Post by Lady Hammer on Apr 2, 2007 11:28:18 GMT -5
This is the first chapter of my insanely long novel. I'm still working on it (obviously) and would LOVE some feedback. This chapter just doesn't feel very strong (of course that could be wrong) so tell me what you think!
Black Lotus
I. The Bell Contract
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing, they said.
It was all the same. The voices, the faces, the God awful ringing, it had all melded together into one, big, horrible noise amongst a backdrop of ghastly shapes. Every night.
Every night, the bells were ringing.
The soft pattering of the twilight rain against the dingy window brought her eyes open. Her vision was obscured by her weariness, but slowly, her dim bedroom sharpened in her sight. Rain. Awful, awful rain. Crestfallen, she took the flannel sleeve of her nightshirt and rubbed away the fog on her window, and silently watched over the sleeping town through the rain streaking down the glass.
Every night. Every single night for the past three months, the bells would ring. At first, there was just one bell. A single bell ushering it’s loud clangs amidst the void of her unconsciousness. Then, the next night, two bells. Then three, four, five - it went on and on, another bell each night, bringing along the hollow faces of nameless ghosts. However, she hadn’t told one other soul a word about her nightmares. They would stop. They had to stop, eventually. Nothing goes on forever, she told herself.
The sky above was so thick and black, she almost wished she could just pull it down and wrap it around her, like a warm blanket. Something to shield her from the dreams. She was tired at waking up around three in the morning every night. Silently, the woman slipped out of bed, her bare feet landing as softly as they could on the wooden floor. Shivering, she tip-toed to the corner where she kept her boots, trying to stay as quiet as possible while stepping on the creaky planks. She slipped on the boots, grabbed the thickest cloak she could find, and prepared for her long journey downstairs.
The stairway was damp, musty and cold, and very uninviting. Shadows in every corner reached out and swallowed her as she slowly crept along, one step at a time. Often, she’d tell herself that her home was the scariest place to live, as your heart was always pounding. You couldn’t help but keep your eye out, because you could always feel someone watching you. She was ashamed of herself for being afraid of such trivial things, ashamed because she was a grown woman, but the darkness was so much more engulfing where she resided.
Hallway after hallway, she clutched her cloak tightly and pulled up her hood, doing anything to make it to the front door alive. She knew it was silly, but something inside of her was always afraid. At last, the entryway was in clear view. The two statues on either side of the front door loomed over her like gargoyles, drawing out their jagged claws of shadows, lashing out at her. Shrugging away her imagination, the woman reached for the icy cold doorknob. The brass handle turned with a loud squeal, and as she pulled the door open, the hinges screamed the cry of a banshee. The woman fled as fast as she could.
The rain had made a gritty mud of the sandy, pebbly streets and walkways. Goosebumps crawled along the woman’s flesh, and the rain fell harder. Suddenly, a flock of silvery rainbirds cawed and took flight from a rooftop, a flurry of feathers spewing from their wings. The people of her city had come to honor the so-called “rainbirds”, and the word was that their gathering was a sign that the sky was ready to water the earth. They were puny little birds, barely half the size of a bulky crow, and would stay in one spot for hours, just watching. It wasn’t often that you’d see them in the air. They just sat and observed, still as stone.
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing.
The bells were still ringing in her head, though. What did the dream mean? And why was she having it? The bells were too loud, the ghosts mumbled too much, and the faces were too many to make anything of it anymore.
For a long while, she stayed on a bench she could sit on, and stayed dry beneath an old, tattered awning. The wind was starting to pick up a little bit, and the temperature was dropping too much to stay comfortable. Her teeth were chattering, and she was sure that her lips had turned a rich shade of blue. But still, she stayed. She ran through every possible scenario that came to her mind, but she still couldn’t understand the dreams.
