Fleeting Inspiration-part I

[hierachy]

here is the first part in my short fiction "fleeting inspiration".
For some reason, this site doesn't like indentations, so there are paragraphs, you just cant see them. this piece was started on wednesday night, and finished on thursday night (thats not just the writing, that includes charicters, plot and everything). So don't worry about criticising it (as long as the criticism is constructive), it wont break me. This is not something I've poured my heart and soul into for months and years.

I've made some amandments so you can see the paragraphs now.

Enough talking. Enjoy
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Part 1: Dreams

Darkness flowed from nothing like a leak in the sight of a blind man. Tainted red as blood, while remaining purest black. Words clashed thunderously in the silence, screaming their displeasure. It was no good; even the brightest star could not have hoped to penetrate the absolute emptiness; it was everything and nothing. Now, there was no escape.


‘And facing our champion, Grivin, is Rifen the brave, or stupid,’ jested a rough looking man with tubby features and a thick, tangled beard.

The large room was dingy and grey, with a strong smell of beer hanging in the air. Dust filled it to the point that breathing became a challenge. In the centre there was a circular sandpit covering an area of about five square meters; it was enclosed by a makeshift barrier erected waist-high around the outside. The rest of the room was filled with a rowdy drunken crowd, except for a bar opposite the entrance behind which the rough looking man was standing. Given the people in the tavern, it was eerily quiet; the crowd was waiting in anticipation.

Two men stood facing each other in the sand. One was a huge giant of a man, with arms like tree trunks and a body as solid as a stone wall. He was littered with old battle scars; the most predominant of which was a deep grove that ran from his left shoulder down to his right hip.

The other man was barely more than a boy. His name was Rifen; he had come to the city in search of fame, to be the greatest warrior that ever lived. When he had at last, after weeks of travel, arrived in Homesdwell, he entered himself in the “ultimate fighter” tournament at a popular tavern. It was, in his eyes, the best way to get noticed. Now, he was having second thoughts. He hadn’t planned on being pitched against a monster like Grivin in the first round.

The rough looking landlord held a bell in the air as he said, in a voice that sounded like rocks being grated together. ‘On the ringing of this here bell, the ultimate fighter tournament will commence. The rules are simple: there are no rules!’ A senseless cheer burned through the air. ‘The man that gives up, or dies, is the loser and is knocked out of the tournament. The winner goes through to the next round. The tournament ends when there is only one man left, that man will receive fifty gold pieces and the title of Ultimate Fighter!’ At that, the landlord shook the bell.

Almost instantaneously the chiming was drowned as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of manic applause.

Panic swept over Rifen; the roaring blocked out every other sense. He knew what to do, he had been preparing for this moment his whole life; but his joints were frozen stiff. Dust clogged his throat so he couldn’t draw breath.

From nowhere, a force that might have been the world’s end focused its devastation at his head. For a moment, the sound of his skull cracking pierced the wild roar of amusement. The darkness reeled and he crashed down through the barrier; there was no pain. Endorphins mixed with adrenaline. His senses returned. A myriad of hands shoved at his spine, pushed him stumbling back into the sandpit; somehow, he kept his feet. Grivin swung forward to deal another blow. Rifen’s blood boiled with rage; it was now or never. It was now!

With a deep breath, he leapt towards Grivin. But it was over, his assault failed before it began. The sharp inhalation poured dust into his lungs; choking, he fell, sprawled himself across the sand. His chest burned, but soon it would be gone; his senses were already fading back into blankness. First the smell, then sight. Bit by bit, he fell into darkness. The cheering grew until it was hysterical and deafening; above him, Grivin was laughing, ridiculing him. Then, the darkness was complete.


Sashira sat, surrounded by night, huddling close to the salvation of fire. It was over. Without Dervan she was lost. All was lost. She had not been able to save him, now he was gone; she shivered at the implications, and at the cold wind which scraped at her skin through her ripped clothing. It began to rain. Had it begun already? No, this was just a shower. Soon, her thoughts drifted towards sleep, she was exhausted. She tried to fight it, but the fatigue was too great. Slowly, she drifted away.

When all rays of consciousness had receded, he relaxed his defence. It was hardly visible at first. The darkness began to bend around itself, forming the outline of a human. Slowly it gained solidity. The raindrops began to crash into the figure, rather than pass through it. Then, he was complete; as solid as if he had been there all along, in a way, he had. The figure was tall and thin; all his features were masked by a hooded robe that draped to the floor. From under the hood, two dim yellow eyes were just visible.

