JLaughter's Stories

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 2, Part 1

2008-07-12T03:44:45Z

How Lord Caplan the Brave made battle with a giant, and met a wounded warrior, who did become his friend.

Lord Caplan the Brave, a knight of great respect and prowess in many lands near and far, came one day traveling upon a town that appeared to him as being shrouded in sorrow and darkness. What evil is this? he wondered whilst riding through. Presently, he stopped at a house that looked to him as a tavern though he saw no sign, and knocked on the door and called to those inside: Hark! Open the door!

A portly fellow opened the door but enough to look outside, and saw Lord Caplan, arrayed full in his armor except for his helmet, which he bore neath his arm. Oh, good sir knight! cried the fellow and threw open the door.

Lord Caplan asked of the man: What news, sir, that so shuts people in their homes and closes a tavern door on such a day as this?

Sir knight, what dost thou know of giants and their kin, for our plague is one such who steals and kills at will, and many folk are a-feared for their lives!

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 1, Part 5

2008-07-12T01:06:29Z

And Sir Byron parried Morley’s blade away and said to him: Hold thy steel, sir, for I do remember me a man who was known by such a name! Tell me if twas your blade that felled King Arik the Tainted at the Battle of June Plain! And that you broke three lances on Lord Caplan the Brave, and he none on thy shield!

I have done these deeds, sir, Sir Morley replied, and Sir Byron threw down his sword and fell to his knees in shame.

Then slay me now, sir, for thy art unto my King Gerideon nigh-unto a brother, and he holds you high in his trust for your great deeds, and I am shamed that I have drawn steel on thee!

You serve King Gerideon? I believe it not, for such a wise man would not take such a licentious fool as you under his banner. Thou hast lain by my wife, villain!

The lady told me that she was widowed, and I did not take her to her bed, sir, but was taken instead! By black lies and foolish lust! Sir, I am nearly upon my journey’s purpose, if thou would return with me, my King will speak well on my behalf!

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 1, Part 4

2008-07-11T04:21:55Z

The two men fell upon Sir Byron, who charged to the fray with all the rage that his heart could hold. In the first, he was grievously sore after one of the men struck him on the shoulder with a truncheon and nearly made him drop his sword. But he gathered his courage and struck that man dumb with the hilt of his sword, and the man’s skull split and he fell, bleeding and out of his wits.

Tis dishonorable to fall on one man with two, and more that I am a man falsely accused, Sir Byron said unto Luniver’s husband, who said: Didst thou lay with my wife?

I did, said Sir Byron, and they came together again with their steel. Luniver’s husband proved fair with a blade, and they fought long past noon, until both men bled and were weary from battle and they fell away from one another.

Sir Byron said unto the other: Sir, I know now that I may lose my life at thy hands, for thou art a doughty fighter, and I fear myself out-matched. I am Sir Byron, who art thou?

Sir Morley the Mountain, he said.

And raised his sword.

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 1, Part 3

2008-07-11T02:11:19Z

Sir Bryon arose with great wrath in his heart, and armed himself well with his sword and shield before he went to the door and threw it open. The lady Luniver came out with him, sobbing, and she did throw herself into the arms of another man.

Husband, she said unto him that had called, full-well know thou that I am naught but true to thee, and know ye that this man has forced himself upon our house and our honor; and he made to threaten me with his sword until I cried and wept and let him do as he would.

Lies! cried Sir Bryon, full-well into his rage now. Thou devil woman, thou hast dishonored me with thy deceits, and I’d as liefer die than be made a foul brigand in men’s eyes!

And the man she had called husband put her behind him and drew his sword, as did another stout fellow beside him. Sir Bryon made ready, but spoke unto them: Hold, sirs, and know ye this. I have been deceived and wronged, here, but heed my words and understand that I will defend my body, for I have quests of great import to complete!

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 1, Part 2

2008-07-11T00:56:45Z

Sir Byron ate full well of the woman’s bread, and drank wine nigh until the room tipped sideways in his sight. And after he bathed and dried and arrayed himself anew in clothes she laid by for him, he called upon her and said to her: Goodly woman, much gladness I have of the bounty of thy kindness, and wouldst of thee a name, so that I might thank of our Lord God for thee, and remember it well when I return to my own kingdom.

Sir, I am but the widow Luniver. What, good knight, will I call of thee? And he drew himself straight before her and answered: My lady Luniver, I am Sir Byron of Farris, under my lord Gerideon’s banner and service, a knight of arms sent a-hither and thither in quest for many a great book that my lord doth desire.

And Sir Byron thought upon the widow, Luniver, with great kindness, and he fought her not when she sought to draw him with her to bed, and together they lie until morning rose and, with it, came a knocking on the door and a voice that said:

Out, errant sir; thee with my wife!

