Only a Foothold

Hey, everyone! Just wanted to post some more of my work. This is a short story I wrote a couple of months ago. Thanks!

P.S. Thanks to my editor without his help this story wouldn't be half as good!


Only a Foothold

         I stood in a room, how I had gotten there I didn’t know. The room was square, mirrors adorning all four walls. I walked over to the first one I saw. Not of my own will though it was as if someone else was controlling my feet. The mirror started to show a scene from my life. Not only did it illustrate the scene visually, but it also depicted the smells and sounds. The setting took place in a small kitchen that I had walked into not more than a year ago. My mother sat across the table with a newspaper in her hand and in the other she held a piece of toast smothered in peanut butter and drizzled with honey. “Hey mom” I called, hungrily eyeing her toast “can I go a friends house tonight?” I watched the mirror as the picture of me grabbed a piece of toast and dropped it in the toaster. “Which friend?” my mother questioned, as she took a sip of coffee to wash down her toast. Instead of telling her about the rough party that would take place I simply lied and said, “Oh just Duncan’s. We were just going to watch a movie.” “That’s fine.” My mother said. I then moved to the next mirror, again not of my will. Had I control of myself, I would have gone to the center of the room and covered my eyes as the mirrors played the scenes. My eyes snapped irresistibly to the next mirror, this one shape like a triangle. Again a scene took shape, from just six months ago. I was in the state championship basketball game. My school team, the Falcons, were up by two points. The other team, the Eagles, were passing the ball in bounds. The Eagles’ best player, number twenty-two, got the ball and dribbled up court. He had long blonde hair, always had a mouth guard in, and was wearing a blue sleeve, the color of their team, on his arm. I guarded him as he crossed half court. Perspiration rolled off his forehead and onto the floor. One of his players set a pick for him; however, I went around it and got my hand in his face.
                                       Five…
                                                   Four…
                                                               Three…
                                                                            Two…
                                                                                        He picked up his dribble behind the three point line and shot it. One! The room went totally quiet except for the buzzers wailing that cut through the silence. The ball flew through the air, then hit the front of the rim, and rolled over the hoop to the back of the iron. My heart stopped as the ball sat there, balancing precipitously on the edge for what seemed an eternity. Then the ball slipped through the hoop with a whoosh! The blonde got in my face and pumped his fist while talking trash. Finally I made it to the locker rooms, wading against the mob that had flooded the court. Rage burned in my heart! No, worse than rage, hate consumed my thoughts! I wanted to literally kill number twenty-two. The image faded and my feet dragged me to the next mirror a place I now knew I didn’t want to be. This mirror was in yet another shape, this time an octagon, and faded into another tragic scene. Up to this point, I had remembered all of the last scenes, and wished I hadn’t, but for some reason this one grabbed my attention and wouldn’t let go! I was terrified as the mirror image took shape. It depicted me and some middle school students, leaning up against a brick wall behind the high school. To them, I was the cool high school student. I looked so relaxed and care free. Now I knew why. I was like an idol to them. It was I who had led them astray, it was I who had told them to do something that their parents forbade, and it was I who would tell them to say disrespectful things to their superiors. The image disappeared, and I was forced to move on. Each mirror in the square room was shaped differently, and I was always filled with regret as I stared at them. Once every mirror had showed some sin from the past, I then just stared at one of the walls after I had watched each scene from each mirror.  All the mirrors suddenly shifted into a different word on each wall. The first word: “who.” I turned to the next wall the word there was “am,” and the next “I.” On the last wall was only a “?.” The sentence struck me so hard I could barely breath. “Who am I?” I screamed out, for the first time finding my self capable of speech. “What have I done with my life?!” The mirrors shifted and the wall behind it disappeared completely! The walls started to close in on me, and the room got smaller and smaller. I looked up even the ceiling and floor were solid mirrors. Each playing a scene from my life where I had sinned in some way. I was caught in my own sins. I had let Satan and my sin nature gain a foothold, and they together had built a stronghold! The solid mirrored walls pushed up against me until I couldn‘t breath! I was trapped in my own sin! “No no no!” I screamed as I flew out of bed drenched in sweat, throat parched, and tongue as thick as a mattress. I ran to the sink and guzzled down water, and then sat on my bed and thought for hours about my dream. There is still hope and time to change before I was trapped in my own sin! I knew what I had to do so I got down on my knees and bowed my head.

