Post by Pyralis Demos on Sept 2, 2011 23:05:08 GMT -5
I figure if I'm going to join a Writing Forum, I midas well post some of my work. Wrote this today, so it's the most recent I have (as of 9/2/11 at 12:01 AM EDT). In my defense, I was in a hurry to get the first Chapter done to have a basis for the story, so if it's a little on the godawful, needs to be burned and sent to H**L slightly horrid side, I have an excuse! 
This is actually a Novella, but I suppose it will go here for now. Could someone possibly create a Novella board?
Novella: A story which contains any number of pages between 20 and 100.
This may trun into a novel (100+ pages) but for now, it is planned as a Novella. I'm shooting for about 30-50 pages, though I think I'll get like 22 or 23... I tend to shorten things so... yeah.
Aaron was a curious fellow. He had always heard sailor tales of a distant island cursed by the gods of the seas. All who entered never returned. Smiling, he decided to find what lay there, awaiting his arrival. He knew the lore must be over-exaggerated. What other answer could there possibly be? You see, Aaron was a philosopher. He knew better than to believe in hexes and curses. They were simply a hoax used to hide something – something precious. Ah, yes, did I forget to mention this fine chap was a notorious pirate – the scum of existence? Apologies.
He gathered his crew and ‘borrowed’ a map, setting sail immediately. Many of his shipmates were on the verge of mutiny but, setting an example, Aaron threw one overboard into the shark-infested waters of the open ocean. No one else dared to but look at the captain with an even slightly displeased expression for fear of their heads.
Arrival was imminent. Through the thick fog of the early morn, the lookout cried the standard and highly clichéd ‘Land Ho!’ slogan all lookouts seemed to adopt. The pirate could see the island resting upon the horizon. He also noticed hundreds shark fins puncturing the surface of the water. Only too late did he realize they weren’t fins, but jagged outcrops. “Turn starboard! Man the oars! Tighten the sails. Turn!” but it was useless. The hull had already been penetrated and the rupture was far too large to mend. They were doomed. Aaron’s last thought, however, was a happy one. He had proven the island’s curse was merely attributed to stones. Then, everything went black.
Awakening on the beach, Aaron found he was soaked and covered in sand. He could see the ruins of his fine vessel rammed upon the rocks. Not much was left, a mere sail and mast. He could make out a body further down the beach, but he could also spot a puddle of blood surrounding the corpse. The casualty count had been boosted to one, though Aaron was positive it would only increase as the tide came in, washing remains upon the sandy shore.
Knowing he was marooned, Aaron began to slowly walk into a nearby forest. He figured there must be something of use further into the jungle. Sighing, he trudged in, only to fall into quicksand. He was sinking. Slowly, but surely, he was sinking.
All Aaron could do was hope the bottom of the pit wasn’t too far down and he would still be capable of inhalation and exhalation – breathing. He had heard a trick to stop himself from descending further into the abyss. He lay on his back, as best he could, and slowly raised his legs into the air.
It worked, but only momentarily. He sneezed as a gnat landed on his nose and his feet jolted. This seemingly small mistake could have been fatal had Aaron not been so quick to react. He reached for a log at the very edge of the sand and pulled it in by a stick. Hauling himself half on it, it slowed his sinkage. He was still not completely free and he could feel his shoes had slipped off his feet.
Sighing, he knew his fate was unavoidable, but still he struggled. He couldn’t resist the urge to live. He had the will; he needed only to find the way. This came in the form of a series of vines leading away from the edge and further on. They looked fragile, so he grabbed hold of multiple tendrils at once and slowly pulled himself further and further from the safety of the edge
.
He knew what he was doing, and the plan worked perfectly. You see, the vines had to be attached to something. This something could not grow in quicksand. Therefore, he figured if he used these vines to lead his way, Aaron would eventually find his way to solid ground.
Contradicting his philosophical beliefs, the man thanked Tetera – goddess of the Earth. He knew that if she did exist, she would appreciate his thanks. If she did not, then what did it matter? One could have no opinion if one was nonexistent.
Brushing as much of the muck off, Aaron grabbed a sturdy stick and began to use it as a blind man would use a cane – feeling his way before he stepped into the unknown. He was much more careful but nothing could have prepared the outlaw for what was lurking in the shadows awaiting the perfect opportunity to pounce.
