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StoneFrog
May 28th, 2016, 10:26 PM
Latest revision: HERE
(http://www.writingforums.com/threads/165963-Crimson-sash-1692?p=2003482&viewfull=1#post2003482)

Ting-clang… ting-clang, the sound ringing from a rough labourer beating his mug with a tinselled spoon. Out of place a small shiny speck in his goliath mitt, pawing at his mug and hunched over in his chair. I thought it must be the cause of a heavy night, now paying the cost of the drink with overburdened movements and shyness of light. Still with this impairment he was an intimidating sight, long dark mane bristled down his shoulders, stubble setting his face and a jaw of an oni, feared in tales of a long extinct culture. These demons that had beast like qualities, tales which were once taught to me by a harsh scholar by the name of Narrid. Tales now brought into reality as I stare at this man. He now set a change in stance, fighting what I can only guess from experience, a queasy and unsettled motion of waves which do not possess reality.

I feared I did not want to be a witness to the outcome of his swaying, I drew a card from a hidden breast pocket. Setting on the table for it to be scanned, I got up and prepared myself to step into the street. The egg shell table, with a texture to match, sat next to a window with no pane. Open air gushed through the opening, keeping the Café cool in the warm mid-morning sun. The table still circling the card with a blue glow. For a moment, I thought it would flip to red, and I’d have to flee my payment. That morning spent a large portion of fund on materials, they were needed for my ceremony to enter the Guild of Devotion. Vials and all sorts of instruments lay waiting in my satchel. All bought and carefully wrapped, so when the light dissipated I was relieved; for I didn’t want to chance breaking these prized objects in my escape.

The doorless frame which I exited and stepped into the street was shadowed by a buttress, it stroked up from the ground in a sweeping style and met the wall halfway from the top. The building void of doors and windows on the lower part, but styled itself with multiple glimmering panes of glass on the upper. This section normally residency for the owners of whatever shop sat below it. Sun still climbing in the sky, danced on the overly bright walls and the glass matched them in every step.

The street had multiple buildings as such, some more ragged than this, others more ornate. There were buildings with etched ghoulish faces pressed into the walls; often taken from tales of the order which the owner was pledged. Gryphons and Stags where of common place, I’m unsure if these were once real creatures or of pure myth. I would often stair into these ornate designs, dreaming of their existence, their crevasses hiding the umber sand which is so common; it contrasted with the generally white and grey stone of most buildings. Not all buildings were this blinding colour, I liked the older buildings which bore dark iron stone. It unlike the dancing white, but instead possessed the sun, shimmering not light but vivid colour against the void of black. Greens and purples conjured from the sun and set to motion by jealousy and spite.

Our very own guild hall was made of this ancient stone, no quarry is known to produce it; only buildings of the forgotten times and salvaged pieces are found. The Hall of Devotion, where in a wyek of seven I’ll be finally accepted into the guild as a Brother of Devotion. Seven changes from night to day, my eagerness drawing them into a span which I felt would draw across my existence and then go further. I shall finally not be burdened with scrimping and saving just to purchase instruments I needed to conduct our practices, I would be afforded an ample amount for my own resources.

Still gripped in my own cradle of amour I was ripped, the sensation of weightlessness followed by the inevitable lust of gravity. A short pause… then lighting struck my terror into motion, my delicate possessions, I had not heard a smash, yet I had not known why the sudden shift in my orientation either. I looked about me and I found myself grasping a cloth of feverish colour, it sprung taught in my grip. At the other end, I found a women two or three sol wyek younger than I. Now my mind firmly in the present was caught on this figure, slight of form wrapped by a crimson sash; which I had firm in my grip. She was beside me, one hand lifting her face and shoulders out of the dusty cobble stone, no loss of direction or surprise present in her face. Instead, she held darting eyes and a willingness for me to release her. At this time, I had not realised she was being pursued, I was more interested in an explanation for our current situation. Two Khgulli Guards with their deep wine coloured cloaks and pointed gold helmets, came wailing from a fibre shop which was on the corner just down the street.

Khgulli are known to be ill in temper and possess a dispassionate sterile attitude, I was not eager to be a part of any drama that may unfold. I swiftly leapt to my feet still with the sash in my hand, the poor girl now dragged to her feet and trailed with protest behind me. I felt she at least owed me an explanation, I was unwilling to release her of that debt( perhaps it was more to keep her in my custody, in the case that I had to lift some allowance from her to repay for any damages that ley waiting in my satchel.) My detainee and I leapt through fabric lined marquees all while merchants cursed our ill-mannered presence. We eventually found ourselves taking refuge in a small shop, a shop will no theme but one of miscellaneous. It was one of those buildings of dark iron stone, likely than not why I sought safety here.

A low grunt emanated from deep within the shop, my eyes still not adjusted to the seemingly endless depth of the shop. Not that I was seeking to glimpse anything within it, my attention was still drawn for any sign of the Khgulli. My captive had lost her willingness of flight, instead captivated by the source of the grunt. I sought to follow her gaze, before my eyes had a chance to adjust eerie light filled my vision, a presence the same as the stone that conjured and played spiteful scenes against the sun. At the back of the shop a form as small as a young child not yet half the height of an adult. The low grunt once more filled the room, now deeper and the resonance squeezed my chest.

