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Chapter One: Re-Beginning 2
The man slowly worked his way down the mountain’s slope, barely aware he was even moving at all. The Condemnations had begun, and the burning of the bushes signaled what was to come. He could not grasp the scope of it, of course, but that was irrelevant. The bodies piled high once again in his wake, and more were to be laid before him as he continued his path of ever-increasing destruction. The spreading of poison was his trade, in the form of the steel in his sword, the hands that gripped it, and the mind that used it. 3
Someone was screaming in his mind, but knowing it was himself did not stop his guards from closing the gates to his memory. None could be allowed there, as the grounds were both sacred and cursed, holy and damned, needed and feared. One’s dirty work was a dirty business, and he’d been the one to carry it out. The difference between someone else’s needs and his meeting them was virtually non-existent, and all of it was now a part of him. 4
He could feel the sweet, red juice of Acra pouring down his arm, the god’s way of blessing him. Blessings were for fools and simpletons, but if one used them right, they could be carried far and wide, so long as one knew who to know. Unfortunately, he didn’t, which is why a Condemnation had now been placed upon his head. Failure to meet the “Standards of Decency” Code was a pretty hefty charge for one to get, regardless of whatever truth was actually present. Oh sure, the Condemnations Committee had said he’d be taken care of, but everyone knew one couldn’t trust them, for this was their way of “taking care” of someone. He knew that as well as everyone else now, though that was a lesson taught too late. 5
Where am I going? 6
The question entered his mind with the force of a shield to the face in the heat of battle. 7
To face the Condemnations Committee? 8
Questions were for timid fools. They implied one knew too little of the task at hand and thus was stupid. One was to live their life with absolute certainty of everything, lest he show signs of not knowing what was to be known. He knew where he was going, he knew why, and he knew what he would face there. 9
The sloped looked gentler as he approached the mountain’s base. He would rest at the very bottom. 10
He kept going. 11
The light of his fire contained age-old memories of armies encamped here, with thousands of more fires with their old soldiers mixed with youngsters trying to learn the lessons of battles from their predecessors. He smiled and savored the moment, then closed his eyes to face his nightly battles. 12
Chapter Two: Renewing of a goal 13
He slowly opened his portals and allowed the light from the outside world to infiltrate his mind. A light blue seemed to tint everything in sight, from the greenest grass to the brownest tree trunks. He blinked curiously and then sat up, looking to the smoldering remains of his long-dead fire for familiarity. Yes, the everlasting embers glowed their quiet red, another sign that Acra still favored him. He wondered why Acra liked him so, then shook his head and frowned. He had a problem with asking questions, it seemed. Perhaps it was why the Condemnation was upon him now, he mused. Speculation was allowable and forgivable, so long as one didn’t ask anything. 14
He stood and noticed a small glint in the corner of his eye. His beloved sword, the blade sheathed, a curved, deadly work of art, a one-sided curse upon his enemies. Many had been slain with that blade, and more would come. He knew that. He accepted that. 15
He looked to the rising sun peeking meekly over the horizon. It was time to move, and he had to do it now. He destroyed his fire’s remaining embers with the earth, then trudged off. 16
He felt his arm slowly becoming more bothersome as he walked along. It hung at his side like a limp Schzet after it’d been boiled too long, and simply wouldn’t obey his commands to move. 17
Fate, it seemed, liked to play tricks on him. The right arm was considered the more important of the two arms, and therefore was used for wielding the sword much more often, a task thought to be sacred. Myth and fable, of course, had established all of this, but he regarded those traditions foolish. Still, he was without the use of his arm, and would prove helpless should a battle occur. 18
He was a needed man in the city, he knew that. People liked him, though he had his fair share of enemies, most of which lay dormant in his mind. The truths of the past were long-since buried and dead within him, in special graves. Even he could not exhume them if he so wanted, for his guards knew his orders: Let not me through. Those guards were beyond his reach, though still in ear-and-eyeshot. Someone else would have to re-dig those rotten corpses up themselves, though he wouldn’t let that happen without a fight. 19
He would have to destroy someone, that much he could retrieve from his vault of unwanted recurrences. Yes, he knew what had to be done. The captor of someone he loved, one most dear to his near-dead heart. Yes, he had to be destroyed, killed for his crimes. 20
The guards were fallible; they leaked like broken jars. 21
Chapter Three: Recollections 22
