A couple poems I started over spring break or thereabouts.
A Book By Tolstoy
On my birthday I only left the town behind
I offered you a beer and a listening ear
you refused the first
but you hewed my faith in mankind
to a safe yet breakable point.
the night wasn't warm like a half-finished summer
and it wasn't as hard as winter
and you were in the middle
when you whispered and shrugged
I wished you said nothing at all
You said you carried that book for years
amidst the stories I let in through guarded awe
and it should be mine,
you hoped it meant something
you hoped it meant enough
Now I've read words enough to know
you don't believe a book unless it's sad
But I'd have written you in the margins
if you said more, no matter what the page
I'd always find room to be wrong
I was told and disbelieved
love is mapped out in a finite heart.
But you were off the map I knew
and seemed to have no bounds yourself
And Tolstoy, well,
he said you could love the whole world
stop wars even,
it would only hurt the lover
I did want your memories,
but not outgrown
knocked and dusted from a shelf that afternoon.
And I don't care what else Tolstoy had to say
I'll never read more
But I know he's right
anyone but me.
_________________________________________
Misspelling
I can't see the world like I used to
or write the words I see
I forget to spell the ones
I always took for granted
seamingly seemless contradictions
look just fine to me.
And I could swear I met you
and I know just what you'll say
I'd like to think I'm wiser
refined fits with blasé
but it never really cycles
round the same way at my words
to fit a seemly contradiction
I know too well to see
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Faruhar/Jesse Fight
I updated the Faruhar/Jesse fight scene (originally posted April 2008 here, just added changes to the old post to make it consistent with the new beginning). The fight scene takes place about halfway through the story.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Beginning of Faruhar
Or should I call it "Nephila?" That might be more indicative of the concept...
But I decided to put a couple segments before the last "beginning" i posted. here they are... again, anything helpful you could say is great. (Even if you want to leave anonymous posts that rip the crap out of it).
1. A Dirt Path Between Worlds.
A small, dirt trodden path followed the banks of the brook between the two villages in the forest. It was neither the most direct route between Yatisan and Naco, nor was the path wide enough to permit a horse or a cart. Even so, the path went between the villages eventually, and an optimistic mind would certainly admit they did seem to have the nicer view. The brook had remarkably clear water when you could see it through the mist.
The mists would start to thin a bit in the late afternoon, and in this part of the island, they would generally clear at nightfall to permit the people to see the stars. If this never happened, perhaps the people would never see the virtue in thinking about things so far away as the stars. Perhaps such thoughts didn't matter, the woman walking the path thought. There was enough trouble in one day, especially now.
The woman walking was neither old nor young, and she was neither passive or passionate. She was a reasonable, empathetic midwife, and a adequately one at that. Her husband was also a respectable man of the small little town, in that although no one had much bad to say about him,no one might say much good either. Whatever it was that made any person more noble or virtuous than the next had never much concerned either her or her husband until very recent, as she once considered virtue to be very simple skills of courtesy and neighborliness. She was all those things, and it was enough to live for.
The woman clutched a baby, but not to her chest. The infant slept in a bag under her arm, carried much the same way one might carry a sack of flour or potatoes from the market. But the child slept soundly as the woman wound and often climbed her way over the rough path by the river, oblivious to everything going on around her, as if dead. But a gaze downward told her the child was breathing, and it would startle once and while, but not if she tried to rouse it, and not if she tried to feed it.
The baby had been like this for a week now.
The child's mother was a stranger, found bruised and beaten. Although she didn't seem to speak their language, it was clear enough what the state of her torn robes meant. The villagers of Yatisan took her in, and she seemed quite grateful. She had been shy, but hardworking, always smiling. A fine woman. After a couple months, however, her stomach began to swell. Even this the woman seemed to take in stride, smiling still. The midwife had been more hesitant, such children were often cursed. But the woman, who was very slowly learning their language, seemed not to understand this.
The mother hadn't died, not at the birth anyway. They really weren't sure what had happened to the mother. The child had opened it's eyes after birth, piercingly, probingly, oddly mature, but not frightening, at least not to the mother. She seemed to love the child, and not notice it's peculiarities.
As if at this thought, infant stirred with an inhuman scream far bigger than her small body and lungs should support. The midwife tried to calm the child. She wrapped clothes around the mouth, stifling the sound. Others had tried this before in a more extreme measure in the last week, and though the infant had for a time stopped breathing altogether, she took up the screaming again in minutes, hours, after the clothes were removed. And she would stare at them with green inhuman clarity of purpose, as if she knew what you were trying to do.
“Did you kill your mother, or did your father?” the midwife asked the baby. The infants eyes grew wide, perhaps frightened by her tone. The screaming stopped. She removed the rag from the child's mouth.
