Thread: The outcast

Shielded in his long reaching coat that licked the ground with untameable strands of black hair and a scruffy beard that duo-ed together to make a protective helmet. The outcast strode through the marketplace in a little town he forget to name and carried on his way, the market roared with children rocking to and fro the stalls piled with sweets, jewels and anything that could catch your eyes. Whist the hawkers dressed in their finest attire yelled with all the strength their lungs could muster; adding more to the already buzzing atmosphere of children running, parents discussing, lovers wooing and the general noise you would expect to find in any fine market. The outcast however listened to this buzz in a muffled tint as the sound passed him and was quickly forgotten as were the stalls stacked high with thick carpet looking straight from a sultans palace, the finest of whiskeys from far Germany and jewelry seemingly snatched straight from the queen of Sheba. Men who saw the weary outcast tightened their fists whilst the women feebly ushered their children, they didn't care where he came from and they cared even less to where he was going so long as he was gone.

A corner turned and the noise of the market dimmed away but the outcast traveled still through the town passing by an auld factory wall dressed in graffiti. A teenager's frustrations, a couples love and artists just trying to let loose their skill. The bricks had turned grey and crumbled against the touch like decay; which didn't lend much to the comfort of an exhausted traveler resting his blistered feet, foully protected by his worn out boots, he let out the first noise he had made in days as he sighed in his tired bleakness. But two jesters dressed in police uniform cast their shadows over him and rattled their batton against the wall breaking free some of the crumbling brick in a cloud of russet dust. They heaved him up off the ground, with his moth bitten jumper almost being pulled over his head, and each give him a stern look. It didn't matter what look they gave him or how they looked, you've seen one cop with a power complexion you've seen them all. However the outcast wanted a change he wanted to stay and have a rest which had not been wholly given to him for longer than he cared to remember. Angered at being ignored by such a lowlife they bitterly shoved him to each other until one gave a final heave and the outcast gracelessly crashed to the ground. But he stood up again silently and without a hint of emotion was given away, even after he was pushed over onto the floor again scraping his back he got up calmly and quietly. The cops had now lost whatever mockery of patience they had and one kicked him to the ground again expecting the outcast to make a sound of fear or pain as he went. But he did not and he tried to get up as a polished black boot swiftly made it's way into his chest bringing pain wrenching out in the outcast's body, but he did not cry out and he tried to get up again.

People were now leaving the market in a flurry to head home, some were able to see the abuse happening and were able to do something but they did not and hurried on home, a few even passing by the outcast being beaten by the two policemen. But the outcast expected this and only saw them as blurred ghosts in his bleary eyesight as he tried again and again to get up. But the pounding of the police boots were getting harder and harder until they could only be heard by the outcast's ringing ears and suddenly all of the travel turned against the outcast making him wish bitterly that he could just lay down on the ground and die. But he did not give up and he made one final strand and straight and purposeful he stood showing off all of the dirt clinging to his clothes and his face and battered years in which time had weathered him. But the policemen were now animals, indistinguishable from each other as they prowled around him in their suit of blue. They came together to make one last attempt against the outcast but a little girl, who couldn't be older than six, walked in front of the outcast like a free spirit and stood against the policemen. They made for the tramp again in a primal manner and the girl pushed a policeman over and ran round the other as he tried to grab her allowing the outcast to walk away stiff from pain but his head held high for making his stand.

The end of the town was just in sight and the outcast was bleakly ready to resume his life as a traveling tramp just as the girl appeared in front of him again and took him gently by the hand leading him back into the town towards a dainty house sitting on the corner of the street.

Looking in the mirror another man stared back at the outcast, a clean shaven ghost if one ever existed, somebody he had tried to forget but auld memories always catch up. He had been given a fresh set of clothes that fit nicely into the theme of the little town, he had been give a couch to sleep on and a families trust demanding nothing in return. The outcast was determined to hid himself and keep to the shadow but soon the barrier broke and he was once again Dan Ryder the former police chief of the town. He told of how he had been unable to save his own little girl making his love leave him and he was left a destroyed and empty man left to travel and left to the harsh life of an outcast. But now he gave his gratitude and made his farewell to the family and strode away from the house making his way to the police station moving fast as he now had meaning in his life again.

