»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Dark Shadow
| Passions in Prose |
|
Dark Shadow |
|
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704
|
Okay - here it is. The first part of my novel. (Oh God - what have I done!!!!) Chris - it's your turn! Rip away!!!! For anyone else who finds the time to read this, I would greatly appreciate any input and honest opinions if you would want to read more - even if fantasy isn't your thing, I'd still like to know what you think! (I think the format may be a little funny due to the copy and paste!!!) Dark Shadow Copyright 1999 KM. The Wanderer knelt beneath the stately arlan, smiling slightly as he examined the tiny buds adorning the smooth, reddish branches. Gladly he welcomed the herald of spring, for his boots were worn, his body weary of the sullen winter. Yet it was not the tree's re-birth which had seized his eye, though he sorely wished it were so, but a disturbance in the forest floor beneath the great trunk. Without releasing breath, he steeled his eyes to take in the carnage laid out before him: The skeni had been torn apart, cleanly. The sight chilled him. The pathetic creature still clutched a nut in one little paw and as he looked closely, searching for teeth marks, or rips caused by claws in the soft black fur, the cold breeze seemed suddenly colder. There were no marks at all. Although the little creature had clearly been dead for a day or more, not one insect had touched it. Unwillingly, he bent closer and sniffed. Surprise crossed his face at the absence of the odour of decay. Not easily disturbed the Wanderer shivered in alarm as he reached out and gently laid his weather-beaten palms upon the bark of the lofty tree. For a few moments he waited, then softly he began to call, his mind whispering the song of Grief Healing. He felt the faint vibrations of confusion shuddering through the arlan; her tiny lodger had been killed by a manner not of the Journey. The tree, provider of food and shelter for the ill-fated skeni, was devastated and suffering, and the entire Ejlahn forest had felt her pain. He had wondered, as he walked along the shady trails, had felt the trace of unease, an unease which had lead him to the base of this elegant tree, so far from the northern trails he had been travelling on. Slowly he straightened, sliding his hands softly over the smooth bark. 'Fleoi lir johe, mlie dohje mi lir col,'...as you know loss, may you know free healing. The Wanderer quietly intoned the ancient words of restoration, and plucked a mature twig from a low hanging branch. He stooped and carefully covered the skeni's body, bringing nurturer and nurtured together, then moved his hands rhythmically in ritualistic healing over the arlan's smooth surface until he felt her grief lessen. For a few moments he embraced the stricken tree until, with a deep sigh, he pushed chilled hands into his fur-lined pockets and walked on, an urgency in his pace that had not been there before. Eshaia: he needed her, needed her to explain this unfathomable sense of distress looming in the boughs of his hurting trees. All around him branches groaned in the cold rising wind, the shadows grew darker as filtered sunlight withdrew its comfort with the arrival of dark clouds, and the Wanderer felt a shroud of fear settle over his weary jai. __________________________________ The insect's iridescent wings hummed as it pirouetted in the air. Gracefully, it descended toward the carved writing table. Suddenly a vicious swipe sent it spinning to the floor and an elegant finger pinned one fragile wing to the priceless hand-crafted rug. A pair of expressionless green eyes regarded the fluttering creature as it struggled vainly for freedom. Swift as light the finger lifted and a cruel hand slammed down, crushing life. Kalya stretched her spine and leaned back in her chair, gazing at the bright yellow juices dripping from her hand. She stood and walked languidly to the work of art gracing the wall behind the table. The tapestry glimmered in the late light slanting through the window. Coolly, she reached out and smeared the remains of the joyfly over the rare threads, leaving streaks of sticky gold in the ebony fibres. Turning, she regarded her silent help-maiden. 