Jack Wyvern

Reworked... See below.

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Rhiamon

is the story interesting?

Absolutely. Perfect setup for an epic quest kind of thing. To be totally honest, it seems a tiny bit hackneyed--the guy with a mysterious past going out on a journey alone to discover the awful/cataclysmic truth about himself--but the desert/random bazaar thing really adds a smack of flavor, and since there are an infinite number of ways this thing could go, you might twist it around into something else--a new way of doing the epic quest thing. Also, the hint that whatever it is in his past that is all shadowy and mysterious is bigger than him is enticing. Besides, I like the epic quest thing. It's very suspenseful.

... do you want to read more?

Yeah; if I picked it up I'd want to stick with it to see where it went. The way you set it up...it almost forces the reader to stay with it to answer all the questions you've presented in such a short amount of space.

... are there any glaring problems with things such as POV, info dumps, storyline, etc...

Absolutely no info dumps here...there's just enough info for me to keep pace. I didn't notice any problems other than small grammar/spelling stuff.

... what do you think will happen at the end?

I dunno; he discovers he's from an ancient nomadic race with a really weird war code that cast him out for practicing magic against the war religion and they thought he would die in the desert but he didn't and now they want to kill him? Really, it could go anywhere. You write wherever your fingers guide you.

Nazareth

I liked it- nice flowing story- Third paragraph is a slight info dump but not overbearing But, it does distract from when the other dude says "I hope he gets ya" to where the main dude answers- I had to go back and re-read what the other dude said to make sure I knew what main dude was answering to.

You descriptions are nice, but I'd like to see just a bit more description of the land, the town, the walkways etc. Not too much, but enough to get a good visual of the countryside & smell the scents & whatnot.

Do pools of water collect in depressions in the cobblestone & on barreltops laden with old mildewed hay? Does the scent of refuse linger in the oppresive humidity of the day? Do Cats fight in alleys, dogs bark or snarl at the end of thick chains etc.

Madam Jennine hoisted her dirty, tattered skirt to her knees, straddled a small three leged stool, and leaned across the table. The effort caused the hag to caugh several times, and the stench of stale beer, and sour herbs wafted across the room. She thunked the burl of her gnarled ironwood cane against his knuckles, and said, "Leland? You doubt my powers?"

Maybe small descriptions liek that perhaps? (Assuming she is a hag of course)



Just a bit more description- nothing elaborate, but enough to get a feel for whatever timeperiod htis is.

Would I like to read more? Yes please

What will happen in the end?

He finds a rubiks cube and spends his days trying to solve the cursed thing?

Jack Wyvern

Thanks a lot for the replys. I was scared that my motives behind this were transparent. I see that they are not. I know that is an odd question: What do you think will happen next? but I really wanted to get some ideas what the reader was assuming at this point.

I can see some areas that definetly need cleaning up. And the lack of description is mainly due to this being a short story, but.... I shouldn't starve the reader of the experience... they might not like me very much if I do.

I would call this a fantasy / mystery / psycho-thriller. Imagine Alfred Hitchcock meets Robert Lynn Asprin.

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Nazareth

Sounds good Jack- didn't realize it was a short story, so yeah, the descriptions should be minimized somewhat in that case-

Waiting for more

Jack Wyvern

Here is a reworked version of this story. This is about 1/3 of the story. Please let me know what you think.

*Warning** Adult themes and sparse vulgarity ahead

**************************************
I can understand why he wanted to kill me. What I didn't know was who 'he' was. Some husband of a bored wife, a father of a young maiden, or a jealous lover. Whoever he was, he was certainly consistent.

"Happy birthday Leland," Marcy said with a yawn.

I turned from the open window where I had been watching people walk by on the street below to look at her. "You remembered? I'm surprised. I didn't think you would." I took a long draw from a dark wooden pipe in my hand. Its heady aroma picked me up from my seat by the window and carried me across the one room apartment to my bed where she laid.

Marcy sniffed the air. "Kariff? Honey, we can't afford that."

"Don't worry, love. It was free. Besides, its my birthday." Free was a slight exaggeration. It came at a cost, but the kid lying in an alley with his throat cut out paid it for me. Part of the price of doing business in Haven. The kariff made my whole body tingle as I stood basking in its euphoric haze. The morning sunlight was dancing up my naked body in an orgy of sensations.

Marcy held out her hand. "Well? Don't be stingy, my love." A smile lit up her face as the sunlight glistened in her auburn hair. She took the pipe and inhaled deeply. A couple of coughs, and then a deep sigh. "Come here, my love. Let me give you your present."

