise.
"Why did you just shot the police"
"Because they were chasing you"
"Yeah, they were chasing me because I stole a purse." Oh s**t, this day just did get worse.
"Actually he shot them because you are hot" Suzie interjected. I felt my anger yet I calmed down once I saw where Suzie was leading to.
"Okay this is going to sound crazy but we are from another universe" Suzie continued, with no
"Thought so, see you speak the same language, yet you don't know a cop when you see one, thus either you are very drunk, which by your aiming abilities is not true, or you come from another universe."
"Wait you know about other universes"
"No its called sarcasm, thought that maybe others from different universes might recognize it."
"We can prove it" Suzie said in an even level voice, neither rising nor falling.
"Prove it"
"Sure step through that door"
"That old rusty door right there" Suzie just nodded, making no effort to speak. "Sam, short for Samantha, just in case if your wondering. I think you two are crazy, but I'll step through if it makes you happy cutie" This seemed to crack Suzie's shell, if only for a second or so. Samantha stepped forward and pried the door open. "Oh my god" was her only words before she stepped through into the black void that counted as Vortex.
"After you" I told Suzie. She then stepped in without another word, and also disappeared into darkness. I then threw the gun onto the ground. It was at that time two other men with police written on their shirt, walked by the alleyway. It was there that they turned and say their fallen comrades laying dead on the street. Keeping calm, I stepped through the door, and also flew through the darkness, towards the end of the tunnel. Just before I went through I saw a flicker in the dark. I could have sworn I had seen it before, but before I could reflect on the item, I was rushed to the light. Home sweet home.
As I came out of the time vortex, I found myself inside my dark, and dusky shed, with a faint smell of peanuts arising from the entrance. As I turned around to look around the vortex sputtered and shut it self down, for a recharge Tim would later explain. "Where the hell did you disappear to" Tim said the excitement barely masked behind a web of anger. "And who is that" he yelled pointing at Sam. "Suzie has failed to answer any questions, and she" again pointing at Sam "is standing there in shock." Sam then opened her mouth to at.
"Sam, orphan off the streets of London, aren't you feisty."
"Oh I like you" Tim commented. "Yeah anyway I'm Tim, and could you identify which planet you come from."
"Earth, Height of the third Human Empire."
"London right"
"That is correct"
"That would place you in the Slen universe, protectors of time and space continuum"
"The what's."
"Nothing, nothing" At that moment the gravity of what just happened seemed to hit Sam like a uncontrollable Camry racing toward its unsuspecting target. She started crying and sobbing, and I felt a twang of regret for taking her so far away from her home. I didn't think much about her, until then. At that point I observed many details about her, from the present and past memories I could gather. She had high cheekbones, a dirty sort of t-shirt on. When she smiled she had a slight dimple on her left cheek, one that is missing on the right. She walks with a slight limp. She had a bruise on her arm, seemingly where someone very strong hit her. As I thought about this the guilt I felt seemed to just get worse and worse. I was wishing that I could take the past hour back, maybe my whole life. Yes this was the third thing that changed my life. I wished it would be the last one that left me with guilt, but alas the fates are cruel in that way. I knelt down next to Sam and tried and comfort her. "Leave me god leave me alone." And with that she ran off, with Tim running after her making sure that she would be safe. The guilt just piled up. So I did the only thing I could do, went to sleep. But before I did, I made sure the door was unlocked. Just in case.
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 11:46 am


you need to work on the dialogue, try to make it smoother and sound more natural.

take more time to introduce people and places, describe them through the main character's eyes, giving his reaction to them and their appearance, not just a listed description.

try to make the character's actions more realistic. most people, orphan or not, aren't very likely to step through a portal and shoot a police officer first thing. maybe trip the officers or grab the girl and help hide her until the police pass but kill them? its unbelievable and makes Mike a very unsympathetic character.

dhampir_princess
Crew


RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 1:11 pm


Thanks, I actually had a different version where they don't run into the police and where a lot more disoriented, but that got lost...... I coulda swore it was this version........
I'll rewrite it.....
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 2:39 pm


I rewrote the first bit. Over time I'll write more and more, I just wanted to show everyone this bit first. For me I feel it's a weird way to begin a story, but then I'm not exactly normal.

Now before I tell the story next let me tell you the science. Every decision you make creates a parallel universe. If you flip a coin to decide to go right or left, it lands tails. You go right, and find an empty treasure chest. What happens if you go left? Then bam a parallel universe is created where you go left. Every decision has a price, with its consequences more obvious later on. But in each parallel universe decisions are made change its own pattern, things that are possible. Time travel, magic, defying gravity, people does this every day in other universes. Well I live in the original universe, the first one ever created. Everything is possible, and you can choose to use it or not. Now this will be important latter on, but for now it is mostly irrelevant.

