Longish one, I got carried away. Meet Maät, who by pure coincidence shares a name with the ancient Egyptian goddess of fate. ...is it really coincidence? I like to think not.
Creative writing exercise, a short story based on the word (and with the title):
Apples
The sky smelled of apples. The smell came from the valley ahead, the forest sprawling on the slopes rich with wild apple trees. Maät descended, hoping her good luck would hold. Alongside the apples, the sky smelled of rain, and the last time she spent a night out in the rain was when she was five, and that was in a city. Her bare feet landed on the rough forest floor. Leaves and branches crackled underneath, every sound so different this close to earth. She glanced upwards, where clouds were gathering quickly, and thought she could see a glimpse of the palace in the churning sky. Well. She had no one to thank for this mess but herself, and she'd damn well solve it, too. Making her way towards the watery rushing sounds of a forest stream, she hoped she could see it through to the end, without getting distracted for once.
The stream was in fact a waterfall, and Maät stood on a cliff, in the combined darkness of night and an overcast sky. Her hair, heavy with rain, was starting to come loose and she plucked it out of her face. She was looking hard into the distance where she thought she could see the outline of a building in the hills below. It was impossible to tell from here if it was a temple, a town hall or a hallucination. Grumbling, she planted her fists on her hips, looking down the waterfall. There was no apparent path down, and in the twilight she couldn't tell if there was a big enough pool to land in, were she to take the jump. Her lacking sense if depth wasn't helping either, she couldn't say how far the fall would be even in bright sunlight. With the foolishness of someone used to things working out, she picked up her bundle of apples, and stepped over the edge.
The water was mountain-cold, colder than the rain. Maät rolled up into a ball, clutching her apples. The stream bounced her off a few rocks before she could surface again. She gasped and struggled to the bank, glad her light cotton clothes weren't that heavy even soaked with water. Unfortunately, that also meant they'd offered little protection in the fall, and she cursed the darkness, the water and the rocks equally while inspecting her bruises. With a sigh, she turned towards her hopes of a village, and realised that down here there were quite a lot of trees in the way, and she couldn't see a thing.
Rain fell from the leaves and between the trees onto the forest floor. The rain was heave enough that trying to stay dry was a fool's task, and since she was already soaking from her earlier dip, Maät didn't even bother to try. She could see the mysterious building through the trees now, even though the night had only got darker. It was made of wood and light stone, which was all she could say until she broke clear of the trees. There were two buildings, in fact, on a rise in the forest. A house that looked like it was pulled together from fallen wood, and a stone tower. Maät stumbled into the house, the level texture of wood under her feet a welcome change. Walking over leaves and branches could get rather painful for unaccustomed feet. Inside, a stout woman looked up, startled, from a steaming bowl. With a tired grin, Maät held up her dripping bundle.
"I brought apples."
Friday, December 19, 2008
Whoo-ps.
Months with no news! I will never be a successful writer! ...actually, I've already accepted that.
But! To my 1,5 readers, I'll try to y'know, write more. Sometimes I wish I lived in a fantasy world, things seem to work out for the main characters there. I'm still wondering what the hell I'm going to live on, doubting whether or not we get to keep our house, trying to get over hating myself, etc.
I think it's time I start writing again.
But! To my 1,5 readers, I'll try to y'know, write more. Sometimes I wish I lived in a fantasy world, things seem to work out for the main characters there. I'm still wondering what the hell I'm going to live on, doubting whether or not we get to keep our house, trying to get over hating myself, etc.
I think it's time I start writing again.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
*Company
Here's to hoping even the scenery can have a happy ending. If you don't like happing endings, just stop before the last paragraph. I hope it'll break your heart.
Creative writing exercise, a short story based on the word (and with the title):
Company
Yesterday I introduced Lynn to my inner circle of friends. I'd been working the evening shift with her for a while, and she's nice, intelligent and even funny when I'd managed to get her out of her shell. It's a real shame she's so shy. She doesn't seem to notice what an interesting person she is, she just notices that most people don't seem to give her a second, or even first glance, and decided to spare them the effort, blending into the background like an intelligent bit of scenery.
So I discovered the other day she's into gaming, and decided to bring her along to one of the all-night gaming-nights. Soda, junkfood, games, and a group of friend slowly getting high on lack of sleep. It was always great fun, and the strangest ideas were born on nights like these.