The heat of a thousand torches seemed focused directly onto him as he made his way across the seemingly-endless plains. He’d always disliked trekking through such unforgiving terrain, and this was yet another reminder of why he shied away from doing it. His right arm was a raging firestorm, or so it felt. This, of course, was a result of him literally forcing it to move, since he’d discovered willpower simply wasn’t enough. He could feel those lethal doses coursing through him and felt his body weaken continuously as time passed by on its endless walk. 23
His mind lay before his eyes now, a maze far too complex for him to decipher. For even though he knew its every turn, every corner, and every hallway, he could not open its many doorways, for the sentries posted at them forbade his entering. That wasn’t the issue, however, for he’d posted them there himself. He wanted not the memories contained behind those doors, but the feelings that lay in the core of the maze. If he stepped outside the giant puzzle, there was nothingness; a blank expanse he quickly grew lost in should he wander too far from the bright, yet dark, speck of the maze. He could not access those emotions unless he went through the forbidden doors, but those doors were sealed off. He was stuck, and now that he thought about it, he could hardly remember how to use his sword. Those records were sealed off, just like everything else. One was supposed to forget his past, but even now, he was beginning to question—yes, question—that virtue of society. 24
He looked up from his vigil of the ground as he walked and saw, to his relief, a line of trees close by, just a hundred yards away. He forced his body to move faster and soon found himself swallowed up in the forest. The light seemed to play tricks on him, and now that he was amidst the trees, he could feel Acra’s favor for him decline. Acra hated the darkness, and he could understand that. It was a place for cowards and outlaws, opposers of the rules they knew nothing about. He placed his left hand on his sword and smiled a bit to himself. Perhaps he himself would come to be an outlaw, using his left hand to fight. 25
He had a sense that the fun would begin soon. 26
He was close to the city.27
Author notes
I wanted to write a story in the wee hours of this morning mainly because, well, I hadn't written one in a while at the time, and this is the end result. I'm not really sure what this is about, though I'm starting to come up with a few ideas.
Yeah yeah, I know, it ain't finished. Sue me. I've combed over this thing countless times, and I'm pretty sure there aren't any typos in here; if there are, then it must've disguished itself or something, 'cause I sure didn't see it. I do plan on finishing this one day, just...not right now lol.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 43 of 43
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That's a relief!
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woah, okay........so i'm totally right.
i just checked, and the pudding in our fridge is still intact. so, i'm right.
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Yep, and the worst part is, your superhero powers wouldn't do any good
.
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that would be bad.
vvvvvv. bad.
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The Universe and its entire stock of pudding will explode and disappear and stuff.
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well, what if i am?
then what happens??!?!? -
Not me, eh? Well...what if I think you're wrong?
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in the weeeeeeeeeee hours of the morning?
woah, gone scottish (that's who i think of saying that word) now, have we?
mmmm....i can totally get the vagueness thing. i wrote a story like this, except it wasn't at all...but oh well.
still not you.
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This is cool! It reminds me a bit of Poe’s The Pit and The Pengallum. I like it, it is awesome twisted little tale I will have to check back in to read the other half. It is a bit vague and you need to expand more but other than that it is going places.
Donnia -
Thanks. I admit it's a bit of a vague story (and I'm a bit embarrassed that I haven't finished it), but it was meant to be written as such. If I ever finish it, the vagueness will gradually shift to stark reality.
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This was pretty good, I enjoy this about as much as your Blade stories. Although at the beginnin it was a little weird, I figured it out. Great write BlackKnight
M. A. Raph -
'Cause it fits under fantasy; plus I was bored one day.
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*Yawn* Whoops, My Hand Slipped.
Why Is This In My Contest?
x~x
Diva -
Thanks. I'll definitely be adding more to this, as I've been continuing the story on an RPG I'm a member of, and when the RPG is complete, I'll give the events that have occurred a nice touch-up and post it all here.
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awesome, u could really do things with this. that is, if u want to write more, i think its good the way it is tho if u rnt going 2 write more.its good.
-CF -
Right.
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lol yes... i know... thats why i had to do it... because i thought that was rather obvious lol
anyway!