It began to rain, and the child murmured, but did not use it's force of voice. The woman continued to walk until she was far enough from the village where she knew she would have to stop to return before darkness fell again... although the mists could almost be as dangerous as the night. She would wander through the mists.
The midwife placed the child in the roots of a tree by the river.
“May the night claim you.” the woman said. This was a blessing and a curse. As the saying went, The night is only dangerous to those who produce no light themselves.
As the midwife looked the child over for one last goodbye. The baby looked up from the tree roots smiling.
The midwife shivered. She wondered if she was making a mistake. From the time until she turned away until she died, which wasn't very long, she never really decided if she had.
2. The Old Young Man - Jesse
“You're old enough where you have to leave” the old man told the boy.
“Why must I?” he said.
The boy, Jesse, lived in a village in the woods. His homestead in the forest had farms which contained food for the stomach, and they housed young women who were food for the eye. The woods had animals worthy of hunting and chasing, and you could see the stars through the mist here. Jesse had always been a simple man.
“Everything I need is here”. Jesse said.
“Most young men wouldn't say that even if it were true” the old man said. “This is a safe place. Young men should be bored of that.”
“What else is there to see? Other villages are filled with the same people, the same problems... city or country alike.”
The old man said “Your world is full of demons and gods, and you must learn the difference between them.”
“Apart from people” Jesse started with a smile “I don't think I believe in demons and gods”.
“Which is precisely why you must go.” the old man said. “Even if you believe the same thing coming back, you must look for them as all the young must. Find a place less safe and more interesting because of it. This may be your home in the end, but you should abandon it long enough to know it's worth missing.
“I suppose” Jesse said. “I would like to fight a man who couldn't beat me.” For Jesse was a very strong man, who although kindhearted, loved to fight.
“Fight whatever or whoever you find worth fighting” said the old man. “And when you come back, tell me why you did.”
But I decided to put a couple segments before the last "beginning" i posted. here they are... again, anything helpful you could say is great. (Even if you want to leave anonymous posts that rip the crap out of it).
1. A Dirt Path Between Worlds.
A small, dirt trodden path followed the banks of the brook between the two villages in the forest. It was neither the most direct route between Yatisan and Naco, nor was the path wide enough to permit a horse or a cart. Even so, the path went between the villages eventually, and an optimistic mind would certainly admit they did seem to have the nicer view. The brook had remarkably clear water when you could see it through the mist.
The mists would start to thin a bit in the late afternoon, and in this part of the island, they would generally clear at nightfall to permit the people to see the stars. If this never happened, perhaps the people would never see the virtue in thinking about things so far away as the stars. Perhaps such thoughts didn't matter, the woman walking the path thought. There was enough trouble in one day, especially now.
The woman walking was neither old nor young, and she was neither passive or passionate. She was a reasonable, empathetic midwife, and a adequately one at that. Her husband was also a respectable man of the small little town, in that although no one had much bad to say about him,no one might say much good either. Whatever it was that made any person more noble or virtuous than the next had never much concerned either her or her husband until very recent, as she once considered virtue to be very simple skills of courtesy and neighborliness. She was all those things, and it was enough to live for.
The woman clutched a baby, but not to her chest. The infant slept in a bag under her arm, carried much the same way one might carry a sack of flour or potatoes from the market. But the child slept soundly as the woman wound and often climbed her way over the rough path by the river, oblivious to everything going on around her, as if dead. But a gaze downward told her the child was breathing, and it would startle once and while, but not if she tried to rouse it, and not if she tried to feed it.
The baby had been like this for a week now.
The child's mother was a stranger, found bruised and beaten. Although she didn't seem to speak their language, it was clear enough what the state of her torn robes meant. The villagers of Yatisan took her in, and she seemed quite grateful. She had been shy, but hardworking, always smiling. A fine woman. After a couple months, however, her stomach began to swell. Even this the woman seemed to take in stride, smiling still. The midwife had been more hesitant, such children were often cursed. But the woman, who was very slowly learning their language, seemed not to understand this.
The mother hadn't died, not at the birth anyway. They really weren't sure what had happened to the mother. The child had opened it's eyes after birth, piercingly, probingly, oddly mature, but not frightening, at least not to the mother. She seemed to love the child, and not notice it's peculiarities.
As if at this thought, infant stirred with an inhuman scream far bigger than her small body and lungs should support. The midwife tried to calm the child. She wrapped clothes around the mouth, stifling the sound. Others had tried this before in a more extreme measure in the last week, and though the infant had for a time stopped breathing altogether, she took up the screaming again in minutes, hours, after the clothes were removed. And she would stare at them with green inhuman clarity of purpose, as if she knew what you were trying to do.