The Gerideon Chronicles: Author's Note

2008-07-11T00:35:18Z

This is another experimental project of mine. Several years ago, I bought and read Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, and was absolutely blown away. After I got the hang of the language, the simplistic beauty of the story was amazing.

So, I wondered,could I pull off telling a story of this sort, in this style?

Why not try?

To be clear, I’m not attempting to write a historical fiction…the world these stories take place will be made up as I go, although it will be medieval in style and substance, most easily identifiable with the Dark Ages or early Renaissance.

So, basically, I’m just gonna have fun with it, and I hope that you guys will all enjoy it. Feel free to sequel, comment, leave feedback, and so on.

And if you haven’t read Le Morte d’Arthur...DO IT. It’s a great book.

The Gerideon Chronicles: Chapter 1, Part 1

2008-07-11T00:30:28Z

How Sir Byron of Farris did have of a woman much travail, and bitterly fought against two rivals whilst adventuring

Sir Byron of Farris, a goodly knight of no small fame, came upon a small village whilst adventuring through the high lands in service of King Gerideon the Wise, who scholarly sought of his neighbors many tomes of great knowledge.

Much travailed and travel-weary of his journey, on which his steed had gotten lame and he, heart-weary, for the horse had long been a companion, had eased the beast’s suffering with his dagger, fell upon the door of the first hut and said thusly to the woman who answered: Goodly woman, I beg thee of thy hospitality, and bread and water to draw a bath to ease of my wearied body!

Sir knight, said the woman, fain that I would turn away a weary traveler. Much of the road I see in the dust of thine clothes, and I wouldst gladly give of thee succor and rest.

Thusly did she take him into her home and gave unto him bread and wine, and left him to draw water for the bath.

Bagman: Bad Business

2008-07-10T02:07:13Z

Freeze, I thought, ducking to the side into another suite. Fat fucking chance, babe.

My ears were still ringing from the grenade’s explosion. I wasn’t sure how many men had been in the stairwell, but was pretty sure they’d be out of commission for the rest of the fight.

One had come through fast when I’d thrown the grenade. A woman, by the sound of her, swingin’ around a combat shottie that looked like bad business.

Kept moving. There was an access door between these two suites that I’d opened earlier, in anticipation. Closed it carefully behind me and crept to the hallway door to listen to the cop’s subdued breathing, her careful footsteps.

Smart girl. Keep clear of that door. No tellin’ what kind’ve nasties are waiting.

“Fuck, Benito,” she cursed. I froze. “Yeah, I know you, motherfucker. Nowhere for you to run. Come out, hands up, and you might get out of this alive.”

Not likely, I thought. On either count.

Her boots screeched on marble and I stabbed my thumb down on the switch in my hand.

Don't Leave [Backwards Challenge]

2008-07-10T01:17:53Z

“Hey, Pa,” Paul said, settling down into the chair beside the hospital bed. The heart monitor chirped unobtrusively on the other side.

It took a long time for the other man’s eyes to focus on him. He seemed to have come out from a far different land, his eyes fixed on a distant, unknowable horizon.

“Paul, son…son, is that you?”

“Yeah, Pa. It’s me.”

“Always a good son…you look so much like your mother, Paul.” He lifted his hand, reaching weakly. Paul took his hand and forced a smile. “Where’s your mother? Is she coming soon? I miss her.”

Sudden tears blossomed in Paul’s eyes. “No, Pa. Ma won’t be coming,” he said, voice shaking.

He really is gone. All that’s left is this…this shell.

“Oh,” his father whispered. “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, Paul…I’d forgotten.” His eyes blurred, drifted and focused somewhere over Paul’s right shoulder.

Then his eyes closed, and he fell into a fitful slumber. Paul leaned down to lay his head on his father’s chest, sobbing.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave.”

Something in My Eye [Backwards Challenge]

2008-07-10T01:02:54Z

“Paul? Paul, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Paul said. He reached up and angrily wiped away his tears.

“Paul, are you crying?” The man on the bed shook his head, faint wisps of white hair falling into his bleary eyes. “Paul, why are you crying?”

Paul swallowed hard and shook his head once. “I’m not crying, Pa. I just got something in my eye.” He squeezed his dad’s hand, and the other man squeezed back, feather-light. So weak.

The door opened. Paul looked up at the nurse, silently mouthed five minutes. The nurse nodded and backed out, her eyes sympathetic.

“So much like your mother,” his dad said, his mouth twisting in what might have been either a smile or a grimace. “So like your mother…Paul? Paul?”

“Yeah, Pa?”

“Paul? There you are, boy. Where’s your mother?”

Paul closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Ma’s coming, Pa. She’ll be here soon.”

His dad lapsed into silence, his breathing slowing as he drifted back into sleep. Paul stayed for another three minutes, then got up and left.

Back in the Swing (Ficlets Challenge!)

2008-07-09T23:25:34Z

“Hey, you need to try this website, man! It’s really cool, you’ll like it. You write stories, but you only have 1000 characters to do it! It’s fun.”

