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My Daughter's Untitled Work

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  • My Daughter's Untitled Work

    Hope it's ok to post work that isn't strickly speaking 'my own'. My Daughter has started writing another story (not sure if this will be novel length or a short story yet!). It's the first couple of pages only. I think it's great (and keep telling her that her work is excellent) but I'm 'only' her dad so she probably doesn't believe me. She turned 16 this year. Anyway

    The girl stood over the body of the seer, blood steadily pooling at her feet and a stained knife in her hands.
    “Tell me where it is and I’ll ease your passing into the next realm.” She said in a voice that seemed colder and deader than a thousand ice plains. The seer turned his dying head towards her and smiled, his eyes slightly glazed.
    “You seek to find that which only a madman would not run from. Know that I do not hate you, I pity you. For your ravening hunger to find it curses you and in finding it you will only damn yourself as well.” He replied his voice strangely calm for one who was about to die.
    “Whether you hate me or not old man is of no consequence to me. You are of no more use” With that she brought her foot swiftly down on his neck with a crunch. To her it was only one more human’s blood on her hands, nothing more. She’d come far too far to feel guilty, to feel anything for that matter. She wiped her knife clean on his shirt sheathing it in one movement and heading toward the door. Before she reached it she turned one last time to look at the corpse.
    “And my souls been damned for a long time now old man.” She told the corpse flatly and left.

    Where she was going to go now she didn’t know, he had been her last lead. She guessed that she’d just move onto the next town, or village, and then the next till she heard whisper of it, it never took long. She brushed her long black hair out of her face and surveyed the streets bellow with her piercing green eyes. The poor and homeless scuttled around the streets begging passers by for coin or food, but none dared to approach the girl with the devil bright eyes. She had only been in that particular town for a couple of days, but already she had a reputation.
    She slowly made her way to the edge of the town, where she had temporarily taken up residence in an abandoned hut. At least it was abandoned now; the previous owners wouldn’t be needing it anymore. The problem in trying to find the thing that she searched for was that the ones that had the most knowledge of it were the ones with magic and it is much harder to extract information from them. Humans were weak and easily manipulated, but there were plenty of other species that weren’t, and their power made them dangerous. But she would never stop until she had found it and she didn’t care who she had to kill.
    It began to rain, she didn’t notice, didn’t even quicken her pace, so all consumed by her quest, her purpose.


    “AND STAY OUT!!!” The barkeeper yelled as he tossed Gideon into the streets his rather attractive daughter still waving and blowing kisses through the window until her father turned to walk back in.
    “Damn, that’s the seventh bar this week,” Gideon muttered to himself slurring his words slightly, “If I was just a little bit more sober I’d kick the old bastard arse over foot.” He looked back at the girl in the window with longing, and then looked at her giant of a father.
    “Shit,” He mumbled to himself, “Just walk away Gideon, just walk away.” But of course he didn’t, he just couldn’t help himself. He staggered to his feet with over exaggerated motions, attempting to appear more drunk than he already was. He half stumbled half fell towards the barkeeper and pretended to pass out. The barkeeper, who had caught the falling Gideon as a reflex, dropped him in disgust. As the barkeeper turned his back on him again Gideon opened his eyes and swept his foot around, catching the larger man off balance. He fell into the door with a giant crash. Gideon sprung to his feet grinning mischievously.
    “The bigger they are the harder they fall!” he said cheerfully as he stepped over the prone form of the barkeeper. The barkeeper groaned loudly and grabbed Gideon by the leg pulling him down too.
    “Shit,” He muttered rolling away from the angry bear of a man, “His skull must be thicker than I thought. That usually knocks them out cold!” Three well built men walked out of the door and stood next to the barkeeper as he dragged himself to his feet. They were obviously his bully boys and had come out to help their master, like good little dogs, as soon as they saw that Gideon was more trouble than he originally looked like he’d be.
    “This just keeps getting better and better,” He muttered darkly “Dryiel the God of jokes and dark mischief is having a right lot of fun with me tonight!”