“Did you kill your mother, or did your father?” the midwife asked the baby. The infants eyes grew wide, perhaps frightened by her tone. The screaming stopped. She removed the rag from the child's mouth.
It began to rain, and the child murmured, but did not use it's force of voice. The woman continued to walk until she was far enough from the village where she knew she would have to stop to return before darkness fell again... although the mists could almost be as dangerous as the night. She would wander through the mists.
The midwife placed the child in the roots of a tree by the river.
“May the night claim you.” the woman said. This was a blessing and a curse. As the saying went, The night is only dangerous to those who produce no light themselves.
As the midwife looked the child over for one last goodbye. The baby looked up from the tree roots smiling.
The midwife shivered. She wondered if she was making a mistake. From the time until she turned away until she died, which wasn't very long, she never really decided if she had.
2. The Old Young Man - Jesse
“You're old enough where you have to leave” the old man told the boy.
“Why must I?” he said.
The boy, Jesse, lived in a village in the woods. His homestead in the forest had farms which contained food for the stomach, and they housed young women who were food for the eye. The woods had animals worthy of hunting and chasing, and you could see the stars through the mist here. Jesse had always been a simple man.
“Everything I need is here”. Jesse said.
“Most young men wouldn't say that even if it were true” the old man said. “This is a safe place. Young men should be bored of that.”
“What else is there to see? Other villages are filled with the same people, the same problems... city or country alike.”
The old man said “Your world is full of demons and gods, and you must learn the difference between them.”
“Apart from people” Jesse started with a smile “I don't think I believe in demons and gods”.
“Which is precisely why you must go.” the old man said. “Even if you believe the same thing coming back, you must look for them as all the young must. Find a place less safe and more interesting because of it. This may be your home in the end, but you should abandon it long enough to know it's worth missing.
“I suppose” Jesse said. “I would like to fight a man who couldn't beat me.” For Jesse was a very strong man, who although kindhearted, loved to fight.
“Fight whatever or whoever you find worth fighting” said the old man. “And when you come back, tell me why you did.”
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Next couple segments of Faruhar
Updated 3/25/09
This is how I begin the novella Faruhar... I've posted a fight scene from it on this blog before.
It still reads more like a movie, at least until you get into the dialogue.
I'd appreciate some harsh criticism.
-Orri
In Shadow - Faruhar
I told her that I wanted to tell her everything.
"So..." she asked. "Why me?"
I never asked her name. I imagine she might not even have one. It did not matter anyway. Her face was a little too blurry, her colors just a little too ambiguous, she would change with time and event. But for the purpose of focus, I'll make myself note that the woman be has brown eyes, a red dress, and a blue hat - and an ugly hat at that. It was some sort of small town tavern. The moments were moving too slow, and the air was too heavy for my liking, but nothing I couldn't change.
"I want to to tell you everything because you aren't real".
She laughed non-committedly, and a bit confused.
"You were always such a strange girl”
“Always? Do you know me well?”
If she answered, I didn't hear her. I took a sip of my drink. It was dark and rainy outside, and it pleased me that I was aware enough to know. I could feel a heaviness weighing down the lights in the room as they flickered in and out.
"The people here know you are... different.” she knelt down in a whisper
“Well of course” I hear myself add. “They aren't blind”.
“Well, some people around here feel it's time to do something about it.”
“Again?” I asked.
“What do you mean 'again'?” the woman replied.
I looked into her blurry, unfocused eyes. I think they were brown. They might have been black, or blue a minute ago and I wouldn't notice. She was wearing a cloak, a red cloak, a brown hat, had that changed while I had been sitting here? It seemed wrong, but if I could focus on the details, I might be here the whole conversation.
“Well, this happens to me often”.
“What happens?” she asked.
I turn away to regather my thoughts. It takes a lot of energy for me to remember such things, and I was never quite sure what I was making up. I took a deep breath, and focused on the woman's hat.
“They'll leave, maybe try to kill me.”
“They'd never kill you. I wouldn't allow it. You are still a child” she said.
"No.”
“No what?”
“No I'm not a child, and no they'd never succeed in killing me.”
“Aren't you a little old not to understand death?” she asked.
“I don't know.” I sighed. “I really don't”.
The darkness in the room thickened, and the candles on the ceiling dimmed. The woman became more blurry. I tried to push against, it to focus, but in a minute the woman was gone.
I was sitting on the floor next, playing with dried bones.
“Can you help me?” I asked.
“Who are you little girl?” she asked, not sure whether to regard me with wide-eyed gravity or humor. The woman was kinder now, but suspicious. I felt very small.
“I don't know.” I said. “What do I look like?”
“A child. A strange and wonderful child”.
I was startled. “Wonderful? What have I done that is wonderful?”