Sashira rolled over as if she was guided by some strange intuition. ‘Shhh, be still my princess,’ the figure stabbed out the words like an assassin readying for a kill.

He approached her silently; knelt beside her and placed one pale bony hand on her forehead. Her body went rigid as she resisted his power, but after a moment he prevailed, and she faded back into her dreams.

‘That’s better,’ his words were as sharp as a razor. ‘You are in pain, fear and loss fill you. I am here to relieve your worries.’

Her breathing began to weaken; her pulse slowed.

‘That’s it my dear, let go of yourself,’ he continued in a voice like death. ‘Release yourself to my will.’

Her body was now completely limp; her skin was paling.

‘It is done,’ he rasped, ‘you are mine!’ At this he turned and walked into the night, became part of the night.

Sashira was left alone. She clung to life like the smouldering embers of the fire. The rain thrashed down at her from the heavens, as if it were trying to wake her; it hadn’t a chance. In the space of a few moments, she had been drained to the edge of her existence. The darkness began to bend around her, folded over her. She blurred out of focus. Then, she was gone.


Rifen had been free of pain from his injuries during the tournament, now he was paying back the debt. Every time his heart beat his head throbbed as if it were going to explode. His lungs burned with every breath. His whole body ached severely.

Where was he? He had been unconscious since the fight. Now he lay out in the open air as the sun rose in a clear sky. Then he noticed the cold. He was freezing, chilled to the bones; and soaking. It must have been raining all night. Although a clear day was starting it was still early, and the chill in the air remained. It was too much to bear; he needed warmth and shelter quickly, before he lost consciousness again. But as he tried to sit up his head screamed with pain, paralysing him. Already he could feel the cold and the pain eating away at him, drawing him back to unawareness.

‘Help!’ He shouted, but the sound was drowned out by the pain in his head. His vision began to blur. ‘Please, help me,’ his voice trailed off. ‘Please.’

‘Hold on,’ a woman’s voice floated effortlessly through the freshness of the morning, it had a tone of concern.

Thank you. The words did not get as far as being spoken. Relief rushed through him. He was safe; he stopped fighting the cold. By the time the person reached his side his vision had blurred to the point where he could make out no detail. Then, he fell back into his unconscious. In his dreams he heard someone trying to speak to him, but they were far away and he could not grasp the words.


He expected the cold to have frozen him completely. He expected his head to send him straight back into his dreams, drowning him in pain. But as his senses returned, Rifen found that the chill was gone, and although his head still throbbed with pain, it had lost it’s edge. He was looking up at a plain white ceiling, underneath him lay a bed, and a fluffy pillow supported his head, this was all he knew about his surroundings. He could hear someone moving in another room. Gathering his courage, he turned his head to get a better look at the room; a pang jolted through his cranium, but it was not severe. The room was square, painted plain white. The bed was in one corner, opposite was the door, a large window over the bed let light into the room; other than this, it was completely empty.

The door swung open and a girl strode in with a glass of water in her hands. She looked about twenty; healthy looking figure, long pure red hair, and she shone with strength and vibrancy. As she saw Rife awake, a smile lit up her face. ‘I’m Mariana,’ she announced. ‘This is my house. You were in quite a mess when I found you, you’re lucky that I was passing.’

She approached him and handed over the water. ‘Thank you,’ his voice sounded faint and depleted.

‘I’ll get you some breakfast, you must be starving.’

‘Thank you,’ he repeated. He was hungry, very hungry.

‘I don’t have much, is bread alright?’ She asked.

‘Bread would be great,’ he replied, sipping at the water

‘I guess you’d eat anything after two with nothing’

‘Two da-!’ He almost choked on his water.

‘Yes, you have been recovering for two days, your injuries were severe,’ her face had become more serious. ‘What happened to you?’

He did not answer. Two days? He had only been hit once. Two days! That wasn’t even including the night after the fight. Was he that badly hurt? Bloody hell!

For a moment she seemed offended that he didn’t answer, but then her smile returned. ‘You have only just regained yourself, there is time for such talk later,’ she said calmly, as if it was her that had stopped him from answering.

He watched as she turned, and walked from the room, closing the door behind her.


Sashira wondered through the darkness, she was lost to herself. Somewhere, her body lay, clinging to life; but she could not find it. She was trapped between life and death; both provided some small hope, but here, she could do nothing.