As for me my name is Michael Flam, preferably called Mike though. My parents died when I was twelve. I remember that day very clearly. My father walked in, he was writing a book about something or other, I didn't care enough to ask him. He strutted, saying he just needed to place the finishing touches, and he would be in the shed with my mother. He was short, with dull green eyes, short wavy black hair and a smile permanently glued to his face. My mother was a tall skinny woman with blue eyes and straight blonde hair. She was not the most beautiful woman in the land, but she was my mother and I loved her dearly. Two hours later, I wandered back into the dilapidated backyard, where the shed stood. It has an impressive appearance, tall with shining towers that stand over ten feet high. There in front of the shed, laying in a pool of blood, were my parents. I couldn't comprehend the pain that reverberated through my heart. I thought it was the end of days, the one the last day I would live. Alas I, as many do, survived yet the scars never did heal. They both were gone from me forever, and my father's book spared from the blood. That day I locked the book away, promising never to see it again. Tears welled up in my eyes. My heart ached, and I deluded myself. For one year I told myself it was a dream, an illusion. Psychiatrist after Psychiatrist told me that I was wrong, that they were gone. I didn’t believe so; I fooled myself into the fact that they were going to come back. They never did. I waited, and no one came. I left myself in a rut, an endless rut. A rut where I made myself prisoner of my own mind. I just wanted to be happy once more. And then she re-entered my life.

My best friend, the charming lovely Amber Smith. Her petite body, standing at a diminutive 5’1 and a mere 110 pounds, leaves me towering over her. It often makes me feel a giant to her. However she does turn heads wherever she goes. It also seems as if one boyfriend or another is visiting every day. Many of them ask if I feel jealous of them, that they were taking my girl. I always laughed them off, and say this phrase: ‘The love of men does not go with the women, but the mother and the sister. That is how I love Amber; she is my sister in heart. A beautiful woman she is, and I’ll be happy for the man who claims her.’ At least, that’s what I publically said. As for how she helped me out, well, she found the keys to the prison I locked myself in. Just some tender loving care. That was all I needed.

RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200

dhampir_princess
Crew

PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 3:50 pm


rethink how you're beginning the story. start with more action for instance, start with a detailed scene of his parents' death. or even just make what you have more active, like this:

Quote:
Have you ever made a decision by flipping a coin? I know I have, everyone does. But have you ever wondered what happens when you do this? I'll tell you. Every decision you make creates a parallel universe. Did you choose to go right? In that split second of decision, a price is paid. Certain possibilities are lost while others are created. Then in each parallel universe, more decisions are made that further change its pattern.

Time travel, magic, defying gravity, all of this is possible and people do this every day in some universes. As for me, I live in the original universe, the first one ever created. Anything is possible, we can choose whether or not to use it. Now, this will be important later on, but for now, let me tell you the story.
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 3:56 pm


Okay, thanks I'll re write it again....

RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200

dhampir_princess
Crew

PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 3:57 pm


Sorry, im just trying to help but i feel like im being mean. don't be offended okay?
PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 4:04 pm


Hey I wouldn't ask for help if I didn't expect criticism.
As long as you don't go oh it sucks major time, then I'm not going to be offended.
Anyway, this is one of my worst works (in my opinion.) I feel it has a lot of potential, but just doesn't go anywhere with it....

RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200

dhampir_princess
Crew

PostPosted: Tue Aug 03, 2010 11:51 pm


that's good. let me know if you want pointers from me on anything else.
PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 9:14 am


Now before I tell the story next let me tell you the science. Every decision you make creates a parallel universe. If you flip a coin to decide to go right or left, it lands tails. You go right, and find an empty treasure chest. What happens if you go left? Then bam a parallel universe is created where you go left. Every decision has a price, with its consequences more obvious later on. But in each parallel universe decisions are made change its own pattern, things that are possible. Laws of physics being bent, those who could breathe with no oxygen, plants that eat only meat. Things that by laws of one universe shouldn't even exist, ruling the another. Manipulation of atoms with words, more commonly known as magic, is a common feature upon many of these worlds. In fact, consider this. In your own universe, life can only exist in a small spectrum of worlds. Now this is compensated for by the fact that many of the worlds in your universe seem to fit in that description, however, in another universe, just inches off your viewing, the same laws for life, however only one-tenth of the planets are inhabitable.
Both universes have it's own code. The string that connects them together. This string is known as the reality fabric. This reality fabric is the single most important thing in every universe. To destroy that reality fabric would bring about the end of the universe it holds together. However as time goes by the fabric produces holes, gets stretched thin. One day it just snaps. Bang, end of the universe. Of course it eventually rebuilds itself, not exactly the same, but still similar. Yet, what happens if the reality fabric gets completely destroyed, never to again be rebuilt. Well there are many theorists who believe that over time, maybe billions of years, they would rebuild themselves, new one's arrive to replace the old. Yet, another group of upcoming scientists in the this area provide another idea. That the universe would go kaput. Everything, everywhere, and every time, the universe would just die. No return. That is where the solution becomes complex. What happens if someone was able to create a weapon that would destroy the reality fabric? Surely, that weapon would be feared as the greatest known to any species. The ability to wipe out an entire universe. The possibilities are terrifying. But surely if someone built that weapon, they would destroy themselves, right, making the weapon an impossible dream?
Well, this point is particularly debated. Some suggest that if such a weapon could be built, then the maker could program in for the area of effect to be limited to a few star systems. Meaning entire species being wiped out with the rest of that universe not knowing.

Okay I re wrote the beginning, fleshing out the alternate universe idea, and introducing the devastating weapon. Hope this is a better version then my last.

RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200

dhampir_princess
Crew

PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 2:21 pm


it's getting better but most of what you're writing is unnecessary to the story itself at this point. don't get me wrong, it's good that you work out the details, you might even wind up using it later. but it doesn't do anything to progress the story, it's just an information dump at this point.

start the story at a point when some significant action is taking place. something that happens that forces your character to act. doing this means you'll have to think about the character and what he wants, what's driving him to do everything he does.

A Writer's Guide To Fiction by Elizabeth Lyon
Give your protagonist and other POV characters a universal need such as self-respect, identity, family unity, survival, or belonging and connect it to a past event where that need was denied or made impossible. Develop only one such need. Show the character as he or she yearns for and pursues fulfillment of this one need throughout all parts of the story.
PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 2:28 pm


if you want, i can post several versions of a start to one of my stories to give you an example of what im talking about. show you what i did and how i changed the story to fix it.

dhampir_princess
Crew


RememberingtheStars

4,350 Points
  • Member 100
  • Citizen 200
  • Autobiographer 200
PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 2:46 pm


Okay, that'll be great. I have to go now, but I'll be sure to read it in a bit.
PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 3:30 pm


alright. it's going to be long, just to warn you.

Original Version
In our world there are two feuding factions, the Church and the Coven. Both fighting for dominance over the other, right beneath the noses of the ignorant masses. There are two things that have held these factions in existence for so long. One is their hate for the one another. The other is a legend. The legend. A prophecy shrouded in mystery that can either bring peace and salvation, or death and destruction.

No one knows for sure when the prophecy was first told, or even who told it. Both the Church and the Coven believe it however, and that's really all that matters. The legend tells of two children. One will be born with the clear blue eyes of a demon. The blue eyed child will grow to be extremely evil; blood thirsty and powerful enough to draw the world into chaos and despair until nothing is left unshaken. But there is one and only one person able to stop the blue eyed demon. Another child will also be born, and they will have the eyes of both an angel and of a demon; one green eye and one blue eye. The child with warring eyes may bring salvation to the world, but only if the child so chooses...

It goes without saying which outcome each faction hopes for. The Church waits greedily for their one small chance of salvation, while the Coven plots and schemes in the shadows, waiting for the time when everything will be in ruins and they can step in to claim power for themselves. And so, it is because of hate and a legend, that when Lyza and Stephen's newborn son opened his eyes for the first time, everyone in the little house went silent.

There were only three people in the room besides the boy's parents; Nanya, the frumpy old midwife, Vance, the eighteen-year-old hired farm hand, and Lydia, Lyza and Stephen's five-year-old daughter. The adults all shared an uneasy look for a long minute. Finally, the little girl blurted out, "Momma? Why aren't his eyes red like all ours?"

"Hush up, Lydia," Stephen ordered in a calm, quiet voice.

"But Papa. He looks funny," she squinted one eye at baby as she spoke. "One eye's like grass and the other's like the sky."

"Lydia, I said hush your mouth." He rubbed his sun-browned face wearily. "You've seen the baby, now git ta bed."

The little girl whined in protest. "But you haven't even named him yet Papa!"

"His name is Damian," Lyza told the sulking child, holding her arms out to Nanya for her baby. Reluctantly, but also with a sense of relief, the old nursemaid relinquished the infant to his mother. "Now listen to your father and go ta sleep."

Lydia pouted, but with only one more look back at Damian, she left the room and went to her own. She climbed in her bed, then lay there in the dark, snuggled up in Momma's big quilt, singing to herself about the grass and sky until she fell asleep and forgot her troubles.

In the other room though, the problems were only starting. Lyza held Damian to her chest and patted his frail back absently as she stared out at the wall. Beside her, Stephen sank down on the edge of their bed and rested an elbow on his knee. He rubbed at the thin stubble on his chin thoughtfully without saying a word. Vance glanced around uncomfortably, watching Nanya clean up and pack her things away. Only when the silence became unbearable did he speak. "What will you do, sir?"

Stephen startled a bit and looked up at the young man. "Do?" he asked blankly.

"We won't do anything," Lyza said quietly.

"But... But ma'am. The legend..."

Stephen took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders proudly. "That old wives tale has naught ta do with my boy, Vance."

Nanya nodded sagely at the father's wisdom. "Its for the best," she croaked. "I don't know if any of us remember how the legend truly goes now. Do warring eyes mean destruction? Or were they our salvation? Either way, the Church will take him from his family, if they find out. Best chances for everyone is to leave the child where he is loved and hope for the best."

Vance could see the truth to their words but he still frowned in worry. Lyza saw his look and pleaded with him. "Please, Vance. You've worked for us for five years. You're like another son to us. You can't ask us ta give up our baby. I beg you not ta tell anyone about Damian's eyes."

Three pairs of ruby eyes stared at him, pleading the baby's case. He relented under their gaze and slowly nodded. "Alright. Let us swear to keep this between the four of us then."

Solemnly, everyone agreed.

