Feeble attempt at writing!

[RedsectorA]

(I thought since some are writing and using their imaginations on here I might give it a try myself. I will therefore submit, for your perusal, a small work of fiction/fantasy. Please be kind in any comments. I know my spelling and grammer or not the best! I will do this in small installments until I either get enough people telling me that I suck, or I decide the story is finished. So enjoy, or not! Oh everything I write in this story is still considered mine, so dont anybody go and write a book and get rich off it, unless they cut me in for a large portion! )

The wind tore at the cloak of the lone rider as he crested the rise. Weathered, battle-scarred hands pulled gently on the reins and the dapple-gray mount come to a steady halt. The wind continued to batter the two as they sat silhouetted against the darkening, storm-laden sky. The hood of the rider raised almost imperceptibly as if surveyed the land before it. The dark, steel Grey eyes could not make out the buildings that should lie in the distance. The horse sat there for a few moments before a gentle urging by its master sent it down the rise in a slow canter.

The pair made their way across fields long overgrown and unused. The rider's head turned this way and that as he took in the sight of the dead land around him. He expected the early spring fields to be freshly tilled, seeded and ready for the torrents of rain, which were not far behind him. Rain that would make the seeds burst forth from the soil to grow into towering crops, which would feed hundreds of the kingdoms residents. Yet all around him there was no sign of habitation. No signs of life, nor that there had been any here recently, maybe none for years.

He rode on till he reached a low wall that marked the edge of an estate. He again brought the tired looking mount to a halt as the eyes looked upon the wall that now lay in ruins. Stones were about, there was nary a place where more than two stones stood together. The Grey eyes seemed to shine from beneath the hood of the cloak as the head of the rider slowly lowered till his chin rested upon his chest. The coming storm continued to approach with an increasing crescendo of thunder and the rain that followed, yet the rider sat there for a few moments. Thoughts of his expectations at why lie ahead, ran through his troubled mind.

(To be continued)

[This message has been edited by RedsectorA (edited 05-24-2001).]

[Swordsman]

That was good, and I want to hear more. Besides the occasional typo or spelling error, it was pretty good. Puts space_cadet to shame. Try combining some of your sentences, so they're not quite so staccato. That will make it excellent.

------------------
Sir Nækos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus

"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson

[RedsectorA]

The rider finally came out of his stupor and gave the horse a gentle nudge, and together they passed through a gap in what once was a wall built entirely by hand. His hand tightly gripped the reins of his horse as he moved forth to investigate what lie ahead. He rode among trees, barren and as dead looking as the rest of the surrounding land. Yet his eyes ignored it as they looked towards the buildings that should appear ahead.

The rain began to come down, slowly at first then within minutes it had risen till it was a raging torrent that soaked the rider to the bone within seconds. He seemed unaware of the weather as the lightning began to flash around him, and the ground shook with the violence of the thunder. The rain was making it almost impossible to see ahead. The rider continued until suddenly a flash of lightning revealed a stone wall scarcely 20 feet in front of him. A tug on the reins brought the mount to another weary halt.

Before the wall was a 15' wide moat that was full and overflowing its banks around the horse's hooves as the rider looked up at the wall. Originally it was 20' tall with a parapet along the top, but now the wall looked as if it had been in ill repair for several years. The parapets were long gone; the tops of the wall had fallen either into the moat or into the courtyard beyond.

The rider turned his mount to the left and sent him towards where the drawbridge should be, but upon arriving he halted and saw that indeed the bridge was down but that most of it had rotted away and only a few boards remained. From the look of it, the remainder of the bridge could not safely support the weight of a man let alone a horse and rider. With dread, the rider dismounted and let the reins drop into the puddles of water about his feet as he wearily approached the bridge.

(To be continued)

(Thanks for the comments, Swordsman. I will try to put your suggestions into practice! )

[Swordsman]

Hey, my pleasure. Keep up the good writing! You're already doing better on the sentences, just beware of run-ons. Good, long sentences without running on is something you can't teach; you just have to get it or not. You're doing well; a little more writing and you'll be great!!

------------------
Sir Nækos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus

"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson

[Swordsman]

RedSector, I say go with it. You can still take turns writing, feed off each other's ideas.

