Seeking To Exorcise The Demon (Part 2) - Writers Forum

Funwriter · 06-29-2007, 05:42 PM

Chapter two:

I have a lead.

I came up with something that cross-referenced possible cures for my dark illness. The problem is the remedy. The remedy is a mystery, a myth. One that everyone believes in but no one can prove. This cure could be the only chance I have of becoming mortal again, of putting an end to my anguish.
This cure, well, is the cup of Christ. Yes, I know, it brings a smile to ones face. The fact is, I have to believe in something, and this is surely my solution, my repast.

It is said in arcane writings that the cup, the chalice of Christ can cure. Here is the good part now, listen close; it is said the cup of Christ can exorcise the demon. Is that not what I am, what I became on that island ages ago off the Indian coast?

So, I am seeking the Grail and have been for nearly a hundred years, ninety eight to be exact. It started as a lucky find a small mention of the healing powers of the cup; the more I dug the more I found hope.

According to legend, the cup Jesus Christ used at the Last Supper (when exhorting his apostles to vampirism) was saved by a certain Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph, for reasons incomprehensible to anyone but himself, used the cup to catch some stray blood dripping from Jesus during the Crucifixion.
Subsequent to this, Joseph took off for parts unknown, where he eventually deposited this cup in a weirdly unreachable location for safekeeping... Against whomever.
*
Over the centuries I have accumulated and spent many a fortune. Now I will use my vast wealth and experience to mount a search, the most incredible search of all time; the search for the Holy Grail. I will find the chalice and when I do, I will rescue my soul!

**

Pin-ping, a sound wakes me from a red nightmare that is the bitter reflection of my life. The Captain turned off the seat belt warning and now we can move around on my private jet; it’s of medium size and full of leather, polished wood and luxury. I never took to flying and hate being in the air. I am afraid this is the result of my ancient sensibilities at play. I have a good crew who I’ve come to trust and of course Sahmir, my faithful assistant.

I found Sahmir in the dusty ghettos of Marrakech. A young Berber waif who was living off pick pocketing tourists and the sale of anything he could get his hands on. He was only eleven then and had mastered four languages. His savvy streetwise toughness and quick honest smile made me give him a chance. I took him in and honed his talents and offered only friendship, education and respect. He took to honest work and research fast. He truly enjoyed reading scrolls and manuscripts and became a proper student. Soon he was doing translations at an amazing rate and became an invaluable resource to my cause.

I got him into Oxford and over the years he has aged and become a companion of sorts. Now he is greyed and in good shape for a man in his early sixties. Long, lean and dark, there is wisdom in his lined face and onyx eyes. He is perhaps the only human alive who knows my secret.

Sahmir would assist in all my affairs and sadly gave up the life of a scholar to help me with my search. He never had time for a wife though there were women. He somehow remained stalwart and true in his promise to help cure me and give me back my mortality.

I got up and stretched noticing Sahmir still sleeping snoring a bit more than I remembered. I went to the bar and poured cold water and squeezed a lemon into the glass, seeds flying. Ninety eight years of research and finally the beginning. Our first stop would be Israel, Palestine to be exact.

*
Landing in Tel Aviv was like dropping into a shoddy dust bowl, with a bump and a screech we were safely on the ground. The tower had given us clear orders and had set a hangar aside for us to disembark in. Coming out the door and onto the steps I was hit by a blanket of dry heat. At the bottom of the stairs the customs folks were there and the crew were already handing over papers. I rarely ever had any interaction with officials.

The sun reflected off the tinted glass of the low slung armoured limousine and I looked out at the wash of humanity seeing nothing. I broke from my daydream surprised by a huge wall and gate system, the driver bickering, Sahmir was offering cash to the guard. We were now moving away from the West Bank and into the Palestinian zone, the kingdom of Judea, in my day Canaan.
*
Our meeting was with an Imam named El Hasar Bamihr, he was to double check an ancient codex we obtained with we hoped a clue. It was written in old Arabic and there were only a handful of freelancers that could translate it properly for us. There were many scholars who could do this but they tended to be curious and jaded.

The old Imam was stooped with Rheumatism and had an odd limp. He looked to be over a hundred but the hard life and potent sun here made one age fast. He stooped over his marble table shakily holding a magnifying glass. He muttered something. Though good with Arabic I could not understand him. Sahmir leaned in close and whispered back, “What holy one, what did you say?” The ancient little Imam turned and said in clear modern Arabic “in Petra lies the cornerstone, when Allah shines be supine and the way to redemption is clear.”