But secrets, like water, are hard to keep. The tighter you try to hold onto them, the faster they seem to slip through your fingers. By the time three months had passed, every neighbor within walking distance seemed to know about the baby and his strange eyes. When another month had passed, the stories had leaked into the town and quickly became gossip. Strangers began showing up, lurking around the little farm house, trying to catch a glimpse of Damian's eyes. They wanted to see for themselves the child told of in the legend. Some strangers were even bold enough to come into the house, stealing inside while the men were out working in the fields and Lyza and her children slept. Lyza woke when Lydia shook her, crying for her to tell the man to leave Damian alone. The young mother's eyes locked with those of the man standing over her son's cradle. She threw a at him and screamed until Stephen came to see what was wrong. The man was long gone by then but still Lyza was shaken. For a while they seriously considered selling the farm and starting over someplace new... Thing seemed to settle down after that though, and before they knew it two more months had slowly passed by. Once again they felt safe and decided it was alright to stay for now. They could always leave in the future if they needed. But by the time they realized something was wrong again, it would already be far too late.

"Stephen..." Lyza whispered as she let the curtain on their bedroom window fall back into place. "There's someone out there again."

He glanced up at the darkened window and carefully lay Damian back down in his cradle. He crept over to his wife and parted the fabric to look for himself. "I see him... Hiding in the trees like a thief."

Lyza looked at him in shock. "No, beside the tool shed." They both peered anxiously out into the darkness and counted not one or two, but three men hiding, watching their home. "Three!" she gasped and hugged Stephen for comfort.

"Shh," he patted her head. "They don't seem ta be doing a'thing. You git some sleep and I'll stay watch ove' them."

Lyza calmed down enough to sleep, reassured by her husband's words. Though nothing happened that night, the next morning the number of men had doubled. And the worst part of it all was that the group did nothing. They simply watched the house. Still wary, Stephen kept everyone inside for the first part of the morning. He dozed a while and by lunch when nothing new had happened he decided to get back to work, heading out to the fields with Vance to get thing ready for the harvest that was shortly coming.

Things continued this way for nearly a week, each day bringing two or three new people. They looked normal enough, except for the way they stared. Never moving, just watching with unreadable eyes. Lyza knew they were there for her baby. A few times she had experimented, walking outside with Damian to see their reaction. It was only for a split second each time, but she was sure their eyes grew sharper, colder whenever they saw him. She was more scared than she had ever been in her entire life. How could she protect her family? These people had to be from the Church... But if they were, why didn't they just take Damian? What were they waiting for?

The wait ended the next day. The forest behind the house that had grown so thick with men was suddenly empty. Instead of bringing peace, their absence speared the air with dread. The sun was about to set and Damian who had been sleeping quietly woke and began to cry. Lyza picked him up and tried uselessly to soothe him.

"Something's not right."

Stephen nodded grimly. "I want you ta take Lydia and Vance and git out of the house. They're after Damian, I can feel it. I won't just hand him over to them but I don't want you gitting hurt neither..."

Lyza shook her head fiercely. "No. I can't leave my baby alone. I'm staying with you, Stephen." He tried to interrupt her. "I won't take no for an answer. You should know that."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Alright. But git Lydia and Vance out. I don't want them gitting hurt if they don't need ta."

Stephen stayed in the room, starring morosely at the window as Lyza left. She went into the kitchen where Vance was playing with Lydia near the fireplace and had to blink away tears. She didn't know if she was over reacting or not but she couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time she would ever see her children alive. Irrationally, she fetched out the money purse with all their savings in it. Then she grabbed up the big quilts on Lydia and Vance's beds and called the young man over.

"Vance. I need you ta take Lydia and git out." She said with no build up.

"What?" he blinked in surprise.

"Please. Take Lydia and go ta the forest. Something is wrong and I need you ta watch her till its safe again. Here," she shoved the blankets, money carefully hidden inside, into his arms. "Tell her you're having an adventure for the night."

Vance opened his mouth, but the look on her face left no room for argument. Instead he turned and walked over to Lydia conspiratorially. "Come on, Lyddy. Go and git your shoes on. I just convinced your mother ta let us have a night adventure, just the two of us."

Lydia grinned as she scrambled to pull her shoes on. "But Momma never lets me go out at night! I always ask but she says no... You must be a better beggar than me."

He frowned to himself while her face was turned away but when she looked back up he answered enthusiastically. "I must be. Come on, let's go."

Lyza kissed and hugged her little girl tight before she would let them leave. Hopefully they would be safe. For now, this was the most she could do for them. When the door had shut, she couldn't help the few tears that finally escaped. Slowly, she went back to her husband and baby, the weight of the inevitable pulling down on her. Stephen saw the look of despair on her face and pulled her into his arms one last time.

"Look at us, getting all worked up over nothing..." Stephen whispered, desperately trying to lighten the atmosphere.

The woman in his arms buried her face in his chest and shook her head, "It ain't nothing, Stephen."

"I know it isn't," he said as she broke away and picked up Damain. His tiny face was red from crying and his miniature hands were clenched into fists. As Lyza looked down at him, his blue and green eyes met hers; they drew her in with their suddenly too-old look. A terrible pain and sadness was in her baby's eyes and it made her shiver. Quickly looking away, she grabbed a blanket and wrapped him up, then began looking for a place to hide the infant.

In the woods to the south of the house, the group of men were gathering together again. They stood in loose rank, an air of anticipation and purpose keeping them all unusually silent. At their head stood a tall, heavy set man with pinched features. He smiled to himself in the dark, then turned to the group and said, "Well then... Let's go get the little brat." The muted roar that followed the man's words was just loud enough to reach the house and inside, all three shivered.

