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 Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 1:42 am
Hey everyone! This is my 'diary' for task 2 of the Boot Camp. I'm not particularly good at proof reading, so there's probably grammar and spelling mistakes galore, but oh well!
All diary entries will be put in the third post, so feel free to leave comments, ideas or suggestions in this thread. I haven't actually got any plan in mind for this story, just making it up as I go. It may or may not end up complete, depending on how much time I have, and what ends up happening...
Enjoy!
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Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 1:43 am
TRANSLATORS NOTE
The following diary excerpts were found in a watertight container on the shore of Rhysus. Besides these few loose diary pages, the container also held pages of poetry, detailed ink paintings, and more official looking documents, all of which were found to be several hundred years old, though still in remarkably good condition. From the documents it is believed that the author was a young apprentice to the village scribe, who played a role similar to a historian, recording all important events in the village.
Based on similar findings, the village is believed to have existed along the coast of Belia. These documents are however the most well preserved and informative of the documents found from that area.
[I'll write more here once I figure it out :XP:]
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Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 1:45 am
Fourteenth day of the Year of the Comet
Even before she was washed up from the ocean near our village like the delicate seashells that lined our shores, the air felt somehow different. There was a feeling of expectation, of change, of things to come. Being a young girl known for romantic delusions, my observations were ignored by the elder women who instead told me to give up such fancies and concentrate on extracting the precious pearls that our village was known for from the oysters brought back from the sea. I kept quiet and returned to my duties, but my excitement grew, and I kept looking out to the sea, although what I hoped to see there I wasn't quite sure.
And then she appeared. At first she looked just like a rag or an old sail being tossed around on the waves until her hair, which was an unusually bright shade of red, came into view. I dropped the oyster I had been holding with a cry, and ran to meet the waves just as she touched our shores, lifeless but still somehow beautiful.
Her naked skin was milky white, much fairer than the tanned people of my area. Her startling red hair was long and unruly, matted with sand and salt. In that state it was difficult to tell her age, but I guessed her to be within her teens. Her hand was clasped tightly around a large conch shell the colour of the flesh of a young peach.
After discovering that she was still very much alive, the other women carried her to the healers house, where she was washed, clothed, and layed down in a bed where she seemed to move from her unconcious state into an uneasy sleep. She still sleeps as I write this.
Who is this girl from the sea? I suppose I will have to wait until she awakes to find out, like the rest of the village.
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