Chapter 1 - Hopeless and Helpless

            Nagrom spotted the orange winged beast in the distance. It was a swift one, but Nagrom was a sharpshooter, one of the elite. He never missed.

            There were reports of children being stolen away from the town of Molenol. It was claimed that these colourful creatures were responsible for it. The claims were not from the best of sources, but there were mothers and fathers waiting for something, or someone, to pay.

            As Nagrom watched the beast along the shaft of the arrow knocked in his bow, he felt a faint memory prodding the back of his brain. He couldn’t remember what it was, possibly some faint childhood memory. Even so, it made him feel pity for this beast. But what was that memory? Nagrom brushed the thought aside and brought his mind back to the task at hand.

            The search for these creatures had taken them far into the northwestern regions of the discovered land. They had only found two, seemingly two girls, possibly mother and daughter, although with these demons it was impossible to tell, hidden in the Impenetrable Mountains. They had waited until daylight and had choked up their caves with smoke, forcing them out. The soldiers had discovered that the beasts could not see well in daylight, making them easier to shoot. The elder one, the assumed mother, was slow.  She was caught easily, but the young one was another matter. None of the soldiers Nagrom commanded could hit her. But Nagrom was one of the best. He had taught them all they know, but not all that he knew. Brushing his shaggy red beard out of his face, Nagrom loaded, and fired.

*****

            Kara cried out. She had not meant to, but she could not slow her fall to the hard forest earth below. She sat up with an earthy taste in her mouth and spat out some dirt. The forest was quiet, but every small noise still made her jump out of fear. Every bunny hop and every deer chewing grass sounded like the trumpet of an elephant to her. Even in the bright forest, in every shadow the green trees made, she saw the soldiers. Her senses were on overload from nervousness.

            Kara could not see in the day, so she relied on her senses to guide her. Her senses enabled her to sense movement, light, and strong emotions. In the daytime she could also hear very well to replace the missing sight. During the night she could not use her senses so she functioned like a human, although she was not one.

            Kara looked like a human in many ways.  She had never seen one, of course, but that’s what her mother had told her. She had arms and legs. She had a head with hair, straight red-brown hair that dropped to her waist, to be specific. She had a normal face, with a nose, mouth and green eyes that complemented her skin. Well, skin of sorts, her exoskeleton. Her mother had said it was like the things that made bugs crunch when you stepped on them. Kara didn’t much like being compared to a bug. Her exoskeleton was orange, so looking like a human ended there. The thing that really set her apart from humans, though, were her wings. They were a soft orange colour, and if you touched them they felt like velvet. They could be harmed very easily, though. Something as much as a scratch could hurt them.

            A bunny hopped across the forest. Although it was only a bunny, Kara was still terrified, so she mistook it for something much larger. Kara screamed.

            Kara, you fool! She reprimanded herself, as her senses calmed down, That must have drawn soldiers from miles around. Why these soldiers were after her, she wasn’t sure, but her senses told her that they meant no good, and she had to get away.

            Kara let her senses reach out to her soft, orange wings. They were very fragile, and even a scratch could potentially harm her flight patterns. As her senses reached her wings, she felt something wrong. It was more than a scratch. Kara gasped. There was a hole! By what kind of weapon, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it hurt. She searched the rest of her body, but nothing had come to harm. It was hard to harm the body of one of her kind; as they were constantly covered in an exoskeleton. Everyone had different coloured ones. Kara’s was light orange, just like her wings.

            Kara tucked her wings behind her back and began to run. She ran hard and fast. Even though she was not flying, she was still fast. Her senses had calmed down and she was able to sense people around her. People with bad intent.

