Post by ignominius on Sept 16, 2011 8:54:16 GMT -5
Hello Peeps,
I've been a member for a week or two now, so I thought it time to post up an example of my kind of writing. Normally I write science fiction, but today, I decided to write a fantasy based short story. It was supposed to be a piece of flash fiction but I got carried away
Anyways, please feel to criticize, suggest or otherwise comment, you are even allowed to tell me if you like it or not! Read and enjoy! ;D
(oh and by the way, sorry about the 'English' spelling...I am English after all!)
Revelation
Quickly, Dirken drove the shovel deep into the earth, then with a mighty heave threw the soil on the blade over his shoulder. He had been doing that for an hour now and his hole was getting deeper. Already some of the spoil was falling back into the hole as he dug. Deeper and deeper until finally, with a dull clang he hit stone. Moving as far back as he could in the pit he had created, he cleared more of the remaining soil away to reveal a what looked like a mud-stained marble floor.
Brushing the remaining soil away revealed more. Around the marble was a carved border of some other lesser material. It had a carved vine with leaves and at one end was an inscription carved with characters from a long dead language. Dirken couldn't read it and even if he could, he wouldn't have cared. It most likely was a curse to those who entered into unbidden. The marble was not a floor, but a door. A trap-door which led to who-knows where. To Dirken it was just a calling. It had come in his sleep some days ago. It sounded like a choir of angels singing, yet there were no words, just a simple tune of the most divine nature. Somehow he had known where to dig. He knew how far to dig, but he had no idea yet why he should be digging. The tune drove him on.
He took out his knife and found a gap between the border and the marble. With a struggle he managed to gain a purchase and as he prised the marble up, the knife began to bend ominously in a way that knives were never meant. Fumbling, he grabbed the shovel and pushed the blade into the enlarged gap and allowed the marble to drop a bit as he removed the knife. Standing up, he was able to use the shovel to lever up the marble further until the gap was large enough for even his dirt-stained stubby fingers.
Dirken was only a young lad. His village was a poor farming community, trying to scratch out a living in a land that was blighted by constant famines. It was an odd place. It should have been verdant, green and productive, but everything was planted fared poorly. Yields were low and throughout the land there was little cheer. Dirken himself supported himself and his mother. His father, who had been a poor man had sold himself to his local lord in order to buy food to keep his family and to buy a few cattle to keep on the little land he had. His lord had worked him hard and eventually the work had killed him. It left Dirken to look after his mother and from the few cows they had and the small patch of dirt they called theirs, they managed to grow a few vegetables, and sold the milk for a little meat. It was a paltry sum, but they were better off than some.
The village was small. It's one church had long ago fallen into disrepair and ruin. There was no priest, no spiritual guidance and in fact many of the locals had fallen back on the old gods. The old festivals were once again popular mostly because they released the villagers from their miseries for a day or two. The King had outlawed the faith and consorted with men who sought their knowledge and wisdom from stones, from the stars and from chicken entrails. No one was quite sure when the blight on the land had started, some had said before the King had announced his law and some said after. Either way, throughout the land only evil walked and the people lived in fear. It was not long after that the King demanded more in taxes and tribute increasing the misery of the people. No, the village of Axbridge was not a happy place, and Dirken, for his tender years was not a happy man. When that tune in his head started that things began to change for him. Little did he realise quite how things were to change.
He groped for a grip on the marble and with both hands now holding on, heaved the marble back. It revealed a rectangular hole which was so perfectly black that the night sky appeared as daylight by comparison. Dirken took a stone and dropped it into the hole. Within a second there was the sound of a stone bouncing and falling down what could only be stairs. Without any further thought - he just knew that it would be okay - he sat on the edge with his legs dangling. gripping two sides of the hole, he lowered himself down. He felt cold stone beneath his feet and let his full weight rest on his feet. He explored the surface he stood on with a foot and discovered that it was a step. He put is foot down on the next step down and repeated the process. Soon he had descended. He had not descended into darkness though as a glow began to light up the dark, revealing a richly carved wall with the steps going down. He could not see to the bottom, but with every step the light increased and the music in his head began to sound as if it was in the very room with him. The light itself was an eery ethereal glow which had a warmth about it that Dirken couldn't explain. In fact there was a feeling of safety and well being that started to come over him and increased as he reached the bottom of the stairway.
At the bottom, he could finally see what the room was. It was a place of worship. there were rows of seats. On some of those seats were skeletons, dry, dusty bones. To Dirken they didn't look as if they were the bones of the dead from tombs. There was something...something he couldn't put his finger on. As he looked further on, there as in front of the seats, a table. At first it appeared bare and empty, but he saw that in fact there was a book lying open. He knew what books were but couldn't read them. Intrigue and curiosity got the better of Dirken and he walked down to that table. He looked at the book and at the words written on the page. The music was now no longer in his head but was a sweet song that made his heart soar. He reached out and touched the book.
A deep booming voice sounded.
