tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10516165984358815192024-03-13T21:20:58.827-07:00Short Stories in ProgressNeilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-14120200271323752152018-01-22T14:14:00.000-08:002018-01-22T14:14:27.272-08:00Flash Fiction Challenge from TerriblemindsThe following is a short I just wrote as part of Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Challenge for this month. Gonna dust off this blog and try to post things on it more in 2018. I will also include some posts at a later date promoting my books because, oh yeah, I write those and they are being published.<br />
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<a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2018/01/19/flash-fiction-challenge-this-time-i-pick-the-lyric/">http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2018/01/19/flash-fiction-challenge-this-time-i-pick-the-lyric/</a><br />
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The above link is to the blog post by Chuck Wendig that has the story prompt in it!<br />
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Also, this short makes me want to pick up another story I was working on before my arm problems got bad and then during my arm problems etc. Also Rig Farrow is an older character of mine who I constantly look for a place for. She may turn up in a vastly different book or something in the future I don't know. I hope you enjoy this short!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Private Party</div>
<br />
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"It hurts you know? But
then, many things do. This is just...not quite the sort of pain I
expected. I guess I was expecting something a little more normal and
a little less..."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"World crushing?" I
offer.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She nods before gazing back at
the photos and files I handed her an hour ago, "Yeah. That
works."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The woman, Nancy, hired me to
check on her business partner, Benny. She was worried the man had
crossed someone or owed someone money since Ben had gotten evasive
recently. What I discovered while tailing him was...unexpected to say
the least. I mean, I figured he was having an affair, either with her
wife or with someone else's husband. That's the sort of thing one
would <i>expect</i> when someone starts missing meetings or showing
up in clothes they slept in. </span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">What I found was...frankly?
Weird.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"This..." </span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Nancy stares at the files with
her mouth open. She is careful to peep at the photos before slipping
them back under the write up.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"I don't understand why he
didn't trust me with this," she finally says.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Maybe, because it's so
personal?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Personal?" She winces
as if stung. Nancy shakes her head, "I just, don't know when he
could have started doing this. Why? Was the business not exciting
enough for him? I don't get it."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I sip my coffee before I speak.
"My investigation leads me to believe he was doing this well
before he partnered with you to start your company."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"But why didn't he tell me,
then?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"I thought that would be
obvious. What he's been doing is very dangerous. The fewer people who
know the better. I'm sure he withheld the information from you to
protect you and your wife."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She doesn't seem to follow, or at
least doesn't accept that as she shakes her head again then stabs a
finger at the papers on the table before her. "You're telling me
he didn't tell me to protect me? What about the business? What am I
supposed to do if he winds up dead in an alley somewhere?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I sigh, "What anyone does
when their business partner winds up dead in an alley."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Nancy scoffs at me, "This is
no joke. How could you say that?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I polish off the last of my
coffee but continue to keep my hand on my cup as if it still holds
some warmth. I shouldn't have given her the real information. I
should have just lied to my client. Told her Benny's dad was sick or
something. But if I had done that she probably would have hired
someone else to follow her business partner around and that someone
else may not have had the skill set I do that kept me from dying in
an alley.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Ma'am," I finally
begin. "What you do with this information is up to you. I would
suggest that you do nothing." She tries to interject but I cut
her off and keep talking. "What your partner is doing is
something he's done for a <i>long</i> time. Someone doesn't just
start doing that sort of thing as a mid-life crisis. He had to feel
strongly enough to partner with you for your bakery to do <i>that</i>
and what he was already doing. It's not your place to tell him to
stop."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"But it's impacting the
business," she objects.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Is it?" I ask. "As
I understood it reading over your business agreement he financed the
bakery. Helped you secure a loan and what not. He checks in regularly
and sits on meetings. He has been late and disheveled to a few, yes.
BUT I couldn't find any evidence that what he's been doing has
negatively impacted anyone. If anything he's made a positive impac-"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"No." Nancy cuts my
words in half before she gathers up the files and shoves them into
her purse. "No," she shakes her head. "He needs to
know when the party's over."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I get up from my seat, "What?
No. No, no no. There is no 'party' to be over here. He doesn't do it
just because it's fun. It's incredibly important."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She shakes her head before
pushing past me, "No."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I stand for a moment and watch
her leave the coffee shop before I return to my seat with a sigh. I
may have just made a huge mistake, but at least I can do one worse. I
pull out my cell phone and type in the number of the man who's life I
just laid bare. After it rings several times he answers. His voice is
strained as he tries to catch his breath.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Now is a bad time," he
says.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"I know," I reply.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Who is this?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"This is Rig Farrow. I'm a
private eye. Nancy hired me to look into you," I bite my lip and
shake my head. "I'm sorry."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Huh?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"She knows everything,"
I say.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Shit." </span>
</div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I hear a noise over the phone
like a tree cracking in half, which may be just that considering what
the man does in his spare time. There's some shuffling. Distant
shouts and a roar. After a few moments he's back on the line.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Who else knows?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Just Nancy," I say.
"Honestly, I thought she'd take it better but she's pissed.
Thinks you're betraying the bakery with...your uh other...job."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Did'ja tell her I've been
doing this for years?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Of course, I'm pretty
thorough."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He lets out a huff I'm not sure
is of amusement or exertion before he speaks again, "You've
really been following me?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Yes," I say.</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"And I didn't <i>notice</i>
you?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"It didn't seem like you
did, no."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Huh," he takes in a
breath. "How much do you run?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Excuse me?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"How much do you run? To
hire you?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"Uh, about fifty an hour."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"That cheap?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"It's average."</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">"If you were able to spy on
me you're certainly not 'average' anything. How'd you like to be my
sidekick?"</span></div>
<div align="left" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">A distant booming voice growls
over the phone, "Don't think you've won, Captain Megaton!"</span></div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-18443173649899331392014-08-04T15:41:00.002-07:002014-08-04T15:42:51.108-07:00Writing Patreon!Remember that eBook of Short Stories I rambled on about putting together? I'm still working on it.<br />
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I hit some snags along the way. What kind of snags? I got Tennis Elbow from working on comics. <br />
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Whoa. Really? That sucks.<br />
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It does. Not merely because it means I had to take time off from working on comics as much as I had been, but because comics has been the only way I've been bringing any money in to pay the utility bills. <br />
<br />
Whoa. That really sucks.<br />
<br />
It does.<br />
<br />
You may be wondering what this means for the writing blog which has stagnated here. Well. I have still been writing. I even have a whole rough draft of a novel down, thanks to my Tennis Elbow. I wrote a lot of it with my left hand while I was trying to refrain from going insane from not being able to work on comics.<br />
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<br />
Here's where you can help and how you can read more of my short stories. I've started a Patreon for them:<br />
<a href="http://www.patreon.com/user?u=206359&rf=206359&ty=2">All The Best Mistakes Short Stories Patreon</a><br />