‘You Bastard!’ She screamed ‘You wont win this, I won’t let you!’ There was no reply.

She remembered being here before, but the other times it was just for a fraction of a second; this time she was trapped in the abyss. Then, from the corner of her senses something called out.

‘Could it be?’ her concentration sharpened. ‘It is!’ Maybe there was still some hope.

On that thought, she threw herself towards it.


Rifen swallowed down the last of the bread hastily. ‘So…’ he said, sucking the crumbs off his fingers, ‘is this your house?’

‘It used to be my parents,’ replied Mariana sadly. ‘But they died seven years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he saw a deep sadness in her eyes.

‘That’s alright, you only asked who owned the house,’ she paused, then turned the questions on him. ‘So, how did you get hurt anyway?’ She folded her arms as if to say “and I’m not leaving until I get an answer”. To emphasise this she sat on the end of the bed and faced him expectantly. Although her body language was exaggerated and playful he knew that she would not back down.

‘Ok,’ he said. ‘I entered myself in a fighting tournament and was beaten, I didn’t stand a chan…’

He was interrupted by Mariana, unable to stop herself from giggling.

‘What?’ he asked, feeling embarrassed.

She pointed a finger towards him; it was shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. ‘You entered one of those tournaments? You?’

‘Yes, why is that funny?’ he replied.

‘No reason, I just had you down as being less pathetic than that,’ she played on the word “pathetic” as she taunted him. ‘So where did you enter this “tournament”?’

‘In town.’

‘Which town?’

‘Homesdwell, of course.’

She shifted her weight; he couldn’t put his finger on what she found so amusing. ‘I wanted to know how you got hurt, not your life-story,’ even in sarcasm, her voice was like a song.

‘Good, ‘cause that’s it,’ he said, beginning to tire of her ridicule. ‘Next thing, I came-to in the field.’

‘That’s impossible,’ her voice was more serious now.

‘Why.’

‘Because Homesdwell is over four-hundred miles away.’

‘What?!’


The moon cast an eerie light through the window. Rifen could not sleep. What had happened to him? There was no use worrying about it at the moment; he should just be thankful that Mariana found him. Mariana. She had been so good to him; food, water, a place to rest, everything that he needed she had provided. He wondered what made a person do that for a complete stranger. It was no good; he could not sleep.

With a groan, he sat up. Mariana had left a dry tunic in the room, he put it on. Tiptoeing, he left the room, easing the door shut behind him. He was now in what appeared to be the kitchen and living room. A table lay in the middle and round the sides were cupboards, presumably filled with pots, pans, plates and the sort. In one corner was a stove. There were three doors, one led back into the bedroom, another must have led to Marianda’s room, and the third must be the entrance. He chose the heaviest door; it was made of thick oak and creaked as it opened. Cool air flooded around him, clearing his senses. The night was clear and cold; the full moon shone down casting ghostly shadows. The night was silent, except for sound of crickets and the faint whistle of the wind.

Rifen sat down on the damp grass about two feet from the door of the square stone house. Four hundred miles! That scared him; where would he wake up tomorrow?


‘Where did he go?’ Demanded a cloaked man with a voice that rang with power.

‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ pleaded the landlord.

The dusty, dingy tavern had emptied in moments; only the landlord and Grivin remained after the four silver cloaked figures swept in.

‘What became of the others like us?’ Asked the four in deadly unison.

Apart from their strange all-silver clothing, they looked quite ordinary, but something about them demanded fear, implied power.

‘They left,’ cried the landlord.

‘Left?’ asked the nearest figure.

‘Yes, after the boy! That’s all I know.'

‘Thank you for your help,’ growled the figure, motioning for his companions to leave.

The landlord took a deep breath as the silver men turned away. Then, suddenly the leader spun back around, grabbed the landlord by the throat, and lifted the tubby man into the air as if he was a rag-doll.

The rough-bearded man was instantly paralysed. Grivin surged forward with wild fury, knocked the nearest man to the ground, connected a hard elbow to the face of the second before he could react. But as Grivin rushed at the third, the silver figure raised his palm to face Grivin and spat strange words in a voice that sounded like fingernails scraping down a blackboard. With a scream of pain, Grivin was halted in mid-air, unable to move. The leader had not even flinched at the commotion; he waited a moment, before squeezing. The landlord’s neck snapped like a matchstick, the silver leader threw his limp body aside, it disappeared behind the bar. Grivin struggled furiously, his veins popped out of his face with the strain, but it was no good, he was pinned to the spot like a piece of paper on a notice board.