Hours later, the wind chill was finally too much for the woman to take, and a warm fire back home sounded ideal. Scuffling along, shivering in her sopping wet cloak, bells chimed behind her, still. She was the one, lonely soul wandering the streets. Her sloshing footsteps were the only sound traveling down the streets, and her feet dragged along, leaving long tracks in the mud that were quickly washed away. Another gust of wind blew against her, and her cloak was swept from her back, carried down the roads by the oncoming gale. The woman cursed her luck and held back frustrated tears, continuing on. Everyone was lucky they were still asleep. They were lucky that they had jobs inside a shop or cottage.
“ARC”.
She was finally back “home”. “Always Raze Chaos”. People in her city would die to live where she did, but she had grown to hate it. Dreadfully, she pushed open the doors. The cold, damp hinges let out another screech, but at last it wasn’t the only sound filling the halls.
“It’s right around the corner.”
“I know that.”
“Nothing’s happened yet!”
“But there’s still time, Phio! Anything could happen… it’s just waiting till the last minute, when we’re least to expect it!”
The woman stepped in the center room downstairs, sopping wet, her thick blonde hair dripping rainwater onto the rug. On her face was nothing of content.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
The two men in the room took no notice to her snide frown, and instead continued counseling. The two men looked similar, but their differences were quite distinct. The taller of the two was quite tall, and his skin was nicely tanned, and his dark blonde hair was full and neatly parted. Turning to the other side of the mahogany entry table, the other man was much shorter, his skin was pale, his hair was messy, and his demeanor was at the moment anything but confident.
“No, you’re just in time, Aeslyn,” the taller man said, still not taking his eyes away from the smaller man. Hearing her name nearly slapped the woman back into reality, and suddenly, all thoughts of her dreams drained from her conscience.
“Centa, maybe we don’t have to be so focused on this case right now! Maybe you’re right, maybe it will just wait until the last minute! Then, in the meantime, we can focus around everything else in the city!” the smaller man started up again. Centa narrowed his eyes.
“That’s just the attitude they’re waiting for,” he said. Aeslyn began to wring her hair out on the rug in disinterest. She had learned to stay out of the two watchmen’s business since living here, and that it was best to live her life like they were never there.
“There’s more important things to worry about!” the smaller man bit back, clenching his fists.
“What could be more important than this, Phio!?”
“How about the civil well-being of this city?”
For a moment, there was a silence filled only by droplets of water hitting the hard carpet rug. The men resorted to giving their utmost rapt attention to random spots on the table.
“Aeslyn, stop that!”
Phio had suddenly turned and was looking her sharply in the eye. She did so quite plainly, placing her hands on her hips.
“Oh, please forgive me Heywood,” came her bitter sarcasm. “I need a new cloak. Mine blew down the street in the wind.”
“We aren’t able to cater to your ever whim just yet, Aeslyn. Rather… I need you to do us a favor,” Centa replied, then dashing off into another room. Perplexed, Phio started to run after him, but his accomplice soon came running back with a large sheet of paper and a quill. Raising an eyebrow, Aeslyn curtly folded her arms.
“I hope it doesn’t involve going outside. I said I need a new cloak.”
“Alright, alright, here,” he mumbled, taking off his cloak and handing it to the expectant woman, still managing to scribble neatly on the paper. Aeslyn took it with a cringe.
“I didn’t ask for a tent--”
“Take it! Just do this for us and you won’t have rent this month!”
Centa’s words struck a certain string in Aeslyn’s head, and she was suddenly wrapped in the man’s giant brown cloak, ready to go. He quickly scratched out his signature, and passed it to Phio. When the ARC men had marked the document, Centa rolled it up and handed it to blonde.
“Here. Post it on the bulletin board in the Town Square,” he said.
“That’s all? Well gosh, I wouldn’t have made such a big deal if that’s all it was going to be…”
The woman’s muddy boots tracked beautiful footprints, smeared by Centa’s oversized cloak trailing behind her. Her nonchalance irked him for a second, but quickly, he turned back to Phio.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Is what better? You sent her out to tag a petty message to the board?”
“No,” Centa remarked. “I’m taking out two birds with one stone. We’re gonna gather up some watchmen from the association to take out the city matters for us, while we work on the real matter at hand!”
