Watch Me Write!

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Hello non existent readers! Guess who’s iPad has regained access to the Internet?

MWAHAHAHA, nothing can stop me now! >:)

So I had made a promise to post the prologue of my story thingymajinky, so I’m going to that today. I’ve been making a lot of notes, because I’m making my own world, and I’m designing everything.

As if I didn’t already have enough worlds….

At the moment, I’ve just been sketching the places and people, and hopefully I’ll be able to post them on here soon. I’ve also had a lot of fun designing the clothes that they would wear, and since I’m doing Materials Design next year, I might be even able to make them.

Yeah right! :p But it would be a fun challenge.

Anyway, here’s the prologue, I’ll see you at the end.

How many stories had she heard as a girl, warning her of the dangers of the forest at night? How many tales of children being eaten and maidens getting murdered had she listened to? Far too many, she had to admit. She enjoyed frightening stories, because they were the ones that made the other girls scream.
As a branch scratched her arm with a sharp finger, she wondered if the inventors of those stories had been in the same woods as she. It was identical to the pictures painted in books; ink black night only illuminated by the moon, monstrous trees which would eat you if you fell asleep under them, and the menacing silence which threatened to drive you to madness.
It would appear that the silence had come too late then.
She stumbled, and the forest ground tore her knee again. Cuts and bruises are the least of my worries, she thought. I’ll endure a million. A billion, before I die by that hand.
The now familiar pains flooded her head again, and she couldn’t move another step. She crumpled to the forest ground, tears streaming down her face. End this, she pleaded the creatures that weren’t there. Please!
As the outlines of the trees became blurred, she felt a sense of dread wash over her as she realised her hunger was returning. A hunger for the drink of life. A hunger for scarlet.

She laced it tighter, trying to squeeze all the air out of herself, so the pain would leave.
Cloth of violet blue, embroidered with pearls which gleamed in the light. But as beautiful as the gown was, she could take no joy in it. That monster’s eyes were violet, the one that nearly killed her. And it was still out there. Waiting.
She tread toward the window, slowly, in case a nightmare jumped out in front of her. None came, but as she looked out onto the village, there they were. Monsters, everywhere.
Another would die today. That was what she had been told before rest the night before. Once, she had learnt about all the lives of the monsters, so some part of them remained in this world once they left it. She’d spent too many hours dwelling over the lives of a young mother, a knight of her own guard, even a lady of the court had turned.
It didn’t matter now though, who these people were, how they lived their short, miserable lives. Their faces all blended together, they were all twisted and mutated and monstrous. It didn’t matter who they were, because when they were lead out to die, the only face she was capable of seeing was his.
The roar of pain from the father…the hysterical sobbing from the sister… The death had brought chaos and destruction to the land. But the fire would burn it all away.
With that, she tore off the evil gown, with the horrible violet eyes, and threw it upon the roaring fire. It caught alight quickly, and blue became black, and the bright flames feasted on the dress before her eyes.
What did he think, she thought, when the stake was driven into his chest? Did he live long enough to feel the flames burning at him? That was her greatest torment. She swore, she would watch a million monsters die to know what was running through his mind.

A bottle of wyne lay beside him, rolling across the cabin floor. It tasted more of piss than wyne, if he were honest, but he’d take it.
His head knocked against the wall again. Excellent, he thought. He could use a couple of hours in a drunken slumber. Thinking was bad. Thinking lead to horrible things, he’d seen that much.
He’d lost everything. He’d lost his children, his wife, and his pride had deserted him the minute he ended up on this boat to the middle of nowhere.
His head blurred, and he felt the warm, comfortable sense of unconsciousness drown him.
A minute after sleep found him, he was shaken awake. “Fuck off,” he growled.
“The lords want t’see yer,” a voice stinking of ash told him. “Good news, they said.”
Fuck… He stumbled up, and staggered out the door. What had happened the last time he heard the words ‘good news”? He chuckled to himself without humour. He’d see what they wanted now. The quicker it was over with, the faster he could get back to his drunken stupor.
“Morning to you too,” they remarked when they saw him. Their matching blue eyes weren’t angry or mocking, though they should be. They were pitying. For some reason, that was felt even worse.
One of them grabbed his legs, and lifted them over his shoulders. He swore loudly, and hit at the other, as they lifted up the other half of his body. “It is time,” the lord said, ignoring his shouts and curses, “for you to either sink or swim.”
With one swing, he was thrown into the air, and he fell down towards the water.

He should’ve been used to corpses by now, but, like the idiot he was, he still felt a chill go down his spine when he saw them.
Why did he put his life in the hands of this stranger, who, quite frankly, was far more worrying than the prison. It wasn’t just the fact that the majority of the guards were dead, most likely by this one’s hand. He was quite certain that this…this…
“Excuse me, but are you a man or a woman?” he asked the stranger.
A low chuckle came from them. He couldn’t hear any note that distinguished them as either sex. Maybe they didn’t have one, perhaps he should refer to them as it.
It would be suicide to leave through the front gates of the prison, so the stranger lead the way to the sewers. Upon reaching the drainage, they raised a gloved hand, indicating for him to go down first. Warily, he obliged, and slid down the pipe.
He was surprised to see a torch in these sewers. Who could’ve left that here? There was still a little flame coming from it, giving him enough light to see around him. There was even more blood in the sewers than in the actual prison, he noted. The filthy water he was standing in reached his knees, there was a red tinge to it. He hated to think how many other corpses were there.
With another splash, he heard the stranger join him. He turned around. Had no one left that torch, he would be blind, but now he could see it’s true form.
“Should’ve guessed,” he said aloud.
The stranger grinned in the dark, and raised a finger to their lips. “Shhhh.”
Was it threat or warning? He didn’t know. He was an idiot, and idiots knew nothing. Except to follow. He had enough sense to know that he could either die here, in bloody waters, or follow this stranger, who had killed those guarding him, and may well kill him too,
Sheep to shepherd, he followed the shadow into the darkness.

Please let me know how this is in the comments, I’m trying to write more creatively, and if it’s good, I’ll probably post more of it. But in this stage it’s a work in progress.

Mad Cat xox

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