Spook

Warning: Mild language. Excessive gore, suggestive themes.


Chapter 2
Of Loss and Trails


The Butcher towered over his table, his once white apron stained with streaks of dried, black blood. His knives glinted in an intricate dance of precise motion, cutting cleanly through legs of pork. Specks of fat and sinew flew cross the room, into the faces of the children. There were small, quiet sobs, the aftermath of frantic shrieking and wailing. Many of their eyes were glazed over by now, and the butcher suspected that they weren’t really seeing him anymore.

What a pity.

That made his work a bit more boring, and it would be a long while yet before he was done with the Queen's supper. Grunting loudly, The Butcher heaved his enourmous blade down through flesh and bone with enough force to shake his table. It jarred the children, bringing up small, surprised squeals.
Just like little piggies. Little piggies ready for the slaughter.
The Butcher’s pale lips flicked up at the corners. The queen was a thin woman, and this was her own personal boar. There would be plenty of unused meat left over, and he would probably unchain the children's hands and toss it to them.

Yes, yes, that would be lovely. Fatten them up a little. Get them nice and plump, make a sport of it.

He was considering the idea when he noticed something. A girl was staring at him, perhaps the youngest of all of them, forced onto her tiptoes by the high hinges of the chains. Her eyes were not glazed, but completely clear and competent. The butcher cocked his head to one side, regarding her for a moment.

"What’re you staring at, little tramp?" He growled, motioning the tip of his blade at her.

The little girl hardly stirred. Gravity was making her sway slightly, causing her chains to creak ominously. Her eyes were two glinting emeralds within the darkness.

"Are you deaf, girl? Shall I cut you up now, instead of later?" He hissed, lumbering around his table and drawing his face within a few inches of her's. The other children shrank away from him as though he were poison, "You want me to sharpen my blades on that pretty skin?" Looking her up and down, his mind already started ticking away at the procedure. Plain brown tunic.

Drawstring around dirty worn brigga. No shoes. Too young to bother with a bandeau. Snap the drawstring. Centerline cut down the tunic. That'll have her completely exposed. Use the fishing knife to let out the gut, and the butcher blade for the inner thighs. She'll bleed out in seconds.

For the first time, the girl smiled, a deep smile which told The Butcher that she must be insane. The look in her eyes grew to a gaze of total understanding, as if the entire world had collapsed into her mind. He stared directly into his eyes,

"I am Brinn. Who are you?"

For a moment, he had been transfixed. But the question jolted him, and he laughed suddenly, bellowing, "I am the Butcher! Need anything else be said?"

Brinn twisted her head curiously, regarding both the Butcher’s knife and body, "Is that butcher blade sharp?"

The butcher grinned wickedly, raising the blade even with his head, letting the light of the torches glint against its razor edge, "What do you think? Do you think it would be sharp enough to cut you?"

A small giggle escped the girls lips. Her thick black curls shook with the laughter, "Why Butcher, you are very perceptive. But you are not exactly right. I was just wondering, " He eyes lowered down the length of his body, her stare growing menacing and hungry, "what the blade would look like in your throat…"

The Butcher’s eyes widened slightly, startled into shock by her words. Before he could understand what was happening, all of the madness and humor in the girl's eyes vanished. Suddenly, she was a calm, driven human being, pure determination in those emerald pools. Her small body, impossibly swift, kicked off of the wall, flinging her body towards him.

The Butcher thought to react -- He wanted to slash out, to stop whatever the girl was doing and put her back in her place -- but before he could more, the tip of the girl’s foot slammed against his cleaver's handle, jerking it sharply.

The Butcher stumbled backwards, aghast at the contact. He made to scream in rage, but the expel of air sent a wave of bright, hot blood sloshing from his throat. His eyes widened, nearly bulging out of his head as his gaze caught hold of his blade. It’s edge was streaked with a long line of crimson. He was suddenly on his knees now, his vision growing dim. Through the haze, he could see the little girl -- her name was lost to him now -- and she was looking at him with cold, detached hatred.

Her voice echoed in his mind, "You should’ve known better, Butcher. Let the Devils take you."

He could hear his own death rattle, which sent another sluice of blood splashing to the floor. He was beyond thought now. He tried not to move his head, because his neck was aching and on fire. His final thought was a blank. And then he was dead.
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Brinn stared at the dead man for long minutes, contemplating his death. It was a just kill, from as far as she could tell. This was a man of sin, and his suffering had lasted just as long as the fates would’ve liked. She gave herself a small, somber nod of approval.

Looking over towards the other children, she could see that they were all staring at the Butcher in astonishment. Some were inching their gazes towards her, but most of them were in mute silene, unable to believe what they’d just witnessed. A girl just a little older than Brinn looked over at her, sniffing, whimpering desperately, "Are you going to get us out?