Sigh.

After much prodding, I sit down one day to read over what my brother has written on this site…ficlets.com. Takes FOREVER to load, I’m about to go off and do other things when I finally get into the meat of it.

Hmm. Not bad.

I haven’t written anything substantial in years. So far as I know, my brother hasn’t either…but he’s put out some solid material in this cramped format. I look around some more.

Actually some good writers here. Will Wheaton? Isn’t that Wes Crusher? I hate Wes Crusher. Picard, all day, all the way.

I decide to do my first ficlet, “A Clear Blue Spike.”

Oh good, a mature option. I can curse. Fantastic.

Got a few comments and ran with it. Now I’ve got a 50+ ficlet series going, and I’m enjoying the heck out of it.

It feels good to be back in the swing of writing.

Almost like coming home.

And now I’m stuck.

Bagman: Officers Down

2008-07-09T22:32:40Z

I flipped down my visor and let the HUD come into focus.

“Kill the lights,” I whispered. The stairwell plunged into darkness. The helmet’s night-vision kicked on, and the stairwell coalesced in shades of green and black.

“Check. Alpha is go.”

“Bravo, go.”

“Charlie, go.”

I set the shotgun’s stock against my shoulder. “Go go go!” I took the final flight of stairs, Stern and Rosen behind me, faceless behind their visors.

35th floor. I leaned against the door-jamb, listening, then nodded to Stern. He came forward, kicked the door open, and I stepped out, swept the room with my shotgun.

Something bounced across the floor, bumped my heel as it rolled between my legs. Went into the open door behind me.

“Shit! Get down!”

The grenade exploded with a hollow thump behind me, amplified by the cramped stairwell. The blast lifted me from my feet and sent me flying, ears ringing.

“Alpha! Officers down!”

I jumped to my feet, shotgun held ready. I spun towards a blur of movement on my left.

“N.O.C.A.! Freeze!”

Bagman: The Captain

2008-07-06T22:37:41Z

“Strap in, Red,” I snapped over my shoulder. “We’ve gotta drop out, now. Fire’s taking over.”

Once she was strapped in, I dropped the nose and cut our altitude, falling to a hover thirty meters above ground. The N.O.C.A. was already clearing a space for me to land. A minute later, the ship settled to the street and I killed the engines.

Red was already up and out, hopping down from the hatch before it could finish opening. I unplugged and stood, threw my helmet over my shoulder and followed her, pausing long enough to grab the camera.

Above, the Fire Department was firing a stream of flame-retardant foam snaking from the side of the craft and into the burning rooms.

The captain met me. She looked different than she had behind her desk. Younger, somehow. Her hair was a shock of short black curls, her jaw square and set, eyes hard. She might have been attractive, 20 years ago.

“You’re sure it was him, Johnson? The same man?”

I nodded. Behind her, nine armored figures did the final checks on their weapons.

Bagman: Burned Out

2008-07-06T22:19:54Z

I unplugged and flopped nervelessly from the chair. My body still shook from the Cerberus3’s attack. My mouth was filled with an acid taste and my tongue was swollen.

I vomited, then stood and stumbled to the small bathroom to rinse my face. In the mirror, my eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Over my shoulder, I saw a curl of smoke rising from my neural socket.

Burned out, I thought, cursing. Motherfucker!

Washed my face, fumbled in the cabinet for some pills and dry-swallowed them. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the fridge before I flopped on the couch and cued the monitor. The speed pills lit my circuits.

News.

A dark-clad figure in a smoke shrouded room, blood on white marble at his feet. He gave the camera the finger and a wild grin, then stepped out of sight.

The reporter’s voice-over: ”...man, believed to be the terrorist responsible for this unprecedented attack on One Shell Square’s corporate offices.“

“Fuck, Benny. Get out! Get the hell out, now!”

He couldn’t hear me.

Bagman: VTOL at the Window

2008-06-27T02:34:26Z

I kept close to the floor and let the air clear out. A pall of smoke still hung high, fed from the fires outside, but I could see, now. I staggered to my feet, grimacing.

Dumped more adrenaline, felt it slam through my veins and the pain flickered and retreated into the back of my awareness. I stumbled over to the smashed computer console and kicked at its frame, and then knelt and pulled out a few of the boards. Stuffed those in my pocket.

A VTOL ’s roar deafened me and I struggled to stand against a blast of wind behind me. Turned and looked out, into the cockpit of a deep blue VTOL , bucking wildly against the wind, barely 10 meters away from the open window. I saw the helmeted visage of a black man through the canopy, a flash of red behind.

I noticed the heavy-duty, armored camera slung underneath the craft’s nose, lens glittering. Gave it the finger, flashed my best death’s-head grin and ducked into the hallway.

Suite 3503. If there was anything to find, it’d be there.

“About time to check on Louise.”