------------------
Sir Nækos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus

"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson

[ledgerto]

I love your use of descriptive writing in the opening paragraph. It really introduces your story.

BTW, I am a Language Arts TEACHER.

------------------
Old dogs CAN learn new tricks!

[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-25-2001).]

[This message has been edited by ledgerto (edited 05-25-2001).]

[Swordsman]

Wish I could have you for English, ledgerto. All my current teacher does is blather on mercilessly about "descriptive writing" and "sensory details". Which is great if you're trying to catch up on sleep, like me (I sleep through at least half his class every day, and have done so every day since the first day this year, and still have a high A), but sucks if you want to learn anything. Even I'm a better writer than he is.

------------------
Sir Nækos Servaya, leader of elite Strike Force Aiovus

"You can run, but you'll only die tired". -Michael Anson

[RedsectorA]

Ouch! Well after a stinging PM I got from someone who doesnt really like my style of writing, I have decided not to continue this story! It is too bad that some people have no taste for imagination!

I had thought to give this a try, but think I will keep my writing to myself! Perhaps one day it will become a book! Thanks to those who thought it was good, what little there was of it! I will henceforth keep my posts to the Fencing Discussion thread!

Joel

[ledgerto]

Hey Red, you may be sleeping through class, but you are definately hearing something in there.

Don't let one (fill in the blank) spoil your fun. Keep writing. It will only get better.

Don't stop "...the story is an organism: it goes on surreptitiously growing or decaying while your back is turned. If it decays, the resumption of work is like trying to coax back to life an almost extinguished fire, or to recapture the confidence of a shy animal which you had only partially tamed at your last visit." C.S.Lewis

------------------
Old dogs CAN learn new tricks!

[RedsectorA]

(Ok due to some nice compliments and encouragement in public and in PM, I have decided to continue my story! If someone doesn't like it then they don't have to read it! Also please remember this is just a story I am writing, I am not very good at improvising with others. So if you want to read and comment on the story, thank you! But please I ask you not to join in, as I get totally lost in that Role-playing type environment! Thank you! )

The sounds his boots on the rotting boards of the bridge sounded hollow and empty. They were nearly drowned out by the rain and thunder as the storm lashes around him. His mount wanders only a few yards to a stand of short yellow grass where it ignores the raging storm and begins to graze. The warrior makes his way across the drawbridge carefully, avoiding areas that appear unsafe. His eyes seem to watch the open portcullis before him, wary of what lies within. The wind whips at his shin-length travelling cloak, drawing it back where the scabbard of a longsword can be seen. It was a plain well-worn, unadorned scabbard, one that spoke of business and not vanity. The gleam of a chain surcoat can be seen briefly, shinning from beneath the cloak. The hood remained firmly over the wearer's head, hiding his features from sight and the stinging downpour. He reaches the opposite side of the bridge and finds the gates ajar. One hangs from it's hinges, whilst the other lies flat upon the courtyard grounds. He continues on and pauses upon reaching the gates and stands taking in the courtyard. Much has changed.

Straight ahead of him sits the remains of a stable whose roof has collapsed. Ah, how he remembers his the first stallion he broke. Toranado was a fine black steed with a fiery spirit. How he loved that horse, as a boy he use to keep that fine animal in that very stable. He would slip out after dinner and bring it treats, much to the dislike of his mother. Seeing the stable down and unused brought sorrow to his heart. A part of his life, his childhood, was gone forever now. The warrior's eyes next moved to a fountain in the center of the yard, which now lie moss covered and filled with rancid water. At the sight he felt another pang of loss. He remembered a night many years ago where he sat at that very fountain and while holding Vanessa's hand he proposed to her, and she accepted. Ah, the thought brought a stabbing pain in his chest. He laid one scarred hand against the still standing gate door and the other grasp his chest as his eyes closed and he wished this were all some horrible nightmare from which he would awaken.