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You can donate a little each month, as low as $1, to read the short stories I've been writing that I haven't been posting! If the project raises a lot I'll begin releasing portions of that Novel (which is some 245pgs long) for you to read!<br />
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Thank you for reading this and I hope you will thin of supporting my project!<br />
-NeilaNeilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-74553102521678547612014-04-04T14:43:00.000-07:002014-04-04T14:43:14.722-07:00Sharkpony and the Glitter Riders ComicSome of you may know that my main 'gig' is as a Freelance Comic Artist. Writing is something I'm working to pursue more but comics and comics accessories pay the bills.<br />
<br />
They're also one reason I haven't been updating this with enough short stories beyond my wanting to save some for the eventual ebook! <br /><br />I wanted to announce that Sharkpony and the Glitter Riders, a comic I wrote, drew, and self published (with the help of awesome people who donated on IndieGoGo! Love you guys!) is now available for purchase on my online store:<br />
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<a href="http://paragonketch.storenvy.com/collections/160253-all-products">http://paragonketch.storenvy.com/collections/160253-all-products</a><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQTyJPjyVxc/Uz8mO-lPPXI/AAAAAAAAAV4/KS7bLXkxUFo/s1600/SPComicIss1web1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQTyJPjyVxc/Uz8mO-lPPXI/AAAAAAAAAV4/KS7bLXkxUFo/s1600/SPComicIss1web1.jpg" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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If you like weird fun parody comics full of ravenous Sharkponies and Burly men who've been transformed into Magical Girls please check it out! <b>Money from it goes to support my terrible habit of continuing to live. </b></div>
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By the way the story I mentioned in the last update has passed the 90 page mark and is on it's way to being a full Novella.<br />
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I still hope to dig some time out from under my fingernails and get some more flash-fiction shorts posted on here this summer!<br />
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Thank you for reading!<br />
- Sarah "Neila" ElkinsNeilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-4571753980633375742014-03-24T10:17:00.001-07:002014-03-24T10:17:52.216-07:00When short stories get away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey everyone! <br />
<br />
No short story this week. Why? Well, something happened with the little short I started writing a couple weeks ago and...it's not so short anymore.<br />
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I've got 1 short (that is still short!) I'm hoping to sell (fingers crossed! CROSS ALL YOUR FINGERS NOW) and started another 'short' for 'fun.'<br />
<br />
Then the weirdest thing happened. The plot in my head, which was relatively well formed when I began writing the story, kept going. It's exciting and fun! The story is a great bit bigger than I thought it would be initially and continues to chug along. The characters are nearing the final conflict and resolution in the current draft and I'm excited for them (I hope they live!) and excited for the prospects of what this may mean. I may be able to write things longer than shorts. <br />
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One of my big snags is finding feedback. It's been tricky to get people's thoughts on my short stories, friends are often busy and I feel bad about bothering them to read my stuff. Family is just...<i>ill equipped </i>to offer constructive criticism. The blog here, while it shows me some people are reading my works, has proven poor in the feedback department. It's hard to progress in a vacuum (we're not talking science here, this is metaphorical). So as I write this much much longer story I may tempt the idea of previewing part of it here on the blog if I finish it and if I chose to do something with it beyond letting it fart around on my computer's hard drive.<br />
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It's exciting to write like this and it makes me glad friends helped nudge me back to writing in the first place. Through writing we can bring new characters and worlds to life, travel to distant lands, and do amazing things. It is awesome! :D<br />
<br />
-NeilaNeilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-65356677869969036492014-03-18T12:43:00.001-07:002014-03-18T12:43:47.437-07:00Audio BlogHey guys! My hope is to have an audio version of one or more of my short stories from here as well as begin posting new short stories I've been writing over the winter soon!<br />
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If you've got a Deviantart Account and want to vote on which story gets adapted into an Audio version first feel free to go here: <a href="http://neilak20.deviantart.com/journal/poll/4311426/">http://neilak20.deviantart.com/journal/poll/4311426/</a> and vote!<br />
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If you don't have a DA page, feel free to voice your vote in the comments on here!<br />
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You're current choices are:<br />
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<b>All the Best Mistakes</b>
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<b>Nella Breg Olm (Aka Halloween)</b><br />
<b>Feed</b><br />
<b>Department of Malevolent Magic Prevention</b>
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<br />
I've been madly at work on comics as well as writing shorts to pitch to publishers. Let's hope for some good news on that end soon. :D And by that I mean things look positive! :D Hooray!<br />
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All audio stuff will be recorded by myself, likely reading and doing voices.<br />
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Let me know what you think!<br />
-Sarah "Neila" Elkins<br />
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<br />Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-89827613531244584562013-11-20T14:20:00.002-08:002013-11-20T14:20:28.033-08:00The Dreaded HiatusThis time of year is one of the busiest and most stressful. I've come to realize I need to take some time to scale back, even if it's just temporarily, to focus on work and family. <br /><br />It kills me to put the blog on hold, but it is something I feel I must do until I can get a handle on things. <br /><br />Friends tell me I'm stretched too thin. I focus on too many things. <br /><br />I have to. I can't help it. There's so much I want to do. So many stories I want to tell, in any way I can. <br /><br />My hope is, that by January I'll have more short stories to post here. Things are just not stable enough at the moment for me to finish writing anything. I've got several stories started, just...not finished. <br /><br />Many, many, many opportunities fell through this year. It's been month to month for as long as I can remember. Glimmers of hope for stability fade or are obscured by the darkness of stress and tension. <br /><br />I need <b>time.</b><br />Thank you for reading so far and please keep an eye out for more in 2014. I still hope of putting together a book of short stories next year. Perhaps, if such a book is successful it might bring in some much needed funds so that I won't feel guilty when I try to relax or rest. <br /><br />They say "Sleep is for the weak" but all things weaken under the stress of a million hits. Bones grow stronger from repeated strikes, but only if they are allowed time to mend. <br /><br />Thank you again for reading.<br />
-NeilaNeilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-46126400254675077522013-11-15T07:49:00.005-08:002013-11-15T07:49:51.959-08:00LateThis week's post will be late! Terribly sorry! I scored some flatting work and am still working on the comic with Amelius that I have been working on the past year as well as whipping Sharkpony and the Glitter Riders into shape so Time was something I've fallen short on this week. <br /><br />I hope to have an update ready by Monday, but at my current rate of being late with everything I plan this week it may be Wedensday next week. :s <br /><br />Terribly sorry!<br />Thank you for reading/tuning in!<br />-Neila<br /><br />Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-56955739529080753302013-10-31T22:23:00.001-07:002014-03-18T12:54:28.717-07:00Flash Fiction 2: Nella Breg OlmHappy Halloween! Er well I guess technically that was yesterday. <br />
Halloween is one of my Favorite holidays. So naturally I've put off doing much for it this year because I've been rather busy with work. I even waited until tonight to write the following flash fiction, while handing out candy to the few Trick or Treaters that were brave enough to venture to my house.<br />
<br />
What follows is a short piece featureing a character I haven't shared a lot from online. Her name is Use Lied and she's not from Earth. She's the main character in a NANOWRIMO story I started a few years ago that I've since been in the process pf rewriting. Writing wise I've invested the most thought into it and Paragon Ketch. I may post snippets here from that project, like this, to test the waters. How much of Use's world can I get away showing you? I really like mythology and fables so this takes from those a bit. I don't remember exactly when I first came up with the Fable of Nel but the story's been in my head awhile. I'm a little worried I lifted it from an actual fable. If I did and your recognize it let me know what I stole from. :s<br />
<br />
I've been busy with comic work on a comic that should be going live soon that is a tie in to Charby the Vampirate. You can find out more at http://www.CharbyTheVampirate.com<br />
<br />
I hope to participate in NANOWRIMO this month but I may not succeed. Still going to update this regularly, even if it winds up being something I scribbled down quickly in the minutes before I'm set to update...that or in the wee hours of the morning as is now. ;)<br />
<br />
<br />
Please enjoy today's piece of Flash Fiction while I contemplate whether or not I have too much on my plate for my own good. <br />
<br />
-Neila<br />
<br />
========================================================<br />
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Halloween</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">by
Sarah Elkins</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
closest thing we have on Sevet to Halloween is called Nella Breg Olm,
where offering are made to placate the Goddess of Misfortune, Nel.