I brought her over to my place, and while we waited for the rest to arrive I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with Alison. She'd accused me of praising the poor, shy introvert above and beyond reality. She'd accused me of a lot more, in fact, and in the end I had to admit, with a sigh, I was really sort of taken with Lynn. Alright, I eventually conceded, I have a crush on the girl. And ever since, I've only gotten more fascinated with her. It's just like me, always falling for the straigh ones.
I think, once or twice that night, I noticed how quiet she was. Even though she was right there, sitting next to the aforementioned Alison, holding a controller and even beating our asses an even fifty fifty, it seemed like she was only there to watch. A silent bird sitting on the edge of a campfire, not sure what those odd humans are up to, but gratefully accepting a thrown crust of bread. A sad-eyed dog barking along with the music, trying so hard to belong, but knowing all along that when the music stops, everyone will go about their normal business again, forgetting about it's amusing little trick.
Today at the evening shift she asked me how long I'd know that little group of last night. I told her all but one were my faithful comrades during most of high school, close in the way people get, when they get to see eachother grow up and mature. She looked up at me, she's almost a full head smaller than I am, and I could see an elusive shimmer in her blue eyes. What she told me then broke my heart and it was all I could do not to crush her as I hugged her close. It was a little glimpse into the mystery of her inner working, and it was so lonely, so cold.
"I wish I knew what that's like."
It only took three more game-nights for her too loosen up, and two more weeks until our first kiss. It turned out she wasn't straight, after all.
Creative writing exercise, a short story based on the word (and with the title):
Company
Yesterday I introduced Lynn to my inner circle of friends. I'd been working the evening shift with her for a while, and she's nice, intelligent and even funny when I'd managed to get her out of her shell. It's a real shame she's so shy. She doesn't seem to notice what an interesting person she is, she just notices that most people don't seem to give her a second, or even first glance, and decided to spare them the effort, blending into the background like an intelligent bit of scenery.
So I discovered the other day she's into gaming, and decided to bring her along to one of the all-night gaming-nights. Soda, junkfood, games, and a group of friend slowly getting high on lack of sleep. It was always great fun, and the strangest ideas were born on nights like these.
I brought her over to my place, and while we waited for the rest to arrive I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with Alison. She'd accused me of praising the poor, shy introvert above and beyond reality. She'd accused me of a lot more, in fact, and in the end I had to admit, with a sigh, I was really sort of taken with Lynn. Alright, I eventually conceded, I have a crush on the girl. And ever since, I've only gotten more fascinated with her. It's just like me, always falling for the straigh ones.
I think, once or twice that night, I noticed how quiet she was. Even though she was right there, sitting next to the aforementioned Alison, holding a controller and even beating our asses an even fifty fifty, it seemed like she was only there to watch. A silent bird sitting on the edge of a campfire, not sure what those odd humans are up to, but gratefully accepting a thrown crust of bread. A sad-eyed dog barking along with the music, trying so hard to belong, but knowing all along that when the music stops, everyone will go about their normal business again, forgetting about it's amusing little trick.
Today at the evening shift she asked me how long I'd know that little group of last night. I told her all but one were my faithful comrades during most of high school, close in the way people get, when they get to see eachother grow up and mature. She looked up at me, she's almost a full head smaller than I am, and I could see an elusive shimmer in her blue eyes. What she told me then broke my heart and it was all I could do not to crush her as I hugged her close. It was a little glimpse into the mystery of her inner working, and it was so lonely, so cold.
"I wish I knew what that's like."
It only took three more game-nights for her too loosen up, and two more weeks until our first kiss. It turned out she wasn't straight, after all.
Monday, July 7, 2008
*Palaver
Creative writing exercise, a short story based on the word (and with the title):
Palaver
S-23-INDIGO walked down the blackened slope. A recent forest-fire had bared the earth in places, covered it in ash in others. It had been caused by a vulcanic faultline, running through this region, but only recently active. The ash was lukewarm, and strangely soft to her feet, in an almost disturbing way. It filtered between her toes and molded to her soles as smoothly as if there was nothing there. Between the gravelly patches and the smouldering volcanic rock, S-23-INDIGO felt like she was walking on air.
She passed from between charred stumps into the remnant of the old forest. The rain of ash that had only let up recently has silenced the woods, layering ash on the ground, the leaves, the branches and whatever animals hadn't been fast enough. Tiny footprints in the ash were the only evidence of the confused inhabitants of the forest returning. A soft thump sounded between the grey tree-trunks, the weight of the ash was pressing down on the branches unrelentingly, and an equally soft swoop sounded a branch's truimphant freedom.