‘Bring him,’ the leader’s powerful voice reverberated around the room as he indicated Grivin and strolled casually out of the tavern and into the night.
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So there's part 1. I'm gonna start work on part 2 right away, what do you think?
---------------Hierachy-----------[/i]

[aTOMiC]

Well done hierachy. By all means continue. Interesting beginning.

[hierachy]

Thank you, but I am not happy with it. This is not the standard to which I intend to continue. It was rushed and unplaned,( I mean, 1 day from conception to finished product?). The speech was awkward and the descriptions made only half the picture; it did'nt flow well either(although this wasn't helped my all the paragraphs being wiped out)

I do intend to continue, but with more patience and care.

Please, keep the comments coming; I need input, it is very hard to see your own weakness'

-------Hierachy-------

[Worm of Despite]

Darkness flowed from nothing like a leak in the sight of a blind man.

Your stuff has a real flow--not contrived at all. And the dialogue is natural and not stiff--something I had trouble with and still do at times. Keep up the good work!

[hierachy]

Thanks foul!

(aparently, even enemies can complement each other eh?)


Currently writing part 2. At the moment I think it is going a bit better than part 1. Hope to have it posted either tommorow or wednesday.

[I'm Murrin]

It could use a bit of work, but looks like a good start, if a little confusing at first (guess that's because its just the start of it - you'll explain whats going on later, right?). I'm just not sure where that first paragraph came from...

[Skyweir]

Part 1: Dreams
Darkness flowed from nothing like a leak in the sight of a blind man
Tainted red as blood, while remaining purest black.

I dont really understand this analogy hierachy. It has a potentially powerful beginning but a bit of tightening here would be good

Words clashed thunderously in the silence, screaming their displeasure.

I absolutely love this sentence!

It was no good; even the brightest star could not have hoped to penetrate the absolute emptiness; it was everything and nothing. Now, there was no escape.


‘And facing our champion, Grivin, is Rifen the brave, or stupid,’ jested a rough looking man with tubby features and a thick, tangled beard.

This sentence isnt clear to me .. is someone making a statement or are they asking a question?

The large room was dingy and grey, with a strong smell of beer hanging in the air. Dust filled it to the point that breathing became a challenge. In the centre there was a circular sandpit covering an area of about five square meters; it was enclosed by a makeshift barrier erected waist-high around the outside. The rest of the room was filled with a rowdy drunken crowd, except for a bar opposite the entrance behind which the rough looking man was standing. Given the people in the tavern, it was eerily quiet; the crowd was waiting in anticipation.

excellent paragraph .. beautiful expression.

Two men stood facing each other in the sand. One was a huge giant of a man, with arms like tree trunks and a body as solid as a stone wall. He was littered with old battle scars; the most predominant of which was a deep grove that ran from his left shoulder down to his right hip.

also very good!

The other man was barely more than a boy. His name was Rifen; he had come to the city in search of fame, to be the greatest warrior that ever lived. When he had at last, after weeks of travel, arrived in Homesdwell, he entered himself in the “ultimate fighter” tournament at a popular tavern. It was, in his eyes, the best way to get noticed. Now, he was having second thoughts. He hadn’t planned on being pitched against a monster like Grivin in the first round.

excellent!! brilliant!

The rough looking landlord held a bell in the air as he said, in a voice that sounded like rocks being grated together. ‘On the ringing of this here bell, the ultimate fighter tournament will commence. The rules are simple: there are no rules!’ A senseless cheer burned through the air. ‘The man that gives up, or dies, is the loser and is knocked out of the tournament.

yeah lol if he dies

The winner goes through to the next round. The tournament ends when there is only one man left, that man will receive fifty gold pieces and the title of Ultimate Fighter!’ At that, the landlord shook the bell.

Almost instantaneously the chiming was drowned as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of manic applause.

oooh lovelly expression .. i love that .. "the crowd erupted into a frenzy of manic applause" nice

Panic swept over Rifen; the roaring blocked out every other sense. He knew what to do, he had been preparing for this moment his whole life; but his joints were frozen stiff. Dust clogged his throat so he couldn’t draw breath. mmm ... nice

From nowhere, a force that might have been the world’s end focused its devastation at his head. For a moment, the sound of his skull cracking pierced the wild roar of amusement.

you could make this sentence a little tighter .. the wild roar of amusement doesnt really work well. Perhaps the wild roar of the crowd/ the wild roar of anticipation/ or???