Food, drink, sometimes money are left out on a plate at the top of a
pole, usually placed in one's yard. If they do not have a yard a
smaller pole on a balcony or outside a window is used. If the
offering is gone in the morning Nel has smiled on your house and you
will be largely strife free for the year. If the offering is not
taken Nel has smiled on your house a menacing smile and delights in
the troubles she will bring you. Nel is known as "The Smiling
Goddess" for she sees humor in all things. Woe be to the one to
make that Goddess frown.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> What
happens to the food? The Offerings?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Some
say Nel herself takes them. Others say they are stolen by beggars and
homeless urchins. Still others believe they are stolen and taken to
Earth.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> You
can no simply take something from Sevet to Earth like that. That is
why a Razor's cloths are made of our own hair and our blade is
fashioned from the bones of those who came before us.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Of
all the Gods and Goddesses, Nel is the most understanding of the
plight of beggars and street urchins so I don't think she would frown
on one taking her offerings to survive. I suspect that was the
ritual's true purpose. Considering one of the most well known Fables
of Nel, tricking people into helping the poor through fear sounds
like Nel.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
Fable goes like this. One time in the distant past the Goddess Nel
decided to retire to a small cottage with a small farm not far from a
village and live in peace. The nearby villagers distrusted the
stranger yet took advantage of her generosity and kindness. They
returned regularly during the summer and fall until they had taken
all the food she had saved, ever grain she had stored for the next
year's fields and even some of her tools with which she would have
sewed the new crop. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Winter
was on the way and the Villagers arrived wanting more.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> She
had none.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
have given all I had. I have nothing to grow, no tools. All I have is
this hovel and the soil." </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "But
won't you starve along with us?"<br /> "No." Was all she
said.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Why
not? What are you hiding?!"<br /> "I hide nothing. I give
freely. All peoples and things are equal in my eyes."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
villagers were enraged.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> They
killed her and fled. Later, overcome by hunger they returned to her
cabin to collect her body and make it into a stew but they found the
small home empty. Then the villagers began to fight among themselves,
sure one of their number had returned and made off with the body.
That winter they killed one another and became cannibals. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> When
the winter stretched on, long and cold unyielding the remaining
villagers, lips stained with the blood of their fellows cried out,
"Why have we been given this calamity!? What God have we
offended so? To force us to such extremes?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It
was then that Nel returned and appeared before the villagers, in the
humble guise she held when they had slain her.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "You?!
This is a curse wrought on us for killing you!?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "No."
Was all she said.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "What
then? This is for taking all your food?"<br /> "No." Was
all she said.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Your
tools?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "No."
Was all she said.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "If
this is not about your belongings, or food, or life then what? Why
force us to eat our fellows?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "You
have thought of no one but yourselves. Doing so brings woe unto
yourself. But now you are helping your fellows survive by serving a
noble purpose." </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "You
monster."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "You
never once inquired as to my name, for you care not for anyone but
yourself. Even now."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Who
the Hym Rekgr are you?!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Nel."
Was all she said as she revealed her true form. Her glistening horned
helmet that obscured her eyes, four wings, tail and ever changing
manic hair. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
villagers fell to their knees, "We didn't know! Forgive us!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Nor
did you care. I give freely to all, some simply take more than
others."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
guess that's one reasons Nel is one of my favorite Goddesses. It's
also why I figure the purpose of the offerings is to give to those in
need. Why the plates are put on giant poles is a bit beyond me, maybe
to keep the food and money away from varmints. </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">END </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> </span></div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-25871579125599199202013-10-15T05:00:00.000-07:002013-10-15T05:00:01.731-07:00Flash Fiction 1: Feed Have you ever skipped lunch and found yourself with a killer headache and the shakes? Were you just busy or could you not afford to eat the "standard three meals a day"? <br /><br /> I've done that. As a freelance artist some months are <i>tighter</i> than others. That's how I refer to it. "Tight" or "Lean" but I avoid using words that refer to what it really is: "Hungry."<br />
<br />
When the Hunger Games movie was about to come out I managed to pick up the first book on sale while visiting family. It touched a cord of familiarity and my Brother and Dad both borrowed the book and for lack of a better word 'devoured' it. They then bought the rest of the series which we all read as quickly as possible. I would not recommend reading all Three Books in a month like we did as it was rather nerve wracking.<br />
<br />
"You said 'familiarity' what do you mean?" you may ask.<br />
Well, what I mean is I see freelancing a bit like the Hunger Games and the fact that Katniss, the main character of the series, realized she could survive off the land made me realize that even if things went down hill I could do that myself. It made me realize I wasn't crazy for thinking about nabbing a squirrel during those 'Lean' times. <br /> I haven't by the way, nabbed a squirrel, bird, or other piece of the wildlife around my home, but it's comforting, in an odd way, to know that the little morsels are there should my work not cut it. <br />
<br />
What am I going on about? Well, I wanted to give you a little weird background information on this weird piece of flash fiction I wrote today. Why didn't I write something sooner? I've been busy working on things so I don't have to go rid the trees outside my house of birds.<br />
<br />
Please enjoy this odd piece of Flash Fiction. Next installment will also be Flash Fiction and probably the next few as well as I am short on time as of late. <br />
-Sarah "Neila" Elkins<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
=========================================================</div>
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Feed</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">by
Sarah "Neila" Elkins</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It's
hard to think about doing much of anything when one is hungry.
There's a point where even the most rotten decaying four week old
garbage smells enticing. Your body starts to crave what it needs and
somehow you know that is liver, raw fish, or fresh greens from a
garden. Any sight of blood, real or in art trips your subconscious
and you begin drooling. You hunger like a zombie and need to feed. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It's
terrifying. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Unsettling.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Worst
of all it's distracting as hell. Especially if you work from home. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> So
you sit, slowly typing your words. Slowly moving your brush on the
canvas before you. You try to compensate for the gentle shaking of
your hands by making multiple lethargic movements with your pencil in
your sketchbook. Your head continues to pound with a headache that
dances between a dull ache and a mild roar. Your body goes into this
primordial mode of survival, concerving energy so that you can forage
or hunt, as you sit surrounded by modern technology, art, and
refinement.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> You
need to feed. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> As
you sit in your home, unable to afford to buy meat or anything
remotely resembling proper nutrition you begin to pick up on all the
creatures outside your window. Trees are brimming with birds,
squirrels, chipmunks, lizards...life. You begin to think about how
it's the right time of year for there to be eggs in the little
cardinal's nest near your drive way. You start to wonder how many
lizards it would take to make a good soup and if you can season it
with bullion cubes your long deceased Grandmother left in the
cabinet. Are those wild onions growing at the edge of the yard or
some sort of poisonous day lily? There are so many birds. Constantly
jabbering. Mocking you.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Will
you need a sling shot?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Can
you catch one of the noisy birds with your bare hands?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> How
long do you need to cook a sparrow? </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> You
need to feed. They're all out there. Little morsels fluttering around
the leaves and branches. Skittering around the bark and rocks. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> So
you sit. Working. Trying to keep your eyes from the window. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> If
another day goes by...you decide...you'll do it. You'll have a feast.
