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Writer
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Pennsylvania
Gender: Male
Posts: 47
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Untitled Story, Prologue (Fantasy -- 1,600 words)
This is a fantasy/supernatural story I just started. The idea came to me at work and I wrote it over my lunch break. It's not as polished as I'd like, but I'd still appreciate any comments or critiques. Thanks!
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Brian swam in blinding white nothingness, as phantom hands tugged at his insides. I wonder if this is what being born feels like. He tumbled in the swirling light, the sensation of flight yanking hard on his stomach. No wonder babies puke a lot. He might have thrown up, but he had not eaten in days.
His back slammed into something solid, forcing a grunt from him. The pain was becoming too familiar. At least I know I'm alive. I could have landed in a lake, or something. He groaned from the ache in his spine. Like my luck could get worse.
He rolled to his feet, which protested the weight applied to them. The sky was dark, but for the glaring moonlight above. Nothing but grass and trees and crickets. I better hide. Someone, or something, may be out here. He crawled under a nearby clump of bushes. Wherever ‘here’ is.
He steadied his nervous breathing, lungs straining against the humid night. The air was still warm from summer's swelter. The leaves around him dropped sharp shadows under the bright moonlight. Something's wrong here. Above, the harsh, white moon glowered down on the world. It had not the cool, soothing glow he expected. The full moons aren't for a week. Why are they so bright? His ears perked; the sky above his cover warned with an insistent humming, like the sound of a giant, angry bee. Brian ventured to look, poking his head out of the shrub.
What he saw looked like a tree, but its skin shined silver-gray under the glow. Atop the single curved branch was the source of the light and the sound, miraculous in its mundanity. It was a streetlight. His eyes widened and his hair stood at attention. He did not begin to believe it until the word fell out of his gaping mouth.
"Home?"
He stumbled out of the shrubs, bathing in the artificial light. Stout poles stretched the cables from it to the street. He grinned. There were wires in the sky again. The ground under him was soft. Rubbery. He glanced down at the painted white lines below his feet. Inside the dun-colored oval track, two white objects, each the shape of the letter 'H', loomed high in the night. Past the football field, the high-school slept on the hill.
"Home!" He screamed it, his cry nearly strangled by oncoming tears. He ran north like the hounds were still after him. How long has it been? He had lost count of the moons he had seen since his feet last touched that grass.
The school grounds made a picturesque scene, innocent and unmarred, but for the ragged blot that was him. Memory flowed back to him like the wind through his hair. How long was I in that dungeon? Months? It was summer when they caught me. There was snow on the ground when I escaped. Half a year? He had abandoned remembering how many cycles the twin moons had gone through. All that had mattered was the next alignment. How long he had been gone had ceased to be important. Now that he was back, it was the only thing that mattered. Two years gone? Maybe more?
Inside the school's computer lab, the light from dozens of flickering screen savers made the room look like it had been invaded by fireflies. How many nights did I waste there? Playing games? He wished he could have every minute back.
He scrambled past the tennis courts and up the big hill. Head, ribs, everything hurt. A hundred cuts and bruises pulsed with his racing heart. Tired joints ached with every jarring stride. But, he was home again. Out of that godforsaken world.
Brian sprinted headlong through the line of evergreens and onto the barren parking lot beyond. His bare feet slapped on the pavement. Still, he ran. He had long since stopped feeling pain in them, having not worn shoes for the past few months.
Electric candles oozed a bucolic glow from the windows of the Presbyterian Church on the corner. I will never complain about going to church again. Ever! The sandy infield of the church softball field crunched under his tread. Still, he ran, panting, his sides searing.
He skidded to a halt. A tan-and-brick split-level house grew up from a groomed yard. Red and yellow tulips slept closed under the twinkle of porch light. A shiny sedan nested in the driveway. It looks the same as I left it.
He crouched down next to the car. The smell of hot antifreeze wafted up like sweet perfume from under the hood. He was dragged back two years in the span of a breath. His mother’s leaky radiator had always left little puddles of fluorescent green in the driveway. Tears stung his eyes.
