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July 29 Prologue (revision)Due to inconsistency between different parts of my previous idea for a story line, I'm starting fresh. It's basically the same story as before, only the main characters been changed and yadda yadda you get it...
He slowly his eyes. Everything was a complete blur, so he let his eyes drop shut again. He felt nothing but a painful ache which wracked his body from head to toe. Where was he? It was cool, and wherever he lay was soft.. a bed? He could barely move, and when he tried lifting his head, excruciating agony shot through his spine. It even hurt to breathe. He could feel his lungs struggling, pain enveloping his insides if he took anything more than shallow breaths.
Where am I?
His eyelids felt like bricks, but he lifted them once again, finding that his vision had cleared enough for him to make out his surroundings. Above him were dark wooden rafter, all converging from the walls of the circular room to a central wooden pillar; the walls themselves he noticed were made of large, stone bricks which had been cemented together. Gently letting his head tilt to the side, he would have gasped at what he had seen, if he had been capable of doing so. The walls were covered in paintings, except for where a diamond shaped window allowed warm sunlight to pour into the room. Some of the pieces were dark, while others were bright and beautiful. Maby others leaned on the walls, or were carefull stacked in piles. Behind his bed he could see a wooden staircase descending to an undiscernable floor, while at the opposing side of the room another another ascended beyoung the roof of the room.
His bed, well, wasn't a bed. It was a small narrow cot, his feet nearly going over the end. It was comfry however so it mattered little to him.
A small tray had been laid out beside the cot, ontop of a wooden crate. An apple and what smelled like broth sat on it, but he couldn't lift his arms. Being helpless truly was aggrivating beyond reason, but his ears pricked when he heard footsteps ascending the wooden staircase behind his small cot.
It was an old man. His white hair and beard obscured most of his wrinkled face, and he wore a thick, gray, woolen robe. The old man must have been 7 feet tall!
"Good morning," said the old man as he topped the stairs, turning at the end of the rail and continuing towards Nate, "how are you feeling?"
"I feel like I've been thrown off a cliff," he replied weakly, "where am I?"
The old man looked at him quizzically and walked over to the cot, feeling his forehead and checking his eyes.
"You don't have a fever... what is my name?"
He stared blankly at the old man.
"You haven't told me your name yet..?" He replied. The old man shook his head, muttering he pulled up a wooden chair beside the cot.
"What is your name?" Asked the old man, sitting down on the chair, beside the tray of food and the cot.
He thought for a long time... expecting it to come to mind automatically. After a minute or two of trying to recall his own name, he shook his head as he realized it was futile.
"I don't know..." What is my name?
"You had quite a rough fall... everything will come back to you eventually. My name is Aldwyn, you've been living with me here in this tower for a year as my pupil. Several hours ago you were fell of a ladder outside and hit your head; I had to mortaring some cracks in the masonry. I shouldn't have let someone as clumsy as you do something like that!" The old man continued muttering while he picked up a spoon and the bowl from the tray. He began feeding him, asking a question every now and again, each quizzing him on simple topics about his life. After a half hour the bowl was empty, and the old man got up from the wooden chair.
"You need to get your rest, I will come speak to your again tomorrow and see how you are. Good night."
He was alone once again, with nothing but confusion. Being helpless and in constant pain was one thing, but being spoon fed was altogether humiliating. Yawning, he put the bitter thoughts aside. He was still alive at least, if he had fallen and hurt himself this badly he was lucky he hadn't cracked his head open. He could feel himself growing drowsy, and he closed his eyes; but he still concentrated intensely on one question.
What is my name?
He fell asleep. Amy ^_^Time: 5:27am
Music: None right now
Mood: Awesome =]]
Well I only got to talk to Amy once in the afternoon before I went to my friend justins house =[ so I'm writing this blog for her when I talk to her tomorrow =D.