In the silence of the grey forest, S-23-INDIGO looked around critically, absently digging her toes into the ashy carpet. Under the ash, the big toe on her right foot hit something, soft like the ash, but with a very different texture. She was mildly puzzled for a moment, frowning down at the offending toe, but the most disapproving frown didn't make the soft intrusion go away. She leaned down, careful to keep her toe in contact with whatever lay under the ash, and started digging.
Slow with care, lest she damage whatever it was that lay beneath, she uncovered a sapling of the forest. Its lone two leaves were covered in a fine grey coat even after she tried to wipe them clean. Knowing very well that trees breath through the leaves, she spat on the little sapling, washing its tender leaves clean of ash.
"Hello, little one." She smiles at the shiny green leaves. "I'm so happy you survived, my little sapling. I have something to tell you." She leaned closer, her breath dampening the two leaves as she whispered. "Don't give up yet, green one. The Steel Folk might be conspiring against you, but you don't stand alone. We're all with you, all four clans, we are. Don't let them tell you otherwise, just because of a slight scorch-mark. We're all with you." She nodded, grinning happily at the little quivering plant. "Now, be sure to tell that to your father, if you haven't already. Yes, it's quite alright, quite alright, go on. Oh and... I expect S-23-VERIDIAN to show their faces real soon."
Above the heads and leaves of S-23-INDIGO, the sapling, and the grey-coated trees, clouds had been gathering over the forest. Just as she finished her whispered conversation, thunder rumbled overhead. As the raindrops hit the treetops, they mingled and washed away the ash. Slowly but surely the forest was being washed clean.
Palaver
S-23-INDIGO walked down the blackened slope. A recent forest-fire had bared the earth in places, covered it in ash in others. It had been caused by a vulcanic faultline, running through this region, but only recently active. The ash was lukewarm, and strangely soft to her feet, in an almost disturbing way. It filtered between her toes and molded to her soles as smoothly as if there was nothing there. Between the gravelly patches and the smouldering volcanic rock, S-23-INDIGO felt like she was walking on air.
She passed from between charred stumps into the remnant of the old forest. The rain of ash that had only let up recently has silenced the woods, layering ash on the ground, the leaves, the branches and whatever animals hadn't been fast enough. Tiny footprints in the ash were the only evidence of the confused inhabitants of the forest returning. A soft thump sounded between the grey tree-trunks, the weight of the ash was pressing down on the branches unrelentingly, and an equally soft swoop sounded a branch's truimphant freedom.
In the silence of the grey forest, S-23-INDIGO looked around critically, absently digging her toes into the ashy carpet. Under the ash, the big toe on her right foot hit something, soft like the ash, but with a very different texture. She was mildly puzzled for a moment, frowning down at the offending toe, but the most disapproving frown didn't make the soft intrusion go away. She leaned down, careful to keep her toe in contact with whatever lay under the ash, and started digging.
Slow with care, lest she damage whatever it was that lay beneath, she uncovered a sapling of the forest. Its lone two leaves were covered in a fine grey coat even after she tried to wipe them clean. Knowing very well that trees breath through the leaves, she spat on the little sapling, washing its tender leaves clean of ash.
"Hello, little one." She smiles at the shiny green leaves. "I'm so happy you survived, my little sapling. I have something to tell you." She leaned closer, her breath dampening the two leaves as she whispered. "Don't give up yet, green one. The Steel Folk might be conspiring against you, but you don't stand alone. We're all with you, all four clans, we are. Don't let them tell you otherwise, just because of a slight scorch-mark. We're all with you." She nodded, grinning happily at the little quivering plant. "Now, be sure to tell that to your father, if you haven't already. Yes, it's quite alright, quite alright, go on. Oh and... I expect S-23-VERIDIAN to show their faces real soon."
Above the heads and leaves of S-23-INDIGO, the sapling, and the grey-coated trees, clouds had been gathering over the forest. Just as she finished her whispered conversation, thunder rumbled overhead. As the raindrops hit the treetops, they mingled and washed away the ash. Slowly but surely the forest was being washed clean.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Creative writing
I'm starting to feel I do need a theme. How else can I write things on a regular basis and have them be interesting enough to read, too? Everyone knows the daily life of a (fairly) regular person isn't supposed to be interesting. Right?
...I admit, I'm boring. I wake up, eat, computer, don't do anything productive since it's a holiday, and go to bed way too late. But I do think a lot, and since I'm a (wannabe-)writer, I use my imagination plenty. I've yet to actually finish a longer story, though. Short stories, sure. I've written a few of those, both original and fanfiction.
So I'm brainstorming for ideas to write down here.