The trees will be silent. More birds will fly in eventually and your
mind will finally be clear to focus on work. No one would need to
know. You could dispose of the feathers in the trash. Burn them in
your fireplace. Use them in a craft project. Try to remember to avoid
killing and eating any of the protected species.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> How
many sparrows are in the trees? </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Then...you
check your email for the millionth time and...it's there. The fifty
dollars you slaved for two weeks to earn. A weight is lifted and you
go to the store immediately. You're careful. You buy the necessities
you need and make sure there's plenty of meat, broccoli and potatoes.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> You
feed.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
birds outside rejoice. </span>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
End.</div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-45656444607372705882013-10-01T09:35:00.001-07:002013-10-01T09:35:14.824-07:00All the Best Mistakes part 2Welcome to part 2 of the first longer short story I'm posting on the blog. I hope you've enjoyed reading part one.<br />
Ideally I'd run everything I post by some "Beta Readers" but many of my friends who have offered to "Beta Read" stories of mine have been just as if not more busy than me. That means you guys are my "Beta Readers"...whoever you are.<br />
<br />
What you're reading is RAW, barely edited. I write it down one day, type it up another and then reread it and tweak it one more time before posting. Self-publishing work in this way is not the best idea, but I'm young and stupid and figure I can get away with it. Should I succeed in writing enough on here (and otherwise) to publish as an eBook of Short Stories in the future I will be going over everything and attempting to Re-Edit it another time before sending it to "print" even if that print is in a digital sort of way.<br />
<br />
I'd like to reiterate that it is perfectly fine for you, whoever you may be, to post one or multiple comments detailing any errors or suggestions you may have for anything I post. One cannot learn in a vacuum as well as one can learn from having a conversation with another person. <br />
<br />
This is the last portion of "All the Best Mistakes" after which I will be posting some Flash Fiction pieces following the 15th and 1st update schedule. Please read and enjoy.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
=======================================</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>All
the Best Mistakes Part 2</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Most
people get stupid when they lack a necessity like food so I guess I'm
in good company.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
start back to the Inn as I finish eating the grouse. Stringy pieces
of meat get caught in my teeth as I round the corner where I had last
seen Vassa about where I gave her the baskets of food. </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Much
of the market has closed. People have begun to return to their
dwellings. There is quite a bit of ruined produce around the market,
trampled under foot. I pick my teeth with one of the thin bones from
the grouses' leg as my foot lands on something soft and squishie. I
look down to see a trail of ruined berries like the ones I had traded
for. Markets are so messy. My eyes follow the trail to two crushed
baskets discarded in the main walking path.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
freeze in place, staring at the crushed basket in the waning
daylight.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Why
had Vassa tossed the food and baskets to the side? The market was not
near the inn. Why had Harret not been with her when they had escaped
together?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Fear
washes through my veins.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
had left her alone.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
had left Tura <i>alone.</i></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><i> </i>I
drop my leftover grouse and run. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> How
do I get back to the Inn? What direction is it from here? What if
Tura had called to Vassa for help and that was why the guard had
dropped the food? Why had she not called to <i>me?</i></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It
takes me a moment to realize I'm no longer moving. I've frozen
again...but a heat is building in my muscles as if i've run all day
and they're ceasing up. I can not speak as the heat spreads from my
limbs to engulf the whole of my body.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I'm
on fire. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It
hurts.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Come
to me Utzi Star Eyes! I summon you with the will of my heart and
power of my soul! Come to me Utzi Star Eyes and fulfill my <i>will!"
</i>Her voice echos in my mind rattling the horns on my head.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Yes...."
I breathe and everything is burned away.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> In
a moment I am no longer in the alley between two mud buildings near
the market. The heat becomes me and I feel power. Raw power flows
through me. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Where
am I? Where? The Inn. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
Inn.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> But
I am also not at the Inn.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> For
a moment I am in the alley, on the roof of the Inn, and somewhere in
between. I glimpse at all the knowledge in the world both known and
unknown. I see every grain of being that piles up to create the sand
hills of life we move around in during our short lives. Our world, a
grain of sand by comparison to to the star that gave birth do it. The
star is of the hottest fire. Fire I feel flowing through my being. I
know what bearings are. I know what a two hundred horsepower outboard
motor is. I know what an epsilon solar stroke deep space sun skiff
is. I know how to create complex magic circles and spells. I know how
Tura summons me to the Inn after running and hiding on the roof
because Vassa blasted in the heavy stone door to the room. I know
Vassa killed Harret after separating him from our group. That Orum
convinced Vassa to help him capture Tura in exchange for a position
at Orum's side in the empire he wishes to create.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
see all things, what makes them up and how to make them all BURN
while I am in all places before I coalesce on the roof of the Inn at
Tura's call. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Come
to me Utzi Star Eyes! Come to me and protect me from those that wish
to do me harm!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
see Orum and his army gather around the Inn and Vassa climb the wall
to the roof. They all stop when I arrive.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
stand in front of Tura, who seems unusually small. My body is wreathed in living flame, like the corona of the sun I have just learned
about. My eyes glow as two angry stars. The horns on my head are far
longer than before and curl in, almost touching, creating an obsidian
crown. My tail is like a whip composed of lightning tipped with
plasma and flame. Everyone looks so small. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> <br /> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WIAjWO7luNM/UkoKjG1CRdI/AAAAAAAAAOA/kUJdAO8Jqic/s1600/ATBMPart2ColorsWEB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WIAjWO7luNM/UkoKjG1CRdI/AAAAAAAAAOA/kUJdAO8Jqic/s1600/ATBMPart2ColorsWEB.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /> Vassa
has frozen in place, she stares. Normally she is larger than I am but
she looks like a scared scrub mouse. She calls to Orum with a
trembling lip, "Orum! What do we do!?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Down
below the Inn Orum barks a reply, "Attack! It's an illusion! A
trick from the damn Shaman!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
see Vassa hesitate. She's been Tura's guard for years and knows the
Shaman is powerful but she has never seen anyone perform a summon. I
hope Vassa will realize this is no trick. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> She
does not.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
female guard swings her heavy Macuahuitl at my leg. The obsidian
teeth of the wooden sword dig deep into my calf and my calf bites
back. Fire pours from the wound like magma from a young volcano. It
devours the weapon, Vassa's hands and part of her forearms. She
recoils in agony as the fire from my leg returns to me. My leg is
whole. I am unscathed.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Leave
now Orum! don't make me let him loose!" Tura pleads with the
Warlord. "My will is the only think keeping him from acting! You
can all leave with your lives if you do so now!"<br /> Vassa has
collapsed on the roof before me, her breathe speaks of an attempted
moan that simply refuses to make noise.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "This!"
Orum bellows. "This is the kind of power a man can rule the
world with! Come with me Shaman! Or I will <i>take</i> this power
from you!"<br /> "No!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Orum
proceeds to walk away from the Inn. he pauses momentarily to scream
at his men, "Take out the Demon! Bring me the Shaman! Fire your
bows and atlatls! Anyone who returns to camp without the Shaman in
tow is <i>already dead!</i>"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> His
men are scared, but they are more scared of Orum than me.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It
is there mistake, but I suppose he is the devil they know, and I am
not.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Protect
me Utzi!" Tura calls out as the first spears and arrows begin to
rain upon the rooftop.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
feel a weight lifted. I'm free. I do as she orders.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Spears
burn. Arrows burn. Vassa finally screams for a moment before she too
burns. The unspeakable heat of the sun is unleashed from me. The inn
before me is destroyed as are all of Orum's men. Tura stands behind
me on what is left of the Inn's roof.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Orum..."