Pinned, Aaron’s eyes met the jaguar, its teeth snapping at his neck. In all his fear, a stray sarcastic thought eventually made its way to the pirate’s mouth: “At least you’ll make things quick, huh?” he said, grinning.
In response, the cat’s teeth made contact with Aaron’s arm. Thankfully, ‘twas but a mere flesh wound as the cat’s teeth hadn’t gone too deep into the muscle. Still, it was excruciatingly painful. He knew he couldn’t keep the fight up much longer. Attempting to run was useless as he hadn’t heard any tales of a man escaping the claws of a jaguar by fleeing on foot. Well, there was the old beggar in London telling another of his legends, but he had also just come out of the local pub carrying a bottle of fine whiskey in his hand and stumbling everywhere with missing teeth and an odor resembling the lovely incense of bat guano.
Aaron’s mind then began to wander to the option of fleeing up a tree. He then remembered the stories of men being pounced on by jaguars which had climbed trees even man could not ascend.
Then, an idea occurred to the clever pirate. Water. Every man knew cats hated water. Alas, his eyes caught the sight of another jaguar swimming across the only nearby body of water – a river. The cat seemed to notice the struggle immediately but walked away. Only then did Aaron realize what was about to happen. A sneak attack. He never knew wild creatures such as these could devise such a strategy but it was deadly. Just as the thought passed through his head, the second jaguar let out a menacing growl and leaped with great grace onto the other. They fought and fought over who would feast and who would starve, giving Aaron just enough time to begin to stagger away. He knew the cats would take no notice, as they would simply track him. He’d leave enough of a scent between his alien human odor mixing with the natural scent of things. The blood he had been losing was also a factor. Alas, the scum of the seas still fled the scene, desperate to find a way to safety.
As misfortune would have it, the fight hadn’t lasted as Aaron heard a familiar growl. The original had won. He could tell by the pattern of the spots as each jaguar was unique.
The pirate knew it was but a matter of time before the cat caught up – mere seconds. He gave up, as there was nothing left to do. And, just as the jaguar leaped into the air and began his deathblow, a gunshot was heard and it crumpled to the ground. The cat was dead.
In amazement, Aaron turned just in time to catch a glance of the man before he shot a branch and it fell on Aaron, knocking him unconscious. His last sight was of a tall, well-built man grinning as he walked towards him. The grin was a dangerous grin, as if the man had found a new toy and knew it would be only days until he would require a replacement.
This is actually a Novella, but I suppose it will go here for now. Could someone possibly create a Novella board?
Novella: A story which contains any number of pages between 20 and 100.
This may trun into a novel (100+ pages) but for now, it is planned as a Novella. I'm shooting for about 30-50 pages, though I think I'll get like 22 or 23... I tend to shorten things so... yeah.
Around the Corner:
Chapter 1: Islander
Aaron was a curious fellow. He had always heard sailor tales of a distant island cursed by the gods of the seas. All who entered never returned. Smiling, he decided to find what lay there, awaiting his arrival. He knew the lore must be over-exaggerated. What other answer could there possibly be? You see, Aaron was a philosopher. He knew better than to believe in hexes and curses. They were simply a hoax used to hide something – something precious. Ah, yes, did I forget to mention this fine chap was a notorious pirate – the scum of existence? Apologies.
He gathered his crew and ‘borrowed’ a map, setting sail immediately. Many of his shipmates were on the verge of mutiny but, setting an example, Aaron threw one overboard into the shark-infested waters of the open ocean. No one else dared to but look at the captain with an even slightly displeased expression for fear of their heads.
Arrival was imminent. Through the thick fog of the early morn, the lookout cried the standard and highly clichéd ‘Land Ho!’ slogan all lookouts seemed to adopt. The pirate could see the island resting upon the horizon. He also noticed hundreds shark fins puncturing the surface of the water. Only too late did he realize they weren’t fins, but jagged outcrops. “Turn starboard! Man the oars! Tighten the sails. Turn!” but it was useless. The hull had already been penetrated and the rupture was far too large to mend. They were doomed. Aaron’s last thought, however, was a happy one. He had proven the island’s curse was merely attributed to stones. Then, everything went black.
Awakening on the beach, Aaron found he was soaked and covered in sand. He could see the ruins of his fine vessel rammed upon the rocks. Not much was left, a mere sail and mast. He could make out a body further down the beach, but he could also spot a puddle of blood surrounding the corpse. The casualty count had been boosted to one, though Aaron was positive it would only increase as the tide came in, washing remains upon the sandy shore.