In the woods to the east, Vance and Lydia were beginning to set up their miniature camp, Vance finally having picked a location he thought safe enough. Together they cleared the ground of rocks and branches. Then while Lydia chased after fireflies, Vance spread out one of the blankets for her to sleep on. "Come lay down now, Lyddy and I'll tell ya a story." The little girl hurried over to the blanket and curled up with it as her guardian started lulling her to sleep.

A large, meaty fist beat on the cabin's door threateningly. Head held high, Stephen opened the door and stared back coolly at the mob on his doorstep. "What business have you with me?" He asked the pinched face man who was obviously the leader.

The man smiled unpleasantly and took an invasive step closer. "We've come to take the child with blue and green eyes. If you try to stop us, we will have to use force."

dhampir_princess
Crew


dhampir_princess
Crew

PostPosted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 3:31 pm


Several Versions Later
Month 12, Day 13, Year XXX

Dust shook free from the ancient door frame in small explosions as a loud, excited knock filled the sagging home. "Alright, alright," Nanya groaned, her old bones creaking in protest as she pushed herself up from the low, straw mattress she slept on. "I know its time but this old bag don't want to move so early."

Mumbling to herself, Nanya collected her supplies together. Everything from herbs to towels went into a well-used cloth sack that the old woman jerkily set on her bed. Next she began to pull clothes on over her shapeless, floppy nightgown. First came her long tan skirt, next was the thick, dark brown wool shirt she wore in the winter to keep warm. Just as she was using a piece of faded red fabric to hold her gray, flyaway hair back, the knock came again impatiently.

"Oh!" Nanya huffed indignantly. "First timers always so impatient. Think a woman body don't know what to do on its own--" She shuffled her way to the door and pulled it open. "Calm you down boy! Nanya can't move like you want her to."

In the doorway, Nanya's squat wrinkly frame was met by a tall young man with blond hair. The old lady's red eyes squinted up at the boy. He was about twenty, dressed in work clothes, a loose, white shirt with dark blue vest and pants. His eyes were wide with excitement and he was barefoot.

"You Vance, yeh? You in a hurry to be gettin here." She looked pointedly at his feet.

He grinned sheepishly. "That I was. Lyza's started her labor and Stephen sent me to bring you."

Nanya slipped her shoes on as he spoke and came outside, shutting the door behind herself. "Why we standing here then? We got a long walk to they farm."


The birth of Lyza's second child was the smoothest Nanya had ever seen. Even before the aging midwife had gotten there, things were going just as they should be. Lyza had dilated completely, and though she was having labor pains, it wasn't unbearable. When Nanya arrived, she hustled and bustled about the room, ordering Vance, Stephen and Lydia, Lyza's other child, out of the room so she could work in peace. With the small crowd gone, Nanya gave Lyza some herbs to chew on to ease the pain, then checked to make sure the baby was positioned correctly. The experienced midwife barely had time to give one surprised puff and call Stephen back in the room before it was all over.

A small pink boy wriggled in her arms, crying the way that only newborn babies can. He was covered in blood and his eyes were sealed shut by mucus. Nanya smiled a slightly toothless smile at the babe and got back to work. Following the midwife's direction, Stephen gingerly wrapped his son in a towel and held him while Nanya smeared a paste on the umbilical cord to reduce bleeding. She then quickly cut the flesh still connecting mother and son and the whole thing was over.

Nanya wiped the bloody paste off her hands and motioned for Stephen to trade places with her. "I clean the baby and you help Lyza. Man should be tending his wife now."

Stephen nodded once and handed over his son, moving to his wife's side to make her decent and comfortable. Nanya moved away to give them privacy and to wash the child. The boiling water she had called for earlier had cooled enough now she could dip a cloth in it and begin cleaning away the blood. The boy’s cries subsided as the old woman cleaned him, humming to herself she wiped at his wrinkled face, removing the mucus from his eyes so he could have his first look at life. His tiny eyes blinked halfway open and his lip curled in what looked like a smile.

“God save us…” she breathed, the damp rag slipping from her hand and landing on the wooden floor with a wet slap.

Lyza and Stephen heard her and looked up, a fear that only parents can understand filling their eyes. “Stephen,” Lyza begged, looking up at her husband’s tanned face.

In two long strides he moved across the room to Nanya’s side and took his son from her weathered hands. She let go, slumping down as if an enormous weight had been taken from her once the child was safe in the father’s big hands. “What’s wrong? What did you see that made you…” Stephen trailed off, unable or unwilling to voice what he saw as he stared down at the baby.

“Stephen!”

“He’s… not hurt.” He slunk to the bed his wife lay on and held the boy up for her inspection. “It’s his eyes Lyza. They ain’t… They ain’t red.”

Confusion swept over her face and she brushed her blond, sweaty bangs away with shaky fingers. “Lemme see ‘im.” She snatched her son up and stared hard at his face. He blinked and cooed happily for her, unaware of the havoc his eyes were causing. “Blue and green?” she whispered. “It’d be bad enough to be just one but… Both?”

There was a knock at the door and Vance’s head popped into the room. “Sorry,” he grinned. “We heard the baby cry and Lydia’s getting impatient to see her little sister.”

