Nemaisare
Warrior Hunter
The farther you are from the edge of reality, the closer you are to my world.
Posts: 157
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Post by Nemaisare on Feb 26, 2008 9:10:04 GMT -5
Chapter 1 It was a nice day, all sun, no clouds and only the slightest breeze so that we couldn’t get too hot. A perfect day I suppose I should call it, for I do not believe that I have encountered another of the sort either before or after and it was all the better when we took in our surroundings. They were of the sort that are impossible to ignore, partly because of their breath taking splendour I suppose, but mostly because they were irrevocably, irrefutably there. And with such a wealth of spectacle in front, behind and around you, it is very hard not to notice. The flaming trees that swept from hilltop to valley floor, each branch so full of autumn fire that is was almost a relief when I managed to find those few trees that were still upright and unyielding figures of green. I am certain that my eyes were so dazzled from the sight that I could hardly narrow them any further when the sunlight leapt and danced its merry intrusive way from the lake’s small waves to my retinas, in truth, I believe that I shut my eyes for a brief moment and the usual darkness had become a rather dull grey, though it was still a welcome relief. We were, you see, walking a cliff side trail that offered us a commanding view of the scenery and even in our weary state, we accepted that and paused to catch our breath in wonder. Faced with all this, the hours had dragged on intermittently, not from boredom, but from our growing desire to reach that day’s destination so that we could relax and really, truly enjoy the place we were trekking through. We, that is to say my sister and I, had been waiting a long time for all our planning to finally come to fruition. Or rather, all our dad’s planning and our sometimes helpful, sometimes not, additions. And now, we were here, backpacks digging into our shoulders, backs sore from the weight, feet and legs aching, tired, hungry, thirsty and the list might have gone on but I stopped listening. Still, it was a far cry from my meagre expectations, none of which had even come close, though I hadn’t really been trying to imagine what it would be like since I only wanted to experience it as it was. The trail, well groomed though it was by countless feet, had enough rocks and roots to claim a great deal of attention and my sister and I stumbled more than once as we followed our dad down the hill towards the sparkling lake. It was on that shore that we would set up camp for the night and the three that followed before continuing on to some other, equally remote location, though I couldn’t see how it could rival this place except by being inferior. Our tents and we had two of them, one for Dad and the other for us two, were small and intended to be slept in only. Despite it being autumn, we had no worries about how cool the night would get as our sleeping bags were more than adequate to keep off the chill. So the choice of a campsite was limited only by how many bumps we were willing to tolerate beneath our very thin mattresses. Dad let us wander around without any undue harrying as we searched for some spot that might come close to our ideas of perfect, and between the three of us, very few of those ideas matched. But we found something eventually and got our tents up with a surprisingly minimal amount of fuss, just at the edge of the forest, not quite beneath the trees but still close enough that the rocky shoreline didn’t contribute much in the way of rocks to sleep on, for which I believe we were all extremely grateful. A hard bed already makes sleeping difficult, but a hard and lumpy bed is even worse, and I can tell you that from experience. Our dinner, the same thing we’d had for lunch, was peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Not exactly original, but easy enough to pack and light enough to carry. We ate them once the tents were up, the sleeping bags unrolled, the food, hopefully, safely up a tree and every other outdoor precaution or campsite task was done. And as we ate, we sat just out of reach of the cool water as the lake rose and fell to its own rhythm. The sun was gilding the low clouds with a red-gold glow and the water had taken on a scarlet tinge by the time we finished everything, and I for one am of the opinion that it was just the calm sort of ending as to make our surroundings and the day seem absolutely magical. Perhaps it was, in a way. Of course our tired state kept us from staying up too late and each of us went to sleep to the same natural lullaby we had been hearing all day, it was simply softened by the advent of night. I don’t know how long I lay awake listening, but I do know that the next time I opened my eyes it was to my sister shaking me awake with a very worried look on her face. She was already dressed and had been up for awhile before leaving the tent. I knew because I had heard her moving about