The sharpshooters, thought Kara.  But why are they chasing me? Why are they trying to kill me? Oh, if only mother were here. Or Uncle Cletus. They would both help me now.

            Kara wished Uncle Cletus were there with her. She remembered how he would always come to her cave. It seemed that whenever her or her mother were feeling down, Uncle Cletus would show up. She knew it was impossible for him to know when they were upset. Or at least, she thought it was impossible. But then, there was that one day….

            Kara’s thoughts ran their course, but they soon came to her mother. Kara’s thoughts became spinning chaos.  I could have helped her! Was her first thought, but that was soon followed by, No, she told you to save yourself. Besides, if you had slowed down then you would have gotten killed too. Thoughts like these waged war back and forth in her brain. Finally, she could take it no more, and she burst into tears. Unlike a human, running while crying was no annoyance to her. It didn’t impair her vision because she couldn’t see anyways.

            Finally, her senses told her that no one was around. She had lost them. Kara slowed to a walk and reached out with her senses to try to find a hiding place.

            Her senses indicated a cave, not very good, but at least it might be dark enough for her to see. She tread lightly, using her wings to lift herself up over small bushes. Even if she couldn’t really fly, they still gave her a small amount of lift. Some pain came with that of course, but Kara could bear it.

            Kara came to the cave and did a quick survey of the area around it. No one there. Good. She thought. She wandered slowly through the passage. While walking, her mind wandered back to the cave that she used to call home. Back to eating food by the fire while her mother told her stories. As a young child, she loved stories. Sadness overcame her as she thought of her mother. The sadness was followed by a need for revenge, followed by sadness again.

            As Kara surfaced from her dark pool of misery, she realized she could see. Not well, but at least it was something. She moved farther into the cave and turned a sharp corner. The rest of the light disappeared.  Seeing clearly now, Kara realized she had reached the back of the cave.

            Kara sank unsteadily to the ground. She was tired and, although she was nocturnal, she had to sleep. It was coming on night now, and if she fell asleep she could risk changing her sleeping patterns. It was a risk she would have to take. But before she could fall asleep, the darkness brought new thoughts to her. Many thoughts. She thought mostly of her mother, which made her feel hopeless, hopeless and helpless. Kara cried herself to sleep.

-Ciara

The Linien Group!

Hey, everyone! Just wanted to post some of my work on here! Here is the prologue and first chapter to the novel that I am writing! FYI Yzarr is pronounced Zarr. And often I will leave notes to myself. They will appear as (???). And third this is completely a ruff draft and I am not... um... I guess not as grammatically correct as most. (Thank God for editors!) So this story may look a lot different once edited. Thanks!

P.S. Comments would be appreciated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.S. Almost forgot Linien is pronounced (lin-ee-in)




Prologue

A New Power

The group of three made there way to the Kyber pass. Lyaber pushed his horse forward after the ride through the mountains they were nearly spent. The elite group of soldiers halted for a late lunch. “Yarrl?” The captain asked. “Yes Captain Lyaber,” Yarrl replied. “I need you to scout ahead on foot.” “Yes Captain.” Yarrl left the group of now two. He trusted Captain Lyaber with his life. He was a big bulky man  with muscles on top of his muscles. He had a  thick black beard with white patches throughout it. If anything happened the group knew that there captain would protect them. Yarrl pressed on. It felt good to walk after the long ride. He would scout ahead to the Kyber pass. Suddenly there was a noise to Yarrl’s right. Almost like something being strained. He had heard it before. It was almost like… An arrow shoot overhead missing him by inches. Lyaber had ducked just in time. He drew his sword ready for a fight. But, then there was nothing. It was as if he had imagined the whole endeavor. So he continued to scout ahead with his sword drawn. Yarrl was not one to give up easily. He also didn’t want to upset the captain. Yarrl listened for any little sound that would give away his foe. After what seemed a long trek through the snow capped mountain he made it to the pass. It was a narrow snow covered stone bridge of sorts. Suddenly a tall muscular figure stepped out from a boulder on the other side of the pass. He wore a black cloak with a steel breastplate. The breastplate had a symbol that resembled an upside down Z although the parallel sides were slightly curved. The two stared each other down for awhile then the foe pulled off of his back two saber blades which he connected together with a handle. The foe held the double bladed weapon level with the ground. Yarrl charged his opponent with fury in his eyes. The wicked looking man just stood there waiting for the right opportunity. As soon as there swords met Yarrl knew that it would be a tough fight. The cloaked figure wield the weapon like an extension of his arm. The first injury he inflicted was a slice to Yarrl’s arm, then he stabbed him in the shoulder. After performing something resembling a back flip the foe finished off Yarrl with a swift strike. The crafty swordsman left his body to rot in the cold. He walked up to his new group of recruits who had been watching from a distance. “A new power is rising and the old shall fall!” He said with death in his voice. The group gave cheers for their leader.
