The darkness reeled and he crashed down through the barrier; there was no pain. Endorphins mixed with adrenaline. His senses returned. A myriad of hands shoved at his spine, pushed him stumbling back into the sandpit; somehow, he kept his feet. Grivin swung forward to deal another blow. Rifen’s blood boiled with rage; it was now or never. It was now!

oooh this is excellent!! very exciting stuff ..

With a deep breath, he leapt towards Grivin. But it was over, his assault failed before it began. The sharp inhalation poured dust into his lungs; choking, he fell, sprawled himself across the sand. His chest burned, but soon it would be gone;

what would be gone? surely not his chest?

.. his senses were already fading back into blankness. First the smell, then sight. Bit by bit, he fell into darkness. The cheering grew until it was hysterical and deafening; above him, Grivin was laughing, ridiculing him. Then, the darkness was complete.

Sashira sat, surrounded by night, huddling close to the salvation of fire. It was over. Without Dervan she was lost. All was lost. She had not been able to save him, now he was gone; she shivered at the implications, and at the cold wind which scraped at her skin through her ripped clothing. It began to rain. Had it begun already? No, this was just a shower. Soon, her thoughts drifted towards sleep, she was exhausted. She tried to fight it, but the fatigue was too great. Slowly, she drifted away.

introducing this character cold is a little confusing .. the reader may get lost at this point .. who is Sashira .. but more importantly who is Dervan that she is grieving over? ok you may explain it later ofcourse .. but its a little odd out of the blue here. A simple word or two or even a sentence may explain her presence at this juncture of the story.

When all rays of consciousness had receded, he relaxed his defence. It was hardly visible at first. The darkness began to bend around itself, forming the outline of a human. Slowly it gained solidity. The raindrops began to crash into the figure, rather than pass through it. Then, he was complete; as solid as if he had been there all along, in a way, he had. The figure was tall and thin; all his features were masked by a hooded robe that draped to the floor. From under the hood, two dim yellow eyes were just visible.

Sashira rolled over as if she was guided by some strange intuition. ‘Shhh, be still my princess,’ the figure stabbed out the words like an assassin readying for a kill.

He approached her silently; knelt beside her and placed one pale bony hand on her forehead. Her body went rigid as she resisted his power, but after a moment he prevailed, and she faded back into her dreams.

‘That’s better,’ his words were as sharp as a razor. ‘You are in pain, fear and loss fill you. I am here to relieve your worries.’

Her breathing began to weaken; her pulse slowed.

‘That’s it my dear, let go of yourself,’ he continued in a voice like death. ‘Release yourself to my will.’

Her body was now completely limp; her skin was paling.

‘It is done,’ he rasped, ‘you are mine!’ At this he turned and walked into the night, became part of the night.

Sashira was left alone. She clung to life like the smouldering embers of the fire. The rain thrashed down at her from the heavens, as if it were trying to wake her; it hadn’t a chance. In the space of a few moments, she had been drained to the edge of her existence. The darkness began to bend around her, folded over her. She blurred out of focus. Then, she was gone.


Rifen had been free of pain from his injuries during the tournament, now he was paying back the debt. Every time his heart beat his head throbbed as if it were going to explode. His lungs burned with every breath. His whole body ached severely.

Where was he? He had been unconscious since the fight. Now he lay out in the open air as the sun rose in a clear sky. Then he noticed the cold. He was freezing, chilled to the bones; and soaking. It must have been raining all night. Although a clear day was starting it was still early, and the chill in the air remained. It was too much to bear; he needed warmth and shelter quickly, before he lost consciousness again. But as he tried to sit up his head screamed with pain, paralysing him. Already he could feel the cold and the pain eating away at him, drawing him back to unawareness.

‘Help!’ He shouted, but the sound was drowned out by the pain in his head. His vision began to blur. ‘Please, help me,’ his voice trailed off. ‘Please.’

‘Hold on,’ a woman’s voice floated effortlessly through the freshness of the morning, it had a tone of concern.

Thank you. The words did not get as far as being spoken. Relief rushed through him. He was safe; he stopped fighting the cold. By the time the person reached his side his vision had blurred to the point where he could make out no detail. Then, he fell back into his unconscious. In his dreams he heard someone trying to speak to him, but they were far away and he could not grasp the words.