'I will walk now in the gardens. I will return in one hour. My supper will then be on my table, and this will mess will be gone. The blood of a joyfly tends to stain, Mervi, unless washed quickly. I suggest you make haste.' Kalya stepped from the room, her slippered feet making no sound as she crossed from the carpet onto the wooden floor of a wide corridor, inlaid patterns of golden jora wood bordering the sides. She walked steadily through her quarters, humming tonelessly. She stopped only to rinse the slight stain of yellow on her hand in the ornate basin at the end of the hall; and frowned when her hand plunged into cold water. Davor would receive the lash on his back tonight. After wiping her hands on the soft linen cloth resting on the stone stand, she dropped it in a heap on the floor and vowed that if it were not replaced when she returned the help-man would feel the strokes of double lashings. She pushed open the huge doors that led to the gardens and stepped from the gloomy interior onto a glossy landing, made solidly from translucent quarjo stone, its many tones of purple shimmering in the sun. Gentle lilac swirled into deeper mauve as strings of dark crimson laced across the surface. Squinting as the light hit her eyes, she descended the wide steps, skimming the bannister with her fingertips and at the bottom Kalya turned left, drifting past the eastern wing of the huge manor. Serene beauty welcomed her at the entrance gate of the Garden of Blues; flowers danced slowly in the gentle breeze, blooming in rampant profusion. Tiny pale blue grass flowers, daytime stars, shone in the sun while under her feet a path of square tiles, lacquered brilliant blue and covered in swirling designs of golden flowers wove through the garden. Smaller paths broke away, enticingly, to end beside fountains of rare white quarjo, painted blue petals bordering their wide rims. Exotic morje shrubs, leaves cerulean, edged other walkways, leading to peaceful, secret places where quiet pools swarmed with fish. Multitudes of flowers reflected the hues of a clear sky, releasing sweet fragrance into the air. Special fertilisers, imbibed with properties for unceasing growth ensured seasonal death never blighted the charm of the Garden of Blues. Such was its repute, its glory, that many scholars from Jar-Vor's Learning Core wrote letters of petition to gain entry for a time of inspiration. Most were refused; the few who entered dreamed always of returning. Kalya saw none of it. Indifferent to the loveliness surrounding her, she walked, her eyes focused only on the white object at the end of the main path. Soon she moved faster, finally breaking into an inelegant trot and the train of her robe, forgotten from her fingers, trailed along the tiles. At last she halted before the ivory statue, its stone robes adorned by a twining vine of brilliant passion flowers. Coloured deep as twilight, their petals held the promise of night's intimacy. Kalya looked into impassive eyes and gently stretched out a hand with a tenderness the servants had never seen. The same hand that had killed the joyfly now caressed the cold cheek. 'Hello Mother,' Kalya murmured, as she sank to the ground and placed her head against the unfeeling knee. As she knelt, eyes closed, on the cold earth, she felt the breeze stirring her hair as the sweet touch of her mother's hand. The leaves of the passion flowers, gently scratching the stone, became the sound of Ijaea's heavily brocaded hem scraping the floor and remembered hints of her mother's perfume filled her nostrils as the scent of flowers surrounded her. Every evening Kalya came. Every evening she waited for the remembrance of Ijaea's voice, but it was lost. On the coldest of winter nights, snuggled in fur, she waited. In the heaviest rain she watched rivulets of tears run down Ijaea's peaceful stone-caught face. But her voice remained buried. Kalya opened her eyes, longing threatening to overwhelm her and swiftly plucked a passion bloom, crushing its delicacy, until she felt her nails dig into her palm. Calm again, she remained pressed against the cold side of Ijaea, until the shadows grew long and the wind blew chill breath onto her skin. She rose then, slowly, her robe of light green silk crumpled and grass stained and looked long into her mother's face, as if waiting for a smile. She kissed the stone lips and walked away from the Garden of Blues, leaving her mother behind her as she did every evening, frozen in her soulless shape of stone. The help-man had just finished filling the basin with freshly heated water and was lighting the huge candles, when he heard the heavy doors begin to open. It could be only her. Quickly he scurried obtrusively inside a small niche cut from the wall, designed to hold a statue - Greatmiss Kalya never adorned the halls of her quarters with statues. Once inside, Kalya began removing the soiled silk robe from her graceful body, seeming not to care if it tore and Davor hastily averted his eyes, fearful of what she might do if she saw him. Striding down the corridor, nearly naked, she stopped and abruptly turned. As he stood, unmoving in the shadows, she slowly advanced toward him, her poise as lethal as a snowkire stalking prey in the mountains. 