She's an amazing girl, ever since me and her started talking I've felt really happy, and over the past few weeks I've been happier than I've been in a long time ^_^
She means everything to me, I love hanging out with her, and we both love video games lol >_< yes I'm a loser ;P
but i love her so I don't care =] As long as she's happy, I'm happy ^^ && i always wanna make her happy =]]
To me, she's the closest thing to perfect ♥
I'm just expressing how I feel so yep lol =D
I love you Amy  July 28 Ch 3. ReminisceFor the next several weeks the routine of being fed and questioned continued daily. Every night he dreamt of things he had never never heard or seen, and every day he slowly lost his grasp on his memory. Over time, Nate-.. he, pieced the dreams together, sometimes they were in chronological order, sometimes they were disordered. Always when he awoke, they were ingrained in his memory, easily accessible; unlike normal dreams where they usually fade away in a matter if hours. What he discovered was a nightmarish series of dreams... as he progressed into the dark tale he often awoke shaking, on several occassions sobbing or crying out. Every night more was revealed than he would have rather not remem-... known.
***
Tatianus sat on his four-legged, wooden stool, carefully painting the eyes onto a doll with a ceramic head. He could hear Nate thrashing on the top floor, the creek of the floor boards clearly throughout every level of his tower. Every day had been like this for the past several months, but the boy was no longer weak as a kitten. He had started walking the month last, and had given Tatianus details of his dreams. The elderly 'Tatianus' could have been called an artist... he never had money problems, whenever he found his coffer was becoming shallow, he ventured out of his tower with a horse and wagon, peddling his creations to whoever desired them. The elderly man rarely ran into trouble, but as the years progressed, more and more people began whispering of expeditions outside the forest.
He out down the doll, finally finished. There would always be things left to create, so long as there was inspiration. The tower itself was a creation of his. It had taken nigh 10 years for him to build it from the ground up, slowly harvesting lumber from the surrounding area, then carting the stone from a quarry east of Airyana. The work was enjoyable, and the range of artistic expression was always expanding; it kept the old man occupied and happy throughout his long life.
While pondering the idea of a new painting, Tatianus got up and moved to stir the contents of a pot beside the forge. For a while the boy had been able to eat solid food so he had added things to the mixture, or when he felt tired Tatianus just picked from apple trees nearby in the forest. The world he had created was almost perfect... even if those who occupied it had long ago forgotten about him. He was just a mythical figure now, the one who carved, painted, and breathed life into the life. No one had come for his guidance or advice for centuries since the monarchy had risen over Alya, which was the first and only kingdom in this world. The royal family was kind, and the people had found new guidance and leadership in them. A few curious souls would sometimes venture into the forest, sometimes visiting his lonely tower, other times avoiding it's strange presence. He was the one who ages ago scribed the languages of their magic, which only soul of the world itself could hear and understand. It had not been he who wrote them however...
This is the closest I've ever come to a perfect world... he thought. Normally he would have left this world long ago, but unlike any of the other Archons, he had made a mistake. Every day he crossed his mind, reminded him that no matter how perfect this world was, it was doomed.
I'm just an artist... I create. I die when I am slain, and I die when I grow old.. what can I do against such evil of my own creation....
Ciar.
The name itself, only when thought, boiled angry within Tatianus, but it caused sadness and shame to well up to even greater heights inside him. Behind the unstained history of Alya, there was a story of tragedy and betrayal which he dearly hoped would never get it's chance to defile the new world.
I won't leave until my gravest mistake is set right again... July 26 Ch 2. AwakeningOnce again this is just quick writing, I'm gonna come back later and revise/lengthen it.
Nate dreamt of many things. The day before... though he didn't know whether that was actually the day before or not. Fatal stab wounds didn't fully heal overnight. He saw a replay of the knife slipping into him, though the PCP in his system had prevented him from crying out, but as well it must have been laced with something else. He had felt weak, though not nearly as weak as when he had awoken. He remembered the man checking his pockets, taking the cash out of his wallet and placing it back, then wiping the handle of the knife with a handkerchief as it protruded from the youths chest. It was the same person who had sold him the drugs. The rest of that night was hazy and didn't resurface in the dream.
The rest of his life seemed even hazier. When he tried, Nate couldn't recall his childhood. Rather than familiar reminisces, he dreamt of the forest in which he had awoken. He saw a figure walking through the unpathed woods, Nate saw through his eyes as whoever it was looked out over fields of tall grass, over an ocean..