She breathes.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
see him. He's running now, into the sandy hills outside the city. I
follow. He too burns and the hills of sand in my path are glazed into
a thick layer of black obsidian.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
order is complete. All those who wish Tura harm are gone, cinders in
the wind. As the two moons being to rise I feel a tug. I begin to
fall apart like a log that has been in the fire all night. While I
collapse in on myself I am there again, in that place where I see and
know the places that were before our planet and the places that will
be after our planet is gone. I see what she will have me do. I know
why but it breaks my heart. I know there will be others with this
power in the future as there have been in the past and if they should
ever know my <i>name</i> they too could call on <i>me</i>. The hair
was never needed. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
feel cold. Everything is cold compared to the heat of the sun. The
alley way between the buildings far from the Inn is very cold. I am
in the alley once more. Alone.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> <i>Shit.</i></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Tura's
still at the Inn. I have to go help her.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
twin moons continue to rise as I race through the narrow streets of
Polis. I hear Tura call to me as I reach the outskirts of a land made
of Obsidian.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Utzi!"
She's climbing off the roof.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
arrive just in time to catch her as she clumsily falls.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Tura...did...I...are
you okay?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> She
looks up at me, following my voice. Her eyes are full of tears,
attempting to focus, "Utzi. You protected me."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Yes...you
called me to."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> She
smiles, "I'm glad I got to see you for the first time with my
own eyes. You were so pretty."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I..."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Utzi...I
need you to do one more thing for me."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "No."
I know what she wants me to do.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Take
out your knife." </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "No,"
I repeat as my hand removes my good knife from my belt. I am still
under the spell of her will. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Utzi.
You were like a star...your eyes. Are stars like that Utzi?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Yes...stars
are like that."<br /> "Are the stars out tonight?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
look up, "They are and they are shining bright."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "And
the moons?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Moonlight
falls on Turas Face and I see how big and unfocused her eyes are.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Yes.
The moons have risen. They're both full."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Use
your knife Utzi."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "No."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Then...I
stand alone. The last person who wished Tura harm is dead...by my
hand.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> It
was a mistake to stay in the Temple for shelter, to run away with the
Shaman, Tura Two Spirit...to not trade my knives for food and to let
Tura summon me when she was in danger. So much blood is on my
hands...so many mistakes...</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> All
the best mistakes leave you with something you would not of had
otherwise. Magic comes more naturally to me than before...but it
comes at a cost...because it was all a terrible mistake. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">END</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">
</span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">
</span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">
</span>
</div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-10274941046487223902013-09-15T05:00:00.000-07:002013-09-15T05:00:07.884-07:00All the Best Mistakes Part 1Welcome to the first post of a longer short story! This, like many of my short stories, is based on a dream I had. I got to thinking after I had the dream why there weren't that many fantasy stories set in a stone age world? You see more sword and sorcery stories and less atlatl and sorcery. Why? If you have magic what would that do to weaponry? How would magic be used in a society with few to no metal weapons or tools? <br />
<br />
Sometimes dreams can be a gold mine of inspiration writing wise, other times you dream about being trapped in a mall underneath a gas station and...hey wait...that might be a good idea too.<br />
<br />
By the way, Spellcheck doesn't know what atlatl is. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Many of my stories will features subjects and ideas that I haven't seen in books or shows that personally I'd like to read about. I fear part of that is I'm just not very well read and need to be more adventurous when reading books, but at least I wont have to worry about accidentally stealing someone else's ideas. The stories I post here will also be in a variety of genres, tenses and themes. So "All the Best Mistakes" is fantasy, with magic and demon men and the like, but I have several Science Fiction shorts in the works as well as thrillers. <br />
<br />
I will be posting Part 1 today, then Part 2 on October 1st. Each post will have a small illustration with it (I went kind of artsy with this one, not sure it works, let me know!) After the last Part of "All the Best Mistakes" has been posted the next two posts will be flash fiction pieces, 1000 words or less, but that will be some time in the future. <br />
<br />
Without further ado here is Part 1 of "All the Best Mistakes."<br />
<br />
Please enjoy and thanks for reading!<br />
-Neila<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
=====================================</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>All The Best Mistakes Part 1</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
By Sarah "Neila" Elkins</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> </b>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Going
to the city was a mistake, but a necessary one as most mistakes I
tend to make have been. Staying at the Temple was a mistake. Fleeing
with the Shaman was a mistake. It was not my battle, but it rarely
is. That is in the past. So now we are in the city of Polis, the
largest city this side of the desert. It's easier to hide around
other people than in the sand like a louse lizard. A tide of bodies
flows into and out of the city of Polis each day. Strangers,
travelers, royalty, warriors, magi, Shaman and troubadours from
around the world come and go from Polis daily. A Shaman and a
Cuitapilli traveling together will blend in. We hope. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> “How
did you manage to get us a room to ourselves?” Tura sits on the
edge of the roughly made wooden bench in the small room I rented for
us.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Tura
clutches her staff, “I mean, a room like this isn't cheap right?
And to get it to ourselves...you didn't-”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> “I
didn't 'sway' them. I had some beads. That was enough for the inn
keeper to give us the room for a few nights. We can stay here, sleep,
get supplies and leave before Orum's men have a chance to realize
we're here much less search the whole city.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I've
had the beads since my stay in the islands of Uchon. The beads are
made of colorful pieces of shell, rare this far inland and worth far
more than the room. I have been using the beads as barter for months
and still have some left. I make a mental note to make some more
beads out of whatever I can. They wont be worth as much as those made
from shell, but the same technique can be used and they're better
than nothing. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I'm
snapped back to the present by Tura's response, “A man like Orum
will search the whole city.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> She
is right. Tura is right. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Orum
had lead a raiding party to ransack the Temple Tura is from two
nights before, the Temple I had made the mistake of staying at when I
had entered the desert nation. Orum was searching for power, for her.
She is one of the most powerful Shaman I have ever met, but she can
barely see the world around her. The toll of her power will continue
to wear on her eyes until all she can see on her own is darkness, or
so I hear. It means she will always need someone to act as her eyes.
Someone who is magic inclined. Someone like me.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Tura
looks conspicuous on her own. Her vivid white fabric robes are woven
by magic in the Temple and lined with maroon accents dyed by using
the rich juice of cactus fruit. She is Two-Spirit, the most powerful
of Shamans and she looks glorious. She is far from her Temple without
official business to attend to. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Why
would a Shaman of her standing be in Polis? Much less with me? </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
with Tura look suspicious. I wear clothing I made myself, scraps of
discarded leather and hides I tanned myself stitched together with
sinew and a bone needle, all of which can be removed and used as
barter. My hair is unwashed, my horns are not clean and my tail
twitches when I'm nervous, which surrounded by so many people as live
in Polis is nearly all the time. Why would a Shaman travel with a
lowly Cuitapilli?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Because
she is on the run. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
do not want to leave her in the room alone. We were separated from
her Temple guards, a man and woman I had dined with three nights
before, after the Temple was attacked. If they were captured Orum
could deduce that we were in Polis, but he could figure that out on
his own if he was not an idiot. I doubt a man with that many people
at his beck and call is an idiot. Smart people don't follow the
orders of an idiot, at least they shouldn't. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Do
you think Vassa and Haret will find us in the city?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
know she can use my eyes as her own, but do not know how far her
ability goes beyond that?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
don't know. Could you send them a message?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Tura
closes her eyes, "Only if I had some of their hair."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Remind
me to get you some of that if we see them again."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "But...Haret's
bald."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "He's
bound to have hair <i>somewhere</i>," I smile.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Ugh,
I'd rather no think about that. Eww."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
figure she doesn't have to read my mind to know what I'm thinking. I
use my smaller obsidian knife to cut off a sizable chunk of my own
hair from near one of my horns on the top of my head, "Here.