Three pairs of grave eyes turned to look at his happy face. He sobered at their expression but kept joking, hoping nothing serious was wrong. “It’s not a girl? Lydia’ll be disappointed but she’ll warm up to a baby brother too.”

“Vance, its not…” Stephen’s thick brows knit together. “Jus’ keep Lydia out a bit longer. We need to—”

The door opened with a bang, knocking off the wall and a small five year old girl came running in. “Momma! Momma! Momma!” she cried, her blond curls bobbing excitedly around her face as she bounced up and down at her mother’s elbow. “I wanna see the baby. Can I? Please?”

“Lydia,” Stephen reproved.

The little girl stopped bouncing and folded her arms with a pout. She looked ridiculous with her shoulders hunched up to her ears and her face screwed up in a frown. If the air in the room were less tense Vance would have laughed and ruffled her hair, teasing her into playing a game of some kind. Instead he moved farther into the room, peeking at the baby. He seemed to be fine but something definitely had to be wrong. “Stephen, is there anything I can do? Tell me. I’ll do it, whatever it is.”

Stephen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Lyza held the baby protectively to her chest, rocking him even though he wasn’t crying. Finally, Nanya spoke for them, “He’s a healthy baby boy. He’s safe. He’s momma’s safe. No one gonna be dying soon so don’t look so fretted.” Vance let out a sharp breath and his pounding heart slowed a few beats. He had been worried Lyza or the baby was going to die and he hadn’t even realized it. He nodded and Nanya continued, “The boy’s eyes are bad colors, that’s all.”

“Bad?” Vance’s eyes trailed over to the baby. Disgust curled his lip but even so he took another step closer, wanting to see what someone without a soul actually looked like. “What color are they if they aren’t red?”

“The baby’s eyes aren’t red?” Lydia asked popping up curiously. “Whadda they look like? I wanna see. Momma,” she tugged at Lyza’s sleeve. “Lemme seee.”

"Hush up, Lydia," Stephen ordered. “Get off your momma.”

“Ugh, but--!” she stomped her foot.

“Lydia—”

Lyza let out a staggered sigh. “Stephen, it’s okay. Lydia needs to see her brother. Vance too, come look.”

Lyza turned the baby around slowly, watching the expression on Vance and Lydia’s faces. Lydia small mouth made a surprised ‘o’ as she stood on her tip-toes, trying to get an even closer look. Vance’s reaction was harder to read. The disgusted curl to his lip had left but now he was just standing there, blankly staring at the baby’s eyes. The boy’s left eye was a bright, sky blue, the right one a pale, minty green and Vance didn’t know what to make of it.

“They look creepy,” Lydia said as she reached up and poked the baby’s hand, hoping he would hold her finger.

Vance snorted and choked down laughter as Stephen scolded her. “Lydia don’t you be rude to your brother. And now that you’ve seen him it’s time for you to get to bed.”

“But—” Her eyes went wide. “But—umm… I don’t even know the baby’s name yet! I can’t go to bed if I don’t know his name.”

Lyza turned the baby back towards her and stared long and hard and his face. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think of an appropriate name for her son. “Hmm…” She tilted her head sideways. “Damian?” She turned the baby to Stephen for his opinion.

He nodded. “It’s a fine name. Damian. You know your brother’s name now, Lydia. So stop dragging your feet and get to bed.”

Her little nose scrunched up but she turned and marched off to her bed room, slamming the door just soft enough to not get called back.

“That child in for a hard life,” Nanya mumbled.

Vance startled and looked around at her. She had been quiet for so long he had forgotten she was still there. “Wha-? What do you mean?”

The old woman’s eyes glinted a dangerous garnet color in the fire’s light as she snapped up to look at him. “You see his eyes? You see they colors?” She shook her head slowly, looking away from him and sinking back down. “The Church won’t let him be. They take him. They take him when they know.”

Lyza bit her lip to fight the tears and shook her head. She held Damian closer to her and kissed his cheek as tears trailed down her face anyway. Stephen stroked his wife’s back in long, slow passes and felt the way she shivered beneath his hand. He wanted to do something; needed to do anything he could to protect his family now.

Vance buried his hands in his pockets and dug at the wood floor with his bare toes. “I know it would be difficult,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “But wouldn’t the best thing, for Damian, be to send him to the Church as soon as possible?”

Stephen’s hand went still. “No.”

“But— He doesn’t have a soul! Maybe the Church will be able to save him.”

“Vance Kavanaugh. My son. Does not need to be saved. He is not evil. You know as well as I what the Church does to soulless children to ‘help’ them. And if you are suggesting I willingly give Damian over to that kind of abuse you aren’t the man I thought you were and you need to get out of my house now.” Stephen spat into the fire, his spittle sizzling overly loud in the silence that followed.

Vance’s gaze darted around the room, avoiding the piercing looks of those condemning him. “I didn’t—” Sweat beads broke out on his face as his pulse raced. “That wasn’t— I’m sorry. That was horrible for me to say. Stephen, Lyza, you’ve been like family to me and I shouldn’t have said that.”