He dreamt of the tower, of shelves lined with books, some with gleaming, hard leather covers, others falling apart and eaten by mould. It was filled with a many strange things... clay blocks and sculptures, an easel surrounded by different paints and ingredients for mixing, paintings, a large map, a forge, a kiln, and hundreds of miscellaneous tools. The vision from the dream was too quick to quite take in all of it's aspects, but it was overwhelming to see the instruments of almost every art imaginable crammed into one place. The scene changed, and he now stared at a tombstone. It was exquisitely carved, unmarked nor worn by age; it was perfectly smooth stone. The writing on it was unfamiliar, carved in deeply and accentuated by the shadows cast by the sun approaching it's zenith. The grave itself was located on a grassy hill, the individual blades dully reflecting the sunlight and appearing luminescent. The mound infront of the tombstone was now covered in the same thick grass which surrounded it. It wasn't until he looked out over the light blue ocean that he realized it was the same scene he had viewed earlier in his dream, only without the presence of the grave..
The light salty breeze from the ocean changed direction, picking up force and whistling in Nate's ears, carrying a chill combination of notes that almost echoed throught the air as words... "Welcome home..."
His eyes opened, and thankfully this time it wasn't followed by intense pain. Mobility was still severely limited however, as Nate discovered when he tried sitting up. The most he could accomplish was lifting his head. The aching in his body had dulled a little at least. He let his head fall back down onto the pillow. He had hoped he would wake up to find it had all been a strange dream. However this wasn't his bed, and he was sure this was not his room. The walls were made of thick, carved stone bricks, and paintings covered all the walls, except for where there were diamond shaped windows. The bed itself which Nate lay in was a small, narrow cot, his feet nearly going over the end. It was comfy however, so it mattered little to him.
Confusion still clouded his thoughts, everything from... whenever he lay in the park, to when he had ended up in this strange place made absolutely no sense. Nate couldn't draw any logical answers, the answers he sought would probably have to be obtained from the old man. A small tray had been laid out beside the cot, ontop of a wooden crate. An apple and what smelled like broth sat on it, but Nate could still barely lift his arms. Being helpless truly was aggrivating beyond reason, but his ears pricked when he heard footsteps coming ascending a wooden staircase across the large, circular room.
"Good morning," said the old man as he topped the stairs, turning at the end of the rail and continuing towards Nate, "what is my name?"
Nate stared blankly at the old man.
"You haven't told me your name yet..?" He replied. The old man shook his head, muttering he pulled up a wooden chair beside Nate's cot.
"What is your name?" Asked the old man, sitting down on the chair, beside the tray of food and the cot.
"My name is Nate, where..-"
"No, it's not. That was the name given to whoever you were after your previous birth. You'll shed him soon enough and you'll remember your name," Said the old man, cutting off Nate before he could finish his sentence, " in time you will remember my name as well, in the meantime however you can call me Tatianus."
He's senile... thought Nate despairingly. The old man continued muttering while he picked up a spoon and the bowl from the tray. He began feeding Nate, asking a question every now and again, each quizzing him on simple topics about his life. After a half hour the bowl was empty, and the old man asked one final question as he got up from the wooden chair.
"Where did you live when you were five years old?" At first Nate was dumbstruck, but after several minutes of trying his hardest to remember, he gave up and shook his head.
"I don't know.." To Nate's astonishment the old man smiled for the first time, as if he took memory loss as a positive sign.
"You'll come to in time, and when that happens I'll explain everything; but for now rest, and regain your strength. We'll speak again tomorrow."
Before Nate could protest Tatianus turned around and walked back to the staircase, his ascent sending achoes of booted feet thumping against wooden planks throughout the tower.
Nate let his head fall back down against the pillow. Being spoon fed was himiliating enough, but being helpless while some senile old man tried to substitute Nate'd reality with his ravings was too much. Smoldering underneath the blankets on the cot, he soon felt himself dosing off again. Yawning, he put the bitter thoughts aside. He was still alive, but he still wanted to know where he was an how he would get home.
Where was I born... where DID I live when I was five.... ?