It was mid-morning when we exited the apartment we had shared since I found her lying in a pool of vomit in the street almost two years ago. Her slender frame and innocent green eyes made me want her. I picked her up and brought her home anticipating an easy night of sex with a vulnerable maid, but she impressed me with her dark desires.

A guard strode by. His chainmail clinking with each marched step. His sword swung in rhythm at his hip. He cast me a disapproving glare. Marcy saluted him, but he ignored her. Our laughter echoed down the street lined with buildings as we scurried away in the opposite direction. The warm morning air was rife with the smell of dung. Two doors downwind, the skinners were busy shuffling camels around in their pens. The grunting complaints of the hairy beasts equaled the intensity of the men's calls and whistles. Reaching the pens, I noted a young women in a dark green outfit and two men talking to Sahib, the camel man.

"That's too much, Ty," said the smaller man to the woman.

Ty frowned. "We need camels, Fallon. What do you want us to do? Walk there?"

"Let me handle this," said the larger man. He pointed a finger at Sahib. "Look. My lady here wants
three camels. Stop toying with us!"

"Sir. One hundred fifty gelkins for three magnificent animals such as these is a bargain. I have to feed my--"

"I know! Your two wives and ten children. You told us that!" interrupted the large man.

I waved at Sahib. He gave me a nod, and we were off again.

As we neared the corner of the street, Marcy pointed out a lovely young lass walking ahead of us. She was tan and fit; her long dark hair swung across her perfectly curved bottom like a hypnotic pendulum.


Marcy smiled. "How about that one?"

"Not bad. Haven't seen her around here. Maybe tonight we can introduce ourselves."

Marcy giggled. "Remember, you promised I get to kill the next one, my love. You promised." Her smile vanished as she stared up into my eyes.

"Yes, you get the next one." Marcy's appetite was as insatiable as my own. "Let's get something to eat."

We turned at the corner and entered the crowded street. Pushing through the ruck, we made our way to the merchant's plaza. It was filled with every variety of color and sound in Haven. The plaza was a gathering place for all to meet, and most importantly to the merchants with their stalls and pavilions, to exchange. A troupe of acrobats were performing to the delight of the large crowd that surrounded them. Coins were thrown as each performer pitched and rolled in a loose ballet of motion. Cheers raced through the people as a particularly small man was about to be thrown through a flaming hoop held high in the air. The man, unsure of his fate, was protesting the stunt. A larger man was about to jump down on to a teeter board, and catapult the little man into the air. The crowd chanted. "One...Two..."

"Leland. I'm hungry. Let's go."

I sighed turning away from the show as the screams of the small man confirmed what I was hoping to see most. "Alright. Let's go."

We walked further into the plaza being led on by Marcy's growling stomach.

"Where ya going, Leland?" asked Marcy when we past the street she wanted to enter. "Aren't we going to the Borderland for breakfast?"

"No. Not today."

"But we always go there fore breakfast."

"Exactly. Remember last year... on my birthday..."

Marcy's blank expression told me that she didn't.

"The assassin tried to poison me at the Borderland."

"Oh yeah. The assassin. That poor man who got your drink by mistake. His tongue swelled up and his eyes popped out." She shuddered.

"Well, I think changing my routine today would be wise."

"Oh... then where we gonna eat, my love who is also incredibly smart."

The smell of roasted camel shanks and boiling intestines drifted by.

"That smells good," I said rubbing my empty stomach.

The stall was across the plaza. It was covered by a red and green fabric and a roasting pit was belching gray smoke out behind it. A couple were haggling with the owner over a side of cooked meat. He was dressed in finery and sported a rather distinguished mustache that touched his chest. She was fat and wore an almond dress made of some light fabric that showed off the fullness of her ass.

As he haggled with the merchant ceaselessly about the price of the meat and questioning its flavor, Marcy reached out and pinched her butt causing her to howl in pain like a pregnant camel.

"Marcy," I said. "What did you do that for?"

The woman turned on me with a raging fire in her eyes. "Why did you do that?" she screamed.

"I...I didn't." I pointed at Marcy. Her face held an innocent smile. "She did it."

The woman never took her eyes off of me. "I should have you arrested for assaulting me, you ruffian." She swung a meaty fist at my head that narrowly missed. The force sent her spiraling to the ground in a heap.

"Guards! Guards!" shouted her husband.

"Let's go, Leland. We don't need this."

"But..."