Arriving in the police station he stepped inside with his new boots clicking against the floor the entire room stood to attention, some rubbed their eyes while others gasped 'ghost' all the while Dan made his way over to the bulletin board and pulled down a criminal poster with his face on it or at least his ragged former self. Holding the poster in his hand in a way that allowed everyone to see just who he was while he stood harshly until two of the policemen in the crowd of blue started quivering and he made his way over to them allowing the crowd to flee to other sides of the room. As he came to the two policemen their faces showed fear and false reverence whilst his gave nothing away, he stood before them once again standing proud like he had done so before waiting for them to push him. But they didn't instead their eyes redden as they stood before him like naughty children and he slowly took a hold of each of their shining badges of the law and simultaneously ripped them off, he then ushered them for the door allowing them to flee like the animals they had portrayed themselves to be. Dan then left the quiet room and made for the stairs climbing them with just enough noise to let the entire building to know of his anger.

Reaching the second floor he walked slowly along the corridor allowing the trickster in his office wearing his uniform to build up his fear before he opened the door slowly allowing it to creak as it opened and standing in the doorway he set his gaze upon the trickster sitting down in his chair tapping his fingers nervously on the desk. Of course he could argue that Dan had no right to walk in here and demand his old job back, but he had every right to take his job back from the acting police chief especially after showing he how poor he was at doing his job and he left the room without a word to put his old uniform back on whereas Dan took his place shuffled the papers lying on the desk which seemed to stand as strong as Dan himself. Times were changing and what the town needed was real policemen to walk it's streets through rain and frost and wind making the town a town once more, the outcast had been given a second chance at making things right and he took showing joy for the first time in years.

Hi FunkWolf,
First I have to ask, are you ESL?

There are a few technical hiccups. Yet there is a poetic feel to your story. It reads like a modernish Grimm fairy tale.

If you wish I can point out a few of the places that could do with a tweak.

Originally Posted by bazz cargo

Hi FunkWolf,
First I have to ask, are you ESL?

There are a few technical hiccups. Yet there is a poetic feel to your story. It reads like a modernish Grimm fairy tale.

If you wish I can point out a few of the places that could do with a tweak.

If you could point out where the problems are that would be great thanks and sorry for the hiccups I was working on this at two in the morning before I posted it here and did it in the space of an hour.

The outcast

Shielded in his long coat that licked the ground. His untamed strands of black hair and a scruffy beard that duo-ed together to make a protective helmet. The outcast strode through the marketplace of a little town he forget the name of. The market roared with children rocking to and fro. The stalls piled with sweets, jewels and anything that could catch the eye. Hawkers dressed in their finest attire yelled with all the strength their lungs could muster adding to the already buzzing atmosphere of children running, parents discussing, lovers wooing and the general busyness you would expect to find in any fine market. The outcast however listened to this buzz in a muffled tint as the sound passed him and was quickly forgotten. He passed by stalls stacked high with thick carpet looking as if it was straight from a sultans palace, the finest of whiskeys from far Germany and jewelry seemingly snatched straight from the queen of Sheba. Men who saw the weary outcast tightened their fists while the women feebly ushered their children to safety. They didn't care where he came from and they cared even less where he was going, so long as he was gone.

A corner turned and the noise of the market dimmed away, the outcast traveled still through the town passing by an auld factory wall dressed in graffiti. A monument to a teenager's frustrations, a couples love and artists just trying to let loose their skill. The bricks had turned gray, they crumbled against a touch like decay; which didn't lend much to the comfort of an exhausted traveler resting the blistered feet foully protected by his worn out boots. He let out the first noise he had made in days as he sighed in his tired bleakness.

Two jesters dressed in police uniform cast their shadows over him and rattled their batons against the wall, breaking free some of the crumbling brick in a cloud of russet dust. They heaved him up off the ground, his moth bitten jumper almost pulled over his head. Each give him a stern look. He had seen more than one cop with a power complexion, it felt like he'd seen them all. However the outcast wanted a change, he wanted to stay and have a rest. Something which had not been wholly given to him for longer than he cared to remember.