Keep this safe."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Tura's
face falls like a dropped bowl, "You're not leaving me are you?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
need to get us food, water. See if I can spot Vassa or Haret in the
city. Uh, you can use my eyes if I'm not nearby right?"<br /> My
knowledge of magic is mostly self taught, which may have contributed
to my mistake of choosing to stay in the Temple. The chance to be
around magic users that knew what they were doing was intriguing as
most of my experience with magic has been using Sway to get out of
trouble or ember breathe to start a camp fire, both things that come
easily to a Cuitapilli. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
can but...It's harder the further you are away. The link is made
though, I may not need your hair to contact you..." She looks
like she is about to begin sobbing so I gently give her a kiss on the
top of her head. Her hair is surprisingly clean with the smell of
pleasant flowers, not too sweet, despite our trek through the wasteland of sand
between her Temple and the city, "It will be alright. No matter
where I am, if you need me call my name and I will be at your side."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Utzi...you
mean like a summon?" Tura's eyes light up. She can't focus on
anything farther than a hand length from her face but I can see the
pieces of a plan are coming together in her mind.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Summon?"
<i>What is that?</i></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Go.
Get food. If something happens I will call you! Like you said. Until
then I'll be here, resting"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> "Are
you sure?" My tail beg</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ins</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
to twitch nervously but I stop it, mindful of my body language. The
thought that she probably c</span><span style="font-style: normal;">an</span><span style="font-style: normal;">'t
see the minute movement of my tail doesn't cross my mind.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> Tura
push</span><span style="font-style: normal;">es</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
me toward the heavy stone door, "Yes! Yes! Go. We need to eat.
See if you can find the others. I will wait and rest."</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> The
door to the room moves smoothly if pressed in the right spot,
bearings, I heard it call</span><span style="font-style: normal;">e</span><span style="font-style: normal;">d
once but I've never seen what a bearings looks like. Tura force</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
me against that 'right spot' and before I kn</span><span style="font-style: normal;">o</span><span style="font-style: normal;">w
it</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> I am outside of the room,
she is inside the room, and I'm checking to make sure my tail didn't
get caught in the gap. No sense wasting time. The moons will be full
tonight but that doesn't </span><span style="font-style: normal;">guarantee</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
the market will still be open.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mahDxLym-xs/UjPYigjtT8I/AAAAAAAAANc/JeXPpkLX-xI/s1600/ATBMColor1FullHatchJob1WEB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mahDxLym-xs/UjPYigjtT8I/AAAAAAAAANc/JeXPpkLX-xI/s1600/ATBMColor1FullHatchJob1WEB.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> I
find the market. Dear Gods it's bigger than I imagined, a city in
it's own right that winds thorough Polis like roots thorough the
soil. I keep my tail close so it doesn't get stepped on and make a
quick mental </span><span style="font-style: normal;">assessment</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
of what I have on me to barter. A few Uchonian beads, my vest, made
of Kaset hides, some of my older knives that are more chipped than I
like. It's always a mistake to go without a knife, they can break at
anytime. I can make more but it takes time and the right stones.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Food.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Water.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> I
follow my nose to the smell o</span><span style="font-style: normal;">f</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
cooked meats. The meat venders might not want a pelt since they trade
those themselves, but the</span><span style="font-style: normal;">y</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
might want</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">my
larger knife. I want to hang on to my remain</span><span style="font-style: normal;">in</span><span style="font-style: normal;">g
beads as long as I can.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> The
meats will be fine for me but I noticed Tura's reluctance to eat much
meat at the Temple. She favored berries and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">tubers</span><span style="font-style: normal;">,
so with her in mind I keep going. I've been without food before and
know I can catch some of the fat little birds that </span><span style="font-style: normal;">perch</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
on the clay buildings in Polis if necessary. I find one of the city's
well springs and fill up my two water skins while I think</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
over the whole situation I've found myself in once again</span><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
Thinking and rethinking. My </span><span style="font-style: normal;">family</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
used to call me "</span><span style="font-style: normal;">S</span><span style="font-style: normal;">tar
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">E</span><span style="font-style: normal;">yes"
because I would always be staring at the night sky thinking.</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
Utzi Star Eyes. </span><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Why
had Orum attacked the Temple? His men were looking for something, or
someone that much was obvious. They searched room by room and left
many of the 'holy items' that could be worth a fortune to some
behind. My thinking is that they must have been after Tura the
Shaman. Orum may believe that she could be easy to control because of
her poor vision. They didn't count on a Cuitapilli taking advantage
of the Temple's open door policy. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> As
I finish filling my second water skin I scan the area of the market
around the well. There is no shortage of choice regarding berries and
tubers, there are at least three tents near me with baskets full of
the things. I quietly note to myself the lack of Cuitapilli in the
area, but also note the lack of stares in my direction. All travelers
welcome. Good. Time to barter for berries, I recall Tura liked the
red ones. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Are
these good to eat?" I ask the woman at the stand selling berries
and tubers first, she seems surprised.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
wouldn't think a Cuitapilli would be interested in them, but yes,
they're quite sweet."<br /> I hate sweet things.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
sniff one but can tell absolutely nothing about their quality due to
my lack of knowledge. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Care
to try one?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
try not to cringe as I take a bite of the large red berry. It's not
as sweet as I feared but the strange seeds on the outside get caught
in my teeth. I make myself finish the berry before nodding to the
woman, "I'll take a basket of these and those tubers."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "What
do you have to trade?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
sun is setting. Navigating the unfamiliar city during the day has
been confusing enough, I do not want to be out at night, even if both
moons are full, "Beads, from Uchon."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> The
woman's eyes are wide when I pull six beads from my leather pouch on
my belt. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Beads,
or an old knife."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Both."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Both?"
My tail bumps into someone passing by behind me so I reign it back
in. I look at the woman who's expression has not changed, "Both?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Yes.
You're also paying for the baskets. I made them by hand and could use
a new knife."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
sigh and remove one of my older knives with a chip I don't like and
hand it and the beads to the woman, "Alright, deal."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> <br /> I
begin making my way back through the market the way I entered,
passing stalls I made note to remember. I'm almost to the meat filled
stall near the entrance that made my mouth water. I can wait. The
berries aren't that sweet. I can eat some of them tonight and some of
the fat roof birds in the morning. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Utzi!"
A voice behind me calls, loud and female, not Tura.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> I
turn to see Vassa, one of Tura's guards pushing through the market
crowd smiling. She is taller and more muscular than many of the men she is pushing aside. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Vassa?"<br /> "Utzi!
I found you! You got away! Where's Tura?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Tura's
at the inn. Where have you been? How did you escape Orum?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Which
inn? And Orum's an idiot. He followed Haret and me into the desert.
We doubled back around, got behind him and came here."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Where's
Haret?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Off
taking a piss or something. Which Inn is Tura at? Is she okay? Here,
let me carry that for you," Vassa takes the baskets from me.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "It's
the one by the small clutch of trees near the side of town nearest
the mountains."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Vassa
looks at the fruit, "Don't tell me <i>you</i> were going to eat
this too? Where's your food? You look half starved."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "I
was going to get myself something later," I think to add I
always look half starved but don't.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Go.
Get yourself something to eat. I'll take this to Tura. Meet us back
at the inn." She holds both baskets with one hand and digs into
a fabric pouch with the other. She hands me several colorful shiny
stones. "I saw a meat vendor back there that had some sand
grouse, it smelled amazing."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Thanks,"
I nod to her. "I'll meet you back at the inn."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> "Take
your time," She waves as she walks away from the market. "And
make sure you eat all of whatever you get. Don't spoil Tura's aura
with grouse meat!" </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"> Gods.