Stephen’s shoulders sagged as he let out a breath and sank down on the edge of the bed next to his wife. The room fell silent then and no one moved, no one spoke for a few minutes. After a time, the quiet was finally broken by Nanya. She straightened up and looked around as if coming out of a haze and pushed herself out of her seat. Vance shifted from one foot to the other and watched her as she began cleaning and putting her things away. "So what’s going to happen now then? What are we going to do about Damian?"

Stephen turned his head slowly to look at Vance. "Do?" he asked.

"We aren’t going to do anything," Lyza said quietly. “We’ll raise him just like any other child.”

“Raise him normal, yes. But you be careful extra for him.” Nanya warned. “I be understanding and you his family be understanding but others maybe not.”

Lyza’s lips set in a hard line and she nodded. “I’ll protect him for the rest of my life if I have to. No one’s going to hurt my baby while I’m alive. Not for something that he couldn’t help doing.”


Month 7, Day 10, Year XXX

Ellatessa Maybelle’s long, steel blue skirt swished angrily around her ankles as her black, lace up boots kicked up little clouds of dust at her feet. She had left for Lyza’s home just after sunrise hoping to avoid the summer heat, but perspiration was already making her prim white shirt cling to her in a most uncomfortable way. Her visit to Lyza today was a surprise. It was rude to come calling unannounced, but Ellatessa didn’t see as she had much choice; ever since Lyza had given birth again almost all of Ellatessa’s invitations had been declined.

She pouted to herself as she turned down the lane that led to Lyza’s farm. Ellatessa had only seen baby Damian three times over the last seven months, even then he had been asleep and she hadn’t been allowed to hold him. Lyza knew how much she loved children and still she wouldn’t let her closest friend anywhere near the baby. It just wasn’t fair—!

“Aunt Tessa!” Lydia cried, jumping to her feet and running towards the woman.

“Lydia,” she smiled and held her arms open.

“I missed you!” Lydia said, flinging herself at Ellatessa’s skirt and hugging her with all of her tiny strength.

“Oh! I missed you too sweetie,” she said hugging Lydia around the shoulders. “Where’s your mom? I wanted to talk to her.”

“Momma’s laying down. I have to watch Damian and stay quiet cuz she’s not feeling good.”

“You’re watching Damian?” She looked down at Lydia. This girl that was barely older than a baby herself was allowed to care for Lyza’s precious son when she herself hadn’t been allowed to even hold him? She bit the inside of her lip and fought to keep the smile on her face. “Well, since I’m here, why don’t I help you?”

“I can do it,” she said stretching out her neck and standing up tall. “I’m a big girl! Besides, all he does is crawl around and eat bugs. He won’t even play dollies with me.”

“He’s crawling already?” Ellatessa asked excitedly, looking around for the baby. “Where is he Lydia? Can I hold him?”

“Damian!” The little girl suddenly scolded, marching authoritatively towards her younger brother. “No. Bad baby! Momma says you can’t take your hat off outside.”

“Now, now, Lydia. You don’t have to scold him,” Ellatessa said following the girl. “It is a hot day but he’s in the shade of the trees right now so I think he’ll be alright without the hat just for a little while. Here—” She reached past Lydia and picked the boy up from the ground, brushing the dirt from his clothes all in one deft movement. “See? This isn’t so bad. He likes having his hat off.” She turned Damian towards her, wanting to see him smile at her. It was only by sheer luck that her fingers dug in tighter instead of letting go completely when she saw his eyes. Soulless child. She was holding a soulless child. Her friend’s child was soulless. She had to tell someone. This wasn’t right. The Church! They Church would know what to do. They had to know.

“You’re probably right Aunt Tessa,” Lydia said looking up at the woman holding her brother.

“What?” she asked, her eyes latching onto Lydia.

“He really doesn’t like his hat. Every time I try to put it on him he cries and cries. He only likes when Momma or Papa or Vance does it.”

“Here, Lydia. Take him back,” she said forcing Damian back into Lydia’s arms. “I just remembered I have to get back home and do something for your Uncle Adaam.”

“Okay,” she said shifting Damian as he wiggled so he wouldn’t slip from her grasp. “I’ll tell Momma you came by.”

Ellatessa smoothed her skirt with clammy hands and took a step back. “No, no. I came by without telling her so I don’t want her to feel bad for not seeing me. You don’t want your mom to feel bad do you?” Lydia shook her head earnestly. “Well then, let’s keep this visit a secret between us. Alright?”

“Okay. I promise. Oh, bye Aunt Tessa!” Lydia waved with one hand to Ellatessa as she turned and rushed down the road that led away from the farm.


Month 8, Day 2, Year XXX

Tavish stood next to the dying woman and looked down on her. Her face was swollen and bruised, her long, blond hair gnarled and matted with blood, mostly her own. Nonetheless, she was still recognizably pretty. Her soft red eyes stared up at the ceiling, glazing over as smoke began to permeate the room. He knelt beside her and the sudden motion caused her eyes to turn to him. Fear filled her face and she struggled weakly to move away from Tavish’s cloaked figure and shadowed face.

“Lay still, woman,” he said, holding the front of his cloak aside to reveal the cross on his chest.

“No,” Lydia wailed quietly, tears coming to her eyes and running down her cheeks as she stared at him. “Why the Church? Why now? What was the point?”