Angered at being ignored by such a lowlife they bitterly shoved him back and forth between them until one gave a final heave and the outcast gracelessly crashed to the ground. He stood up again, silently and without a hint of emotion. Again he was pushed over onto the floor this time scraping his back. He got up calmly and quietly. The cops had now lost whatever mockery of patience they had and one kicked him to the ground, expecting the outcast to make a sound of fear or pain as he went. He did not. He tried to get up but a polished black boot swiftly made its way into his chest bringing pain. Pain wrenching the outcast's body. He did not cry out. He tried to get up again.

People were now leaving the market in flurries to head home. Some saw the abuse happening and did nothing. The outcast expected this and only saw them as blurred ghosts in his bleary eyesight as he tried again and again to get up. The pounding of the police boots were getting harder and harder until they were the only thing that could be heard by the outcast's ringing ears. He wished bitterly that he could just lay down on the ground and die. But he did not give up and he made one final stand, straight and purposeful, showing off all of the dirt clinging to his clothes and his face and the battered years in which time had weathered him.

The policemen were now animals, indistinguishable from each other as they prowled around him in their suits of blue. They came together to make one last attack against the outcast but a little girl, who couldn't be older than six, walked in front of the outcast like a free spirit and stood against the policemen. They made for the tramp again in a primal manner and the girl pushed at policeman and ran round the other as he tried to grab her. The Outcast was forgotten, allowing him, to walk away stiff from pain,with his head held high.

The edge of the town was just in sight and the outcast was bleakly ready to resume his life as a traveling tramp just as the girl appeared in front of him again. She took him gently by the hand leading him back into the town towards a dainty house sitting on the corner of the street.

* * *
Looking in the mirror another man stared back at the outcast, a clean shaven ghost if one ever existed, somebody he had tried to forget but auld memories always catch up. He had been given a fresh set of clothes that fitted nicely into the theme of the little town, he had a couch to sleep on and a family's trust. Nothing demanded in return.

The outcast had been determined to hide himself and keep to the shadows but soon a barrier broke and he was once again Dan Ryder the former police chief of the town.

He remembered how he had been unable to save his own little girl. How his bereavement had changed him. He was left a destroyed and empty man, left to travel and face the harsh life of an outcast.

Now he spoke of his gratitude and made his farewell to the family and strode away from the house making his way to the police station. Moving with determination as he now had meaning in his life again.

Arriving in the police station he stepped inside, his new boots clicking against the floor. The entire room stood to attention, some rubbed their eyes while others gasped 'ghost.' Dan made his way over to the bulletin board and pulled down a criminal poster with his face on it, or at least the face of his ragged former self. He held the poster in his hand in a way that allowed everyone to see who he was. Two of the policemen in the crowd of blue started quivering and he made his way over to them allowing the crowd to part before him. As he came to the two policemen their faces showed fear and false reverence while his gave nothing away. He stood before them once again, standing proud, remembering. They stood before him like naughty children and he slowly took a hold of each of their shining badges of the law and simultaneously ripped them off, he then ushered them to the door, allowing them to flee like the animals they had portrayed themselves to be. Dan then left the quiet room and made for the stairs, climbing them with just enough noise to let the entire building to know of his anger.

Reaching the second floor he walked slowly along the corridor allowing the trickster in his office wearing his uniform to build up fear before pushing the door slowly allowing it to creak as it opened. Standing in the doorway he set his gaze upon the trickster who sat in his chair, tapping his fingers nervously on the desk. Of course he could argue that Dan had no right to walk in here and demand his old job back, yet Dan had every right to take his job back from the acting police chief, especially after showing he how poor the trickster was at doing the job. He left the room without a word. He went to put his old uniform back on. Dan took his place shuffled the papers lying on a desk which seemed to stand as strong as Dan himself. Times were changing and what the town needed was real policemen to walk its streets. Through rain and frost and wind making this place a town once more. The outcast had been given a second chance at making things right, he smiled for the first time in years.

Notes: The modern policeman is at odds with the word whilst. Auld I left but I am unsure if it works all that well. This has the feel of a fantasy/period piece that references modern idiom. Something like a modern fairy tale. It is a difficult thing to pull off, you mostly do so. Try to avoid so many 'buts' and 'ands'.


There is some great imagery and neat descriptions.


You will have to edit your stuff with a lot more rigor.


I enjoyed the story.
Hope this helps you.
Bazz