I'm stupid when I'm hungry. I always make mistakes when I'm hungry,
but the sand grouse was delicious. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">To
be continued October 1st in Part 2 of "All the Best Mistakes!"</span></b></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-90683395331067563712013-09-01T22:09:00.000-07:002013-09-01T22:09:28.144-07:00Short Story 1 Department of Malevolent Magic Prevention
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The following short story
was first written for a writing challenge on the Fantasy Faction
forum back in March of this year. The theme was "The City"
which I'm not sure I did well, the story is at least <i>set</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
in a city but</span> I wanted to experiment with a short detective
idea as well as follow the Fantasy Genre. I know what you're thinking
"But Neila, you're first post for your big experimental writing
blog is something you wrote back in March? I thought you were writing
new things!" Well...I did but I wrote it in pen in a note book
when I really should have been typing it (it would have saved my arm
some pain this week) I also forgot about the holiday weekend that
fell at the end of August/beginning of September. Basically, I should
have set the starting date for a week from now and rather than delay
more I chose to post something I already had typed then hall butt
typing up what I wrote by hand.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What am I talking about?
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Every 1st and 15th of the
month I will post a short story, or portion of a short story (if it
winds up being a longer piece that needs to be broken up for time's
sake. Each post will be different, unless it's a part of a serialized
short story. Different Genres. Different Characters. Different
Tenses. Different Points of View.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
You are welcomed and
encouraged to give feedback, hopefully constructive. This is a
learning experiment so I can learn to be a more solid writer. Trolls
will be ignored while those giving real constructive criticism will
be applauded and thanked.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Why do this on a blog and
ask strangers to read my writing for feedback?
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, my friends are all
very busy. I myself am very busy as well, but I write in my spare
time when I can claw it out of the night after work. Being that as it
is I often find myself concerned that I'm not giving enough attention
to my writing but my 'Day Job' often takes up time into the evening
and night.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What is my day job?</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am a freelance comic book artist.
Which means I have long hours for little pay and often work until my
drawing arm is swore leaving me to type with one hand or learn to
write with my other hand (I am getting better at writing with my left
hand, it is now readable but slow.)</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anyway, you didn't come to
hear me ramble about myself. You came to this blog to read some
experimental short stories. I'm typing this at 11:41pm at night after
a long holiday weekend full of visiting family and running about town
with family. Thanks for taking a look, please enjoy reading (and don't steal my writing that would be a really douche-y move if you did that!) and below is the first short
story post of this blog: The Department of Malevolent Magic Prevention.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sarah "Neila"
Elkins</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<br />
====================================================================<br />
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Department of Malevolent
Magic Prevention</b></div>
<b>
</b><div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>By Sarah "Neila" Elkins</b></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He had a lead. It wasn't
much of a lead but it was more than they'd had in weeks since the
work of the Glamor Killer had made its first appearance in the city.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Twelve victims.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All identical.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not only were they
identical in the manner in which they were killed (strangled by a
nylon cord) , but they also looked exactly the same. It wasn't
natural, which was why they had called him in instead of a regular
homicide detective. Someone had used magic to force all the victims
to change into copies of the same woman. He thought he could find the
killer if he found the real woman he was killing proxies of.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Detective Samhain,"
the aged bartender whose face was like dry cracked leather growled,
"What brings the DMMP to my bar?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"You know what sort of
thing," The broad shouldered Detective replied as he eyed a
drunk man and his Escort shamble past him.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"I ain't sold any
Hexes since you busted me months ago."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"You sure?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Damn straight I'm
sure. I was only in it for the money, I'm not stupid. Besides, more
money in getting idiots drunk off their ass on cheep liquor, anyway.
Speaking of, " the Bartender nodded toward the tap, each handle
had a different logo or photo on it, one a voluptuous woman with dark
hair. "Can I interest you in a pint?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Samhain frowned, "I
can smell the charm you cast on that fish water from here Mueller."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bartender laughed, "Of
course you can. Is it illegal to make people <i>think</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
they're drunk?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Yes."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
color drained out of Mueller's face.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"But
that's not why I'm here. I'll let it slide this time if you promise
to start selling the real stuff. Casting magic like that on water
will get your clientele drunk, but it comes at a cost. You'll be hit
with all you cast three fold, you know that."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> The
smile crept back across the old bartender's face, "</span><span style="font-style: normal;">You
know some people go for that, right Detective?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Samhain
pulled his smart phone out with the latest photo of one of the
victims on it, "Have you seen this woman come in here?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"That's
the woman that was on the news the other day, shame her twin sister
was found dead too, right?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Have
you seen anyone that looked even remotely like her?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> A
light went on in the bartender's eyes, "Now that you mention it,
there's a girl that comes in sometimes. Roxy, I think is her name.
Mousey little thing</span><span style="font-style: normal;">, skinny
as a twig</span><span style="font-style: normal;">, comes in to read
and people watch, never drinks a sip. A few days ago I noticed her
hair was different. Normally it's straight and </span><span style="font-style: normal;">red</span><span style="font-style: normal;">,
but it was brown and curly, like your girl there. I didn't recognize
her at first and she seemed scared when I mentioned it, grabbed her
stuff and ran out of here like a bat out of hell."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
This
could be it. A possible new victim, but why only change the hair? Was
the killer casting the Glamor on his victims piecemeal? In theory it
could spread out the 'Three Fold Price' for casting the magic, which
could also explain why the victims still looked the same after they
were killed. The killer was no ordinary Mage.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Any
idea where Roxy went? Where she may live? Any last name?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The old
man looked strained, "Shit...I know this...she mentioned it one
time. Say, could you cast a remembrance spell on me real quick? I'd
hate to think of sweet Roxy in danger, she's a good kid."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
Detective put his phone back in his pocket, "You get off on
magic being cast on you don't you?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Maybe
a little, but hell we both want to know where she went right? I can't
for the life of me remember, but I know she mentioned it once. We
used to chat when she'd come in. Try to figure things out about
people that came in. Hell, she knew the booze was fake and didn't say
a word."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> Samhain
sighed, "Fine." He quickly figured the math on what sort of
price he would have to pay for casting a remembrance spell on the old
man. The old man would remember one thing for about thirty minutes,
the target memory, while Samhain would forget three things for three
times the length of time, ninety minutes. He would have no control
over what he forgot. Was it worth it? What if he forgot what he was
doing, who he was, or where he was suppose to go after the old man
told him?</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Shit,
I remember, she has an apartment on Ninth street, a couple blocks
from here. I offered to give her a ride home a couple months ago when
the weather was shitty and she said she'd walk since it was 'just on
Ninth street'. Damn it."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Detective
Samhain tried his best to not seem relieved, "Any idea which
apartment complex it is?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Nah,
I got the feeling she didn't trust anyone. She never said more than
'apartment on ninth'. Aww damn, are you sure you don't want to cast
that spell anyway? Maybe I'm forgetting something else?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> Samhain
called back as he left the bar, "Nope. Clean up your act
Mueller, get some real beer in here and I </span><i>might</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
take you up on that offer of a drink."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> The
walk to Ninth Street from the bar was short, especially if one took
the back alley that ran behind the Thai restaurant in the block
between the bar and Ninth. Samhain wasn't sure Roxy would have taken
that path, but it did make it a pretty straight shot to where the
apartment complex was. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">He
lucked out that there was only one. The old tower was less than
authentically pleasing and stuck out like a swore thumb compared to
the older shorter brownstone houses that flanked it. Together the
buildings gave the appearance that the whole block was giving the
neighborhood the finger. Samhain concluded that might have been the
point given the general response in the city when a developer wanted
to put in a new highrise apartment complex in the middle of an old
neighbor hood. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Detective skimmed over the list of names on the buzz in board outside
the Apartments. Roxy was on the 7th floor. He hit the button to ring
her up and got out his badge to show her through the camera if she
was home.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> "Uh....Heelll
Hello?" Her voice was weak, terrified.<br /> Samhain held up his
badge and photo next to himself, "Detective </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Daniel
Samhain with the DMMP task</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;">force. Are you Roxy?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Oh
god. Oh god...You're with the Malevolent Magic Prevention Taskforce.