and reading quietly. And now she was very quietly worried. I, of course, dislike being woken up before I feel like getting up, but once I got outside, my mood turned from sullen to baffled. You see, our tent was no longer nestled where it had been, but was instead in among the trees and the lake seemed much closer. There was no way, as far as either of us were concerned, that the tent could have been moved without waking us up, particularly as the trees grew quite close together and didn’t have enough space for the tent to have passed between them without being squished. It was, to say the least, rather frightening, although neither of us wanted to admit to the other just how frightening it was. The other tent, and Dad, were nowhere in sight, but it was all we could think to look for, since we had no other landmarks and he was sure to be worried about us as much as we were worried about him. So we headed for the lake, hoping it was the same one we had slept beside and wandered along its edge, every now and then looking at the other side for any hint of Dad’s brightly coloured tent. What we learned as we walked was that we were on an island, or something very near to an island since the bridge leading to the opposite shore was a small spit of land that petered out just before it got there, forcing us to jump and with our backpacks it was a near thing. We made it, however, and the moment we did, we realised, together, that this was not the same forest we had walked through the day before. This one had occupants the likes of which we had never seen and have never seen again except in books and faerie tales. They were, most of them, vague creatures of some strange heritage I could not even begin to guess at. Some were tall, some were short, and some were scaled, or furred, or feathered. Some were crouched in the branches while others hid behind the tree trunks, but each one was somewhat human and each one had huge, almost glowing eyes that stared at us, as full of curiosity as we were and probably just as nervous. The light was dim, almost dusky, though the sun was easily seen through the branches when we looked up. No one moved and it seemed to me, my sister agrees, that we had caught them by surprise at the suddenness of our arrival. Then, there was an almost ripple-like effect as heads turned and they all moved back a pace, leaving room for their spokesperson to speak with us. He was a surprising figure, and caught everyone’s attention with a beaming grin. Short enough that he had to tilt his head back a bit to look either of us in the eye, I never the less got a distinct impression of much greater size. He was a faun, with fur the same colour as his shaggy, windblown hair. That is to say, a mixture of browns that seemed both dark and light at the same time. Twin horns poked out just above his ears and a bit more forward while his eyes were of such a soulless depth that they seemed to have seen so much while still promising to see so much more. And they were set in a boyish face of very mischievous nature. His voice, when he spoke, was full of confident warmth as he flung out his arms in greeting. “We have been waiting for you. Welcome, sisters, to the Lost Isle.”
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Post by Enchant on Feb 26, 2008 12:58:41 GMT -5
I love the way you describe things, it is so poetic...."the flaming trees" and "the lake rose to it's own rythum"...etc...its quite lovely...and I am envious of that quality. You have an uncanny knack of taking something so simple and making it seem more. The Lost Isle seems like a good title...or Sisters of the Lost Isle....lol...then again it is only the first chapter. :-P
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Nemaisare
Warrior Hunter
The farther you are from the edge of reality, the closer you are to my world.
Posts: 157
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Post by Nemaisare on Feb 26, 2008 20:11:51 GMT -5
Thanks, Enchant, I'm writing this story for my granny, and, while she's praised this bit tons, it means a lot that others like it too. Because she's biaised of course, but I stil want to make sure I'm writing a good story for her.
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Post by Enchant on Feb 27, 2008 9:39:58 GMT -5
Thanks, Enchant, I'm writing this story for my granny, and, while she's praised this bit tons, it means a lot that others like it too. Because she's biaised of course, but I stil want to make sure I'm writing a good story for her. You're welcome....Yeah grammas are like that....by the way I really like your title... has a bit of a spiritual feeling to it.
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Nemaisare
Warrior Hunter
The farther you are from the edge of reality, the closer you are to my world.
Posts: 157
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Post by Nemaisare on Feb 27, 2008 20:10:41 GMT -5
Heh, Granny spent almost an hour regaling me on the phone with how pleased she was. This is including a few other things we discussed, lol.