Chapter 1

The Troublemaker


The Linien outpost exploded with mirth as another fun filled story came to an end. There were many warriors surrounding a table with jugs of ale in hand. Some had made the mistake of taking a sip of the strong brew while old man McKinley finished one of his famous stories. They had either spit it out all over the place or tried to keep it in and had it come out there noses. They all listened as he started another story. “Well, you see, I was in the kingdom work’n as a guard and a patrol officer. Me and this other fell’a where mak’n our rounds as usual. And we came upon these two gentlemen who had drunk more ale than  all of us tonight combined.” His story was cut off by the bell sounding the night watch beginning. They all moaned at the sound.

Filian walked down the hall leading to the stairway where there was a wave of people coming down and up the stairway. He was about twenty one with seasoned muscles and a thin beard. Once he made it up to the outposts highest point, which led to the very tall walls surrounding the outpost, there were archers and spearmen all over the walls. They where ready for anything. Filian was one of the last ones in the open air. He chose the spot next to Jakar. They where the same age and had survived the training together as warriors. Although Filian was the better swordsman they were considered to be at the same level. Jakar  greeted him warmly. “Hey Filian.” Jakar was one of the more rascally types. He would always be the first one into trouble, and he immediately started relating about one of his schemes. “The other night I heard some people talking down in the storage area.” “What where you doing down there?” Filian asked even though he knew that it was something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. “Well…” Jakar said trying to think of an answer that was suitable. “Lets just say its none of your business. Anyway…” “I don’t want to hear about some secret celebration that is going to take place, or who is going bankrupt in the kingdom of Anamar.” “That’s just it though. This is much bigger!” “Let me try to get this through your thick skull, Jakar. I don’t want to know!” “Oh but you do. You just don’t know that yet.” “Jakar…” Filian said with a huff of rage. “That is the silliest thing I have ever heard. I am going to go sit with some more civilized people.” Filian started to walk away as Jakar yelled at him. “You can join me at sundown tomorrow tonight!” Filian just brushed of all the rude remarks that followed and went to the opposite part of the wall surrounding the outpost.

The next day Filian was debating whether to go with Jakar or, stay out of trouble and let him suffer the consequences. Filian’s  mind told him to stay out of trouble but, his heart told him to be a good friend and go with him  at least to try to keep him out of trouble. Finally after a long morning of thinking about it he made up his mind.