'Did you look at me?' Kalya demanded without inflection, her voice ice cold. Silence. Looking at the floor the man opened his mouth, closed it, then squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sweat break out on his skin. Sharp nails raked his collar bone as Kalya twisted the shirt as his neck. 'Speak to me, fool, or I will take those eyes out!' she hissed as he began to shake. 'No...no, ne..e..ver, would I..' his voice trailed miserably away. Her fingers suddenly released him and he managed to retain his balance, standing upright, still with his eyes closed tight. He heard her voice close in his ear. 'Don't think I don't see you, just because you skulk in the shadows. You allowed the water to cool this afternoon, I see the towel has been replaced but, for your impudence, you will have double lashings. Before you go to receive your punishment take this robe to the laundry for rags. Do not open your eyes until you hear my chamber door shut.' The threat in her voice was clear. Davor felt her take one step back and out of the darkness a hard slap caught his cheek, and stumbling, he quickly jammed one hand against the wall. 'Remember, fool, who I am,' her voice of ice added to the chill in the hall and he heard the sound of her robe ripping, then felt it skim softly past his legs. He listened to her feet whisper away across the floor and waited, trembling, for the sound of her chamber door closing. When it came, he sagged in relief against the wall and pressed his hand across his stinging cheek; only then did he dare open his eyes. A few moments later when his body ceased to shake, he picked up the robe and marvelled that his Greatmiss could discard something so valuable so easily. For Earth's sake, it was worth more than a year's earnings! Greatmiss Kalya seemed to enjoy destroying things of beauty or innocence, he reflected with a shake of his head. Glaring defiantly at the great chamber doors, he ripped the now worthless silk into smaller pieces and then finished lighting the tapers. Now that she was gone, Davor's usual joviality restored itself and he reflected that something important must be on the Greatmiss' mind tonight; for him to be caught in the hall with her as she disrobed should have meant his eviction from the house. A double lashing was nothing he couldn't handle. Rewor or Dimarva would be in the guard-house and they would be easy on him. Everyone knew Greatmiss Kalya meted out punishments for ridiculous things. When the inevitable inquiry came in the morning, Davor knew the severity of his beating would be willingly exaggerated. As he walked, torn dress in hand, his fear faded and he began to anticipate the visit he would soon pay to the attractive healish-maid. The thought of her soft hands spreading soothing balm on his back made him tingle. The sensation almost, but not quite, made him forget the memory of Greatmiss Kalya's icy eyes. ______________________________ Those icy eyes were currently watching Livar, as he ripped the flesh from a thigh bone of a tenderly cooked scorce bird with his teeth. As he chewed, Kalya's eyes followed the thin trickle of blood and fat that ran down his chin, then watched it drip onto his napkin. Livar wiped his jaw with his sleeve, and broke a piece of seed bread in half to mop up the remaining juices congealing in his plate. Her own supper sat on her table, cold as stone by now. Another plate lay cooling, untouched, in front of her. Kalya didn't care; watching her father eat was enough to ruin her appetite for even her favourite dishes. The occasions they dined together were rare and Kalya was content to let it remain so. Even if her father's eating habits had been more pleasant, the opportunities to eat in the same room were seldom. Livar saw the interior of his home as often as the moon shone full. As she sat in the finely decorated eating room she thought she should have waited, could have allowed her father to consume his disgusting meal alone, but frustration and anxiety had compelled. So Kalya sat, coldly aloof, allowing none of her nerves to bleed through. As Livar