I looked down. There was blood at my feet. It wasn't mine... it didn't smell right.
The woman was turned away now. It was colder, and I stood up to move around. There was snow on the ground. But hadn't I been inside? I had forgotten my cloak.
“I need your help” I said. “It's cold”.
She turned around, and eyed me darkly. She said nothing. I stood and shivered... and it felt like forever.
Are you lost? A man asked me next. He seemed kind enough, with warm dark eyes and hair, like someone I'm sure I used to know. I decided I trusted him almost immediately.
“Yes. Very much so.” I said. “Is there a village nearby?”
“You'd best come with me.” he said. “Beautiful women shouldn't wander these woods alone. And I'm not talking about the wolves.”
“Oh... ok”. I suppose I must be a woman now. It was odd that he found me beautiful, but anything conclusive he might say would make me feel the same. “Wolves?”
The man took my arm, and we walked on through the woods. I listened to him and replied as he asked me questions I made up answers to – my name, why I was there. I didn't want to lie to him, but I didn't know the answers.
I was too good at lying.
“Why lie?” he turned to me, with a few more lines than I remembered – older. “I'm sorry. It made it easier for you.”
“No.” he said, visibly hurt. His voice became a whisper. “You should have warned me.”
“I didn't know how to.” I whispered “Stay with me. Talk to me. If I can figure out how you work, I might be able to figure out how to slow down time. I can't remember anything about me – But if you stay, I might remember you."
"What's my name?” he asked. “I don't know”. I said... “Things are going too fast.”
I didn't see him again.
I was sitting heavily in a chair next time I had anyone to speak with. An old woman looked very interested in her wine glass, but she was here, listening at least.
"I'm trying to leave all this behind... to escape”. I explained.
“What are you running from?” she asked.
“I think it's more that I'm running towards something, and I don't know where I'm going.”
"Didn't you pay me to talk?" she asked
"I'm not sure. If I have money, I will pay. Tell me about yourself.”
"Well", she said, standing up. "I think I've heard enough to give you your wake-up call."
She picked up her bag, and readjusted her cloak.
"You're crazy" she said, and walked off. "Keep your money"
"No."
I stood up, and the tavern, which was empty just a moment ago, seemed full. It seemed like everyone had been talking all around me, and now... everything was silent. My whisper had become a scream somehow, and my motions became heavy and slow as I fought to break my head above the clouds over this scene. I pulled a money pouch off my belt and dropped it before it.
"Thank you for showing me my thoughts"
And I walked past the crowd out of the tavern, and instead of a rainy night, I met a rising sun, and a lone, crying child. Another dream I suppose.
It's only when you break the rules that you truly realize what they are.
(A Jesse Segment will eventually go here - still working on it)
A Moment of Clarity - Faruhar
I woke up by the river, tangled in the roots of a tree. The sun was shining down on me, and I felt like I hadn't seen it in ages. Things were clearer now. I stood up, and the world, as far as I could see it, stayed the same. The sun was high in the sky, my legs were painful and dirty, and I was thirsty, as if I had never drank water before.
The river behind me was clear, fast-moving and shallow. I remembered this place. There was no house or dwelling of any kind nearby, but I knew had a small bag hidden in the hollow of a tree.
I has no idea how I knew all that. All I knew for sure was that I was home, and the water I had stooped to drink was delicious.
I heard someone running in the forest. I knew it was someone, and not some thing, and I was pretty sure I knew who it was.
“Faruhar!” I heard her cry before she appeared over the bank behind me. She appeared before me breathless. A girl of 8 or 9 years with almond eyes and dark hair to her chin. She wore a worn and dirty dress, and she was the definition, or at least mine, of enthusiasm and loyalty. She ran up to me and pulled me into a hug.”
“Hello again Bria” I replied smiling. “It's good to see a familiar face.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “You look hungry”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I brought you something.”
She sat down at the bank and opened up a brown bag she had been carrying at her side. She produced a small round loaf of dark bread and couple red apples.
“Thank you” I said, and sat down with her “How did you know I'd be here?”
“I always know when you'll be here” she replied, laughing.
I took the proffered bread and began eating. “I will hunt something to repay you. I feel you've done this often.”.
“Not worries, Faruhar.”
Bria was a strange and precocious child. She had the carefree confidence of any child her age, but her eyes hinted of wisdom no child would possess, or at least no child who would remain carefree.
“Besides” she said. “I knew you were here because I had a story to tell you.”
“Oh?” I said. I was used to things that Bria said not making a lot of sense on a basic level, but nevertheless... I've never known her to be wrong.
She was literally bouncing with anticipation. “So are you ready for the story?” she asked.
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes, of course” she replied.