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Thanks, and yes, it is a short story.
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heh this seems pretty cool! glad to see youre planning on continuing the piece... and just because everyone else has mentioned it and i cant help myself... "this is so much like a short story..." hehehe. anyway! love the mixing of the thoughts and memories that wont come... and the image of guards at Memory's gates. its interesting... and different. anyway... i'll be looking for more posts
lol g'luck
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Thank you.
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Thanks.
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Yeah, I definitely plan to add more.
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extra fine in the story telling,i read it all-usually i get bored and quit reading-this is captivating till the end.
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great job hope you will be adding more.
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Great
put me in mind of that Knight and his horse Rosa
Great story line, would love to read more
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Thanks. Yes, it's a short story.
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I enjoyed this piece. It's kind of like a short story. Very well written. Good job! Keep it up!
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Thank you. I consider a short story, so...yeah.
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I think thisis a very nice piece. I don't klnow if I would say it wasn't more a prose poem than a short story, but that is only my opinion. This is exceptionally well writtten, and I think you have a trmendous amount of talent. keep up the good work!
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Lol, I'm glad you liked it. Yes, I will definitely add to this, and as I said to Anasuya, I just need to think up a storyline. That shouldn't be too hard though; maybe I'll just come up with one as I go along
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Hopes you add to this as well. You kept me hooked from start to finish and so wanted more lol. The imagery of the story was alive and crystal clear...a girl could get lost in this type of story...Keep penning and Many Blessings
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Lol, thank you. Yes, I'll definitely add to it; that's a given. I just need to figure out a storyline, that's all LOL. I'm glad you liked it though, I really do, and thanks for commenting on it.
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Oh you really MUST add to this. There's so much to say about this character you've created that I think you'd be doing it an injustice if you didn't expound on it further. I think you're writing style is fantastic, and I enjoyed reading this. It kept me captivated from the get-go, especially with your wonderful vocabulary and form. Bravo.
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He's not too bad in his writings, I'll say that much.
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confusion confusion where have you been?
my head was almost brusting out that day, i read the poem by Hughes for my assignment,so i thot i'll quote.
i thot ppl get interested with a lil bit of quotation, and read ol poetry! i blive if u do get time u will definitely read his works won't u?
and Yes i liked ur write very well.
and you're welcome.
~~illr -
I have no clue whatever that was you posted in most of your comment, to be perfectly honest. I'm glad you liked my piece though.
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"That man's not more alive whom you confront
And shake by the hand,see hale, hear speak loud,
Than any of these six celluloid smiles are,
Nor prehistoric or fabulous beast more dead;
No thought so vivid as their smoking blood:
To regard this photograph might well dement,
Such contradictory permanent horrors here
Smile from the single exposure and shoulder out
One's own body from its instant and heat."_ 'six young men'by Ted Hughes(last para)
well, it's very late to comment anything proper for something as uncommon as such, but i think a better quatation always make ppl glad.
this is very neatly done, tho i hope to see it extended more in future. and i get watever u wrote.
~~ille -
Lol, I hear that.
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There is something to be said for running around with a journal though, lol, I look back and some pages and I swear if anyone else were to read it they would not undersand it, to me it makes perfect sense.
Late night/early morning writes are usually the best. -
Lol. I don't usually run around with a journal, though I do have one handy should I need it and I'm not at the computer.
Ya gotta love journals; sometimes the best things are written on plain ol' paper. Even if you make lots of mistakes with what you're writing, you know that you and only you can write quite like that.
Sorry, I'm pretty much babbling here, but hey, that's what it's all about. I think when I wrote, "The Condemnation," it was about 3:30 or so, and I stopped when it was about 4:00 or so. Of couse, I've stayed up later, and I'm sure you have as well. -
I will look forward to reading it. I do know what you mean by staying up late to write, I do the same and you will find I never leave my house without a journal of some sort. LOL
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Well, I tend to stay up late and just write, and I won't go to bed 'til I'm satisfied. I'm glad you liked this; I'll see if I can add any more.
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I do the same, writing in the middle of the night, oftentimes I find myself reaching for my pen and paper if I awaken suddenly...
I will be curious to see where this goes, thusfar it is intriguing.
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