finished the last huge piece of bread, cheeks bulging, he looked at her through the flickering light of the candles set in two huge candelabras on each side of the carved table. He swallowed noisily and beckoned to the help-man waiting quietly by the door. The empty plate was swiftly removed, her unappetising meal along with it. Cool slices of fruit were sure to follow. Livar rested his soft hands on the table top, rings gleaming in the muted light and beamed a great smile. Kalya fought down nausea as she saw the clumps of meat stuck between his teeth. Her own hands were pressed tight on her knees, sweat marring the fine gold silk. Her father belched and spoke while idly plucking at his teeth with a silver toothpick. 'Gold becomes you, my daughter. With that red hair...the picture of your mother, you are, in that golden gown.' He laughed, spittle spraying from his mouth. He could not see Kalya's hands clench into tight fists in her lap, but he saw the brief flicker of anger in her eyes, before it was smoothly veiled. Livar, faced with the cold wall that was his daughter, only smiled again. He had given up trying to reach inside Kalya; fathomless, she walked along her own dark paths, seeming to need solitude as flowers need sunshine. The fruit arrived, artistically arranged on its silver platter. More candles were lit, brightening the room, allowing figures of people and animals on tapestries to jump from shadow into life. Kalya could endure the silence no longer, she unfurled her fingers from their fists and pushed her hair behind her ears 'Father,' she began, the word stilted on her tongue, 'I was in the western wing this morning, when your correspondence arrived. I placed it on your reading table myself...' Livar interrupted her, a slight frown deepening the lines on his brow. 'You did a help-maid's chore? Most odd, for you, my fondest one.' Kalya did not meet his eyes, but shrugged and continued, 'Yes, I was going to the Learning room and the help-maid seemed rushed. I did her a...a favour.' That was a lie, they both knew it. Livar did not speak, but waited, as an uncomfortable silence crept through the room. As Kalya fought to keep her face calm, she felt red seep into her cheeks. 'Father, I saw the parchment...the seal of Shiumor, it was on top...the first one.' She stopped speaking as her voice quavered. Finally she glanced at him, the candle light sinking his eyes beneath his bushy eyebrows. 'Well then daughter, what of it?' Livar queried lightly, a piece of red fruit halfway to his lips. Kalya stared at him in disbelief. What of it? She masked her bewilderment at his casual question. 'Father, I expressed my feelings on the matter. I had assumed it was over. I was disturbed to see the seal. Have you opened it?' The ice had returned to her voice. 'I have.' Livar said nothing further, but gazed at his daughter, a half smile on his lips as he sucked the fruit in his mouth. Again Kalya waited, tension clawing at her throat, her breath fighting to pass through. As Livar carefully selected a yellow slice of tive, Kalya realised her father was not going to speak before her and she wondered if he was enjoying this: the mental torture of his only daughter. Resentment seething in her heart, Kalya voiced the question she had hoped never to ask. 'My Father, tell me, have you decided?' Her cold tone concealed her fear. For long moments, Livar stared at the fruit, chewing slowly, juice dripping from his fingers. Suddenly serious, he sighed deeply, the candle before him trembling in the sudden rush of breath. He met Kalya's eyes and nodded. 'I have my daughter, you will go.' Time ceased to walk, as Kalya froze and stared in horror at Livar. This was not happening, these cruel hands of fear were not clenching around her wrists. Fighting for composure Kalya stood, knuckles white as she clutched the edge of the table. Just able to keep her control intact, she pleaded, 'But Father, I have Tarvil. He can tutor me in Higher Learning or I can go to the Learning Core. There is no need for me to go away! Father?!' Desperation coloured her voice. 'I have decided Kalya. I see need. Tarvil himself has said you need to go, to see more of the Lands. He can then devote himself to your brother. There is nothing more to say, daughter. You will go.' As if to indicate the conversation was at an end he reached for another piece of fruit. The sight enraged her and the last of the ice melted in Kalya's veins as hot fire burned through her blood. She scraped her chair back, strode to her father's side and snatched up the platter of fruit. She raised it high above her and hurled it hard against the wall. Silver gleamed in the candlelight as the dish spun on the floor. 