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 Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2012 7:08 pm
This is a place where I can post my fantasy stories. Please feel free to read and critique!
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Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2012 7:19 pm
A True Calling
It was a typically gloomy night in Sunnyville. The rain bucketed down, the heavens groaned, the wind howled. Four luckless travellers made their way hurriedly along the muddy road with thoughts for little else but the prospect of once again enjoying good food, soft beds and – most importantly –being dry.
Finally, they came to the threshold of the village’s only inn. The first traveller was quick to hammer on the door. From his confidence, he was clearly the leader, despite his young age of fourteen and his obvious awkwardness around the heavy sword tied to his waist. He had mousy brown hair and long nose, but he wasn’t overly ugly, nor was he particularly good looking. Behind him stood three men.
The first was tall and well muscled. Rather fierce in appearance, he sported scars on his arms and face. He had black hair and a short beard – both just a little unkempt. He carried a long bow on his back.
The second was short and just a little fat. He had a round face and a bulbous nose. He had a few wrinkles around his mouth and eyes that suggested he was accustomed to smiling. Compared to his companions, he seemed the most weighed down by his packs. He carried with him a lute case.
The last man was old and withered. His face was little but wrinkles. He was a little hunched over, and he only a few white wisps on his head. At first glance, he was quite frail. Anyone to look again might have noticed that he walked with a steady step – hardly ever relying on the ornate cane he carried. He had a confidence about him, and the look of one who had seen much of the world – and knew more of its workings than most.
Soon enough, the door was answered by a large woman in a nightdress.
“What?” she demanded simply.
“Please excuse us, good woman,” the boy began, “I am Jon, and this is Dale, Ben and Aberty. We’ve travelled a long way on our quest and we have little money, but Ben can perform for you if we could just stay the –“
“BILL! THERE’S ANOTHER LOT AT THE DOOR!” the woman hollered up the stairs, interrupting him.
“ANOTHER LOT? THAT’S THE FIFTH LOT TONIGHT!” a male voice called back. There was a series of loud thumps as the man came down the stairs. The woman stepped back as a fat, balding man came to stand in the doorway. He was clearly the innkeeper.
“Please sir,” began Jon again, “We’ve travelled a long way and –“
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the story,” interrupted the man, Bill, “You’ve come a long way yada yada yada, you’re on a quest to avenge your dead parents yada yada yada, you don’t have much money but your musician can play for me if you could just stay the night? Yes?”
“Well, sort of but –“ interjected Jon.
“Now, let’s see,” Bill continued, “that makes YOU the Heroic Orphan,” he indicated Jon “and YOU the Sympathetic Yet Troublesome Hunter,” he indicated Dale – the tall man, “and YOU the Bumbling Comic Relief,” he indicated Ben, “and YOU the Wise Old Wizard Guy,” he indicated Aberty “all that’s left is the Vulnerable Lov—“ Bill’s eyes narrowed. “You stay away from my daughter.” Bill paused, and then stepped out of the doorway with a sigh. “You can stay, but only because I take pity on you poor folks.”
And so, Jon and his band stayed a while at our inn. Which is where I came in. Jon didn’t at all heed Bill’s warning – Dad’s warning. At that point a Bored Village Girl, I became intrigued by the adventure that so many of our patrons seemed to give off like fire gives off smoke. Particularly in Jon’s band. And, for that matter, in Jon himself. Yes, I became the Vulnerable Love Interest. I got captured a few times, always saved by Jon and the others of course. We were always on the move. Jon was always going on about those dead parents of his. We were off the kill the Evil Emperor that caused their death. There were a lot of mishaps along the way. Then, in one random bar fight, Jon was finally killed. He didn’t even die heroically. He wasn’t fighting for his cause. Just another frivolous death in this chaotic land of ours. I was devastated. After screaming the customary “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” and grieving and whatnot, I started to think.
Looking back, I realised that “Vulnerable Love Interest” wasn’t a particularly good profession for anyone with any sense of self preservation. Also, vengeance never works. Thousands of Heroic Orphans go out onto the road thinking they’re the “Chosen One” because of some stupid prophesy – one that could apply to anyone, really. They all end up getting themselves killed. No, there wasn’t anything left for me in either profession, and I never really fancied settling down again. Which is what lead me to my TRUE calling.
As the Villian.
(What do you think? I did this story some time ago and originally posted this story in another guild forum, and then the art arena and now here.)
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 4:06 pm
Shadows Part II
The next thing Sienna knew there was darkness all around. It was heavy darkness, cold and ... wet. She was surrounded by it. Engulfed by it. She finally realised where she must be. She was in the ocean. As this thought finally occurred to her, her body notified her quite abruptly that it needed to breathe. Sienna complied, opening her mouth to fill her lungs. But it was water, not air that began to fill them. Of course, she remembered, she was in the ocean. She floundered, finally coming to the hazy conclusion that she was drowning. Suddenly, her hand touched something. Sand. Sienna pushed herself off it in the opposite direction. That direction, her absent and thoroughly confused mind concluded, was up.