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, son of Renweard, step closer"
Dirken obliged without fear or wonder. Somehow, that voice which boomed loudly or so it seemed held authority and air of kindess to it.
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, you have been chosen"
"Chose..chosen?", Dirken stutterd back a question.
"You have been chosen to bring life back to the land. Observe those dry bones"
Dirken turned to look at the bones on the seats, and saw them transformed. Each was a person, dressed in a dazzling white gown and as each set of bones took on it's form, the music, the tune became a full choir of the most beautiful sounds that Dirken had heard.
"My people have become as dry bones, they no longer no their God, they no longer know joy. Through you Dirken, son of Iuwine, will take my words to all the people through out the land. You shall lead the people back to the light"
Dirken, having no more fear, not that he had any before, asked another question.
"Who are you and why have you chosen me?"
"I am He who created the world, I am he that has withheld the waters from the land because the people turned their backs on me willingly, I am the eternal one, I am the One. You, Dirken, son of Iuwine, are a man of good heart, a man who knows no guile nor any wickedness and so you have been chosen to take my words to the people and like the seed sown in the spring, so shall you sow my word amongst the people"
The voice continued
"Read Dirken, read the book of laws and tell the people once more how to live to please their creator"
"But I can't read, my liege" Dirken said worriedly
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, If I created the world, do you not think I could give you the knowledge of words?"
"I..I..suppose so, but"
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, it is time. You will meet many who will doubt, many who will mock. Do not argue,
do not fight, just tell them the words and let the seeds planted in the breasts of men grow"
Without warning, everything dimmed. The ethereal glow remained but was beginning to dim. The host that had been singing was gone and all that remained were the dry dusty bones on the seats. Dirken turned to the table and saw the book. He peered at the pages and was astonished to realise he could read them. They were words of such beauty and joy that Dirken picked up the book and started to read, but the light was failing. Dirken made his way out of the old temple and climbed out of the pit. The night sky was tinged with a purple that indicated the coming sun. A new day was dawning and Dirken had a song in his heart that he wanted to share with the world.
Clutching the book, he looked back towards the pit. Where the pit should have been was but grass and tufts of weeds. Of the old temple there was no sign. Only the book remained, it's time-stained cover held riches beyond this world and Dirken was charged with it's keep. Dirken lifted his eyes to the sky and the stars that were beginning to fade into the sky with the advancing morning light.
"Thank you creator, thank you!"
With that he turned and left for home and his village, he left longing for the new day that was now his to give!
I've been a member for a week or two now, so I thought it time to post up an example of my kind of writing. Normally I write science fiction, but today, I decided to write a fantasy based short story. It was supposed to be a piece of flash fiction but I got carried away
Anyways, please feel to criticize, suggest or otherwise comment, you are even allowed to tell me if you like it or not! Read and enjoy! ;D
(oh and by the way, sorry about the 'English' spelling...I am English after all!)
Revelation
Quickly, Dirken drove the shovel deep into the earth, then with a mighty heave threw the soil on the blade over his shoulder. He had been doing that for an hour now and his hole was getting deeper. Already some of the spoil was falling back into the hole as he dug. Deeper and deeper until finally, with a dull clang he hit stone. Moving as far back as he could in the pit he had created, he cleared more of the remaining soil away to reveal a what looked like a mud-stained marble floor.
Brushing the remaining soil away revealed more. Around the marble was a carved border of some other lesser material. It had a carved vine with leaves and at one end was an inscription carved with characters from a long dead language. Dirken couldn't read it and even if he could, he wouldn't have cared. It most likely was a curse to those who entered into unbidden. The marble was not a floor, but a door. A trap-door which led to who-knows where. To Dirken it was just a calling. It had come in his sleep some days ago. It sounded like a choir of angels singing, yet there were no words, just a simple tune of the most divine nature. Somehow he had known where to dig. He knew how far to dig, but he had no idea yet why he should be digging. The tune drove him on.
He took out his knife and found a gap between the border and the marble. With a struggle he managed to gain a purchase and as he prised the marble up, the knife began to bend ominously in a way that knives were never meant. Fumbling, he grabbed the shovel and pushed the blade into the enlarged gap and allowed the marble to drop a bit as he removed the knife. Standing up, he was able to use the shovel to lever up the marble further until the gap was large enough for even his dirt-stained stubby fingers.
Dirken was only a young lad. His village was a poor farming community, trying to scratch out a living in a land that was blighted by constant famines. It was an odd place. It should have been verdant, green and productive, but everything was planted fared poorly. Yields were low and throughout the land there was little cheer. Dirken himself supported himself and his mother. His father, who had been a poor man had sold himself to his local lord in order to buy food to keep his family and to buy a few cattle to keep on the little land he had. His lord had worked him hard and eventually the work had killed him. It left Dirken to look after his mother and from the few cows they had and the small patch of dirt they called theirs, they managed to grow a few vegetables, and sold the milk for a little meat. It was a paltry sum, but they were better off than some.