Brinn frowned, shaking her head softly. She’s already slid the lockpicks fron underneath the flesh of her forearms. Tumblers were clicking, and the cyclinder rotated, "I’m sorry.. I can’t let any of you out. But I promise that you’ll be okay.."

The girl’s eyes welled up with tears. The single word she spoke was more of a squeak, "..Why?.."

Brinn sighed, the lock to her shackles snapping open. Her small body fell silently to the floor. She walked over to the butcher and pulled the huge cleaver from his hands. It was the first man she had ever killed, and through some twist of fate or luck, she felt no remorse. The Gods told her that she had done the right thing --- that this Butcher would’ve hurt many more people in his time, and that this was the best course of action for her.

Hefting the cleaver in her small hands, she turned to the children, eyeing the little girl that had spoken to her, "I’m sorry.. I can’t.. Some things can’t be helped. Some things just can’t be done, not by man or God. And I can’t free you now. Please, try to understand.."

But they didn’t understand. Their eyes were imploring, begging, and afraid. Brinn had the strongest urge to unshackle them, to get them out of Cyria Palace. But it was impossible. There were too many, and she couldn’t take the chance that anyone might come upon her in this moment. She offered the faintest smile of hope to the children, and started away. She tucked her lockpicks into her belt, and went to the huge iron door. She would keep to the shadows, obscuring the glistening blade behind her back to keep it away from the light. She would move with her keenest stealth, and she would harm no one else.

The children were still crying, pleading. It was all Brinn could do to heave the huge door open, and slip away.

enigmaticuser

I must be desensitized, I didn't think the warning was needed. Anyway. I'm like the development of this story. Now there's two of these people, at least, working on opposite sides but apparently with the same motivation.

The refrences to fates and what the butcher 'would have done' are interesting. It makes me want to go what course they are charting. subtle revelation.

Nothing major here, just watch on your proofread. I hate proofreading myself, because I always miss something, but we must always try =)

Dank made me stumble, dank refers to humidity. Light doesn't have a humid quality. I can picture what you mean, but its a little confusing and therefore distracting. Are we in a kitchen or a dungeon? A poorly let kitchen doesn't make sense in royal service, of course neither does chaining children there, so I'm going to assume its a little removed from the actual kitchen and closer to a dungeon. So Perhaps something more like 'her eyes seemed to glow through the brume.' The and can be dropped, I chose brume because it shows the haze (I assume that's what you were going for) without attaching the quality to the light, and the refrence to the light seems unnecessary anyways.

I liked this part also because, while she was 'cold and merciless' in killing you imply that perhaps though she's doing it for what she believes is right, maybe she's not in possession of the whole truth. 'as far as she could tell'

I definitely like the way you move the story forward while also bringing in new questions to which the reader wants answers.

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I try to review as much as I am reviewed...or more =)

My current stories: Evil D: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
Adam: Breathe In, Foot Falls, Senses and Patterns, Eden, The Lord and the Master ---->Abandoned or at least shelved...

Spook

Muchos gracias, Enigma. Always good to get a helpful crit. Thanks for the encouragment and pointing out rhe weak points. Will be sure to repay the favor.

~Spook

TheReMonstor

Yo yo Spook. A very interesting development with this mysterious girl. Not gonna lie, I was really ready to see some more of Dust. I think that's why I like him so much is b/c I know so little about him and his past. Or his present really...Anyway, heregoes:

1. Man, that was dead-on w/ the black blood...and disgusting. I dunno why, but it kinda made me want to gag. Great imagery.
2. I'm not completely sure, but I think a "whirr" is more of a mechanical sound. I understand what you mean with it, but it kinda snagged me, so...ya know.
3. Same thing w/ the "chaotic and precise" phrase. I know what you're saying, but I had a hard time envisioning what that would look like. I think it's more of how an observer would see it as chaotic, but the butcher knew he was precise. That make any sense?
4. Nice. Love how you describe the children in great detail without a mouthful of sentences.
5. "Pity" was said by the narrator (I'm assuming b/c of no italics). I can't remember if you give the narrator such an opinion or that distinct of a voice in the other parts of the story. I like that type of narration, R.R. Martin does it great, but it can be hard to keep consistent. I think that if you have the butcher's thoughts, that would help the reader could see the evil of the man even more. But...if you already have it that way and just didn't use italics, then I'll shut the hell up.

I'd just say "He sighed as he slammed the enormous cleaver down through flesh and bone..." But then again, I don't know if a sigh is what I'd be doing if I was slamming down a cleaver. Maybe just a re-look at that sentence.

I admit, at first, I didn't really like all the description involving the butcher b/c he ends up dying, but after a second read, it was more effective. I wish I could elaborate on that point, but I can't think too clearly for some reason.

The girl is creepy. You did well at making her mannerisms peculiar to both the butcher and the reader. And, she reminds me a lot of Dust in a way, so...that's interesting. She have anything to do with a crossbow?