Jakar snuck down the dark stairway standing on tiptoes. He finally stepped onto flat ground. It was like a tomb in the large storage area. A hand quickly grabbed Jakar from behind covering his mouth. The man spun him around so that they could see eye to eye. And to the relief of Jakar he made out Filians face. Filian loosed his grip around Jakar’s mouth. “I knew you’d show up.” “Oh what ever! You were more scared than… than… well something that gets really scared.” “Oh that’s a good one Filian.” “You were pretty scared.” “Just be quiet and follow me. You did bring a lamp didn’t you?” “I thought you might forget.” Filian picked up a lamp from the ground and lit it. The large storage room was filled with food, weapons, maps, and many other things. There was also a door at the far side of the room with light coming from underneath it. Jakar signaled to Filian to keep following him. They crept up to the door straining their ears for any little noise that would emanate from the room. They put their heads right next to the door listening to the conversation. “We can’t risk it.” One of them said. “I agree” another remarked this one a woman “we can’t afford to start another war.” Filian and Jakar looked at each other. Another war! That was preposterous! There where so many questions rushing through their heads that they could hardly keep up with them. A war with who? And who where these people. They both listened closely to every word the people in the enclosed room said. “As a member of the Linien Group” another said “I say we take a vote on…” He was cut short by a crashing noise outside. Jakar had been leaning against a box full of swords. They clattered all over the floor. Filian looked at Jakar with a look of disgust. The door suddenly burst open and a tall broad man came forward with a large hammer in hand. The light illuminating from the room shone on Filian, and Jakar perfectly framing them like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The warrior with the hammer dragged them into the room and slammed the door shut with a dull thud. Now it seemed as if they where closed off from the entire kingdom of Anamar. “I just found the solution to our problem.” There was a total of three people in the room not including Filian, and Jakar. “And how is that?” One of them asked. “They are going to join the Linien Group!”

Quest for the Stone (Prologue) - Ciara

I guess I'll be the first to post some of my writing on this. Because I feel like it. So... here you go, I guess...

            “We cannot care for him,” said the winged woman, her voice breaking. “We must put him on the streets. Maybe someone will take him. If not, he will die either way.” With tears streaming down her face, she caressed her son’s small, fragile wings one last time.

            Her husband, a human, nodded, tears also welling up in his eyes. He picked up the young boy, wrapped him in a warm blue cloth to match his wings, walked out the cloth door to his hut, and looked at the baby kindly.

            He kissed the child’s small forehead and caressed his wings, watching the boy sleep peacefully. He walked down the street a few blocks, forlornly setting him down on the side of the road, hoping that some kind soul would pick him up and take him in.

            “Goodbye. I will miss you, my son,” he said forlornly, knowing he was the reason the boy had to be placed on the street. Humans had no place in the Lunazon land, and they simply could not flee with the baby. He bent down and placed a scrap of paper on the baby boy. The paper only had one word written on it.

*****

            The King was doing his nightly rounds of the city, making sure that everyone was safe. He checked late at night, every night. He was just finishing his rounds when he heard a child crying. Searching quickly, yet thoroughly, he came upon the source of the noise. It was a baby boy with blue wings. The King gently picked him up.

            “How did you come to be here, my child?” He asked. The baby was still warm and could not have been left there long ago. He held the child’s hand in his fist, and noticed something. The baby was tightly clutching a piece of paper. The King gently pried it out of the child’s hand, careful not to disturb him. He read the paper. There was only one word on it.

            “It looks like you are coming home with me.” The King said, smiling gently. He picked up the child, and the young boy immediately fell asleep. He brought the child to the castle, and made sure that he was in bed and well cared for before going to his own room.

            He knew who this child was, and he knew what would happen to him, just as it was predicted in the Book of Lore. That is, if the child chose the right path.

            “I will do my best to teach this child,” he muttered to himself. “He has a big role ahead of him, although I am sure he can fulfil it.”

            That night, he called up some of his best trained specialists, each with their own craft.

            “You will teach him,” he told them. “And teach him well. I have named him my son, and he deserves the best from all of you. Do your work with a good heart.”

            After dismissing them, he once again went to the room of the child – his son.

            “I know they will train you well,” he whispered, although the young child could not hear, and certainly could not comprehend. “Goodnight, my dear child. Goodnight -” he glanced at the name on the piece of paper, “Jonah.”




-Ciara


P.S. Comments would be appreciated :P

Welcome!!!

Welcome all you writers that seek the stars! It is a pleasure to create this blog for some of my own kind. (By own kind I meant all the writers from the forum.) May the first one bless you and your writing.