    Gideon woke up the next morning, not in bed with the beautiful bar girl, but instead in some cold and dark alley without his possessions. Not that he’d owned more than a few coins to begin with, the elder of the last town had taken all of his coins because of the scams that he had been running. Disturbing the peace he had refered to it as, as he extracted his fine. So now Gideon was back to where he’d started from, penniless. But that had never stopped him before and he wasn’t one to let a single bad day get him down… well not much. Sulking was just too much fun, and if it earned him a sympathetic ear so much the better.
    “First things first,” Gideon mumbled to himself as he tried to get his stiff bones moving, “I need to find some poor sucker to part from his coin purse, then I need to get me some food and a decent blade.”
    There were only really four essential things that Gideon needed in his life, food, sex, money and the occasional good street brawl, but of course he had to be winning. In his 22 years of living he’d found that the easiest way of obtaining these things was by taking advantage of fools. He never ever felt guilty about it in the slightest, he figured that if they were stupid enough to be tricked by him then they didn’t deserve to have the money in the first place. Really he was doing them a favour by teaching them a valuable but expensive lesson, never trust anyone.


    to be contd. ? All feedback is appreciated.

    and over in the big black booth near the edge of the fairground, the last band is playing...

  • #2
    M, no constructive criticism here, but please do tell your daughter to get off her keister and write the next installment, great stuff, very readable, thanks for posting it.
    "A man is no man who cannot have a fried mackerel when he has set his mind on it; and more especially when he has money in his pocket to pay for it." - E.A. Poe's NICHOLAS DUNKS; OR, FRIED MACKEREL FOR DINNER


    • #3
      interesting beginings ..... .


      • #4
        Yes indeed. Excellent stuff and a promising start!

        Would be keen to read more if you want to post it.

        Gideon reminds me of Angel (from the BtVS spin off series Angel) during his time in Ireland before being made a vampire. The unnamed lass perhaps a little like Darla?


        • #5
          Many thanks guys, I think she is inspired enough to continue. Your feedback is greatfully received.
          Grey Mouser, she isn't familiar with the character(s) you mentioned and hasn't watched Angel - she doesn't watch a lot of tv possibly with the exception of Southpark.
          Should be able to post another couple of pages in the next few days, if that's ok with admin.
          Stay well.

          and over in the big black booth near the edge of the fairground, the last band is playing...


          • #6
            Please do! The more the merrier!
            Batman: It's a low neighborhood, full of rumpots. They're used to curious sights, which they attribute to alcoholic delusions.

            Robin: Gosh, drink is sure a filthy thing, isn't it? I'd rather be dead than unable to trust my own eyes!


            • #7
              A good read.

              sorta reminds me of David Gemmell in some ways.