Glad you like the title, I was just gonna go with The Lost Isle, but then I looked in my agenda and found that I actually had given it a title, sooo. Yeah, heh, I use my agenda as a notebook rather than for school stuffs, it gets more use that way.
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Post by Enchant on Feb 27, 2008 20:48:39 GMT -5
Well I think The Waking Dream is a better choice...it leaves alot of possiblities instead of a definate....Do you just jot down through out the day or just at a sit down and type of the cuff?
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Nemaisare
Warrior Hunter
The farther you are from the edge of reality, the closer you are to my world.
Posts: 157
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Post by Nemaisare on Feb 27, 2008 21:14:21 GMT -5
Depends, so long as I have paper and a pen with me and the time, I'll generally just jot down ideas, or ignore teachers and write as much as I can, but once I get home I try to sit down at the computer and actually get something concrete down. Sometimes I'll just end up staring at the screen for a few minutes and then going off to do something, but, meh...
How but you? How do you write out your stories'n stuff?
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Post by Enchant on Feb 27, 2008 22:30:41 GMT -5
I wing it.....lol...I am full of ideas, but my execution leaves much to be desired....
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Nemaisare
Warrior Hunter
The farther you are from the edge of reality, the closer you are to my world.
Posts: 157
|
Post by Nemaisare on Mar 7, 2008 19:50:44 GMT -5
lol, winging things is also good and fun, unless you can't think of where to go, cuz then it's just frustrating. Chapter 2 All I could think to do at that moment was stare, incredulous, at this talking creature out of myths and legends. After all, it isn’t every day that you end up talking with a faun, now is it? My sister was quicker in regaining her composure, however, so it was her voice that broke the silence, and she seemed almost as calm as she normally was, even if her voice trembled a little, but I wasn’t about to blame her. “Where is our dad? And why were you waiting for us?” Needless to say, I was impressed, and I also wanted to know the answers, although I was far more anxious about the first one than the second. Quite frankly, I would have been happy to find out where Dad was and then simply turn about and go look for him, without learning anything more. I had no such luck, of course, for then there would be no more tale to tell, now would there? The answer we received only made us all the more confused, but at least it succeeded in putting aside my worries for the moment, at least, I wasn’t too worried about our dad anymore. “Your father sleeps still, do not worry, we keep his dreams pleasant. But come now, Aria, we haven’t the time to stand here. If you would but follow us?” We exchanged glances, each as startled as the other, our eyes wide and mouths open to catch the flies, utterly shocked that this creature would know anything about us, let alone our dad’s location and Aria’s name. If my own expression was anything like hers, I am certain that there would have been more than a few of them laughing at our amazement, but as it was, not a one of them stayed long enough to notice. In fact, most had disappeared back to wherever they had come from as we were speaking and the faun had spun about the minute he spoke the last word. I suppose the choice was there, but only looking back now can I see it, right then and there, the only sensible thing to do was chase after him, and he moved fast for someone with such short legs. He gave not a hint as to where we were headed apart from the direction, and all that told me was that we were going away from the water, but he did slow his pace when we lagged behind. Truly, I hardly noticed the speed with which we traveled, I was far too busy staring between the trees at the dim shapes that walked beside us, not quite completely hidden by the shadows. Some were large and lumbered in a way that reminded me of bears, yet they walked upright on two legs. I even saw two that ran as swift as deer beneath the leaves before leaping through the branches with great sweeping motions of arms that were, in truth, wings of an immense span. So caught up was I in this these tantalizing glimpses of another world that even today I cannot tell you the exact moment when I stopped walking, but I only realized it when a huge dog-like creature sauntered past me with a soft huff of warning, his breath unpleasantly warm on my face. I was standing in the middle of its path and it had had to walk around me to get by. Others of its kind followed different paths, but as I stared up at them, I couldn’t help but notice that he was among the largest of them, yet despite the low regard they seemed to hold for me, they were not aggressive. I couldn’t keep from reaching