Creative writing exercises, that's an idea. I could take a dictionary and pick a random word, then write a short thing about it. I sort of like that idea. I'll try to do that every so often, starting, er.. tomorrow?
(First word: Procrastinate!)
...I admit, I'm boring. I wake up, eat, computer, don't do anything productive since it's a holiday, and go to bed way too late. But I do think a lot, and since I'm a (wannabe-)writer, I use my imagination plenty. I've yet to actually finish a longer story, though. Short stories, sure. I've written a few of those, both original and fanfiction.
So I'm brainstorming for ideas to write down here.
Creative writing exercises, that's an idea. I could take a dictionary and pick a random word, then write a short thing about it. I sort of like that idea. I'll try to do that every so often, starting, er.. tomorrow?
(First word: Procrastinate!)
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Rambling
Right, so the first post's been done, and now I can safely ramble about about until I feel the need to be funny again. Of course, I always feel the need to amuse, so I could bring my ramblings in the form of a bit of prose. The problem with that is, I want to make really clear this isn't a story.
So, I used to have a real good friend. The kind you always hang around with at school, and after as well if possible. I considered them my best friend. Well, the feeling was apparently not mutual. We both went through a bit of a hard time and no matter how much I tried to fix it, or strenghten the relationship, or I don't know... try to share my life with them, the friendship died in an ugly way. This is about one and a half year ago. Somehow I can't seem to wrap my head around time, so I couldn't say for sure.
Either way, the friendship ended, and slowly but surely I started to realise things. My best friend had had no less than three groups of friends, which they kept strictly seperated. They never told me much of anything about themselves. They thought I complained a lot, but never said that to my face. In fact, when I needed someone to talk to, and I talked to them, they thought I was complaining and whiny. They advised another friend to stay away from me. They accused me of not being interested in them, when I gave them all the opportunity to talk, I'd always be listening, but they never said anything. When I told them about the difficulties in my personal life, they turned it into a contest of grief. And last but not least, at a certain point I developed a crush on them, and two weeks (don't believe my sense of time) after I told them they made sure to tell me at every opportunity how happy and how in love they were with their new and true flame.
Today I listened to a song I quite like. They sent a link to it to me ages ago, when the friendship was already on the dead side. I told them; "Great. I know this song, I love it. But now I'll always think of you when I hear it." They told me I was being dramatic and that I should stop whining. Well. I don't know what exactly they said, but that was the gist of it. And guess what? I listened to it today and I thought of them.
What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.
So, I used to have a real good friend. The kind you always hang around with at school, and after as well if possible. I considered them my best friend. Well, the feeling was apparently not mutual. We both went through a bit of a hard time and no matter how much I tried to fix it, or strenghten the relationship, or I don't know... try to share my life with them, the friendship died in an ugly way. This is about one and a half year ago. Somehow I can't seem to wrap my head around time, so I couldn't say for sure.
Either way, the friendship ended, and slowly but surely I started to realise things. My best friend had had no less than three groups of friends, which they kept strictly seperated. They never told me much of anything about themselves. They thought I complained a lot, but never said that to my face. In fact, when I needed someone to talk to, and I talked to them, they thought I was complaining and whiny. They advised another friend to stay away from me. They accused me of not being interested in them, when I gave them all the opportunity to talk, I'd always be listening, but they never said anything. When I told them about the difficulties in my personal life, they turned it into a contest of grief. And last but not least, at a certain point I developed a crush on them, and two weeks (don't believe my sense of time) after I told them they made sure to tell me at every opportunity how happy and how in love they were with their new and true flame.
Today I listened to a song I quite like. They sent a link to it to me ages ago, when the friendship was already on the dead side. I told them; "Great. I know this song, I love it. But now I'll always think of you when I hear it." They told me I was being dramatic and that I should stop whining. Well. I don't know what exactly they said, but that was the gist of it. And guess what? I listened to it today and I thought of them.
What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The first
Here, I am, sleep-deprived, and looking for a place to vent my frustrations. Sadly, I feel I should introduce myself, fix the layout of the page, found something quasi-funny to talk about and mention fruit first.
So I'll save the annoyances for a later time (five minutes from now or so) and fix some of the other points first.
Right, so I figured I don't need to be creative or have a theme or be all funny and stuff. I'm just going to write, because that's what I am, a (wannabe-)writer.
Excellent.
So I'll save the annoyances for a later time (five minutes from now or so) and fix some of the other points first.
Right, so I figured I don't need to be creative or have a theme or be all funny and stuff. I'm just going to write, because that's what I am, a (wannabe-)writer.
Excellent.
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