Chgowiz's Stories

(2) Talk to the stranger

2008-06-12T19:35:51Z

You approach the stranger, who is humming a mindless tune.

“Hello good sir. Are you well or in need of anything?” you ask solicitously.

His eyes seem to stare through you for a moment and then he smiles a toothless grin.

“No, but it is I who may be able to help you.” He reaches out and drops a thick unusual coin into yours. “You might wish to hang onto this… may be valuable some day.” Ignoring your objections at the gift, he cackles and walks away, much quicker than you would give him credit for. Soon enough, he vanishes beyond the road’s horizon.

The air grows thick in the heat of the afternoon as you continue down the road. You pass fields and farmers as the road winds its way towards Valorvale.

As evening approaches, you can barely make out the sight of a small hamlet in the distance. You count yourself lucky, as food was beginning to get low and your waterskin empty. You make out the sight of a large tree in the center of the hamlet.

Do you (3)find an inn or (4)investigate the tree?

(1) Ignore the stranger

2008-06-12T19:30:14Z

You feeel a small chill as you approach, and then pass, the stranger. He is humming a voiceless tune which seems to deepen as you pass him. You swallow the fear and continue on past, resolved to make your way to Valorvale. Soon enough, his slow moving figure has vanished on the road behind you.

The air grows thick in the heat of the afternoon as you continue down the road and the sun continues to beat heavy on your brow. You mindlessly munch on the ever decreasing loaf of bread from your pack and sip from your waterskin. You pass fields and farmers as the road winds its way towards Valorvale.

As evening approaches, you can barely make out the sight of a small hamlet in the distance. You count yourself lucky, as food was beginning to get low and your waterskin empty. You can make out the sight of a large tree in the center of the small group of buildings.

Do you (3) find an inn or (4) investigate the tree?

One entered the desert, but another left

2008-06-10T19:20:25Z

The air shimmered from the heat of the merciless sun beating down on the sand and twisted sage and scrub bushes that dotted the harsh, rocky desert floor. It whispered a faint breath of wind, but the solid thud of the boots from the walking figure still filled his ears.

He paused and looked back and could still make out the standing figure, there at the edge. He looked forward, then down on his map. Although there were many miles to go, he considered the figure at the edge. Go back? Go forward? Seconds seemed to stretch to minutes, then hours, then a timeless infinity as each considered the other.

“I leave you here.” he said and spun on his heels. He gripped the shoulder straps of his blanket pack and hoisted it secure on his back. He stepped forward, then again, and again, until his stride was as sure as the ticking clock that marked the time when he would exit this desert, reenter his life.

He left the other behind at the edge of that mesa. He brought back the desert with him.

Create Your Own Adventure (aka, the literary fantasy railroad... but enjoy the ride!)

2008-05-23T17:39:05Z

Along the road you trudge, with a pack full of gear: some rations, a mirror, a couple of torches and some (heavy) rope. You seek fame and fortune. Although your only weapon is a old family dagger tucked in your belt, you are confident that you’ll be able to slay some beastly foes, or at least a few larger rats to gain some coin. Then you’ll be able to buy that longsword that you’ve dreamed out.

You grew up in the farmlands of the Vale, hearing the legends of the hamlet of Valorvale. The giant oak tree and its golden acorns gave you many hours of dreams. You would rescue a local damsel in distress and as a reward, gain one of the hoarded acorns. With that acorn, you would travel to the Dark Lands and secure an even richer reward on a noble quest.

Your grand dreams are dashed by the sight of a strange figure hobbling down the road in front of you. It seems strangely dressed, and you can’t make out the face in the deep hood of the dark cloak.

Do you ignore the stranger(1) or talk(2) to him?

A story of life in 439 characters (200 challenge)

2008-05-23T02:04:29Z

I am Life
I wonder at the colors
I hear my parents
I see smiles
I want love
I am a child
~ _{I pretend that I am invincible
I feel alive
I touch my soul
I worry about the future
I cry as I begin to see
I am a young adult} ~
I understand what I should have done
I say I love you and hope that you hear
I dream that my life has been of some worth
I try to provide a future
I hope that they will do better than I
I am at the end of my life.

He Stepped Into the White Light

2008-05-22T20:44:52Z

“Breathe…” he mumbled to himself. “Breathe…”

The air rasped in his throat and lungs as he took short, shallow breaths. He tried not to think about what he was smelling and tasting in those quick gasps.

“This is not where I was.” he thought to himself, his eyes still clenched shut after that first peek had almost blinded him with the brilliance of his surroundings.

A quick series of breaths led him to a startling conclusion. The air tasted wrong? Strange? He couldn’t decide. It was almost overwhelming in its potency, as if the very air itself carried a taste of nature that he had never experienced before. Overwhelming in it’s very vibrancy, and yet he felt invigorated and almost courageous to open his eyes yet again…

“But I was dead.” he thought. “Out on the slab, looking down at myself.”

He dared to open his eyes again and confirm what the initial look had revealed. He stood in a field of tall wheat, and a sun, almost too bright in it’s haleness, stood tall in the sky.

“Where am I?”

Rapt audience

2008-05-16T18:08:02Z

I jerked awake to The Voice, that horrid Voice that over the days? weeks? dominated my existence.

“Go-o-d can’t hear you!” the Voice said with that dry, nasty chuckle. I had come to know it as the bane of my existence and the source of my deepest terrors.

I was sure that The Voice was the Devil himself or an understudy who had a particular penchant for the most sublime of tortures. I could only hope that The Voice wasn’t talking to me.

I strained my ears, listening for any clue as to what horror the next moment might bring. I couldn’t see and hadn’t been able to since my arrival. On that day, I’d tried to blink and realized that they’d taken my eyes.