Phio sighed, his shoulders sagging low. “Sometimes I really wish they’d just settle for trick-or-treating…”
Black Lotus
I. The Bell Contract
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing, they said.
It was all the same. The voices, the faces, the God awful ringing, it had all melded together into one, big, horrible noise amongst a backdrop of ghastly shapes. Every night.
Every night, the bells were ringing.
The soft pattering of the twilight rain against the dingy window brought her eyes open. Her vision was obscured by her weariness, but slowly, her dim bedroom sharpened in her sight. Rain. Awful, awful rain. Crestfallen, she took the flannel sleeve of her nightshirt and rubbed away the fog on her window, and silently watched over the sleeping town through the rain streaking down the glass.
Every night. Every single night for the past three months, the bells would ring. At first, there was just one bell. A single bell ushering it’s loud clangs amidst the void of her unconsciousness. Then, the next night, two bells. Then three, four, five - it went on and on, another bell each night, bringing along the hollow faces of nameless ghosts. However, she hadn’t told one other soul a word about her nightmares. They would stop. They had to stop, eventually. Nothing goes on forever, she told herself.
The sky above was so thick and black, she almost wished she could just pull it down and wrap it around her, like a warm blanket. Something to shield her from the dreams. She was tired at waking up around three in the morning every night. Silently, the woman slipped out of bed, her bare feet landing as softly as they could on the wooden floor. Shivering, she tip-toed to the corner where she kept her boots, trying to stay as quiet as possible while stepping on the creaky planks. She slipped on the boots, grabbed the thickest cloak she could find, and prepared for her long journey downstairs.
The stairway was damp, musty and cold, and very uninviting. Shadows in every corner reached out and swallowed her as she slowly crept along, one step at a time. Often, she’d tell herself that her home was the scariest place to live, as your heart was always pounding. You couldn’t help but keep your eye out, because you could always feel someone watching you. She was ashamed of herself for being afraid of such trivial things, ashamed because she was a grown woman, but the darkness was so much more engulfing where she resided.
Hallway after hallway, she clutched her cloak tightly and pulled up her hood, doing anything to make it to the front door alive. She knew it was silly, but something inside of her was always afraid. At last, the entryway was in clear view. The two statues on either side of the front door loomed over her like gargoyles, drawing out their jagged claws of shadows, lashing out at her. Shrugging away her imagination, the woman reached for the icy cold doorknob. The brass handle turned with a loud squeal, and as she pulled the door open, the hinges screamed the cry of a banshee. The woman fled as fast as she could.
The rain had made a gritty mud of the sandy, pebbly streets and walkways. Goosebumps crawled along the woman’s flesh, and the rain fell harder. Suddenly, a flock of silvery rainbirds cawed and took flight from a rooftop, a flurry of feathers spewing from their wings. The people of her city had come to honor the so-called “rainbirds”, and the word was that their gathering was a sign that the sky was ready to water the earth. They were puny little birds, barely half the size of a bulky crow, and would stay in one spot for hours, just watching. It wasn’t often that you’d see them in the air. They just sat and observed, still as stone.
Bells ringing.
Bells ringing.
The bells were still ringing in her head, though. What did the dream mean? And why was she having it? The bells were too loud, the ghosts mumbled too much, and the faces were too many to make anything of it anymore.
For a long while, she stayed on a bench she could sit on, and stayed dry beneath an old, tattered awning. The wind was starting to pick up a little bit, and the temperature was dropping too much to stay comfortable. Her teeth were chattering, and she was sure that her lips had turned a rich shade of blue. But still, she stayed. She ran through every possible scenario that came to her mind, but she still couldn’t understand the dreams.
Hours later, the wind chill was finally too much for the woman to take, and a warm fire back home sounded ideal. Scuffling along, shivering in her sopping wet cloak, bells chimed behind her, still. She was the one, lonely soul wandering the streets. Her sloshing footsteps were the only sound traveling down the streets, and her feet dragged along, leaving long tracks in the mud that were quickly washed away. Another gust of wind blew against her, and her cloak was swept from her back, carried down the roads by the oncoming gale. The woman cursed her luck and held back frustrated tears, continuing on. Everyone was lucky they were still asleep. They were lucky that they had jobs inside a shop or cottage.