“Let me take a few bites first so I can concentrate, then yes.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
I began an apple in silence, and I was happy that the scene around remained clear and vivid. Bria was still there.a few bites later, and there was no cloudiness on the scene. That was good. She never got to finish many of her stories.
“Ready now?” she asked expectantly.
“Sure” I said, and leaned against the tree.
So she began, sitting down and eying me with impeccable grown-up seriousness.
"At the beginning of the story, there was a little girl. She had never heard music. She had never seen a rainbow or the water at sunset. She had never seen the sun at all. She only was allowed outside at night, and she was forced to work very hard. Her parents were afraid of her."
Why was that? I asked.
The little girl closed her dark eyes and put her head in her hands, seeking a good explanation. I liked listening the child.
"They were afraid because they didn't know what she was. She was not human like them."
"But how could that be if they were her parents?"
"They tried to raise her - but she was different. In a way she was an orphan."
"So they weren't her real parents?" I asked. "What was she then?"
“SO MANY QUESTIONS! “Your messing up the story!"
"Sorry."
She laughed.
I made myself comfortable and tore off the a piece of bread. She waited until I made eye contact, assuring her that I was giving her my utmost concentration. I suppose she was wise not to trust my attention skills.
"So one night" she began again "Her father told her to shut off the stars, one by one, because it was too bright."
I didn't ask.
“The girl knew what would happen if she tried, but she was young, and so she obeyed her father, and she tried to shut off the stars, one by one. The stars began to fight her.... and they fought and they fought. But the girl was as strong as the stars, thought she did not know this at first. They weakened her, but they could not destroy her. They just made her very tired, and very sad. Sometimes she hurt real bad and couldn't move. And one day - she fought a star, and destroyed it, and the night was never the same again.”
"Can I ask a question?" I had to ask.
"If it's important." she glared in mock superiority.
"How do you fight against a star, and win?"
The child laughed. again She liked to laugh, especially at things which only she knew was funny. She did not do it to be mean, the child could never be truly mean. But she did like to laugh.
"The same way you win against a lot of things bigger or different from you. You make it turn in against itself.”
"How could the girl do that?"
"Well, she wasn't human. And she could make things very.... c-coooolllllld"
The child dragged the cold out dramatically and shivered.
"I see" "Could anyone do this?”
“Only those that knew how. Not many people do.”
“And this is why her parents were afraid of her? But they decided to use her to destroy... the stars, the world, whichever?
"NO! YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG!" the child laughed again.
"Then what?"
"Her parents didn't know what they were doing. They just thought it was too bright outside. They didn't want to destroy anything, and the girl didn't want to destroy anything, especially a star. She just did it because she had to - but she was sorry, very sorry.”
Bria frowned a little. I had never seen her truly sad. But this little frown was enough for me to take note.
“So what is the end of the story” I asked. “Did the girl make all the stars go out?”
"The girl ran away. And she became an enemy of the stars, An enemy of her parents, and an enemy of the night.”
“Why the night?”
“Her father... who told her to shut out the stars. He tried to take over the night. So the night did not forgive her for helping him.”
"So did she have any friends?" I asked.
“A few eventually, but she couldn't see them most of the time. It was dark, and she couldn't see. Sometimes the girl found another world to live in. She missed her family, but wondered if there was a real family somewhere else, or more people like her. She also felt there was someone who she had come to this world to protect, who would also protect her if she needed it... one of the stars"
"The stars are people?"
"Before and after they live, sometimes. Stars are bound to be people sometimes, and and sometimes people become stars. But she didn't remember his name. Although she knew this was very important. After she ran away... she forgot everything. even her own name. But she knew. She just knew."
"She knew what? How could she know anything if she had forgotten all that?"
The child just laughed as she looked at me.
"What is your real name?" she whispered.
I thought. I thought very hard... “You called me Faruhar”. I recalled.
“Is that who you are?” she asked.
“As far as I know” I asked.
“It's difficult” she said. She looked at me as if she understood.
“Help me Bria”. I asked.
"What do you know for sure?" the child asked, kneeling down.
"Can I know anything, if I don't know my own name??"
"The girl in the story did." the child retorted.
"But she knew that there was someone who she would protect, and who would protect her. That could be true of anyone, in anyone's life. All of us will at one time both protect someone and are protected - even lonely people. And she knew she had to make things right. That's also true in anyone's life. In many ways that story could fit anyones life”
"But there was more. The night, the stars, the humans... were fighting her. That's not true for everybody." she said
"Well... things aren't that bad with me, are they?"
I thought to the child out loud. Nothing I could think would ever sound stupid to the child. The child always believed me, I knew it, but I didn't know why. That was comforting, in a way.
“Bria” I said. “All I know about you is your name. I trust you, but I don't know why you understand me”.