Alas when his eyes opened the horrid vision was still before him. He took a deep breath and entered the courtyard headed towards the fountain. The faint sight of the house beyond became clearer through the heavy rain and the darkness of the storm. Some faint gleam of hope leapt into his chest at the sight that the house still stood. He passed the fountain, and headed for what might be his salvation. Could it be? Maybe she still lived within the house. Yet as he drew close, his hopes waned before a flash of brilliant lightning which made him pause. The house still stood, but all it's windows and some sections of the walls and roof were long gone. His dreams dashed once more, he approached the steps before what once was a magnificent two-story 12-room mansion and just stared at it. As if all its secrets and all it had seen could be revealed. He stood for several minutes unmoving as the rain continued to drench him. He tried to decide, should he enter? Perhaps he would find the answers within. But, did he want to know them?

He had many questions but he feared the dreadful answers that may come. He seemed to be on the verge of turning and withdrawing and leaving it forever a mystery, when during a loud clap of thunder he heard something. Pausing, he raised his head, "Was that a scream?" he thought. "No, just your imagination," came his answer! He must be imagining it! But then, it came again. This time it was not masked by the violence of the storm. Immediately he realized that it came from the house. Springing into action, his reminiscences forgotten, he leaped up the steps to the doors that stood partially open. The doors were sent flying open with thrust of his hand, which despite his aging visage still contained considerable power. He paused as the door was ripped off its rusted hinges to fall with a loud thud, which was muffled by the clash of thunder outside. The lightning flashed and illuminated the interior of the entry hall, but he needed no light to show him the way around these halls. His memory vividly recalled each passage clearly in his mind. He waited with his hand upon his hilt for the scream to be repeated. He didn't have to wait long, it came again louder, and it was a female scream. It came from the left rear hallway and immediately he headed towards it. Avoiding the rotting tumbled furniture that blocked his path his mind was in turmoil. Dare he hope, could his dear Vanessa still live? Could she have waited for him here all this time? He found it hard to take a breath as his heart threatened to burst through his chest, as he reached the passage and saw for a moment a flicker of light down the long hallway from a door on the left. That room would be what once was his well-stocked library. His sword slide silently from its sheath as he hurriedly stepped towards the door. If she was in danger, ware to those who were trying to hurt her!

(To be continued)

[Fencing Angel]

wonderful writeing... we should add you to the Arconia writeing staff.. i think we could use some fresh meat... uhhh i mean fresh talant there...

[Dame d'escrime]

YES! Wonderful riposte! Keep it up, there is wonderful description and content here.

LOL
The Dame

[RedsectorA]

His heart thunders as he nears the door, as the violence of the storm without masks any sound of his approach. The flickering light, possibly from a torch, reappears and remains lighting the interior of the room. He steps cautiously into the doorway and pauses to take in the scene before him. Before him lies what remains of his once vast and spacious library. The shelves are torn asunder and only a few torn and rotting books remain scattered here and there. However, the putrid décor is not what draws his attention, for he sees the backs of 3 men, they seem to be facing someone or something huddled on the floor. He cant see the person clearly, could it be? "Vanessa?" The words are faint as they escaped his lips, but the absence of thunder at that precise moment allowed the closest man to hear him and he turned.

"We got company!" he said in a dry raspy voice. The other men turned and one of them, the one holding the torch and closest to the huddled person, yelled at the other two, "Well don't just stand there, kill him!" The two snarled almost like animals as they came at him with bared short swords. The corner of the warrior's lips curled upward slightly into a almost forgotten smile. The first man's grin turned into a look of shock, as his blade was somehow turned to the side and it's point was embedded four inches into the doorframe with the force of his charge. The man was dumbstruck as he grasped at his hilt and tugged trying to free it. Thoughts of "how did he do that?" ran through his feeble brain. The other man locked blades with the warrior and he grinned seeing an aging man before him. "An old man… this should be easy," he thinks, but the warrior welcomes the engagement. He closes with his adversary until they are nose to nose, their blades entwined between them. Just as the man begins to realize all is not as it seems, the warrior's elbow smashes into his face and he is hurled backwards to fall upon the floor at his leader's feet.

The warrior smiles slightly and looks up at the obvious leader of this rabble and he speaks, his words barely heard above the din of the storm, "Leave this place, and I will let you live!" The leader is outraged at his foolish and inept men and yells at them, "GET UP YOU FOOLS!! HE IS ONLY ONE OLD MAN!!" The warrior's smile fades as he resigns himself to what he must!