“ARC”.
She was finally back “home”. “Always Raze Chaos”. People in her city would die to live where she did, but she had grown to hate it. Dreadfully, she pushed open the doors. The cold, damp hinges let out another screech, but at last it wasn’t the only sound filling the halls.
“It’s right around the corner.”
“I know that.”
“Nothing’s happened yet!”
“But there’s still time, Phio! Anything could happen… it’s just waiting till the last minute, when we’re least to expect it!”
The woman stepped in the center room downstairs, sopping wet, her thick blonde hair dripping rainwater onto the rug. On her face was nothing of content.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
The two men in the room took no notice to her snide frown, and instead continued counseling. The two men looked similar, but their differences were quite distinct. The taller of the two was quite tall, and his skin was nicely tanned, and his dark blonde hair was full and neatly parted. Turning to the other side of the mahogany entry table, the other man was much shorter, his skin was pale, his hair was messy, and his demeanor was at the moment anything but confident.
“No, you’re just in time, Aeslyn,” the taller man said, still not taking his eyes away from the smaller man. Hearing her name nearly slapped the woman back into reality, and suddenly, all thoughts of her dreams drained from her conscience.
“Centa, maybe we don’t have to be so focused on this case right now! Maybe you’re right, maybe it will just wait until the last minute! Then, in the meantime, we can focus around everything else in the city!” the smaller man started up again. Centa narrowed his eyes.
“That’s just the attitude they’re waiting for,” he said. Aeslyn began to wring her hair out on the rug in disinterest. She had learned to stay out of the two watchmen’s business since living here, and that it was best to live her life like they were never there.
“There’s more important things to worry about!” the smaller man bit back, clenching his fists.
“What could be more important than this, Phio!?”
“How about the civil well-being of this city?”
For a moment, there was a silence filled only by droplets of water hitting the hard carpet rug. The men resorted to giving their utmost rapt attention to random spots on the table.
“Aeslyn, stop that!”
Phio had suddenly turned and was looking her sharply in the eye. She did so quite plainly, placing her hands on her hips.
“Oh, please forgive me Heywood,” came her bitter sarcasm. “I need a new cloak. Mine blew down the street in the wind.”
“We aren’t able to cater to your ever whim just yet, Aeslyn. Rather… I need you to do us a favor,” Centa replied, then dashing off into another room. Perplexed, Phio started to run after him, but his accomplice soon came running back with a large sheet of paper and a quill. Raising an eyebrow, Aeslyn curtly folded her arms.
“I hope it doesn’t involve going outside. I said I need a new cloak.”
“Alright, alright, here,” he mumbled, taking off his cloak and handing it to the expectant woman, still managing to scribble neatly on the paper. Aeslyn took it with a cringe.
“I didn’t ask for a tent--”
“Take it! Just do this for us and you won’t have rent this month!”
Centa’s words struck a certain string in Aeslyn’s head, and she was suddenly wrapped in the man’s giant brown cloak, ready to go. He quickly scratched out his signature, and passed it to Phio. When the ARC men had marked the document, Centa rolled it up and handed it to blonde.
“Here. Post it on the bulletin board in the Town Square,” he said.
“That’s all? Well gosh, I wouldn’t have made such a big deal if that’s all it was going to be…”
The woman’s muddy boots tracked beautiful footprints, smeared by Centa’s oversized cloak trailing behind her. Her nonchalance irked him for a second, but quickly, he turned back to Phio.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Is what better? You sent her out to tag a petty message to the board?”
“No,” Centa remarked. “I’m taking out two birds with one stone. We’re gonna gather up some watchmen from the association to take out the city matters for us, while we work on the real matter at hand!”
Phio sighed, his shoulders sagging low. “Sometimes I really wish they’d just settle for trick-or-treating…”
