Happy post exam week relief, Happy pre Thanksgiving gobble, Happy who-cares-about-grades- because-they're-not-out-yet -- just HAPPY!
This is something I've been wanting to do for a while now... A building story!! (that is, a story that builds, not a story about buildings) Here's what's going to happen: I'll start a story, just a paragraph or so to set the scene, then all of you can add on. You can add a sentence, a paragraph, a page, you can make it funny, tragic, fantastical, do whatever you want with it so long as you just respond, just write. Okay, here we go...
It was a Tuesday and the snowflakes had begun to fall. They whirled down in airy spirals as if the gods were having a sleepover party and in their girlish squeals opted for a pillow fight that broke the clouds open. Gethsemane stared out the window, hand on chin, chin in hand. It was not a good Tuesday. Yes, the snowflakes were falling, and yes, the land of Dulog was best in winter, but today was not a good Tuesday.
There was something apocalyptic in the colorlessness of the sky and the snowflakes did not evoke visions of a forthcoming winter wonderland, but rather filled Gethsemane with an acrid chill that seeped from the very edges of her soul.
ReplyDeleteSuddenly, the wind came up. The wild, whipping air, not content with swooping and swirling around outside, seemed to force its way through the thin window-pane, chilling and thrilling Gethsemane's bare arm, screaming a hollow sort of moan as it did so. She shivered, an unpleasant, swooping sensation, and her gaze dropped involuntarily from the sky—to the distant horizon—to the forest slumped with snow—to the figure on the road.
ReplyDeleteSwept by wind and sweeping along himself at a frightening clip, his black coat spilled out impressively behind him, and his grey mane of hair fluttered and flopped on his head in such a way as to suggest that it was looking to escape and had been for a while. Gethsemane stood, frowning to cover her fright. Where this man came, tragedy followed. His name was Calgary, and she had seen the likes of him before.
Last time, the tragedy had taken her mother and her sister, but the gods alone knew what might come this time. After all, Calgary is the worst of them, worse even than Urilui who was known to have left famine where his feet fell upon the earth, more terrible than Bavathma who once visited the king of Dulog in times long past, and as soon as he left the entire royal family fell ill - a sickness of the mind that drove the king and his family to commit atrocities the likes of which shall not be mentioned. Yes, Calgary is the worst of them all, for though he does not visit famine, hunger, war, poverty or death, he brings in his wake something much much worse: the complete and utter defeat of hope.
ReplyDeleteSwallowing her dread, the girl stood. Gethsemane's cloak swept over her shoulders and the few candles in the room were swiftly snuffed out, one by one. She went to the last remaining light source in the spacious stone room, the fiery altar, and drew from it the sacrificial knife of bellicose and barbarous times past. It slipped, with a smooth, metallic groan, into the waiting ornamental sheath and was tied soon thereafter at the girl's hip. She hoped not to use it for its ancient purpose, for she knew Calgary to be too powerful to resist one and alone for long, but the weight of it reminded her of her tutor, her friend, the old Priestess, and she felt the bulky metal of it buoy her up.
ReplyDeleteThe door burst open, rattling on its aged hinges, and a great searing cold flooded the smoky room. Gethsemane's cloak was wrapped tight around her, but the wind, and a second later, the eyes of the man in the doorway, chilled her very bones. But the girl had learned lordliness early and well as her first and best form of defense, and she held her ground.
"You dared come alone?" Her face betrayed nothing, her eyebrows knit together.
"I dare a great many things, Priestess." He pulled from his voluminous cloak a small roll of parchment, holding it like a loathsome creature, weeks dead. "A mandate from the Synod, ordering permanent command of this..." he looked down his nose at the stone floor and the single window "...facility... to myself."
Gethsemane's face was stony, but she had been expecting this nonetheless. "They have no right," she spat defiantly, and spread her cloak to reveal the ancient and powerful relic at her hip.
The knife had not been seen since the darkest of Dulog's dark ages, but then, it had not been needed since the events that transpired those eternal fortnights. The moment the rivers once again ran clear and the children once again cried of those provinces they had always cried for, those more suitable for child spilt tears, the knife had disappeared in an act of evanescence, gone from sight, but not yet completely from memory. Seeing it now, between the folds of Gethsemane's faded shift was so jarring, even Calgary could not quell a flicker of trepidation from glinting across the piercing blacks of his eyes. It was but a flicker and anyone else may have passed it off as insignificant, if indeed they discerned it at all, but Gethsemane knew this break in his countenance, ephemeral as it was, to be much more. It was enough for her to see that he saw, enough for her to know that he knew.
ReplyDeleteBut Calgary's recovery was swift. At once, his face returned to a stare of stony assiduity as his voice rose with disdain, "Of course they have the right, they have always had the right!"
Gethsemane once more turned her attention to the window and the world that lay beyond it where Calgary's sunken footprints had already been erased by the falling snow. "You know as well as I do that having the power," her eyes turned to meet his, "Has never been the equivalent to having the right."