Her head broke the surface. She coughed, spitting water and taking in a deep breath of sweet, precious air. Breathing heavily, she crawled out of the water and flopped onto the sand. When she finally sat up, she looked back at the ocean. But there was no ocean there - only sand. Sand as far as the eye could see, rising and falling in endless dunes. Putting her confusion aside, she ignored the oceanless landscape, closing her eyes and focused her attention upon regaining control of her own mind.
She calmed her breathing, clearing her mind. She did not know where she was. She did not remember how she got there. Strange things were happening. Sienna thought back. She had just looked behind her, and there had been no ocean. Prior to this, she had emerged from the ocean. She had been drowning in the ocean. Before the ocean… there was light, she suddenly recalled. White light. Brilliant light. Blinding light. She had felt safe, happy. She remembered that feeling quite strongly. Before that? Fear. Apprehension. Shadows… Yes, there had been shadows – creepy shadows everywhere. But where? The park! Yes that was it. She had been at the park, walking home. She had left Meagan’s house, heading home. She’d been late – it had already been dark out. She had been walking home by the light of the streetlights coming from behind the trees. Home… maybe she was already home. Maybe this was all just a dream. Yes! She thought. Everything made sense now. She must be having a dream. A bad dream – but a dream nonetheless. She pinched herself.
Sienna opened her eyes, fully expecting to find herself safe in her own bed. Instead, she found herself in an unfamiliar park. She was still sitting in the sand, but it was not the sand of a beach – nor was it the endless sands of the dunes. It was the sand in a sand pit for small children. Head spinning, she stood up and gradually took in her surroundings. It was eerily quiet. It mush of been about midday, and the summer sun glared harshly upon those that dwelt below. The sky stretched on forever, an endless expanse of pure, pitiless blue. It was the sky of the sleepy summer days she knew and loved. But something felt off about it. Around her were an old seesaw, a shining silver slide, a fairly simplistic climbing structure, and two swings. Then she noticed something odd. One swing hung still, but one swing swung back and forth, back and forth. No one sat there, yet still the swing swung back and forth as though there was. Already overwhelmed, Sienna found this new oddity too much to bear. She screamed, shocking herself with the noise. Then she turned and ran. She didn’t know where she was running to; she simply assured herself that wherever it was it would be better than here.
It was a false hope. Sienna could run as far as she liked, but no amount of running would take her out of this place. She was trapped. Over millennium, many souls had lost themselves in this place. Few ever escaped.
(Critique please. It doesn't make much sense, but that was pretty much the idea. My friend and I had to do a music assignment for school where we wrote a composition on keyboard to go to an imaginary movie scene. Not that I'm any good at music - she, luckily, is. I wrote the scene. This is not that scene. This is what happens afterward. Again, I wrote this originally in another forum in another guild but I have posted it here as well.)
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 4:17 pm
Dark One
Fourteen years. I have lived fourteen years in the dark. I am hidden away from the world. True, I am kept well fed and well housed but still I am left craving the light. The hours of my day are spent waiting, hoping for someone to come bringing the light of a lamp and the warmth that is company.
Mother comes every afternoon at exactly three o'clock. She sings me songs, reads me stories, and teaches me to read and write in the hours of endless night. She is the only one who has stood by me these years and I do love her, but the sweetness of her company is spoilt by the knowledge that she is the very person keeping me in the dark.
I know it's for my own good. Believe me, I know it. Still I long to be outside, free of my dark chambers. Sometimes as a child, when no one was around, Mother would take me into the courtyard and let me run around through the gardens. Those were the best moments in my entire life. Now, I cannot even leave my rooms without a cloth over my eyes.
Sometimes I wonder about how quickly we human beings are to judge. Just a glance and already we make judgements on a person because of their race, hair colour or eye colour.
Then I wonder about the little things in life that act as symbols. Like colours for instance. The colour red, for example. Red is symbol for love and passion. However, it is also the colour of blood, violence, anger and malevolence. Such contrast.
There are few things more symbolic than a red eye. The mark of evil. Here in Essensia, a person with red eyes’ life is forfeit – it’s the law. And so, I live in the dark. For, in the dark, no one will see the colour of my eyes. I must live my life in hiding, feigning blindness.
Bright red eyes. My curse. If anyone knew of it, I would be dead in a heartbeat.
The Dark One must never be allowed to rise again.
(Critique please. I might turn this idea into a novel someday, about the prophesized villian who tries so hard to be the hero. This was posted in a forum in The Writing Corner first, but as with all those stories I am posting it in this guild as well.)
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