“It's all you'll remember. I've told you before”.
“Then I suppose it doesn't matter.” I said “What have I learned since you've know me? Hoe have I changed?”
“You haven't changed much.” she admitted, It is at the beginning of the story right now.”
I sighed. And broke apart the last of the bread.
"You must understand me, though!" the little girl pleaded. "The star she killed - became a human right away. And he forgave the girl. And... he was very wise. He helped her make everything right."
"Does anyone in this story have a name either?"
She sat down and began to look thoughtful.
“You'll forget the names, but you might remember what they mean. The girl's name was meant Lesson, but her parents liked to tell her that was the nicer word for mistakes. She used to think about that." (The child grew silent for a second, and I watched her turn away.) "But... But, she wasn't their child, so how could she be their mistake?”
“I don't know” I said. “Isn't this your story? And why doesn't anyone in this story have a name beside her?”
"The Star - was Reic." she smiled. “You remembered this once”.
“So I'm looking for this man, Reic, and yet I am the mistake?”
“The lesson.” she said. And from there her features began to blur.
This is how I begin the novella Faruhar... I've posted a fight scene from it on this blog before.
It still reads more like a movie, at least until you get into the dialogue.
I'd appreciate some harsh criticism.
-Orri
In Shadow - Faruhar
I told her that I wanted to tell her everything.
"So..." she asked. "Why me?"
I never asked her name. I imagine she might not even have one. It did not matter anyway. Her face was a little too blurry, her colors just a little too ambiguous, she would change with time and event. But for the purpose of focus, I'll make myself note that the woman be has brown eyes, a red dress, and a blue hat - and an ugly hat at that. It was some sort of small town tavern. The moments were moving too slow, and the air was too heavy for my liking, but nothing I couldn't change.
"I want to to tell you everything because you aren't real".
She laughed non-committedly, and a bit confused.
"You were always such a strange girl”
“Always? Do you know me well?”
If she answered, I didn't hear her. I took a sip of my drink. It was dark and rainy outside, and it pleased me that I was aware enough to know. I could feel a heaviness weighing down the lights in the room as they flickered in and out.
"The people here know you are... different.” she knelt down in a whisper
“Well of course” I hear myself add. “They aren't blind”.
“Well, some people around here feel it's time to do something about it.”
“Again?” I asked.
“What do you mean 'again'?” the woman replied.
I looked into her blurry, unfocused eyes. I think they were brown. They might have been black, or blue a minute ago and I wouldn't notice. She was wearing a cloak, a red cloak, a brown hat, had that changed while I had been sitting here? It seemed wrong, but if I could focus on the details, I might be here the whole conversation.
“Well, this happens to me often”.
“What happens?” she asked.
I turn away to regather my thoughts. It takes a lot of energy for me to remember such things, and I was never quite sure what I was making up. I took a deep breath, and focused on the woman's hat.
“They'll leave, maybe try to kill me.”
“They'd never kill you. I wouldn't allow it. You are still a child” she said.
"No.”
“No what?”
“No I'm not a child, and no they'd never succeed in killing me.”
“Aren't you a little old not to understand death?” she asked.
“I don't know.” I sighed. “I really don't”.
The darkness in the room thickened, and the candles on the ceiling dimmed. The woman became more blurry. I tried to push against, it to focus, but in a minute the woman was gone.
I was sitting on the floor next, playing with dried bones.
“Can you help me?” I asked.
“Who are you little girl?” she asked, not sure whether to regard me with wide-eyed gravity or humor. The woman was kinder now, but suspicious. I felt very small.
“I don't know.” I said. “What do I look like?”
“A child. A strange and wonderful child”.
I was startled. “Wonderful? What have I done that is wonderful?”
I looked down. There was blood at my feet. It wasn't mine... it didn't smell right.
The woman was turned away now. It was colder, and I stood up to move around. There was snow on the ground. But hadn't I been inside? I had forgotten my cloak.
“I need your help” I said. “It's cold”.
She turned around, and eyed me darkly. She said nothing. I stood and shivered... and it felt like forever.
Are you lost? A man asked me next. He seemed kind enough, with warm dark eyes and hair, like someone I'm sure I used to know. I decided I trusted him almost immediately.
“Yes. Very much so.” I said. “Is there a village nearby?”
“You'd best come with me.” he said. “Beautiful women shouldn't wander these woods alone. And I'm not talking about the wolves.”
“Oh... ok”. I suppose I must be a woman now. It was odd that he found me beautiful, but anything conclusive he might say would make me feel the same. “Wolves?”
The man took my arm, and we walked on through the woods. I listened to him and replied as he asked me questions I made up answers to – my name, why I was there. I didn't want to lie to him, but I didn't know the answers.
I was too good at lying.