out my hand to brush his side with my fingers. The fur there was thick and coarse, though I could just feel a deeper layer that was much softer before he pulled away with a deep growl of disapproval and a glare. I was lucky, I suppose, that he did nothing more, for I would have been far too slow in pulling my fingers away had he snapped at them. As it was, he merely flicked his ears back and the gleam in his green-brown eyes turned decidedly unfriendly, but before he could do more another hard snout nudged me between my shoulder blades and forced me to start walking again. He snorted and turned back along his own path as the one who had undoubtedly saved me from a nasty scare came to walk beside me. She, and I am certain it was female, had a much lighter coat of brown, had the light been better beneath the trees, I think I would have called it cream. If anything I do believe that she was also larger than the male I had annoyed, which might have been the reason for his backing down, I know I would have in his place. Her eyes glowed the same witch light green in the shadows, but they were a more natural brown without the predatory reflection of light. Just as had his, her canines grew past the lower jaw, but neither one of his had been broken and the scars that crosshatched the fur all along her body made it clear that she was a survivor of several ferocious battles, and more than likely, the victor of each one. This time, I felt not the least the hesitant when I held out my hand, but I did wait for permission, and I felt far more impressed by her appearance than I had been by his. Perhaps it was because there was no challenge shining in her eyes, only a confidence and intelligence that led me to believe she was the uncontested leader of the pack, and that I was being honoured by her presence. It was among these great creatures that I finally arrived where the faun had been leading us and a more amazing place you will never find. I was staring about me most rudely as the great hounds sauntered past and melted into the crowd that had gathered beneath the open sky. The trees having formed a great circle of space into which they seemed reluctant to intrude, for not even their roots broke the smooth soil that had been tamped down by countless passing feet. The sun shone in the vaguest way, as if it did not really wish to even penetrate the small layer of clouds between it and us, but could not help doing just that. It produced a sulky sort of light that shone in just the right way to dim the atmosphere of the place and give it a twilight reality such as I’ve never seen in any other place. It was the most magical, most enchanted place, and I’m sure these words will never do it justice, but at the least they’ll start your imagination flowing. Staring as I was, it took me a few moments to realize that I was not alone, true, there were many others about, but hardly a one of them was paying me much attention beyond a cursory, curious glance. One however, was leaning lightly against a tree, his arms crossed in a casual way, and his brown eyes caught on none other than me. I suppose that by that time I should have been far more prepared, but it was still something of a surprise to me that this animal should prove to be far taller than myself, walking upright and have such a pleasant gleam to his brown eyes that I couldn’t help but smile at him when I noticed. He was an otter of absurd size, though I had heard of such things in stories, I had never imagined they could be real, but then, I had taken a faun to be myth as well, and not a one of the creatures I had seen were of the ‘normal’ variety. “Yore lookin’ a bit lost there, little miss. Reckon as how I’ll get you to where yore wanted.” It started talking, and my grin got just a little bit wider as I wondered if I wasn’t going insane, but since he didn’t seem intent on anything but helping me, I figured I might as well find out where all this was going. So I followed him through the crowd, keeping as close to his tail as I could without stepping on it and listening to his easy banter. “Haven’t ever seen the like, have you? No wonder yore lookin’ like a frog what swallowed a stinkbug, with all these surprises comin’ at you outta nowhere.” The otter grinned back over his shoulder at me, revealing teeth as sharp as might be expected and scrunching up his whiskers before giving me a playful wink and catching hold of my shoulder to politely squeeze me between two creatures with the girth of a tree and the skin to match, then we were through the crowds and I could see Aria and the faun up ahead. Looking about them, though my sister’s searching was a decided bit more frantic than the faun’s.
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Post by Weird Rob 87 on Mar 13, 2008 16:10:14 GMT -5
Pretty good, I also like the title for the story. One of the more original ones I've ever heard of.
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