He smiled a toothless grin and placed a shaking hand on my shoulder.

With shocking speed he withdrew his hand from my shoulder as if being burnt. His face went ashen and he turned as if to run then collapsed to the stone floor.

I quickly reached down to examine the Imam and felt a slow but steady pulse. The door opened with a crash and a group of clerics stormed in “What has happened here?” they demanded quickly surrounding Sahmir and me. Sahmir spoke quickly in Arabic explaining how the elderly Imam had simply collapsed, but I knew different, I knew exactly what had happened for it had happened to me before. Some mortals, very few indeed are mediums and with a touch they see what I truly am, what I became those many centuries ago. They see a demon. The Imam is very old and he simply fainted from the fear of what he saw.

I was afraid I would have to use my preternatural powers to assist in our escape, when the old man stirred and began to mumble in Arabic about modern monsters.

We carefully and diplomatically made a quick retreat mentioning I had another appointment, at first I thought they would attempt to hold us captive but a young cleric looked me in the eyes searching and delegated in loud clear Arabic, “they may go: get our brother some cold water.”

*
Cruising at a decent speed through the ghettos, the sleek limousine filtered the cacophony of sounds and smells. I was lost in thought when the wall and gates appeared, we were moving back into the west bank now and towards the airport.

Our next destination was Petra in the country of Jordon.

Azmakna · 06-29-2007, 06:13 PM

if i get the time tommorow i'll go through this properly.

Funwriter · 06-29-2007, 07:41 PM

No worries Az, when you have time.

Mairi · 06-29-2007, 07:57 PM

Well, it looks like Az has the technical part covered. . .

The more of this I read the more I like it. I love the fact that you brought religion and Biblical legends into the story. The chalice of Christ. . .now that is material for an engaging tale. I always thought that the history of humankind and the Bible is rife with fascinating story possibilities.

I think that you should expand and deepen this section, as well, to really bring the story to life for the reader. And it would be good to know more about the character, and provide some deeper insights into his past.

I would like to read more!

Mairi

Azmakna · 06-29-2007, 08:42 PM

isn't that called The Holy Grail?

Funwriter · 06-30-2007, 03:07 AM

The ultimate myth that... The Chalice, cup or Grail, good story either way, why not take advantage of it for my tale

Funwriter · 07-01-2007, 06:17 PM

No one really offered any comments on this part. Does that mean its sound???

I guess I should read it.. I haven't since I quick-proofed the damn thing.

Azmakna · 07-01-2007, 06:18 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Funwriter

No one really offered any comments on this part. Does that mean its sound???

I guess I should read it.. I haven't since I quick-proofed the damn thing.

is there another less know name for the Holy Grail? use that, if there is

Funwriter · 07-01-2007, 06:22 PM

Ahh, I got ya.. ok, I'll think about this. Is the rest good ?? I expected a whole page of comments

It can't be that smooth, no way!

Ps. I think I went with cup of Christ..

Funwriter · 07-02-2007, 05:51 AM

Wordweaver, if you read the parts 1-3 consecutively, it reads pretty well. Still some work to do though.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Azmakna · 07-02-2007, 09:57 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Funwriter

Chapter two:

I have a lead.

I came up with something that cross-referenced possible cures for my dark illness. The problem is the remedy. The remedy is a mystery, a myth. One that everyone believes in but no one can prove. This cure could be the only chance I have of becoming mortal again, of putting an end to my anguish.

Tight

This cure, well, is the cup of Christ. Yes, I know, it brings a smile to ones face. The fact is, I have to believe in something, and this is surely my solution, my repast.

this word always pulls me up. repast is a meal

It is said in arcane writings that the cup, the chalice of Christ can cure. Here is the good part now, listen close; it is said the cup of Christ can exorcise the demon. Is that not what I am, what I became on that island ages ago off the Indian coast?

the usual convention is to write 'closely' this feels weak.

So, I am seeking the Grail and have been for nearly a hundred years, ninety eight to be exact. It started as a lucky find a small mention of the healing powers of the cup; the more I dug the more I found hope.

why do you do this? lol there is absolutely no point in saying nearly a hundred years and then telling us it's actually 98! one or the other, but i would stick with 'nearly a hundred years' so did it become an unlucky find?