He expected the cold to have frozen him completely. He expected his head to send him straight back into his dreams, drowning him in pain. But as his senses returned, Rifen found that the chill was gone, and although his head still throbbed with pain, it had lost it’s edge. He was looking up at a plain white ceiling, underneath him lay a bed, and a fluffy pillow supported his head, this was all he knew about his surroundings. He could hear someone moving in another room. Gathering his courage, he turned his head to get a better look at the room; a pang jolted through his cranium, but it was not severe. The room was square, painted plain white. The bed was in one corner, opposite was the door, a large window over the bed let light into the room; other than this, it was completely empty.

The door swung open and a girl strode in with a glass of water in her hands. She looked about twenty; healthy looking figure, long pure red hair, and she shone with strength and vibrancy. As she saw Rife awake, a smile lit up her face. ‘I’m Mariana,’ she announced. ‘This is my house. You were in quite a mess when I found you, you’re lucky that I was passing.’

She approached him and handed over the water. ‘Thank you,’ his voice sounded faint and depleted.

‘I’ll get you some breakfast, you must be starving.’

‘Thank you,’ he repeated. He was hungry, very hungry.

‘I don’t have much, is bread alright?’ She asked.

‘Bread would be great,’ he replied, sipping at the water

‘I guess you’d eat anything after two with nothing’

after two with nothing?do you think she should actually say the word 'day'? cos who says after 2 with nothing .. to indicate 2 days?

‘Two da-!’ He almost choked on his water.

‘Yes, you have been recovering for two days, your injuries were severe,’ her face had become more serious. ‘What happened to you?’

He did not answer. Two days? He had only been hit once. Two days! That wasn’t even including the night after the fight. Was he that badly hurt? Bloody hell!

For a moment she seemed offended that he didn’t answer, but then her smile returned. ‘You have only just regained yourself, there is time for such talk later,’ she said calmly, as if it was her that had stopped him from answering.
He watched as she turned, and walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

very fluid .. you use dialogue well .. it flows beautifully .. and easily ..

Sashira wondered through the darkness, she was lost to herself. Somewhere, her body lay, clinging to life; but she could not find it. She was trapped between life and death; both provided some small hope, but here, she could do nothing.

‘You Bastard!’ She screamed ‘You wont win this, I won’t let you!’ There was no reply.

She remembered being here before, but the other times it was just for a fraction of a second; this time she was trapped in the abyss. Then, from the corner of her senses something called out.

‘Could it be?’ her concentration sharpened. ‘It is!’ Maybe there was still some hope.

On that thought, she threw herself towards it.

this interplay of these 2 themes is interesting but a little confusing .. will it be elaborated on later?

Rifen swallowed down the last of the bread hastily. ‘So…’ he said, sucking the crumbs off his fingers, ‘is this your house?’

‘It used to be my parents,’ replied Mariana sadly. ‘But they died seven years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he saw a deep sadness in her eyes.

‘That’s alright, you only asked who owned the house,’ she paused, then turned the questions on him. ‘So, how did you get hurt anyway?’ She folded her arms as if to say “and I’m not leaving until I get an answer”. To emphasise this she sat on the end of the bed and faced him expectantly. Although her body language was exaggerated and playful he knew that she would not back down.

‘Ok,’ he said. ‘I entered myself in a fighting tournament and was beaten, I didn’t stand a chan…’

He was interrupted by Mariana, unable to stop herself from giggling.

‘What?’ he asked, feeling embarrassed.

She pointed a finger towards him; it was shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. ‘You entered one of those tournaments? You?’

‘Yes, why is that funny?’ he replied.

‘No reason, I just had you down as being less pathetic than that,’ she played on the word “pathetic” as she taunted him. ‘So where did you enter this “tournament”?’

‘In town.’

‘Which town?’

‘Homesdwell, of course.’

She shifted her weight; he couldn’t put his finger on what she found so amusing. ‘I wanted to know how you got hurt, not your life-story,’ even in sarcasm, her voice was like a song.

‘Good, ‘cause that’s it,’ he said, beginning to tire of her ridicule. ‘Next thing, I came-to in the field.’

‘That’s impossible,’ her voice was more serious now.

‘Why.’

‘Because Homesdwell is over four-hundred miles away.’