The first man managed to free his sword and turns to attack the warrior from behind, the second man quickly rolled to his side, gets up and charges. Things happened so fast that it was almost too fast to comprehend, especially to the untrained eye. The blade of the warrior flashed ahead of him briefly as he dodged sideways and then, as he turned, the blade hummed through the air towards the other man that was behind him. The move caused the warrior to spin completely around, the sword coming from a low position following a rising trajectory ending up almost above the warrior's head. His eyes locked with the leader of these men as the bodies of the two men fell to the floor, one pierced through the heart and the other clutching at his intestines as he fell dying upon the hard wood floor.

The leader of these men only stared at his two dying comrades, the coppery taste of fear crept into his mouth as he realized that he was about to die. He backed away from the warrior but unfortunately his movement brought him closer to the huddled figure on the floor. The warrior noticed this and realized that he could not allow the man an attempt at a possible hostage. Before the leader could come to this same conclusion, the warrior leapt forward his thin yet strong razor-sharp blade danced forth. The man tried to move back and scream at the same time, but the scream died in this throat as it filled with blood from the opening in his throat made by the razor tipped sword. A single gurgling cry came from him as he slumped to his knees, before falling backwards to lie in the ever widening pool of his own blood!

A single, shuttering breath escaped the warrior's lips as he slowly lowered his sword till the tip touched the wet, littered floor. His face sagged slightly as his eyes closed for a moment, perhaps in sorrow at the circumstances that brought him to this needless slaying of these men. A faint gasp brought him back to reality and his eyes snapped open to focus on the huddled form upon the floor. The light was still dim and only an occasional flash of lightning shed any illumination within the room. The thought of it being his wife there before him once more entered his mind. The warrior stepped forth a single step as he breathes just one word questionably, hopefully, "Vanessa?"


(To be continued)

--------

Fencing Angel -

"Fresh meat?"

[Swordsman]

VERY nice...the only tip I have is to start fewer sentences with "He..." "Then he...". Other than that, great!

"ware to those who were trying to hurt her!"...Never heard this expression before, but I like it!

"the coppery taste of fear..." Do you have ledgerto for English, or what? You're good. You oughta make a quick appearance in our story.

And space, butt the hell out.

[RedsectorA]

As the warrior stepped forward towards the crouched figure, particularly bright streak of lightning struck just outside. It cast a strange, bright, hellishly green light upon the face of the figure on the floor. He stopped seeing her face. Before him, exposed by the flash of light, was the panic-stricken face of a young woman. She was maybe in her early twenties, her small face surrounded by grim streaked globs of hair slicked down by the rain that still poured in through a hole in the roof. The woman might have been quite lovely, if not for her pitiful condition. However, it was not his Vanessa.

The girl looked up at him and held her breath as she waited to see, had this man come to help her or was her situation unchanged. Did this man offer an even greater threat? She waited breathlessly looking up at him as he stood unwavering returning her gaze. Finally he sighed and took a step backwards, his voice coming weakly to her ears, "I will not harm you…. You are safe now!" His voice sounded sincere to her ears and she relaxed somewhat, but she is cautious and remains where she kneels on the floor.

The warrior took a single step backwards and slides his bloodied sword into its scabbard. He gave the woman one last glance then turned to his fallen opponents. Quickly he searched them but found little of value. While he did this, the woman watches and wonders, "perhaps she is safe?" Just when she is finished with this thought the warrior stood and without another glance at her headed out the door through which he came. She stares after him for several seconds then looks about the room. The rain still poured through holes in the ceiling into the once spacious and serene library. The room now only contained a pile of broken and decaying furniture and globs of mold that once were books that contained plays, poetry and other literary works of art. The young woman sat on the floor as the rain continued to soak her already drenched, form. She remained there for only a few seconds then rose and gathered the remains of her tattered dress around her and ran out the door after the warrior.