              • #8
                'Untitled' - Installment Two by Amelia.
                Ah, who was he trying to fool? Gideon himself had been caught out numerous times by the same old tricks, one thing’s for sure no one is born with street smarts. That’s one lesson you have to learn for yourself. Let’s face it, merchants are more likely to realise they’re being swindled than courtiers and luckily for Gideon courtiers have more gold to take advantage of in the first place. Another lesson that was worth learning was the different ways for non magic users to fool truth-Sayers. A simple matter of either telling realistic half truths, utterly convincing yourself that what you’re saying is true or escaping before you’re caught and questioned. The first had saved his skin on numerous occasions, especially in the remote desert settlement Varuin where they quite literally took skin away as a punishment for any form of roguery.
                Gideon did a quick self assessment of his many cuts and bruises to make sure that nothing was liable to catch infection and kill, or in any way disfigure him. Severe bruising to his right side from knee to navel where someone had evidentially been kicking him after he fell unconscious (probably realising that they would have to be the ones to carry him out of the line of sight of paying customers), two small gashes just above his head and perhaps a cracked rib. Not as bad as it could have been, and for that he was thankful.
                He ambled slowly down the street, wincing occasionally when he moved his body too much to one side and caused the pain in his ribs to inflame. It was probably best that he moved on to the next town within the next couple of weeks, as Gideon began to note that people that would generally smile at him, stranger or no, were beginning to look at him warily.
                “Two and a half weeks,” he muttered shaking his head as an old lady gave him a slightly wider berth than was necessary, “that’s a new record for me. I haven’t even started on some of the wealthier houses yet!”
                He’d been eyeing off a well built little brick house that was conveniently situated just across from the cheap tavern that he was staying at, but it looked like that would now have to be left for another visit as he didn’t have the time for proper planning. It had puzzled him that such a nice house was built in such an unconventional part of town, but he wasn’t one to question good luck. He could stay at least two more nights at the tavern before they kicked him out, but he hadn’t payed for any longer and now because of the earlier mishap he was completely out of funds.
                Finally he reached the door of the tavern and stepped through, nearly being knocked over by the various smells. Tobacco smoke, ale, mould, damp wood and dust all mixed together in one nauseating odour. Gideon may not have been blessed with any magical abilities but he had always prided himself on his sense of smell and reflexes. The tavern was a buzz of activity even though it wasn’t even midday yet. Early drinkers were sitting hunched in their chairs, men on their breaks played with rusting darts and a warped target and women of questionable virtue sat on the bar giggling at the slightest change in conversation. One of the more boisterous patrons angrily leapt up from his chair and threw a hand of playing cards at the others sitting around the table, storming off to a chorus of raucous laughter and shouts. Gideon pulled himself up the stairs to his small room right down the end of the corridor. It was more of a broom closet than a room, with only enough room for single bed and rickety side table. A grimy cracked mirror hung unevenly on one wall faced by a small window that looked out onto the street bellow. That’s why Gideon had asked for this room, it was one of the few with a window. He’d found it’s always best to have an escape route no matter where he stayed. A half cold pitcher of water and a small rag sat on the side table left there by one of the bar maids earlier that morning. Gideon used it to wash the worst of the grit off himself, trying not to notice the brownish tinge to the water from the pipes.
                When he was done he glanced quickly at the mirror and grinned. What he saw was a sun browned youth with blue green eyes and dark brown hair. He was of medium hight and build and carried himself with confidence, always precariously bordering on arrogance. He never stayed in one place long enough to form any serious relationships, but he’d had plenty that weren’t and that’s the way he liked it to be. His only two redeeming features were his sense of humour and easy going manner.
                A loud yawn escaped his mouth as he looked through the window and shut the curtains. He usually slept most days anyway so he wouldn’t be missing anything he didn’t usually. His line of work mostly required him to be awake during the night rather than the day. Gideon slipped under the scratchy musty smelling sheets and was immediately asleep.