The women in crimson, flung open a pouch that she had tied under her sash. Two fingers grasping the contents of the pouch and the other forming incarnation in the air; I had only once seen something similar, the master who was no master but only in title held station within the Guild of Devotion. He gave a lesson which rarely attended, something on the subject of soul and vision. He presented such a similar form as the women now had, after a young boy was found wandering the gardens which we grew our herbs for lessons of application. He was near when someone found him, and a group of us with mild interest watched as he pushed the student aside and completed his motions over the boy. What happened after I have since forgotten, I figured it was of unimportance, now I’m not so sure.

She continues the incarnation and dust which must have been in the pouch flung into the air, the words “Har’el de marser o garr…” they were soft and sung me into darkness, the words echoed in my ears. A blanket of silence and stillness not natural to reality encompassed me and held me firm. I gripped to every sense that I could strain yet nothing, no weight, no gentle breeze I had lost all sense of motion and space. The tide of panic rose up, welling and trying to escape my chest. My breathing hardened, my chest tight and filled with lead, each breath straining more labour from my body. Eventually, the darkness filled my mind, the strain consumed and my though lost.

At this point death would have been a fitting result, but as yet the gods were not seeking my presence. I had wished they would, upon opening my vision, I felt a sharp pain in my side. The boot one of the Khgulli was pressed into my ribs. He pressed hard on my chest now and sneered “Aiding our prey was not wise, do you think yourself a saviour or might you be an accomplice?” My satchel was already in his partner's hands. He fondles the wrapped goods, after searching through the remaining pockets of the satchel and emptying my own, he let out a grunt. As if they shared a common language inaudible to me, they left me one last reminder of them in my side and departed.

I clambered to my feet, dusting myself off. I finally though of something other than my own safety, the women, I ran after the Khgulli. As I rounded the corner I saw them, but the woman was not with them. I turned back, trying to find my bearings, “was I not in a shop” I thought to myself. Instead, I had been in the middle of the street all the time I was being prodded and searched by the Khgulli guards. My mind gripped with confusion, my memory still piecing the events of this morning, the Oni of the café, Kghulli guards, the women and… and that presence. The sun now had completed its assent, no longer was it mid-morning. Time had evaporated like water on a hot stone, so too my coherence of this morning.

Mermaid
May 30th, 2016, 05:25 PM
Ting-clang… ting-clang, the sound ringing from a rough labourer beating his mug with a tinselled spoon. Out of place a small shiny speck in his goliath mitt, pawing at his mug and hunched over in his chair. I thought it must be the cause of a heavy night, now paying the cost of the drink with overburdened movements and shyness of light. Still with this impairment he was an intimidating sight, long dark mane bristled down his shoulders, stubble setting his face and a jaw of an oni, feared in tales of a long extinct culture. These demons that had beast like qualities, tales which were once taught to me by a harsh scholar by the name of Narrid. Tales now brought into reality as I stare at this man. He now set a change in stance, fighting what I can only guess from experience, a queasy and unsettled motion of waves which do not possess reality.

I feel like in this first paragraph the sounds, while a good attention grabber, should be given a period instead of a comma. It does not lead into the next sentence very well and having them as separate sentences give a better sense of happening. In the sentence describing his, "mitt," as "goliath," maybe insert a comparison word? "A shiny speck in his Goliath like mitt." <= My reasoning is only because Goliath is a noun since it is a name.


I feared I did not want to be a witness to the outcome of his swaying, I drew a card from a hidden breast pocket. Setting on the table for it to be scanned, I got up and prepared myself to step into the street. The egg shell table, with a texture to match, sat next to a window with no pane. Open air gushed through the opening, keeping the Café cool in the warm mid-morning sun. The table still circling the card with a blue glow. For a moment, I thought it would flip to red, and I’d have to flee my payment. That morning spent a large portion of fund on materials, they were needed for my ceremony to enter the Guild of Devotion. Vials and all sorts of instruments lay waiting in my satchel. All bought and carefully wrapped, so when the light dissipated I was relieved; for I didn’t want to chance breaking these prized objects in my escape.

The ending of the first sentence and the beginning of the second sentence can be a sentence. It would just clarify things better, as well as maybe adding more detail to this hidden breast pocket. Is he wearing a jacket? Armor? Shirt? The only other thing about this paragraph is describing the scenario first before you describe him leaving the shop could easily make the words flow. Having it opposite confused me a tad and I had to reread it several times.


The doorless frame which I exited and stepped into the street was shadowed by a buttress, it stroked up from the ground in a sweeping style and met the wall halfway from the top. The building void of doors and windows on the lower part, but styled itself with multiple glimmering panes of glass on the upper. This section normally residency for the owners of whatever shop sat below it. Sun still climbing in the sky, danced on the overly bright walls and the glass matched them in every step.

"I noticed that the doorless frame was shadowed by a buttress, as I exited the cafe, stepping onto the street." <= an example of what I meant by my earlier comment.