Catching up with him in the main foyer, where he is just standing there looking up at the once beautifully painted ceiling. His countenance one of sadness as he reminisces about what this great house once contained. She looked at him for several seconds, almost afraid to disturb his reflections. Then she cleared her throat softly and spokes to him in a pleading, soft voice, "ah.. excuse me kind sir… but could you take me to the nearest town .. I fear to travel the countryside alone.. after what has happened." She glanced back towards the room from whence they came and her thin figure gives a shutter at what almost occurred, if not for the arrival of the strange silent warrior.

The warrior offers no reply for several long seconds, then his eyes opened and turned to glance at her. The woman feels his powerful presence in just his simple gaze and she shrinks back slightly. He notices her reaction and simply turns towards the main door and begins to head that way, his voice trailing behind him with his response, "You found your way here didn't you? … Find your own way back!" The warrior proceeded out the main door, leaving a stunned, drenched and shaken young woman shivering in the suddenly cold air of the hallway. She remained motionless for almost a half a minute as she digested his words, "Could he be serious?" she thought. After all he did save her and for what? He didn't molest her but saved her from molestation. If he didn't do it for her benefit, then why?

The woman emerged from her revere and runs out the door into the still hard pounding rain. She sees him walking towards the main gate and started to run after him, but trips over a broken stone planter and tumbles down the few steps outside to land hard on the cobblestones of the courtyard. She cries out at the pain, but rolls over to see him still walking away. "BUT WHY?" she yells in a pain-filled, pleading voice, "WHY DID YOU SAVE ME ONLY TO LEAVE ME HERE?" Sobbing she watched him hoping he would return for her. The warrior stopped at the outcry and turned. The lightning crashed and the light upon his face revealed a gruesome, remorseless visage. The warrior regarded her for several seconds then offered his only answer to her pleas. His voice was barely audible to her over the din of the storm, "I thought you were someone else." With that, he turned and continued on his way out the main gates. Leaving her alone as she dropped her face to the wet stone, her tears mingling with the "tears" from the heavens.

The warrior made his way carefully across the rotting drawbridge and found his horse still standing where he left it. Grasping the reins and lying a gentle hand alongside the faithful beast's neck as the horse leaned a wet muzzle against his side as if encouraging him to mount. The warrior moved beside the horse as if ready to get aboard but then he stopped. His gaze turned to the portal across the flooded moat as if considering something for a few moments. Lowering his head slightly, he turned back and quickly swung up into the saddle. He turned his horse away from the crumbling stone parapets and slowly rode off into the raging storm, his mind filled with much turmoil. Imagining he can still hear the young woman's cries over the gale-like winds that threatened to knock him from his horse. Knowing that it is impossible to hear her from such a distance, he resided himself to leaving her to her possible death. Her fate is not in his hands, he thinks. The pain and suffering he has endured over the past couple of years had long driven his compassion for others from him. The pain had left only a hollow skin of the brave, daring and benevolent man, who had once lived, in that wonderful home. "That man no long existed," he thought as the horse and rider slowly rode out of sight, off into the darkness of the storm!

(Pauses story)

-------------

Swordsman-

Thanks, I just might do that! Besides I need time to think of more for this story!



------------------
Joel

"The more we think we know about, the greater the unknown!"

[Fencing Angel]

sorry about that joel... just had a brain laps there... happens all the time... really, don't be afraid.. we not all that weird... wellll..... mabye we are...

but really. you would be a welcome addition to the present writeing staff... and we also feed off each others thoughts in the story line... so come on over...


P.S. we could really use some help in the aftermath topic... and ingnore space_cadet.. he is just a A$$hole... looking to piss people off most of the time...

[RedsectorA]

Fencing Angel -

Thanks! I might just do that! But I have to read some of those posts. I admit that I havent read any of that string.

As for Space, I have not had a problem with him. He was one of the people that encouraged me to continue my writing!


------------------
Joel

"The more we think we know about, the greater the unknown!"

[Fencing Angel]

Ok Well just remember what i said before you get pissed at him in the other thread....

[Swordsman]

First, keep in mind that your writing is excellent. Description is great, you're leaving yourself all sorts of opportunities for plot, and you have me wanting to know more about this guy. The things I point out here are just the tiny modifications you can make to work toward perfection.

My advice now is to watch your tenses - you keep switching between past and present, sometimes within the same sentence.