She grabbed my arm and ran into the crowded plaza, pulling me along with her. When we reached the other side, she slowed. Her loud breathing quickly turned to a hoarse laughter. "I'm...sorry... I couldn't resist."

At the thought of the woman shrieking like a wounded animal, I began to laugh too. "Alright. Let's go."

We skirted the plaza. If the guards were looking for us, it seemed to be the best place to stay unnoticed. However, it exposed me to dark corners where unseen danger could easily be lurking.

"So you really don't remember anything from your past?" she asked.

"What brought this up?"

Marcy shrugged. "Just seems strange to me that you can't remember anything about your life."

"Well, it's true. All I remember is my name. When I crawled out of the desert five years ago, I was almost dead. Sahib found me and brought me back to life."

"Why were you in the desert?"

"I told you. I don't remember. Anything."

Marcy pulled at the lock of hair that had escaped the black hairpin that held the rest of her hair in perfect position. "But... If you don't remember anything, how do you know it's your birthday?"

"Look. I don't know when my birthday is, okay? It was on this day that I crawled out of the desert. It was this day that I was reborn to the world. So... this is my birthday. Alright?"

She stayed silent for several moments then continued her questioning. "So why is this guy after you?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said in an exasperated tone.

"But he always tries to kill you on your birthday, right?"

"Yes. Three times so far. And I'm sure today will be no different." I glanced to both sides as if the mere mention of this dark assassin would bring him near.

Marcy sighed. "Must be tough knowing someone wants you dead."

I didn't answer. Instead, I turned and started walking back into the plaza, zig-zagging my way through the tight ropes that held the tents in place.

__________________
QUANDO OMNI FLUNKUS MORITATUS
---
"The cost of freedom is eternal vigilance."
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Rhiamon

Oooo...I think this one sounds much better; more originality and flavor, and all the mystery of the first...plus some humor.
A few things I saw...


I can understand why he wanted to kill me
Should be 'could' since the rest of it's in past tanse.

A guard strode by. His chainmail clinking with each marched step.
The first period should be a comma

We walked further into the plaza being led on by Marcy's growling stomach.
Comma after 'plaza'

Also there's an awful lot of them calling each other 'my love'. You might want to change the pet name around some or get rid of it in some places altogether.

Other than that I didn't see antyhing that I would change...I love the extra humor and the weird ""i get to kill the next one" thing. Made me more attached to the story

Emma LB

Will you be posting the rest?
Hehehe, he does know why this guy is after him, but he just pretends he doesn't. Now I want to know why this guy is after him, good job you did there .

Just to add to the tiny, little list of corrections:
should be lay.

Dunno why people seem to make so many mistakes with lay, but I've come across it a lot on the internet, maybe it's American English (which would mean that American grammar differs strongly from the British here) or it's just colloquial in the US. But lay is a transitive verb, whereas lie isn't.

Edit: just wrote this:http://www.writingforums.com/viewtopic.php?t=4460

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Jack Wyvern

Thanks for the comments. The ending of this has gone through several rewrites. It is very convoluted and I want to be sure it is not a let down for the reader. The main problem is the reveal. It needs to be satisfying without sounding forced. I will post it soon.

It probably is an American colloquialism (or I was just thinking about the scene and the word 'laid' came to mind ).

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Jack Wyvern

Okay. Here is the rest of the story. Please let me know what you think of the ending and how I can make it better. Thanks.

***********************************************
"You want to know about your past, right? She can help you. I've gone to her before. Once I lost a ring in our apartment, and she told me right where it was. I bet she can help you to."

"Shorin. I haven't lost a ring. Somebodie's tryin' to kill me."

Shorin walked to the tent, pulling me along with her. "C'mon you big baby. I'm sure she doesn't bite."

I frowned. "How do you know that?"

Shorin pulled the flap of the tent back and stared into the darkness. "Hello?"

The tent was silent.

"See. She's not in. Let's go get some breakfast."

"Hasan. Come on." She stepped into the darkness.

"What did I do..."

"You coming, or what?" she asked from inside the tent.

"Alright," I said.

The tent smelled of rotten eggs and cured flesh. My eyes adjusted to the green light from a small, bubbling cauldron sitting on a squat table in the center of the tent. A large withered arm hung on the wall next to me. When I saw it, I bumped into Shorin.

"Watch it!" she said.

"It's...it's an arm," I said, pointing a shaking finger at the gruesome ornament.

Shorin slapped me on the chest. "Grow up. I'm sure it isn't real."

"Another visitor, eh?" came a scraggly voice from the back of the tent. "How fortunate."