The village was small. It's one church had long ago fallen into disrepair and ruin. There was no priest, no spiritual guidance and in fact many of the locals had fallen back on the old gods. The old festivals were once again popular mostly because they released the villagers from their miseries for a day or two. The King had outlawed the faith and consorted with men who sought their knowledge and wisdom from stones, from the stars and from chicken entrails. No one was quite sure when the blight on the land had started, some had said before the King had announced his law and some said after. Either way, throughout the land only evil walked and the people lived in fear. It was not long after that the King demanded more in taxes and tribute increasing the misery of the people. No, the village of Axbridge was not a happy place, and Dirken, for his tender years was not a happy man. When that tune in his head started that things began to change for him. Little did he realise quite how things were to change.
He groped for a grip on the marble and with both hands now holding on, heaved the marble back. It revealed a rectangular hole which was so perfectly black that the night sky appeared as daylight by comparison. Dirken took a stone and dropped it into the hole. Within a second there was the sound of a stone bouncing and falling down what could only be stairs. Without any further thought - he just knew that it would be okay - he sat on the edge with his legs dangling. gripping two sides of the hole, he lowered himself down. He felt cold stone beneath his feet and let his full weight rest on his feet. He explored the surface he stood on with a foot and discovered that it was a step. He put is foot down on the next step down and repeated the process. Soon he had descended. He had not descended into darkness though as a glow began to light up the dark, revealing a richly carved wall with the steps going down. He could not see to the bottom, but with every step the light increased and the music in his head began to sound as if it was in the very room with him. The light itself was an eery ethereal glow which had a warmth about it that Dirken couldn't explain. In fact there was a feeling of safety and well being that started to come over him and increased as he reached the bottom of the stairway.
At the bottom, he could finally see what the room was. It was a place of worship. there were rows of seats. On some of those seats were skeletons, dry, dusty bones. To Dirken they didn't look as if they were the bones of the dead from tombs. There was something...something he couldn't put his finger on. As he looked further on, there as in front of the seats, a table. At first it appeared bare and empty, but he saw that in fact there was a book lying open. He knew what books were but couldn't read them. Intrigue and curiosity got the better of Dirken and he walked down to that table. He looked at the book and at the words written on the page. The music was now no longer in his head but was a sweet song that made his heart soar. He reached out and touched the book.
A deep booming voice sounded.
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, son of Renweard, step closer"
Dirken obliged without fear or wonder. Somehow, that voice which boomed loudly or so it seemed held authority and air of kindess to it.
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, you have been chosen"
"Chose..chosen?", Dirken stutterd back a question.
"You have been chosen to bring life back to the land. Observe those dry bones"
Dirken turned to look at the bones on the seats, and saw them transformed. Each was a person, dressed in a dazzling white gown and as each set of bones took on it's form, the music, the tune became a full choir of the most beautiful sounds that Dirken had heard.
"My people have become as dry bones, they no longer no their God, they no longer know joy. Through you Dirken, son of Iuwine, will take my words to all the people through out the land. You shall lead the people back to the light"
Dirken, having no more fear, not that he had any before, asked another question.
"Who are you and why have you chosen me?"
"I am He who created the world, I am he that has withheld the waters from the land because the people turned their backs on me willingly, I am the eternal one, I am the One. You, Dirken, son of Iuwine, are a man of good heart, a man who knows no guile nor any wickedness and so you have been chosen to take my words to the people and like the seed sown in the spring, so shall you sow my word amongst the people"
The voice continued
"Read Dirken, read the book of laws and tell the people once more how to live to please their creator"
"But I can't read, my liege" Dirken said worriedly
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, If I created the world, do you not think I could give you the knowledge of words?"
"I..I..suppose so, but"
"Dirken, son of Iuwine, it is time. You will meet many who will doubt, many who will mock. Do not argue,
do not fight, just tell them the words and let the seeds planted in the breasts of men grow"
Without warning, everything dimmed. The ethereal glow remained but was beginning to dim. The host that had been singing was gone and all that remained were the dry dusty bones on the seats. Dirken turned to the table and saw the book. He peered at the pages and was astonished to realise he could read them. They were words of such beauty and joy that Dirken picked up the book and started to read, but the light was failing. Dirken made his way out of the old temple and climbed out of the pit. The night sky was tinged with a purple that indicated the coming sun. A new day was dawning and Dirken had a song in his heart that he wanted to share with the world.
Clutching the book, he looked back towards the pit. Where the pit should have been was but grass and tufts of weeds. Of the old temple there was no sign. Only the book remained, it's time-stained cover held riches beyond this world and Dirken was charged with it's keep. Dirken lifted his eyes to the sky and the stars that were beginning to fade into the sky with the advancing morning light.
"Thank you creator, thank you!"
With that he turned and left for home and his village, he left longing for the new day that was now his to give!
), it was written in my lunch break. It was meant to be a very short writing exercise using three randomly selected nouns, but as always with some stories, they seem to take on a life of their own and this one went off in a direction I wasn't quite expecting. 