He bent the mirror to himself and recoiled at the stranger's face in its reflection. He wore a rabid look; his once-round cheeks were bruised and sunken, mapped with small cuts and scrapes. Ragged patches of hair clung to his chin. His head was a Cro-Magnon mop of greasy bristles. His brown eyes glared, reddened and aged. You don't look like seventeen... if that's how old you are now.
The muffled ring of a phone came from inside the house. He flinched. Midway through the second ring, it stopped, followed by a deep murmur. Dad. He ran to the back of the house and was blinded in his tracks. He had forgotten about the motion sensors.
Brian stopped at the back door. What should I do? Probably scare the crap out of them if I just walked in. I could knock…
Creaky footfalls came from behind the door. A woman's voice grew closer. Brian's heart fluttered.
"…back light's on, maybe…"
The door whipped open. Brian's mother froze with a gasp. Her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to run and embrace her. Her blue eyes widened.
"M-mom…"
His words were drowned by a piercing scream, followed by a slamming door. Shock jolted him like a slap to the face. He took a breath. Can't really blame her. I've been gone for two years and I look like a horror movie. He turned to walk away. Maybe I should find a payphone or something. Call home collect. Explain things. He chuckled. Explain what? I got sucked into another worl…
The door shuddered behind him, impacting with the wall. A metallic double-click froze Brian to the porch. Despite two years in a strange world, he still recognized the sound of a twelve-gauge being cocked.
"Who are you? What do you want?" his dad bellowed. Brian snaked his hands up and turned. Tears rebuilt in his eyes at the sight of his parents in the doorway, even if his father had him dead in the sights of his Mossberg.
"It's me. Brian," he said. "I'm back."
His mother's eyes widened. His dad glared. The words took their sweet time sinking in. Dad finally lowered the barrel about an inch.
"Brian?" his father called.
"Yeah," he smiled. "It's me."
Dad clicked the safety and lowered the shotgun. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You scared the crap out of your mother."
He was stunned by the terse greeting. "I… didn't mean to…"
"You don't just disappear and then come back and scare the hell out us like that! Do you think this is some kind of game?"
"No, I…," he recoiled in surprise, taking a step back.
"Oh, my God, Steve," his mother stepped out into the porch-light. "Look at him. He's skin and bones." She slunk over to him and circled, eyeing him methodically. His mother reached out a hand and touched his concave cheek. Her trembling hand was cold on his face. "Bri? Wha… what happened to you, baby?"
His heart flooded. "I was going to Pete's. Then, everything went white. I woke up… somewhere else." He knew it had a name. One he would not tell. They would never have believed him. "I got captured and they threw me in a dungeon." Tears flowed down his cheeks. "I… I escaped… and then…," he trailed off to choke down the lump in his throat. "I missed you guys so much! I never thought I'd see you again!" He buried his face into his bewildered mother's shoulder and sobbed. She rubbed his back. He felt it intermittently; the scars from his many lashings were numb under her touch.
Brian had not cried in years. Crying got you whipped. In the wilds, there was no cause for it. Tears didn’t put meat on the fire. Now, he could, without fear. His tears came as the rains in the desert, rare, but welcome and soothing.
He regained himself, looking up to his father who stood slack-jawed and pallid in the doorway. His parents traded a sick look.
"What?" Brian asked, desperation leaking into his voice. "Did something happen while I was gone? What happened?!"
"Sweetie, please," Mom began, patting him on the shoulder. "Please, just… just tell us where you’ve been. What happened to you?"
"I told you…," he hesitated. Both parents surveyed him with inscrutable looks. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true! I'm not lying!"
Mom bit her lip. "We... want to believe you, baby, but..."
"But, what?!"
"Pete just called,” Dad announced. “He said you never showed up."
"I know, I said..."
"Sweetie,” Mom interrupted. “He just called."
Brian looked stunned. "But… I was gone for years."
His father's lip trembled when he spoke. "Brian, you left about two hours ago."
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Ted
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Mathematics are well and good but nature keeps dragging us around by the nose. ~Albert Einstein
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