'I WILL NOT LEAVE MOTHER!' she screamed, her voice echoing from the high vaulted roof. The startled help-man quickly bowed and fled, as pieces of mangled fruit slid down the wall near where he had stood. Neither noticed him leave. Kalya stood, breathing heavily as a tear of rage trickled unnoticed down one crimson cheek. Livar stared at his daughter in shock, he had never seen such a display from her. Pale, he rose and faced her. 'Daughter, I ...' He never had a chance to finish, as his daughter, his Kalya, spat on the floor, right before his prized embroidered slippers. At that his face turned hard, he gripped her arm and shook it. 'Get to your quarters! You disgust me! Everything I do, I do for you and Nolar. You shame me! Now, get!' Kalya twisted free of his grasp, and with hate in her eyes, stalked from the room, her back stiff, hands crushing fistfuls of her robe. In her rage, she did not see the man standing just outside the door, nor did she see the satisfied smile he wore as he turned and walked in the opposite direction from the distraught young woman fleeing to her quarters. Inside Livar's private eating room, quiet reigned and the Grandmaster, Governor of the First Land of Quiljarn, sat silently at his table, head in hands, aching for his long dead wife. [This message has been edited by Severn (edited 10-04-1999).] |
||
| © Copyright 1999 Kamla Mahony - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
So you know love, now that your e-mail is funking (not bad word) up again, I am in the process of ahem, looking over your piece! I love it! However, I have found the need to pull out my bright red pen and to mark a few points. I am doing so right now and will reply in a few with my...ahem...suggestions! |
||
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Red pen?! So, what grade do you teach?? - heheheheheh!!!! |
||
|
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I teach myself! LOL, actually, you think YOU bleed on my work, you should see what happens when I sit down to edit it! But, now it's YOUR turn! HAHAHA (evil laughter ensues!) First: PARAGRAPHING! PARAGRAPHING! PARAGRAPHING! PARAGRAPHING! Did I mention paragraphing! LOL, I am indeed giving you a difficult time here, but it is something to be looked at. Paragraphing is VERY important to the ease of reading. And obviously you want it to be relatively easy so that you can keep their attention with your story, instead of frustrating with looooooonnnng paragraphs. My suggestions for that would be to break into a new paragraph whenever something different occeus. An example: Paragraph two as is: Not easily disturbed the Wanderer shivered in alarm as he reached out and gently laid his weather-beaten palms upon the bark of the lofty tree. For a few moments he waited, then softly he began to call, his mind whispering the song of Grief Healing. He felt the faint vibrations of confusion shuddering through the arlan; her tiny lodger had been killed by a manner not of the Journey. The tree, provider of food and shelter for the ill-fated skeni, was devastated and suffering, and the entire Ejlahn forest had felt her pain. He had wondered, as he walked along the shady trails, had felt the trace of unease, an unease which had lead him to the base of this elegant tree, so far from the northern trails he had been travelling on. How I would rather see it as a reader: Not easily disturbed the Wanderer shivered in alarm as he reached out and gently laid his weather-beaten palms upon the bark of the lofty tree. For a few moments he waited, then softly he began to call, his mind whispering the song of Grief Healing. He felt the faint vibrations of confusion shuddering through the arlan; her tiny lodger had been killed by a manner not of the Journey. The tree, provider of food and shelter for the ill-fated skeni, was devastated and suffering, and the entire Ejlahn forest had felt her pain. He had wondered, as he walked along the shady trails, had felt the trace of unease, an unease which had lead him to the base of this elegant tree, so far from the northern trails he had been travelling on. Might be a better way to break it up. Shorter paragraphs don't lok as daunting, and are as important to the flow of a story as punctuation...which brings me to... #2:He had wondered, as he walked along the shady trails, had felt the trace of unease, an unease which had lead him to the base of this elegant tree, so far from the northern trails he had been travelling on. As you have it written, with paragraph modification. Notice, that is is one long sentance. I had to read it a couple of times to understand it, because it "bounced" from one idea to another. My suggestion: As he walked along the shady trails he had felt a trace of unease. It was an unease which had lead him to the base of this elegant tree so far from the northern trails he had been travelling on. Who knows? My suggestion might not be valid.... I thin kthat a look at your punctuation in general is a good idea, (pot calling the kettle black!)  