A short old woman moved into the dim light of the cauldron. "Ah...what a handsome young man. Want to know what your future will be?"

I looked at her trying not to laugh, "ah..actually...we were just leaving."

Shorin elbowed Hasan in the ribs. "We would like some information. My friend here has lost his memory and somebody wants to kill him."

"Shorin...I don't think she needs to know that."

"I am Madam Jenine, and I know everything. Sit down." She gestured at a small bench in front of the table.

Shorin sat down and looked up at Hasan. "Com'on Hasan. Sit down so we can start."

I huffed. "If she knows all, why didn't she know why we were here?"

Madam Jenine hobbled over to a stool on her side of the table. She placed her wooden cane against a chest next to her, hiked her dirty blue robe up to her knees, and squatted over the stool. "Hasan? You doubt my powers?"

"Oh no," said Shorin. "Hasan's just having a bad day. Please excuse him."

My back stiffened. "I can answer for myself, Shorin." He turned and looked at the fortune teller. "Yes. I do doubt your power, Madam Jennine. I think this is all a bunch of crap."

"Hasan!" Shorin scowled at him.

Madam Jenine cackled. "I see. Well, maybe I can change your mind."

"I doubt it," I said.

Madam Jennine placed her hands, curled with age, on the table and began to chant softly. The cauldron light grew brighter and began to pulse with the rhythm of her words.

Shorin stared at the bubbles rising in the mysterious liquid and popping. She held Hasan's hand tightly. "Isn't this fun?" she asked.

"Yeah. Fun."

"Spirits of the nether world. Give me sight. Show me this boy's past." She stared into the cauldron, its eerie light showing the deep lines on her face. "Ah-ha...Oh my?" She sat back on her stool and closed her eyes.

The light grew dim as she breathed out one long breath. Hasan and Shorin sat in silence, staring at the motionless fortune teller.

"I knew something like this would happen. She's dead!" I started to stand when Madam Jenine opened her dark eyes.

"Be still!" She took a pouch from her belt and removed something from inside it. A wave of her hand across the table left brown chunks of bone scattered in varying angles. "Hmmm. You have a curse, my dear. A very dark curse that has hunted you for five years."

My eyes widened then narrowed. "How do I know you haven't heard of my little problem before? What can you tell me about my past, old crone?"

Her eyes hardened. "You have not always been who you are this day. I see a young woman full of life. A life that was stolen from her by a man dressed in black." Her eyes searched my face. "You know this man, don't you my dear?"

I nodded.

"I told you she was good," said Shorin.

Madam Jennine spat on the floor. "I see a name. Shorin. Does that name mean anything to you?"

"That's my name! What's going on here?" asked Shorin.

I felt my skin crawl as she seemed to peer into the darkest corners of my soul. "Sh...shorin. Yes. I know her."

"Of course you know me, Hasan. You only sleep with me every night!" Shorin's face was red with fear and anger. "I think we should leave. Now!"

Stunned by images of death flooding into my mind, I was unable to move any part of my body. A dark form stepped from the shadows of the tent. It held a dagger in its right hand.

"No! Leave me alone," I said. I turned my head and shut my eyes.

Shorin jumped up. Her screams filled the tent.

"You must face the dark man that haunts you. Only then will you know piece," said the old woman. "What do see?"

I opened one eye and searched for the man who had hunted me. "He...he was here. Right there." My limbs had found the strength to move, and I pointed at the corner where he had just been standing.

Madam Jennine's expression softened to a smile. "He hunts you, my dear. You cannot hide from him. You and he are two spirits that must find piece."

"No! He is a maniac and he wants to kill me!" I jumped up from the table and fled the dark tent.

The bright light of the desert sun blinded me. The sounds of the crowd where everywhere. I swung wildly at the vague shapes trying to clear a path as I ran forward.

Someone pushed me and I hit a wall. My head hurt and I could feel the blood dripping down my nose. I leaned against the wall and held my hand against my forehead. Resting there until my vision cleared, my heart raced with the thoughts of the assassin that was after me. "Shorin? Dead?" It made no sense to me. She was right here beside me.

I looked for her, but I was alone. Sitting in a sewer full of piss, I searched the crowded plaza for her smiling face. Nothing. The assassin got her! No. She's looking for me. She has to be alive. I slowly drifted off into a blackness that swallowed me.

Madam Jennine was putting candles on the table when he walked in. She looked up, a stunned expression on her face. "Hello again."

"You do not know me, witch."