Great characterization for the first time we hear the butcher speak. Both the speech and the mannerism are great.


You can do better than "emerald green eyes".

Absolutely eerie! At that point, I knew the butcher was gonna get it.

Very very vivid. Well done.

I didn't like the part I highlighted. She didn't seem like she'd need to justify or contemplate the man's evilness. Also, the sentence just doesn't fit with the rest of what's being said in that paragraph.

This sort of rang like what Dust says earlier, but not quite. For some reason, I almost wanted her to say exactly what he said. Now, I am assuming with all this that they are somehow related. But if they aren't, then I think they're too similar (but I think I'm right about them). And I don't think that it would be cliché for her to say the exact same thing as Dust. But hey dude, it's your story.

"ate at Brinn's heart" seemed a little too much here, I think b/c of the slit throat, the butcher and his meat, the flow of blood, etc. The reader's got all these images which makes the eating of heart almost into the gore category. Just an observation though. Also, about Brinn, I wanted to know what she was wearing, b/c the way she talked and it was implied she was a child, I couldn't shake this image of a little girl in pigtails with pink tennis shoes...Yeah, I dunno either. And I know that's certainly not the case of her attire, so just a sentence or two about that would be helpful (2 me at least, b/c I doubt anyone else has that same vision that I do).

Overall, not bad. Definitely adds even more to the mysterious plot by adding another mysterious character, but like I said, I want more Dust! But, I think too much of him might spoil his shroud of obscurity. Anyway, I WANT MORE. I love this story so far. And the layers upon layers are done very well. Hope this was helpful, I'm kinda outta my element right now..for some reason. One being there's a freggin' mouse or something in my wall and it's scratching and driving me NUTS. And my imagination is telling me it's actually a snake or something that's gonna find it's way into my bed tonight. OMG. I gotta go.

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Spook

Monstor, that was a rockin' crit. Just a few responses, and I'm going to edit this and crit yours. You gave me some really great laughs with this one.


It's the rat, dude. I understand.

(Added later) Oh, a little bit of writing theory here. I can definitely understand what you mean about the Butcher. He does die off rather quickly -- but I have this habit of projecting characters through other people's eyes. I think, sometimes, that if a character is alone, you can do only one of two things. Narrarate their history and attitude, which if you're not skilled at it (I am definitely not) can sound more like story-telling than writing -- or you can let the character do it themselves, which if you not skilled at it (I am definitely not) can sound like they're tooting their own horn. Using the third party method helps me out of the tight 'character intro' spots.

lol. sad to say, she doesn't have anything to do with the crossbow incident. but I will tell you that you're right in linking her to Dust. Oh, sorry about not writing more on Dust, by the way. But if you liked his first scene, I can promise that you won't be dissapointed later.


Thank you thank you. I made a big mistake in writing this part -- I didn't put his thoughts into italics. and it wasn't a glitch either. I just screwed up, and thought I could get away without doing it. Bad Dobby. Bad bad Dobby.

Bah, that's gonne be trouble, actually. %70 percent of the book's characters have green eyes, and it's important that I point it out. This is gonna get complicated real quick.

(after-edit) Okay, I took that out and put something like, "emeralds glinting within the darkness" or some other corny garbage. God, I hate describing things.


Nice observation here. I'm thinking about chopping it. In my heart, I just don't see Brinn caring enough about the Butcher to think about it much. But I'm trying to relay the fact that she's just a child, and still learning and finding herself.


Y'know, I actually wanted it to be that way too. I tried getting all of the Man and God lines to be uniform, but the situations are just so different, I ended up tweaking them to fit the circumstances. Still, if I could, I would.


Copy that, Padre. I can see what you mean.

(After-edit) I think I just chucked the whole thing.

Very helpful! ....... dude, are you okay?

~Spook

TheReMonstor

No dude, after you put it into italics, it f-ing rocked. And the part with him thinking about killing her...awesome. Not the fact that he was going to kill her! My, my, no...the way you did it was what I was referring to. Jeez.

Gah, I thought I was on to something about the crossbow, oh well. I'm super stoked about the next part then, love that Dust.

Eh?

Well dude, if that's the case, the emerald being a plot device, then leave it. Then I understand, but I was just saying if you were describing green eyes as emerald just b/c, that you're a better writer than that.

Lol, yeah. I was just delirious, you know how it goes. And I think that f-ing mouse died, thank goodness. I swear it was a like a bobcat in there scratching for dear life. Kinda sad, especially since I just got done reading Redwall, lol. But anyway, I re-read Chp.2 with the changes and liked it that much more. Especially the characterization of the butcher. Solid as hell dude. I'm really gettin' irked that you've gotten so few replies. You replying to anyone else's stories? That should help. Should. Alrighty dude, have a good one.

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