                He woke at his usual time of 11.31, the time when his room was pitch black and muffled drunken laughter could be heard from beneath his floorboards. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes more, allowing his sight to adjust to the scant light from the moon that was filtering through the moth holes in the curtain. The sheets rustled quietly as he pulled himself off the bed and onto his feet, drawing back the curtains. The streets were almost as dark as his room, lit only by the light of the near full moon. This area was too poor for the governors to bother supplying them with their own street lamps, and this way they could feign ignorance when questioned about the business conducted in the back alleys. Every place Gideon went was the same; people only saw what they wanted to see, or what was convenient for them to see.
                The window groaned loudly as he jammed it open and climbed out, he didn’t want anyone to see him leave the tavern. As far as they were concerned he would still be in his room sleeping. Using the uneven bricks of the outside wall he climbed to the street below.
                No sooner had his feet touched the ground, than he heard two sets of footsteps coming around the corner. He silently sprinted across the street and hid himself behind some old wooden crates that were piled up outside the small brick house.
                “Erol, you can’t be serious. I mean, burn my whole shop down? How ridiculous!” an older male voice said coming closer to the crates that Gideon was hiding behind.
                “But she’s coming for the…” began the voice of someone that sounded slightly younger.
                “Nonsense!” the first voice interrupted sharply, “I will not burn my own shop down just because of one of your silly nightmares! Besides, do you realise how explosive some of the potions in there are? If they ignited they would take the entire street out, not to mention have some rather nasty side effects.”
                “Can we keep our voices down!” The younger voice, Erol, hissed as they stopped outside the small brick house, “You never know who is watching!”
                “Not another on of your stupid ‘feelings’, the magic finders already said your gift was week and unreliable. Face it, you haven’t had a true dream yet that hasn’t turned out to be false. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am not properly attired for the cold night air and I wish to retire before my old bones give way on me.”
                Gideon heard the faint click of a turning key in a lock, a pleasant sound that was all too familiar to him, and then another not so pleasant sound that he also recognised. Just to be positive he chanced a quick glance around the crates he was behind and sure enough there stood the younger man, Erol he presumed, standing over the body of the other older man.
                “I’m sorry to have had to have done that to you old friend, but it was for your own good.” The boy muttered over the body and then quickly finished unlocking the building and went in.
                “Strange concept of friendship…” Gideon murmured.
                Sighing he ducked out from behind the crates and quickly checked the man for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he finally found one; the man was just knocked out. Gideon may not have been the most honest person in the world, but he still didn’t condone violence against old men. The man began to stir as Gideon got to his feet.
                “Wha... what? Erol?” He began weakly.
                “Seems Erol gave you quite the bump on the head.” Gideon said, not unkindly.
                “He what? That foolish boy. Help me up, I must stop him. He’s going to burn down my shop!” The old man tried to heave himself up.
                “Whoa! Just hang on a second, sit down for a little while before you have a heart attack. I’m sure he wouldn’t seriously burn your shop down.” Gideon began, but no sooner had he said that than he caught the faint whiff of smoke. “Damn, hang on a second and I’ll go and stop him. Try and at least get yourself away from this house before you sit down, there’s no use in us both getting singed.”
                The man thanked him, looking a little more than just bewildered, and slowly got up. Gideon threw open the door and began to climb a winding staircase, all the while cursing his warped sense of chivalry. He knew what it was like to loose a home.
                Gideon reached the top of the stairs and found himself in a large room filled with carefully labelled bottles, books, herbs, crystals and strange apparatus’. In the corner there was a small wooden counter and a list of prices nailed to the wall behind it. It appeared that he was in some kind of alchemists shop, not really somewhere that Gideon felt comfortable in the least. Anything to do with magic tended to make him twitchy. The smell of smoke was begging to become more pronounced. Gideon hastily searched the room for the location of Erol but only found two doors leading into different back rooms. He picked one at random and flung himself in. There were no windows but light was emanating from small crystals inserted into various wall brackets. There was no sign of Erol in this room either, but Gideon did notice a broken crystal prism on the floor that appeared to be leaking a reflective black liquid. Just as he was turning to leave the room a flicker of movement caught his eye. His stomach leapt uneasily, was that liquid moving? He turned to look at it again, momentarily forgetting about Erol and the fire which he could now strongly smell. The liquid began pulsing and shivering as if alive, and letting off a low humming sound. Gideon leaned toward it entranced and somehow unable to turn away.
                Suddenly the blob of liquid went flying directly into Gideons face, violently knocking him backwards. He was vaguely aware of the flames that had begun to lick the doorframe behind him before his vision began to fade. Just before he fell completely unconscious he thought he saw the angry face of a girl scowling above his head. It looked as if she was yelling something, but he couldn’t hear anything, at least his rib wasn’t hurting anymore. The world went black.

                and over in the big black booth near the edge of the fairground, the last band is playing...


                • #9
                  Part 2 was a better read actually.
                  Well done, your daughter's a natural..:)

                  Of course she's not allowed to stop now, I wanna read what happens next...:)


                  • #10
                    Thanks danskmacabre and others.
                    My constructive criticism…
                    I must admit I felt the character development was coming along nicely - a few 'green' moments (probably a little immature in writing style due to age/experience) but draws the reader in nicely and has now brought the two main characters (?) together. She has successfully peaked the readers curiosity (mine anyway) as to what is really going on. I must admit I had visions of a black liquid ‘alien’ during the final scenes, but she assured me that this is not the case. Guess I’ll have to wait for the next installment in a few days time to see.
                    Ps: I know she’s using my login to view these comments so I hope she doesn’t take my comments personally and kill me while I sleep (especially with a boot to the throat – see first installment). If you don’t hear from me again you will all know what has happened… call the police.

                    and over in the big black booth near the edge of the fairground, the last band is playing...


                    • #11
                      Originally posted by Muroc View Post
                      Thanks danskmacabre and others.
                      My constructive criticism…

                      She has successfully peaked the readers curiosity (mine anyway) as to what
                      uh-huh. ITYM piqued. I shall never understand how/why folk can use words they do not understand, i can only imagine they are all trying to annoy me.

                      Someone once said that to allow an error to pass unmentioned is akin to spreading ignorance, fear uncertanity and doubt
                      A: Yes.

                      > Q: Are you sure?

                      >> A: Because it reverses the logical flow of conversation.

                      >>> Q: Why is top posting annoying?