Knowing he was marooned, Aaron began to slowly walk into a nearby forest. He figured there must be something of use further into the jungle. Sighing, he trudged in, only to fall into quicksand. He was sinking. Slowly, but surely, he was sinking.
All Aaron could do was hope the bottom of the pit wasn’t too far down and he would still be capable of inhalation and exhalation – breathing. He had heard a trick to stop himself from descending further into the abyss. He lay on his back, as best he could, and slowly raised his legs into the air.
It worked, but only momentarily. He sneezed as a gnat landed on his nose and his feet jolted. This seemingly small mistake could have been fatal had Aaron not been so quick to react. He reached for a log at the very edge of the sand and pulled it in by a stick. Hauling himself half on it, it slowed his sinkage. He was still not completely free and he could feel his shoes had slipped off his feet.
Sighing, he knew his fate was unavoidable, but still he struggled. He couldn’t resist the urge to live. He had the will; he needed only to find the way. This came in the form of a series of vines leading away from the edge and further on. They looked fragile, so he grabbed hold of multiple tendrils at once and slowly pulled himself further and further from the safety of the edge
.
He knew what he was doing, and the plan worked perfectly. You see, the vines had to be attached to something. This something could not grow in quicksand. Therefore, he figured if he used these vines to lead his way, Aaron would eventually find his way to solid ground.
Contradicting his philosophical beliefs, the man thanked Tetera – goddess of the Earth. He knew that if she did exist, she would appreciate his thanks. If she did not, then what did it matter? One could have no opinion if one was nonexistent.
Brushing as much of the muck off, Aaron grabbed a sturdy stick and began to use it as a blind man would use a cane – feeling his way before he stepped into the unknown. He was much more careful but nothing could have prepared the outlaw for what was lurking in the shadows awaiting the perfect opportunity to pounce.
Pinned, Aaron’s eyes met the jaguar, its teeth snapping at his neck. In all his fear, a stray sarcastic thought eventually made its way to the pirate’s mouth: “At least you’ll make things quick, huh?” he said, grinning.
In response, the cat’s teeth made contact with Aaron’s arm. Thankfully, ‘twas but a mere flesh wound as the cat’s teeth hadn’t gone too deep into the muscle. Still, it was excruciatingly painful. He knew he couldn’t keep the fight up much longer. Attempting to run was useless as he hadn’t heard any tales of a man escaping the claws of a jaguar by fleeing on foot. Well, there was the old beggar in London telling another of his legends, but he had also just come out of the local pub carrying a bottle of fine whiskey in his hand and stumbling everywhere with missing teeth and an odor resembling the lovely incense of bat guano.
Aaron’s mind then began to wander to the option of fleeing up a tree. He then remembered the stories of men being pounced on by jaguars which had climbed trees even man could not ascend.
Then, an idea occurred to the clever pirate. Water. Every man knew cats hated water. Alas, his eyes caught the sight of another jaguar swimming across the only nearby body of water – a river. The cat seemed to notice the struggle immediately but walked away. Only then did Aaron realize what was about to happen. A sneak attack. He never knew wild creatures such as these could devise such a strategy but it was deadly. Just as the thought passed through his head, the second jaguar let out a menacing growl and leaped with great grace onto the other. They fought and fought over who would feast and who would starve, giving Aaron just enough time to begin to stagger away. He knew the cats would take no notice, as they would simply track him. He’d leave enough of a scent between his alien human odor mixing with the natural scent of things. The blood he had been losing was also a factor. Alas, the scum of the seas still fled the scene, desperate to find a way to safety.
As misfortune would have it, the fight hadn’t lasted as Aaron heard a familiar growl. The original had won. He could tell by the pattern of the spots as each jaguar was unique.
The pirate knew it was but a matter of time before the cat caught up – mere seconds. He gave up, as there was nothing left to do. And, just as the jaguar leaped into the air and began his deathblow, a gunshot was heard and it crumpled to the ground. The cat was dead.
In amazement, Aaron turned just in time to catch a glance of the man before he shot a branch and it fell on Aaron, knocking him unconscious. His last sight was of a tall, well-built man grinning as he walked towards him. The grin was a dangerous grin, as if the man had found a new toy and knew it would be only days until he would require a replacement.