His scorn was palpable in the room. The cold of the open doorway was beginning to win its struggle with the warmth of the altar, but Gethsemane didn't plan to be in the room by the time the heat and light of it were extinguished forever. She carried on her person the thing he cared about, the talisman he could wield to win the followers he lusted after. When she broke away, perhaps he would follow her and leave the sanctuary unmolested. It was not the sanctity of the room he cared for, of course, for he had trampled that ancient authority by being in the room at all, but instead the power it's contents would provide him. She made ready.
ReplyDelete"You should feel honored, Calgary." She sought to stall him, but she dared not do it openly—stalling this demon was like stalling a hurricane. "A man has not set foot in this chamber since kings ruled Dulog."
"You must leave this place," he said, having none of it.
She frowned more deeply. "So you can burn it?"
"It interests me not. I only seek the knife."
Silence. She really did not expect anything so forthright from him, and the surprise registered, for the first time, on her face. Pressing his advantage, he continued. "I seek only the power to defeat Golgotha." His voice was silken. She only glared at him—he pressed on. "He is marching on Dulog, you know. He will lay waste to this place."
Her eyes narrowed. "It matters not to me which tyrant rules here."
He plowed onward, as though she hadn't spoken, "—And all you have to do is hand over that talisman on your hip."
Gethsemane allowed her eyes to fall to the knife, then peered back up at him, cooly observing, her final bid for control. Catching his gaze all but physically hurt. His eyes were ice on hers, his face a slab of stone. His bearing bore all of the advantages and deficiencies of that which is complete and final. She almost blinked, seeing deeper than any before her had dared. In him was no room for improvement or loss, but only a kind of stasis, a kind of death. This, she recognized, was how he attracted his followers, for his person offered a secure and singular answer to the questioning souls of those who would serve him. It was also his greatest flaw, and what's more, he almost certainly knew it.
Shock was swept away by triumph, and she smiled, very unnervingly to the mind of Calgary, a grimacing grin that saw past his trappings and schemings and into his great dark center, and she saw his countenance falter—the great smoke-screen of it for a second cleared in panic. Seizing her chance, she took one quick glance back at the altar, furtive, guilty. His eyes, seeing her distraction, followed to the altar, saw its great smoky belly and fiery mouth—what secret could she be hiding in there?—but then he looked back, and she was gone.
His bellow of rage shocked the birds from the trees, but Gethsemane did not look back. Once in the woods, she was safe. Her knowledge of the great forest was more extensive than anyone else alive. She heard his heavy footfalls behind her, heavy and gaining, but never quite catching up. She slid quickly between two trees, dodged around four more, and disappeared down a gully. She heard his hatred explode behind her, curses flying like arrows through the frigid air, but she still did not turn back, and she did not stop running until all of his outpouring rage was naught but whispers on the wind.
Another day, another time, another place; another Tuesday. The town by the river Mutton sat, much as it had for an age, the mill-wheel turning as the river slid lazily by, the wheat sitting placidly in the silos, more than expected this season, the town bell tolling in what was usually celebration. Today it tolled by official mandate. Men of every age strode purposefully from their homes, carrying the rusty weapons of their fathers' fathers.
ReplyDeleteTears were shed, promises and letters exchanged, families torn willfully asunder. Each man left with the utter conviction that he would see glory, that he would win riches, that he would serve his homeland. For what was there to cling to in this world-turned-upside-down than the homeland? The Synod, once the uniter of Dulog in the years after the kings, was split down the middle in a schism the likes of which the land had never seen. Loyalty lay not in nationality, as it once had, but in men. And Golgotha was the man of the hour. It was said with utter conviction in Swansea-upon-Mutton and the towns around for fifty leagues that Golgotha and his Splinter Synod would bring unity to Dulog after it crushed the hackneyed antiques running the Capitol. It was for this reason that bells rang, and women sobbed, and men left and could not bring themselves to cry. If the summons of a great man is not a good reason to fight and die, for these people it was reason enough. By sundown, the men had forded the river and were over the great green hill and out of sight.
As the men were on an adventure over the great green hill they saw a small girl climbing the mountain up ahead. This mysterious girl was wearing a beautiful plum colored dress that had a small slit up the middle. She climbed with courage and strength, as she reached the top the clouds began to race towards her carrying great speed. She held out her arms and the clouds embraced her with swift gentleness. As she was lifted higher into the air she saw the men watching from below. She yelled down to the men, "Who are you to stand there in awe of my beauty and dare to venture into my dangerous forest?" The men, speechless to the voice of such wonderful power bowed down to her for she was the queen of all things nature, and at this time the leaves were turning color and the first signs of winter were hanging in the air. She ordered the clouds to lower her down so she could speak to these men. As her strong and petite feet touched the ground the men looked up and saw the beautiful sparkle of her face and the glow that radiated off her red hair. Her green eyes bore down on them as if she was to cast a spell on them. And at that moment the men scattered throughout the forest and ran until their legs could run no futher. Each one was alone and with no idea on how to get back to the village.