‘What?!’

oooh cool thats interesting lol

The moon cast an eerie light through the window. Rifen could not sleep. What had happened to him? There was no use worrying about it at the moment; he should just be thankful that Mariana found him. Mariana. She had been so good to him; food, water, a place to rest, everything that he needed she had provided. He wondered what made a person do that for a complete stranger. It was no good; he could not sleep.

With a groan, he sat up. Mariana had left a dry tunic in the room, he put it on. Tiptoeing, he left the room, easing the door shut behind him. He was now in what appeared to be the kitchen and living room. A table lay in the middle and round the sides were cupboards, presumably filled with pots, pans, plates and the sort. In one corner was a stove. There were three doors, one led back into the bedroom, another must have led to Marianda’s room, and the third must be the entrance. He chose the heaviest door; it was made of thick oak and creaked as it opened. Cool air flooded around him, clearing his senses. The night was clear and cold; the full moon shone down casting ghostly shadows. The night was silent, except for sound of crickets and the faint whistle of the wind.

Rifen sat down on the damp grass about two feet from the door of the square stone house. Four hundred miles! That scared him; where would he wake up tomorrow?

‘Where did he go?’ Demanded a cloaked man with a voice that rang with power.

‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ pleaded the landlord.

The dusty, dingy tavern had emptied in moments; only the landlord and Grivin remained after the four silver cloaked figures swept in.

‘What became of the others like us?’ Asked the four in deadly unison.

Apart from their strange all-silver clothing, they looked quite ordinary, but something about them demanded fear, implied power.

‘They left,’ cried the landlord.

‘Left?’ asked the nearest figure.

‘Yes, after the boy! That’s all I know.'

‘Thank you for your help,’ growled the figure, motioning for his companions to leave.

The landlord took a deep breath as the silver men turned away. Then, suddenly the leader spun back around, grabbed the landlord by the throat, and lifted the tubby man into the air as if he was a rag-doll.

The rough-bearded man was instantly paralysed. Grivin surged forward with wild fury, knocked the nearest man to the ground, connected a hard elbow to the face of the second before he could react. But as Grivin rushed at the third, the silver figure raised his palm to face Grivin and spat strange words in a voice that sounded like fingernails scraping down a blackboard. With a scream of pain, Grivin was halted in mid-air, unable to move. The leader had not even flinched at the commotion; he waited a moment, before squeezing. The landlord’s neck snapped like a matchstick, the silver leader threw his limp body aside, it disappeared behind the bar. Grivin struggled furiously, his veins popped out of his face with the strain, but it was no good, he was pinned to the spot like a piece of paper on a notice board.

‘Bring him,’ the leader’s powerful voice reverberated around the room as he indicated Grivin and strolled casually out of the tavern and into the night.

well i have to say the story is excellent!! your plot is brilliantly intriguing and i look forward to reading more .. you write very very well .. just a few comments about maintaining the flow and clarity in a few select spots .. otherwise a really brilliant piece of work ..

the fact that i am eager to read what follows indicates you have engaged your audience .. <me> which is excellent in and of itself imho.

keep up the really amazing work .. i look forward to reading your sequels.[/b]

[hierachy]

wow!!!

that was a very deep review. Your input and advice will be very helpful.

Alot of the first part is intentionally vague as I wasn't 100% sure what was going on myself, but I am now.

Sashira's purpose is perhaps too vague, i wrote it this way because I wanted her to seem like she knew exactly what was going on but the reader to know nothing. perhaps slightly too effective? There is a bit about her in part 2, but the "truth" wont be revealed until part 3 or 4.

I'm about to post part 2, I am happier with it than I am with part 1.

Do not fear, it may not make sense at the moment, but keep reading and all will become clear. you aint seen nothin yet! (this is not meant to be a double negative type thing that means that you have already seen stuff(although technicaly you have))


Thanks Sky!!!

[hierachy]

oh, yeah, the first paragraph.

It is a strange beggining, you will kind of know what it is about soon.
But I do not intend to clearly explain it at all (maybe once you have read the entire story you will figure it out. until then, I and I alone know its true meaning.

[kastenessen]

Great writing Hierachy. What can one say ...potential. Nice fluidity and movement. Strong and good dialogue. Thank you...

kasten

[hierachy]

no, thank you.

[Dani]

As I said before at Moonshadows, great stuff, especially for a first try You definitely have talent oozing all over the screen, and you will only get better from here.

Dani