Madam Jennine's eyes narrowed. "No. I don't. But I know of you, assassin." Her heart sped up with the thought of being so close to this evil man. "What is your name?"

The assassin walked over to the table, the green light dancing on his black clothing. "I will ask the questions, witch."

She sat down on her stool and tried to control her rapid breathing. "Very...well."

"Good. Now, the man who was in here before. He has a name?"

"Hasan."

"Right. And there was a woman with him?"

"I...saw...saw no woman," she said. Her voice trembled with fear.

The assassin raised a hand to strike her. "Don't lie to me, witch. She was here!"

"Sh...shorin?"

"Yes. Very good." The assassin knealt next to the woman, his dagger rolling around in his right hand. "Now, what did you tell them."

When I awoke, I was lying naked on my bed. My head was still spinning from hitting the wall. Shorin's naked body straddled mine.

"Hi there, my love. Miss me?" she asked in a sultry voice.

"I thought...you were dead."

Shorin laughed. "But I am." Her skin peeled back to reveal a withered corpse full of maggots and flies. She screamed in agony. "Why! Why did you kill me!"

Horrified at the sight of her, I shoved her off of me and jumped out of bed. "This isn't real. It's not real!"

A black shirt and black pants lay in a pile on the floor. I quickly dressed, never taking my eyes off of the grisly pile of rotting flesh next to my bed.

"Calm down. She's dead. Just need to go," I said.

I felt a blast of hot air blow in through the open window. The door slammed open, falling off of its hinges. Turning toward the door, I saw him. The assassin.

"No! Don't hurt me!" I picked up my dagger off the floor. It was burning like fire in my sweating hand.

"Hurt you? No. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to kill you."

Spying the open window, I decided to jump for it. I ran hard, but Shorin's corpse reached out and grabbed my ankle. I tumbled to the floor, sliding into the wall beneath the window.

The assassin was suddenly standing over me. His dagger held close to my face as he reached for the hood covering his own. "I have killed many in my life, but hunting you down has been the most difficult. How do you kill a part of yourself?"

He pulled back the hood and I stared into my own eyes. "You...you look like me? But how?"

"Correction, you look like me. Now, I want my body back."

"Stop!" Madam Jennine's voice shot throught the room like a clap of thunder.

The assassin, still holding the knife next to my throat, turned his head toward her.

"Don't, Kye. This is not the way!"

"But it is, witch. It is the only way to be rid of him." With a flick of his wrist, I felt the sharp blade slice through my neck, spilling my blood on to my chest. My eyes dimmed and slowly, the darkness took me.

Madam Jennine stared at the empty room, save the crumpled body of a man who had been plagued by the memories of his life. Kye was an assassin, and when the guilt of killing so many innocents caught up to him, he withdrew from the world. But something darker took his place.

************************************************** ***
Thanks for reading.

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---
"The cost of freedom is eternal vigilance."
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Emma LB

Just pointing out some mistakes, cause I know how hard it is to find your own.

watch it! You're story is in first person, not thrid

Is her speech suppose to be strange... piece?
...were...

it's not clear straight away, who is saying this sentence, maybe you should add, that Jennine says it.

Ok, now the actual story

Uh... I hope he'll come back, otherwise 1st person is a bad choice...
But it seems to be a bit strange anyway, I mean, how does he know that the assissin went to Jennine and threatened her? And how come Jennine knows this guys name, I thought she didn't know him...

It's a bit confusing here... what with Shorin being a corpse full of maggots already (how long has he been unconscious, or has she been dead a long time and just walked around with him without him knowing?)

the end of this chapter is a bit strange, it all happens very fast and it's a bit hard to follow. I hope you rewrite it, because you've certainly captured my interest . I still want to know what this assassin thing is all about and why it only happens on his b-day, which part of himself he killed and so on...

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Jack Wyvern

Thanks for the comments. It is definetly hard to find them all yourself.

The end is fuzzy because it gets extremely complicated.

Shorin never really existed. She was a figment of Hasan's imagination. Nobody every spoke directly to her or reacted to anything she was saying. She was the last victim of the assassin, Kye, before he went insane and developed a multiple persoanlity.

Hasan is actually Kye's other, darker personality that he is trying to 'kill'.

The revelation by the fortune teller that Shorin was dead busted Hasan's bubble and he saw her as he imagined her to be now... since she was dead.

The fortune teller was speaking to Kye, because only person really exists. Hasan thought he was being attacked, but the revelation of it was that he died when Kye commited suicide.

I would appreciate anybody giving advice on how to tidy this up and make it less confusing.

Thanks.

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