Oh god. Please. Please come up. I need your help."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> The
buzzer rang and the doors to the building unlocked. The Detective
took the elevator up to Roxy's apartment. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">She
answered the door wearing two coats, one with a hood up over her head
and excessively baggy pants. Her whole body shook as she let the
Detective into her apartment and then locked the door behind him. To
his surprise she took out a roll of Ward Tape and strapped several
lengths to the door. There were pieces on all the windows, every
entrance to the apartment. Ward tape, while weak would slow down any
Mage that tried to enter the room by force, and was generally only
used by people incapable of casting magic because of it's
corrosiveness toward magic. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Please,
you gotta help me. I don't know what's happening. I can't go out. I
look like that woman now and, and I can't. I can't end up dead.
Please."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Slow
down ma'am. I'm here to help. Please, have a seat, tell me when this
started."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> She
led him to the couch and recliner in the small living room of the two
room apartment. Samhain sat on the recliner and noticed as Roxy sat
that she was not a 'twig' in any sense of the word. </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Her
coats failed to hide aggressive curves. He had to find this sicko and
break the spells that had been cast so this woman could have her life
back.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"When
did you first notice something was different?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"I...I
was at the Bar, down on Eighth street, Mueller's place. He
complemented me on my hair being different. It wasn't when I left the
house that morning. I ran home. I tried shaving it off and it grew
back the same."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Samhain
nodded, "Did you notice anyone out of the ordinary?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"No...well...there
was a drunk guy with a woman I hadn't noticed before, but I was too
freaked out, so no. I didn't notice anyone else."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Did
you go to a specialist?"</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"No,
I locked myself in, used my tape to seal the entrances. The
changes...they kept coming though."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Killer wasn't casting the spells piecemeal, it was on a delay. That
required a great amount of focus</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
and a greater amount of preparation. The Glamor Killer had his sights
on Roxy for a long time. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"First
it was my hair, then I grew six inches, then...they grew...huge....I
just...I can't take it. I don't want anyone to see me like this. It's
so gross."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">"</span><span style="font-style: normal;">It's
going to be alright," He honestly wasn't sure, besides finding a
victim he had no other leads. "</span><span style="font-style: normal;">We're
going to find the person that did this to you, then negate the spell.
You'll be back to normal in no time."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">"But...I
heard the dead women didn't change back...isn't that weird? What if I
don't change back?"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A life
bound Glamor? It would explain why they didn't change back, but that
would mean the only way to break the spell, would be the death of the
murderer. The Detective was only authorized to take a life if there
was no other option.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> "OH
GOD, YOU</span><span style="font-style: normal;">'</span><span style="font-style: normal;">RE
HAIR!" Roxy shrieked!</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> "What?"
Samhain's short </span><span style="font-style: normal;">sandy blond
hair was long, curly and brown. How did he get targeted? He should
have been able to sense the magic being cast, unless...it was a
little bit at a time. Moment by moment in an area already steeped
with heavy magic muddling his senses. A place like the bar.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">"The...the
changes come quick. Is there anything you can do? I don't want you to
end up like me."</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">"</span><span style="font-style: normal;">Shit."</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
Samhain stood up in time to hear the door fly past his head and smash
into the back wall of the apartment. Roxy shrieked again as the old
bartender stepped into the room, a length of nylon boot lace in his
hand.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Looks
like I get a twofer," he growled.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Samhain
collapsed to the floor as his bones were compressed by the magic,
reshaping his body, "Mueller? You sick fuck!"</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"Haha,
Yeeeeeah. You were right. I do get off on magic. Casting it, seeing
it's affects, feeling it's effects afterward. You know I thought you
caught me for a minute. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have
remembered where Roxy was at." Mueller held the boot lace taught
between his worn meaty fists, "So thanks."
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gun.
Gun. Few Mages could stop a bullet, and usually it was enough to
break one's concentration. Samhain struggled to reach his service
pistol but it was gone. His holster was empty. He rolled onto his
back, finding his cloths far too loose, like he was rolling in bed
sheets. It felt as though he was being torn apart from the inside
out. Mueller neared the writhing half transformed detective. The bar
tender ignored Roxy, who was cowering in the corner of the room, near
her T.V.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"You
wont be able to get away with killing a Detective!" Samhain
shrieked, his voice a mirror of Roxy's.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"They
won't know who you were. No one will. You'll just be another of those
busty bitches they find in the city from time to time with a terminal
case of Dead."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"NO!!"
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
BANG
BANG BANG</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> Roxy
fired</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> the Detective's handgun
into Mueller, a bullet caught him in the chest, another in the
shoulder and the final shot hit him in the skull. He collapsed to the
floor next to the Detective. Then the magic cast by the Glamor Killer
started to unravel. Violently.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> The
Detective was thankful that it was quick, painful but quick. After
twenty minutes of </span><span style="font-style: normal;">dry heaving</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
near Roxy's coffee table, with Roxy on the other side of the room
doing the same he managed to stand. Ten fingers, toes, cloths fit
right, voice, "Roxy..." deep and manly. Good.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"I
had to...He was going to kill you."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"He
was."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><span style="font-style: normal;">Detective
Samhain was not looking forward to writing the report on this one. </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">====================================================================</span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span>
</div>
Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051616598435881519.post-82784174528260535572013-08-21T09:54:00.003-07:002013-08-21T09:54:35.700-07:00An Experiment that may prove to be a mistakeHello!<br /><br />If you've stumbled across this blog then you have found where I intend to serialize some prose short stories as I work on them.<br /><br />What? Crazy you say? You may be right. <br /><br />Why post serialized prose, much less short stories online? Well, the answer is simple. To learn. Practice.<br />
<br />
I learned how to make comics by making a webcomic, posting pages to it, learning what worked and what didn't by engaging with readers with something that I didn't mind being rough because it was a learning tool. I made contact with other artists and through them learned things about how to create comics I could not have learned from books. So, with a rudimentary traditional education on Creative Writing and the English Language under my belt I am now setting out to learn that which can not easily be taught: how to do something well.<br />
<br />
Feel free to give feedback on any writing I post here. Be brutally honest. Do try to point out things you like as well as things that don't work. Doing so generally helps anyone feel like you have real insight into what they're doing and that you do not hold a personal vendetta against them...not that I'd think any of you would have a vendetta against me! Ha. Ha.<br />
Ha.<br />
<br />
T_T<br />
<br />
Keep an eye on this blog in the future and I WILL be posting some prose short stories of different genres and lengths on here.<br />
<br />
What genres? Well. As this is a learning tool the genres will be whatever I feel like writing at the time. Sometimes two or three traditional genres smashed together to make some new horrid amalgamation of despair and supposed literature...I mean...well...exactly what I said.<br />
<br />
Some short stories may be longer than others and could be broken up into more than one post. We will see.<br />
First short story will go up September 2nd! What it will be shall be a surprise for both you and I!<br />
<br />
-Neila <br />
<br />Neilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13659228349913330399noreply@blogger.com0