“Why lie?” he turned to me, with a few more lines than I remembered – older. “I'm sorry. It made it easier for you.”
“No.” he said, visibly hurt. His voice became a whisper. “You should have warned me.”
“I didn't know how to.” I whispered “Stay with me. Talk to me. If I can figure out how you work, I might be able to figure out how to slow down time. I can't remember anything about me – But if you stay, I might remember you."
"What's my name?” he asked. “I don't know”. I said... “Things are going too fast.”
I didn't see him again.
I was sitting heavily in a chair next time I had anyone to speak with. An old woman looked very interested in her wine glass, but she was here, listening at least.
"I'm trying to leave all this behind... to escape”. I explained.
“What are you running from?” she asked.
“I think it's more that I'm running towards something, and I don't know where I'm going.”
"Didn't you pay me to talk?" she asked
"I'm not sure. If I have money, I will pay. Tell me about yourself.”
"Well", she said, standing up. "I think I've heard enough to give you your wake-up call."
She picked up her bag, and readjusted her cloak.
"You're crazy" she said, and walked off. "Keep your money"
"No."
I stood up, and the tavern, which was empty just a moment ago, seemed full. It seemed like everyone had been talking all around me, and now... everything was silent. My whisper had become a scream somehow, and my motions became heavy and slow as I fought to break my head above the clouds over this scene. I pulled a money pouch off my belt and dropped it before it.
"Thank you for showing me my thoughts"
And I walked past the crowd out of the tavern, and instead of a rainy night, I met a rising sun, and a lone, crying child. Another dream I suppose.
It's only when you break the rules that you truly realize what they are.
(A Jesse Segment will eventually go here - still working on it)
A Moment of Clarity - Faruhar
I woke up by the river, tangled in the roots of a tree. The sun was shining down on me, and I felt like I hadn't seen it in ages. Things were clearer now. I stood up, and the world, as far as I could see it, stayed the same. The sun was high in the sky, my legs were painful and dirty, and I was thirsty, as if I had never drank water before.
The river behind me was clear, fast-moving and shallow. I remembered this place. There was no house or dwelling of any kind nearby, but I knew had a small bag hidden in the hollow of a tree.
I has no idea how I knew all that. All I knew for sure was that I was home, and the water I had stooped to drink was delicious.
I heard someone running in the forest. I knew it was someone, and not some thing, and I was pretty sure I knew who it was.
“Faruhar!” I heard her cry before she appeared over the bank behind me. She appeared before me breathless. A girl of 8 or 9 years with almond eyes and dark hair to her chin. She wore a worn and dirty dress, and she was the definition, or at least mine, of enthusiasm and loyalty. She ran up to me and pulled me into a hug.”
“Hello again Bria” I replied smiling. “It's good to see a familiar face.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “You look hungry”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I brought you something.”
She sat down at the bank and opened up a brown bag she had been carrying at her side. She produced a small round loaf of dark bread and couple red apples.
“Thank you” I said, and sat down with her “How did you know I'd be here?”
“I always know when you'll be here” she replied, laughing.
I took the proffered bread and began eating. “I will hunt something to repay you. I feel you've done this often.”.
“Not worries, Faruhar.”
Bria was a strange and precocious child. She had the carefree confidence of any child her age, but her eyes hinted of wisdom no child would possess, or at least no child who would remain carefree.
“Besides” she said. “I knew you were here because I had a story to tell you.”
“Oh?” I said. I was used to things that Bria said not making a lot of sense on a basic level, but nevertheless... I've never known her to be wrong.
She was literally bouncing with anticipation. “So are you ready for the story?” she asked.
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes, of course” she replied.
“Let me take a few bites first so I can concentrate, then yes.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
I began an apple in silence, and I was happy that the scene around remained clear and vivid. Bria was still there.a few bites later, and there was no cloudiness on the scene. That was good. She never got to finish many of her stories.
“Ready now?” she asked expectantly.
“Sure” I said, and leaned against the tree.
So she began, sitting down and eying me with impeccable grown-up seriousness.
"At the beginning of the story, there was a little girl. She had never heard music. She had never seen a rainbow or the water at sunset. She had never seen the sun at all. She only was allowed outside at night, and she was forced to work very hard. Her parents were afraid of her."
Why was that? I asked.
The little girl closed her dark eyes and put her head in her hands, seeking a good explanation. I liked listening the child.
"They were afraid because they didn't know what she was. She was not human like them."
"But how could that be if they were her parents?"
"They tried to raise her - but she was different. In a way she was an orphan."
"So they weren't her real parents?" I asked. "What was she then?"
“SO MANY QUESTIONS! “Your messing up the story!"
"Sorry."
She laughed.