Lydia turned her face from him and wept. Tavish would have let her continue to cry but the smoke was growing thicker already and he needed to find out where the child was. “Listen to me,” he said as he laid his hand on her shoulder. “The other men have left but the house is on fire. Even if it wasn’t you wouldn’t live much longer.”

The woman looked at the billowing smoke and closed her eyes against it; Tavish was unsure whether it was in denial or resignation.

“You must tell me where you’ve hidden your child,” he reasoned. “Who knows where the child is hidden? Does anyone other than you? Think what will happen to him when you die. No one will find him.”

“I can’t!” she cried, her eyes darting wildly around the room, looking any where but at him. “You’ll hurt him. I can’t.”

“The Church will take care of him and raise him. He’ll be redeemed and then live a normal life,” his specious promise rang false even to his own ears. Lydia was dying though, and his next words caught her. “By not telling me, you’re condemning your child to die!”

By the time Lydia choked out her son’s hiding place, the room was filled with thick, black smoke and flames licked at the edges of the door. Tavish left her the minute he knew where he needed to search. He pushed open the door and found the front room engulfed by flames, the entrance blocked by a wall of fire. He moved across the room, circling the smoldering body of the woman’s husband with averted eyes and a hand across his nose and mouth.

Tavish came to the window frame. Its oiled-paper panes had burned away long ago so all he had to do was use his cloak sleeve to brush aside the cindered divider and climb out. He landed on his knees in the dirt below the window. Getting to his feet, he crept to the corner of the house and peered around it. There didn’t appear to be anyone nearby but Tavish wasn’t going to take any chances. He moved away from the house, across the field with its wheat spouts towards the tool shed doubled over in a half crouch. Reaching the shed, he cracked the door open just wide enough to slip inside.

The small one room building was filled with tools, wooden crates and burlap bags full of seed. Reaching out into the dark Tavish made his way to the farthest corner of the room. “Damian,” he whispered. “Come out, Damian. Your momma sent me to find you…” Tavish stopped in front of the crate in the corner and stared at it. The lid had been knocked off and the child that should be inside was missing. Tavish gripped his hair with one hand and pulled on it as he got on knees and felt around the inside, hoping somehow he had just overlooked the child.

Nothing. The box was still empty. “Where is he?” Tavish hit the side of the crate with his fist and had to stop and take a deep breath. Placing his palms together he closed his eyes and prayed silently. In the quiet, a small whimpering became audible. Tavish took a moment longer to say his thanks before getting slowly to his feet. He followed the soft cries back to the front of the shed, and there beside the tools, behind the door the baby sat. He looked up at Tavish, snot bubbling from his nostril as his cries gave way to exhausted hiccups.

Trying not to look at the boy’s eyes, Tavish picked him up and left the shed. Outside, a dozen or so men were milling about in front of the burning house. At their head stood a tall, barrel-chested man with pinched features and a hawkish nose. He was screaming and yelling at the others to find the little brat and to do it before he lost his temper.

Tavish needed to get out of there before they started searching. He watched and waited until most of the men were facing away from him and then he ran, clutching the boy to his chest. The dark Woods of Bellon loomed ahead of him, it’s densely crowded trees offered the only protection to be had for miles. Gasping for air, Tavish ran full out towards them. Behind him, the skyline lit up brighter as the fire and smoke that stank of burning flesh grew even higher, fed by the wind that had begun to blow at his back. The scent clung to him like burs, stabbing relentlessly at him when he least expected it. He took in a much needed breath and nearly gagged on the taste.

Still running, he chanced a look over his shoulder to check for pursuers. There were none yet, but he knew that could change at any moment. Putting on a last burst of speed, he made it to the woods and jogged several dozen yards through the thinly spaced trees before he lost his momentum and finally slowed to a walk. Pressing one hand to his side he turned to the right and began trudging into the thicker part of the woods.

When he had gone what he judged to be a safe distance he slumped to the ground, the bundle still cradled in one arm. Pushing back his hood, the young man’s face was finally revealed to the moonlight. He had dark, blood-red eyes and a small pointed nose with a strong jaw that was kept clean except for a small tuft of beard under his lower lip. His beard was a golden red color, a few shades lighter than his reddish-brown hair. Beneath his black cloak he wore traveling clothes that were a rough brown. Attached to the front of his shirt, the cross he always wore and was so proud of marked him as a Brother.

“So much trouble for such a hideous little thing…” He muttered, holding Damian at arms length to look at him. Damian stared back at Tavish with wide, unnaturally knowing eyes. The blue and green orbs seemed to pry at Tavish’s soul the longer he looked at them. With a small, hissing sigh he eventually had to look away.

“Damian,” he said, shaking his head as if just saying the boy’s name had left a bad taste in his mouth. “I was commanded by God’s servant to save you, but the sooner I am rid of you, the better.” Having said this, the young Brother rolled over and closed his eyes. He lay there in the dark, holding the baby and planning the next leg of their journey until they both had drifted off to sleep.
Reply
Adventure Story Forum

Goto Page: 1 2 [>] [»|]
 
Manage Your Items
Other Stuff
Get GCash
Offers
Get Items
More Items
Where Everyone Hangs Out
Other Community Areas
Virtual Spaces
Fun Stuff
Gaia's Games
Mini-Games
Play with GCash
Play with Platinum