According to legend, the cup Jesus Christ used at the Last Supper (when exhorting his apostles to vampirism) was saved by a certain Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph, for reasons incomprehensible to anyone but himself, used the cup to catch some stray blood dripping from Jesus during the Crucifixion.

you can't rewrite history so flippantly. as an explanation this is too short and makes Christ look like a tap!

Subsequent to this, Joseph took off for parts unknown, where he eventually deposited this cup in a weirdly unreachable location for safekeeping... Against whomever.

susequently what do you mean?
*
Over the centuries I have accumulated and spent many a fortune. Now I will use my vast wealth and experience to mount a search, the most incredible search of all time; the search for the Holy Grail. I will find the chalice and when I do, I will rescue my soul!

to spent a fortune, you have to accumulate it. lose this lose this
**

Pin-ping, a sound wakes me from a red nightmare that is the bitter reflection of my life. The Captain turned off the seat belt warning and now we can move around on my private jet; it’s of medium size and full of leather, polished wood and luxury. I never took to flying and hate being in the air. I am afraid this is the result of my ancient sensibilities at play. I have a good crew who I’ve come to trust and of course Sahmir, my faithful assistant.

there is no need to paint a nightmare 'red' a nightmare is 'bad' my its very nature. why bother telling us that the captain turned it off. and move is doing nothing to add. try to be a bit more imaginative when you are setting a scene. you need to stop doing this. think about it. hate is also a subjective word and means very little really. that is all you need.

I found Sahmir in the dusty ghettos of Marrakech. A young Berber waif who was living off pick pocketing tourists and the sale of anything he could get his hands on. He was only eleven then and had mastered four languages. His savvy streetwise toughness and quick honest smile made me give him a chance. I took him in and honed his talents and offered only friendship, education and respect. He took to honest work and research fast. He truly enjoyed reading scrolls and manuscripts and became a proper student. Soon he was doing translations at an amazing rate and became an invaluable resource to my cause.

i would lose this if he had smiled slowly, would have NOT given him a chance. i would mention that over time you learned to respect him 'good' 'translating' 'for'

I got him into Oxford and over the years he has aged and become a companion of sorts. Now he is greyed and in good shape for a man in his early sixties. Long, lean and dark, there is wisdom in his lined face and onyx eyes. He is perhaps the only human alive who knows my secret.

Sahmir would assist in all my affairs and sadly gave up the life of a scholar to help me with my search. He never had time for a wife though there were women. He somehow remained stalwart and true in his promise to help cure me and give me back my mortality.

surely you want more than just your morality back! think of something stronger.

I got up and stretched noticing Sahmir still sleeping snoring a bit more than I remembered. I went to the bar and poured cold water and squeezed a lemon into the glass, seeds flying. Ninety eight years of research and finally the beginning. Our first stop would be Israel, Palestine to be exact.

you have just summarized major sections of your story that i would have spent 4 or 5 paragraphs (each) to show, and then you give us in depth detail of squeezing a lemon... with pips flying? stop it! why don't you take the opportunity to add!!! 'Palestine was our first stop. Israel was hot and humid this time of year' that sort of thing
*
Landing in Tel Aviv was like dropping into a shoddy dust bowl, with a bump and a screech we were safely on the ground. The tower had given us clear orders and had set a hangar aside for us to disembark in. Coming out the door and onto the steps I was hit by a blanket of dry heat. At the bottom of the stairs the customs folks were there and the crew were already handing over papers. I rarely ever had any interaction with officials.

lose this. it objectifies 'dust bowl' and makes it into an image rather than a metaphor. don't like this

The sun reflected off the tinted glass of the low slung armoured limousine and I looked out at the wash of humanity seeing nothing. I broke from my daydream surprised by a huge wall and gate system, the driver bickering, Sahmir was offering cash to the guard. We were now moving away from the West Bank and into the Palestinian zone, the kingdom of Judea, in my day Canaan.

i would check through this story for punctuation problems. i haven't pointed any out though, that's your job.
*
Our meeting was with an Imam named El Hasar Bamihr, he was to double check an ancient codex we obtained with we hoped a clue. It was written in old Arabic and there were only a handful of freelancers that could translate it properly for us. There were many scholars who could do this but they tended to be curious and jaded.

you throw away scenes like confetti in a high wind!

The old Imam was stooped with Rheumatism and had an odd limp. He looked to be over a hundred but the hard life and potent sun here made one age fast. He stooped over his marble table shakily holding a magnifying glass. He muttered something. Though good with Arabic I could not understand him. Sahmir leaned in close and whispered back, “What holy one, what did you say?” The ancient little Imam turned and said in clear modern Arabic “in Petra lies the cornerstone, when Allah shines be supine and the way to redemption is clear.”

is he from the ministry of silly walks?