I made myself comfortable and tore off the a piece of bread. She waited until I made eye contact, assuring her that I was giving her my utmost concentration. I suppose she was wise not to trust my attention skills.
"So one night" she began again "Her father told her to shut off the stars, one by one, because it was too bright."
I didn't ask.
“The girl knew what would happen if she tried, but she was young, and so she obeyed her father, and she tried to shut off the stars, one by one. The stars began to fight her.... and they fought and they fought. But the girl was as strong as the stars, thought she did not know this at first. They weakened her, but they could not destroy her. They just made her very tired, and very sad. Sometimes she hurt real bad and couldn't move. And one day - she fought a star, and destroyed it, and the night was never the same again.”
"Can I ask a question?" I had to ask.
"If it's important." she glared in mock superiority.
"How do you fight against a star, and win?"
The child laughed. again She liked to laugh, especially at things which only she knew was funny. She did not do it to be mean, the child could never be truly mean. But she did like to laugh.
"The same way you win against a lot of things bigger or different from you. You make it turn in against itself.”
"How could the girl do that?"
"Well, she wasn't human. And she could make things very.... c-coooolllllld"
The child dragged the cold out dramatically and shivered.
"I see" "Could anyone do this?”
“Only those that knew how. Not many people do.”
“And this is why her parents were afraid of her? But they decided to use her to destroy... the stars, the world, whichever?
"NO! YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG!" the child laughed again.
"Then what?"
"Her parents didn't know what they were doing. They just thought it was too bright outside. They didn't want to destroy anything, and the girl didn't want to destroy anything, especially a star. She just did it because she had to - but she was sorry, very sorry.”
Bria frowned a little. I had never seen her truly sad. But this little frown was enough for me to take note.
“So what is the end of the story” I asked. “Did the girl make all the stars go out?”
"The girl ran away. And she became an enemy of the stars, An enemy of her parents, and an enemy of the night.”
“Why the night?”
“Her father... who told her to shut out the stars. He tried to take over the night. So the night did not forgive her for helping him.”
"So did she have any friends?" I asked.
“A few eventually, but she couldn't see them most of the time. It was dark, and she couldn't see. Sometimes the girl found another world to live in. She missed her family, but wondered if there was a real family somewhere else, or more people like her. She also felt there was someone who she had come to this world to protect, who would also protect her if she needed it... one of the stars"
"The stars are people?"
"Before and after they live, sometimes. Stars are bound to be people sometimes, and and sometimes people become stars. But she didn't remember his name. Although she knew this was very important. After she ran away... she forgot everything. even her own name. But she knew. She just knew."
"She knew what? How could she know anything if she had forgotten all that?"
The child just laughed as she looked at me.
"What is your real name?" she whispered.
I thought. I thought very hard... “You called me Faruhar”. I recalled.
“Is that who you are?” she asked.
“As far as I know” I asked.
“It's difficult” she said. She looked at me as if she understood.
“Help me Bria”. I asked.
"What do you know for sure?" the child asked, kneeling down.
"Can I know anything, if I don't know my own name??"
"The girl in the story did." the child retorted.
"But she knew that there was someone who she would protect, and who would protect her. That could be true of anyone, in anyone's life. All of us will at one time both protect someone and are protected - even lonely people. And she knew she had to make things right. That's also true in anyone's life. In many ways that story could fit anyones life”
"But there was more. The night, the stars, the humans... were fighting her. That's not true for everybody." she said
"Well... things aren't that bad with me, are they?"
I thought to the child out loud. Nothing I could think would ever sound stupid to the child. The child always believed me, I knew it, but I didn't know why. That was comforting, in a way.
“Bria” I said. “All I know about you is your name. I trust you, but I don't know why you understand me”.
“It's all you'll remember. I've told you before”.
“Then I suppose it doesn't matter.” I said “What have I learned since you've know me? Hoe have I changed?”
“You haven't changed much.” she admitted, It is at the beginning of the story right now.”
I sighed. And broke apart the last of the bread.
"You must understand me, though!" the little girl pleaded. "The star she killed - became a human right away. And he forgave the girl. And... he was very wise. He helped her make everything right."
"Does anyone in this story have a name either?"
She sat down and began to look thoughtful.
“You'll forget the names, but you might remember what they mean. The girl's name was meant Lesson, but her parents liked to tell her that was the nicer word for mistakes. She used to think about that." (The child grew silent for a second, and I watched her turn away.) "But... But, she wasn't their child, so how could she be their mistake?”
“I don't know” I said. “Isn't this your story? And why doesn't anyone in this story have a name beside her?”
"The Star - was Reic." she smiled. “You remembered this once”.
“So I'm looking for this man, Reic, and yet I am the mistake?”
“The lesson.” she said. And from there her features began to blur.
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