ReplyDeletet was as Gethsemane had hoped. While bonded in the bands of pride and passion, the men and their weaponry, however rudimentary, posed a threat. Yes, their powers and abilities were so below hers it was nearly laughable, but nonetheless with their numbers and Gethsemane's own vows to the peace doctrine, it would be best if force could be avoided from both sides. With the men alone, disoriented, lost, this was not entirely hopeless. Mostly hopeless, perhaps, but not entirely, and that was enough.
ReplyDeleteNo, it was not hopeless, but that did not mean it would not be difficult. Time, she judged, had already been lost. This in mind, she once again set off through the thick darkness of night, keeping up a persistant gait that led her through the trees and to the place, the one place, where she could carry out the deed that all along, since her very birth, she'd been destined to carry out.
For years she had known it would end this way- but then for years she had persistently denied it. All those nights, those that did not bless her a wink of sleep until she forced herself to spitefully laugh her fears away as the stars faded from sight, those nights had been filled with visions of this day, this very moment.
It was at last upon her.
The snow stopped and in the distance a lark announced that morning had come. The dawn had broke on the silent beginnings of Wednesday. At last.
Irial stood by the window in his little cabin, looking out into the Dark Forest, his mind in other places. There had been many unfamiliar presences in the woods in the past few days, weak ones that had no business being in such a dark and enchanted forest as this. He had played with the idea of chasing them off, but had decided that such base trickery was too much of a bother, and he would rather wait and see what sort of trouble they got themselves into due to their own folly. Of course, he hadn't expected HER to show up.
ReplyDeleteShe hadn't been in these woods since her training, when she was little more than a tot. She had grown indeed since then, and she now held a presence that was a little more than half of his - impressive for a normal human. She was the first he had trained in many many years who grew to have such a presence that even came anywhere near his own, and he was happy that her curious ancestry had chosen to become prominent in her, and had not simply died out with her mother.
However, though he was happy to see a successful pupil, he knew that she was not simply here to visit her former master. It was time once again for men to take a stand for their freedom and fight back against those who rule - last time it was the greedy king, this time the oppressive Synod. Golgotha was another pupil of his, one that had not turned out quite as Irial had hoped. Golgotha was corrupt, and wanted only power. He was charismatic though, and was able to call many foolish men to his cause, men drawn by the promise of glory riches. "They will die for an empty dream," Irial whispered, "they will die for a lie." Golgotha and Gethsemane, twins who both had potential, were able to take Irial's teachings and run with it, though in opposite directions. They were to battle it out, he knew, for Gethsemane represented all that is good in the world, represented freedom and peace, while Golgotha represented all that is evil, corrupt, and hostile, as if he were the god of war.
Irial knew very well why Gethsemane was here; it was for his final lesson, and to call him to assist her in her battle - for how does one who has taken a vow of peace enter battle? The only question that remained, was whether or not he should once again take part in the affairs of man, or if he should allow things to run their course. Golgotha would certainly come to find him at one point, for both his final teachings - for he was a greedy man indeed - and also for his life. Irial knew that Golgotha would not be able to stand knowing that he was not the most powerful in Dulog. We shall see, thought Irial, we shall see.
Gethsemane stood in front of his cottage, staring at it with mixed feelings. She had not seen the hovel in years, and had not expected to see it again. She took a step forward. She knew he was in there. She took another step. More than likely, he had been expecting her, and was waiting. She took a third step, which brought her to the door. He's probably sitting at his table, the same one he had when she and her twin were brought to him, sitting there facing the door, looking straight ahead with a little smile. She put her hand on the door and pushed, wincing slightly as it creaked open. There he was, her master Irial, sitting in just the way she had been expecting, with just the smile she knew he would wear, for he almost always did.
ReplyDelete"Welcome, my long-lost student. I have been expecting you," He greeted Gethsemane in that polite but slightly condescending tone he always used when speaking to humans, though he hadn't used it on her since the first year of her training with him. "I see you have turned into a fine priestess and mage, just as your mother was before you."
"Teacher, I have returned. I am sure you are aware of the doings of my brother?"
"Indeed, I am. Though I am generally quite removed, I do like to keep an eye on my students. Which reminds me, what did you think of Calgary? Yet another wayward student, though fortunately not of mine. The pupil of yet another wayward student of mine, though. I must say, I am disappointed by the turnout of many of my students. I believe it is only the women I have taught who have turned out even half decent."
Gethsemane glowered at the mention of Calgary, still angry at the thought that he had come to take what she protected, as if he expected her to simply hand it over quietly. "Well since you know what is going on, I shall not mince words: I need your assis-"
"Yes, Gethsemane, I know very well what you need. You need my assistance in the battle and my final teachings, for I'm sure you aware that I did not teach you everything there is to know - oh? I see from your reaction that you had not. I am surprised at you, I expected better from you. Though, I suppose, if you have not then neither has Golgotha, which is good for me. This means that if he is not defeated, there is a chance he will not seek me out. You look more shocked; you did not expect me to agree to help you immediately, did you? And here I thought you knew me better than that. I rarely take an intrest in the affairs of men, you know this. I only do so with very good cause. However, in this case, I think I shall have to say yes. The misbehaving child must be punished for disobeying the teachings of its master."