He fell asleep. July 25 Ch 1. DawnSorry if this seems short or unedited, I'm just running out the story in a blog so I can come back later and revise it. He felt weak. Nate coulddn't move, much less open his eye lids. Was he still in the park? Struggling, he opened his eyes. Pain. The sunlight seared his vision and he quickly shut them again. How long had he been asleep? Nate's body ached, and it felt as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. As time went by he became more and more conscious, at first determining that he lay on a soft bed of grass, then realizing he was naked. Starting had only earned him another round of pain, if less intense than the first dose of sunlight. He heard the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, and very faintly the distant sounds of water. He tried to call for help, but only a weak croak escaped his throat. Am I alive? He thought. I'm not in a hospital... yet I'm alive... I'm somewhere outside, yet theres no knife... Perhaps it was a dream? Nate lost track of time as he lay there, thinking and pondering, when he thought he heard footsteps approaching. They were slow moving and soft, but Nate became sure they were the sound of booted feet as they drew closer. Surely whoever it was would get help once s/he found him! Nate even held his weak, labored breaths in anticipation of rescue. However the footsteps continued towards him without pause. Maybe the killer had returned to finish him off? This thought caused fear the rise up in Nate, his heart painfully beating faster. It wasn't until a booted foot struck Nate in the side of the head and drew forth a pitiful moan that the footsteps halted. He heard a gasp and the rustle of grass and leaves as the stranger must've been kneeling down beside him. A finger checked his pulse.. "What are you doing all the way out here?! You're not supposed to be here," said the old voice angrily, and Nate felt himself get picked up out of the grass. He hadn't been carried since he was 5, and it was an unsettling feeling. The endless string of questions from the man who found him went unanswered and soon ended, probably having deducted that the boy wasn't able to speak, much less open his eyes or move. The level of the ground changed often, and wherever Nate was being taken must've been at a higher elevation than the surrounding area. Eventually he managed to open his eyes without them being hurt by the sunlight. Opening them a crack, he saw a blue sky dotted with clouds, occassionally obscured by the boughs of oak trees. Not like the ones in the park.. these ones were beautiful. Unwithered, undying, they must have been around fifty feet tall... he couldn't quite place his finger on it, just something seemed strange about them. Even the leaves seemed to glow unnaturally in the sunlight. Redirecting his gaze he examined the person who had found him. He wore a thick, gray woolen robe.. whoever it was must have been old, due to the thick white beard obscuring their face from that angle, and which prevented Nate from gleening of their other details. Letting his head loll to the side, Nate looked at the path ahead. It was definitely a forest, but it was strange as well. The arrangement of the trees and how they grew seemed unnatural, it was too... perfect. There was nothing unpleasant about it. Through the trees he saw the sun rising. As time passed he and the old man climbed a steep hill, emerging from the forst onto a wide hilltop. The weariness from the journey finally overtook Nate in his already pitiful state, but before he lapsed into unconsciousness, Nate glimpsed what he thought was a tall, stone tower dominating the hilltop. Wherever he had been taken, he wasn't in the grand national park.
July 24 PrologueI'm in the mood for writing right now, so I think I'mma write a fantasy story. I already have a 153 page one upstairs in 2 notebooks but thats a more conventional fantasy story =\ so if you're not interested in reading my work then leave lol, but if you are then read on i guess =]
Death is a weird thing. You're never sure where the passing takes place, sometimes you don't even know if it ever happened. Perhaps you're in a hospital somewhere, deep in a coma, with human beings around you arguing whether or not to pull the plug; because they put a price on keeping another human being alive..
Nate wasn't sure when it was going to take place, but the knife in his chest gave him the sure impression it would take place eventually. It was quiet, no one was around. No panicking strangers. No crying loved ones. Just the warm evening breeze and dim rays of light from the setting sun were cast in different directions by the large, twisted limbs of the oak trees. It was lonely.... yet peaceful.
Every moment Nate thought of different events in his life, and every minute his breathing became more shallow. Some memories caused him to feel a deep pang of sadness or regret, but those subsided as he realized that every memory caused this. Did he sincerely miss everyone and everything, or was he selfishly trying to hold onto life for the experience of it? Was life a drug or a privilege..
He gasped in excruciating pain for a split second, but it soon went away, replaced by a very uncomfortable feeling somewhere inside him.
Maybe a new life awaits me... he thought, hopefully. When you took life for granted you never really gave anything else consideration, if not seriously than even just for the muse... I don't wanna die.
He thought of Kaitlyn, a girl he had a crush on at school. Was he sad because he would never get to hear yes.. or no? He sighed and let his imagination carry him from thought to thought, deciding what his new life would be like. Then, without his knowing or his consent, Nate's life suddenly ended.
Rather than unconscious oblivion, he felt something else. Do you ever get that feeling where you've just fallen asleep, and woken up an instant afterwards? It feels like you're falling down onto the bed from a foot above it? Thats what it felt like... only a thousand times the intensity..
The pain was gone. He felt sunlight.. |
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