As for the good stuff: OMG girl! THis is incredible! You have such a poetic voice in your writing. I felt this ethereal air about me as I sunk into the story! I HATE Kalya! She's a B****ig meanie! Which brings another thing...this is hard to judge completely, because I haven't had the chance to see the other side, the balance! Curiosity point: Are you writing it from the perspective of that very bad woman, (good job writing her, she really got under my skin!) Or are you going to switch perspectives? Awesome my story woman, you indeed have a talent to reckon with! Kisses |
||
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
My Christopher - thankyou!!! the paragraphs. Hmmm - Some of it was the format. The reason they're blocked the way they are is because that's what they generally look like in books - but I see your point. Punctuation. Another HMMMM. Some of it is precisely because I write poetically through prose, but I do like your suggestion for that sentence. Good - you hate Kalya. That is the intention - for now. None of my characters are simplistic - there is a valid reason why she is the way she is, but if you hate her now then GREAT! THANKYOU!!!!!!! I'm so thrilled you like it. So thrilled!!! And you put so much effort into responding - deeply grateful, my dove. Yes, I'm going to switch perspectives between many characters, though a lot of them get brought together. I'm going to develop a slightly different style for each one - did you notice the tiny difference when it was from Davor's perspective? Thanks again, my dearest friend. Kisses to you too. |
||
|
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I'm glad you liked that I liked it! LOL The reason I asked about the posibility of changing perspectives, is because a our dear Ron pointed out to me recently, that is a VERY difficult thing to be able to pull off! I'm certainly not saying that you can't, only that you need to take care in doing so! Miss you star! |
||
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Have you read J.V Jones? She does it, and very well. Believe me - I'll do it!!!That isn't all I have written, so I guess I'm already pulling it off. I haven't decided if I'm going to write form Severn's perspective yet. Probably not. I can't get into e-mail at the moment btw. Grrrrrrrrrrr..... |
||
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Oh dear - this was a double post, so I may as well say something profound: If people can invent a little indestructable black box - why the hell can't they invent an indestructable plane...???!!!!! [This message has been edited by Severn (edited 10-05-1999).] |
||
|
caroline Senior Member
since 1999-08-16
Posts 1218http://members.xoom.com/belladona123/index.htm |
I smell a Best Seller Severn its awesome. I love these kinds of stories. I was glued to the screen and I'm dying to see more! (Can I have your autograph?  ) |
||
|
Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
I totally agree Severn. You have me reading without realizing the length of this piece. I was at the end before I knew it. I was totally in the story and BTW..I also HATE Kayla. I am wanting to read more of this epic. |
||
Saxoness
since 1999-07-18
Posts 1102Texas |
Encore! Encore! More! More! ------------------ "Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me." -Charles Brugnot |
||
|
DreamEvil Member Elite
since 1999-06-22
Posts 2396 |
Any comment I might make would be superfluous at this point. Likes me it does. ------------------ Now and forever my heart hears ~one voice~. DreamEvil© |
||
|
Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
OH WOW! Yay!!!! Thankyou I am blushing here!! Caro - bit too soon for that!! Marilyn - Good! Kalya got you too... Angel - You really want to read more...? Wow. Dream - no comments you make are superfluous!!! |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||