I couldn’t move. My hands were bound to my sides on some sort of contraption that left me in an almost crucified position. Immobile and blind, all I had was my hearing and my knowledge of what that Voice could bring.

The heavy footsteps echoed in their hollow fashion as The Voice walked away. My sigh was loud, but the quiet sobs from elsewhere were louder.

Oops

2008-05-15T14:33:27Z

“You have to take this tank.” I pleaded as his gasps grew louder.

“No… I knew what I signed up for…” he grunted as he pushed my gloved hand away. The stars looked on silently as we struggled to move back towards the safety of the airlock.

“We can both survive on one tank!” I insisted. “We’re less than thirty minutes away. We can move the tank back and forth!”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop me as I disconnected the straps that held the emergency oxygen tank to my breather unit. I reached around to disconnect the main feeder tube, so that I could transfer the bottle to his pack.

“No!” he shouted as he pushed away from me. “You know that little bottle is good for ten minutes only! It’s my own fault… “

“We’ve never lost a man in orbit and we’re not going to now!” I said. Then, it happened… the bottle escaped my grip from the struggling. It slowly drifted away, spinning around. I held the disconnected hose from my own pack. The air hissed out like a snake as I stood there watching.

In case you were wondering ...

2008-05-13T14:39:56Z

“Earth will be destroyed in, oh, about 90 minutes.” Osric commented casually.

“What did you just say?” I stammered.

“Earth will be destroyed in 90 minutes.” Osric repeated patiently.

“It’s quite a relief, really. All that fussing and carrying on.” he said. He continued onwards and I tried to catch up.

“But now that the Afnid’s have met, it’s all been decided. Quite exciting. They had all the experts come in. Why even Paltin himself made an appearance. Tell me that won’t be talked about for a few ulas.”

“Earth’s destruction was decided by committee?” I exclaimed.

“Oh yes.” Osric said. “Can’t have a destruction with the proper authority. After all, the Empire must endure on the traditions that built it!”

He turned and began to leave the chamber.

“Wait!” I exclaimed. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I have to get my quiznids reruffled” Osric said as he walked away. “I just can’t do them on my own anymore. Ta ta!”

He left me standing there, looking out the viewport as Earth spun for 86 more minutes.

Excuse me?

2008-05-12T15:19:28Z

“You know you want to…” whispered the knight as they walked through the forest.

Julius’s head jerked as he eyed the bulky man warily. Could that brute read his thoughts? Their two other companions continued ahead, innocently chattering about nonsense and unaware of the knight’s statement.

“What?” Julius asked, taken aback.

“Come… you know you want to. I’ll take the one, you can have the woman.” the knight hissed.

The blood in his head seemed to roar in his ears and hammer in his veins. The forest seemed to still and the light darkened, as if the Sun itself could not be privy to this conversation. He could hardly believe his ears.

He stared mutely at the knight. Was it just the shadows or did the knight seem to shift in some way, as if he was changing into something horrid? Julius reached down and pinched his leg. He shuddered again as the pain made it all too real.

The knight shrugged at him, his dark eyes mocking Julius’s impotence. He strode on down the path as Julius stood there, bewildered.

And yet, it's not quite over...

2008-05-08T21:24:00Z

She pulled out the hand and looked at it. The gun gleamed darkly in the sun, as if to encourage the light to run away from whatever evils the gun possessed. She sighed and thought again of him, and all of his abuse and anger. How lonely she felt. That was why she carried this bloody hand and this gun.

She turned, for a moment a broken housewife carrying a severed hand with a gun, but then she straightened her back. No, this time would be different. She was done with the cruel words, the disdainful looks. This time, she would be free.

She walked into the kitchen and watched him, silently. This time, it would be different…

... except the hand didn’t let go of the gun. Puzzled, she tugged on the barrel, but the hand clutched the gun as firmly as any live person would. Fear trickled into her stomach as she gripped the stump and pulled. Then his laughter broke through her confusion.

“Did you really think you came up with that idea on your own?” he said mockingly, as the hand pointed the gun in her direction.

Spare a brother?

2008-05-08T21:05:59Z

He couldn’t exactly remember when it started. It was as if his childhood never happened, although childhood for one living in the 11th century was a feat of luck and survival. Still, there were vivid memories, vivid feelings of needs, desires, anger and hatred. Those memories roiled up from the darkness of his imagination like bile. He shuddered momentarily and trudged onwards down the road.

He remembered the beginning, during his studies. He remembered a particular brother who managed to not only offend and insult him, but also to make him feel inconsequential. He remembered the anger as the clergyman turned his back on him – and then the first thoughts of murder hit him like a thunderbolt sent from the heavens. He could see the clothes and skin as it was torn apart, he could smell and feel the blood as it splashed on his hands, and he could taste… no, he wouldn’t think of that. And yet, all this, in his head, and his supreme impotence of being unable to let it out. It was almost more than he could bear.

Introduction of a troubled man...

2008-05-07T17:57:39Z

He closed his eyes and he saw the vision… again.

His hands were covered in blood. It was warm, the blood, and the flesh that it slowly dripped from. The flesh wasn’t intact anymore, rather it was torn and rent as if the sheer force of his rage had reached out from his thoughts and torn the body itself. The metallic smell clung to his nose like the bouquet of a fine wine. The taste… the taste was more than he could bear, sweet and salty.

With a cry, he opened his eyes back up and shook his head. The farmer that he was passing on the dusty road looked at him with curiosity, then dismissed him. He clutched at his pack and his sack of map tubes and walked on.

His thoughts flickered between despair and determination. He would not, could not! let these thoughts overtake him. No, it would be different this time. He would find a commission, he would lose himself in his work and perhaps, just perhaps, he could hold back the visions. His soul depended on it.

And most of all, he would not think about the taste.