He smiled a toothless grinand placed a shaking hand on my shoulder.

With shocking speed he withdrew his hand from my shoulder as if being burnt. His face went ashen and he turned as if to run then collapsed to the stone floor.

I quickly reached down to examine the Imam and felt a slow but steady pulse. The door opened with a crash and a group of clerics stormed in “What has happened here?” they demanded quickly surrounding Sahmir and me. Sahmir spoke quickly in Arabic explaining how the elderly Imam had simply collapsed, but I knew different, I knew exactly what had happened for it had happened to me before. Some mortals, very few indeed are mediums and with a touch they see what I truly am, what I became those many centuries ago. They see a demon. The Imam is very old and he simply fainted from the fear of what he saw.

I was afraid I would have to use my preternatural powers to assist in our escape, when the old man stirred and began to mumble in Arabic about modern monsters.

We carefully and diplomatically made a quick retreat mentioning I had another appointment, at first I thought they would attempt to hold us captive but a young cleric looked me in the eyes searching and delegated in loud clear Arabic, “they may go: get our brother some cold water.”

*
Cruising at a decent speed through the ghettos, the sleek limousine filtered the cacophony of sounds and smells. I was lost in thought when the wall and gates appeared, we were moving back into the west bank now and towards the airport.

Our next destination was Petra in the country of Jordon.

there is no easy way of saying this... what you have here is less than what i would write as a quick note for the real thing. you are just summarizing the story and not really showing it. you need to concentrate on punctuation and expand on EVERY sentence here. i'm not kidding when i say that, EVERY. i think you are getting carried away with producing stories for internet enthusiasts. it is nice to get praise from folk here on this forum, but it can be counterproductive. i know you like 'FUN' but are you really serious about being published. sorry (you might get mad with me here...) but internet publication doesn't count. you have strong ideas for stories, but regularly miss the opportunity to engage the reader.

a friend

Funwriter · 07-02-2007, 11:47 AM

Az, thanks for taking time to read my work.

Azmakna · 07-02-2007, 12:08 PM

the last thing i would want anyone to do is write like me. i'm pointing out errors here, not trying to lead the writer. i've had one thing published, that's all, just one... and it was in an obscure magazine called 'rattler's tales' BUT, during the 12 years of doing writing courses, i got thanked by many people and was tipped for the top by a few (who were impressed by the wrong thing lol, lots of adjectives and adverbs) my friend Kieth Gray, who has been published world wide, thanked me for the help and also thought i would be published, but he never saw the mess my life had become because of everything that was external to the process. structure, style and voice is what should concern people here, if they want to improve. if anyone needs story advice... why the hell do they think they will ever be a writer. telling stories is the motive to improve your writing skills. the internet is no test for the quality of published work, otherwise i would have submitted, been published and could say that i've been published. i know my market and until i know i am good enough, i will never submit anything. i am no where near as good as some of the writers on this forum, but i know my weaknesses and strengths. i've always been a realist since i was 14, and now i'm 49, i tend to know just a little more about things than your avarage teenager. is that arogant? i don't think it is, but those that don't respect experience may well think so. if my comments make sense, and i think they do, then perhaps they should be heeded. if not then that's fine. luckily i listened to my peers and eventually improved.

Quote:

Thanks for taking the time to read and beat the hell out of me and my stories.......Friend !

i will refrain from taking the time in the future Funwriter, it's clear that you want praise and not critique. every year the writing courses started with at least 24 people and ended with only four, me being one of them. you wouldn't be there at the end. good luck

Mairi · 07-02-2007, 12:25 PM

Don't take it so hard, Funwriter. We are all here to help each other.

Write what you need to write, and write for yourself first. If it feels right to you, then it will feel right to your reader. I think that Az was just saying that this piece has so much untapped potential. I agree. It can really shine and be something worth keeping.

It's hard sometimes to judge a work-in-progress. People all work differently--that's what makes us all unique individuals. Perhaps we will be better able to see the true value of this piece when you have brought it to a point that satisfies you. Personally, I think it's excellent.

Hope we can all stay friends.

Mairi

Azmakna · 07-02-2007, 12:30 PM

correct Mairi, and i would have assumed, which i did, that because it was only a rough draft, he would want specific comments. i like to hand advice along as it is passed along to me.