The street had multiple buildings as such, some more ragged than this, others more ornate. There were buildings with etched ghoulish faces pressed into the walls; often taken from tales of the order which the owner was pledged. Gryphons and Stags where of common place, I’m unsure if these were once real creatures or of pure myth. I would often stair into these ornate designs, dreaming of their existence, their crevasses hiding the umber sand which is so common; it contrasted with the generally white and grey stone of most buildings. Not all buildings were this blinding colour, I liked the older buildings which bore dark iron stone. It unlike the dancing white, but instead possessed the sun, shimmering not light but vivid colour against the void of black. Greens and purples conjured from the sun and set to motion by jealousy and spite.

The detail you give is gorgeous and you quite easily painted a picture in my mind. However, in my own opinion it may have been too much. In this first person narrative did your character notice these things? It felt like the story became a different point of view in this paragraph during your world building.


Our very own guild hall was made of this ancient stone, no quarry is known to produce it; only buildings of the forgotten times and salvaged pieces are found. The Hall of Devotion, where in a wyek of seven I’ll be finally accepted into the guild as a Brother of Devotion. Seven changes from night to day, my eagerness drawing them into a span which I felt would draw across my existence and then go further. I shall finally not be burdened with scrimping and saving just to purchase instruments I needed to conduct our practices, I would be afforded an ample amount for my own resources.

The beginning of this paragraph is still on the same subject of the paragraph before, maybe they could be combined? The word wyek<= I assume since it is spelled this way consistently that is a slang term in your story, clarification can sometimes be needed, otherwise it can be a fun adventure trying to find out the definition of new words in stories!


Still gripped in my own cradle of amour I was ripped, the sensation of weightlessness followed by the inevitable lust of gravity. A short pause… then lighting struck my terror into motion, my delicate possessions, I had not heard a smash, yet I had not known why the sudden shift in my orientation either. I looked about me and I found myself grasping a cloth of feverish colour, it sprung taught in my grip. At the other end, I found a women two or three sol wyek younger than I. Now my mind firmly in the present was caught on this figure, slight of form wrapped by a crimson sash; which I had firm in my grip. She was beside me, one hand lifting her face and shoulders out of the dusty cobble stone, no loss of direction or surprise present in her face. Instead, she held darting eyes and a willingness for me to release her. At this time, I had not realised she was being pursued, I was more interested in an explanation for our current situation. Two Khgulli Guards with their deep wine coloured cloaks and pointed gold helmets, came wailing from a fibre shop which was on the corner just down the street.

Earlier I noticed he had a hidden breast pocket, but I did not know what your character looked like or what he wore. I envisioned him differently and now the image of your character in my mind does not match what your writing. Small visual things like this can confuse a reader who is not paying attention, causing them to reread paragraphs, or even go back to the beginning for clarification. Also your description of his dilemma confuses me, I do not know what happened, I am instantly transported to him chasing a woman and confused as to how we go there.


Khgulli are known to be ill in temper and possess a dispassionate sterile attitude, I was not eager to be a part of any drama that may unfold. I swiftly leapt to my feet still with the sash in my hand, the poor girl now dragged to her feet and trailed with protest behind me. I felt she at least owed me an explanation, I was unwilling to release her of that debt( perhaps it was more to keep her in my custody, in the case that I had to lift some allowance from her to repay for any damages that ley waiting in my satchel.) My detainee and I leapt through fabric lined marquees all while merchants cursed our ill-mannered presence. We eventually found ourselves taking refuge in a small shop, a shop will no theme but one of miscellaneous. It was one of those buildings of dark iron stone, likely than not why I sought safety here.

Good visuals in this paragraph! I quite enjoyed this small chase.


A low grunt emanated from deep within the shop, my eyes still not adjusted to the seemingly endless depth of the shop. Not that I was seeking to glimpse anything within it, my attention was still drawn for any sign of the Khgulli. My captive had lost her willingness of flight, instead captivated by the source of the grunt. I sought to follow her gaze, before my eyes had a chance to adjust eerie light filled my vision, a presence the same as the stone that conjured and played spiteful scenes against the sun. At the back of the shop a form as small as a young child not yet half the height of an adult. The low grunt once more filled the room, now deeper and the resonance squeezed my chest.

Be careful not to repeat words in the same sentence. The word shop is used twice and it causes redundancy. The Khgulli as making these low grunt sounds correct? Is the sound coming from no where? Are these Khgulli closing in on the shop? Are they already there? Small things can help in a big way.


The women in crimson, flung open a pouch that she had tied under her sash. Two fingers grasping the contents of the pouch and the other forming incarnation in the air; I had only once seen something similar, the master who was no master but only in title held station within the Guild of Devotion. He gave a lesson which rarely attended, something on the subject of soul and vision. He presented such a similar form as the women now had, after a young boy was found wandering the gardens which we grew our herbs for lessons of application. He was near when someone found him, and a group of us with mild interest watched as he pushed the student aside and completed his motions over the boy. What happened after I have since forgotten, I figured it was of unimportance, now I’m not so sure.

Good paragraph! the similarities between the woman and someone the main character knows adds to the story, and grips the reader wanting more.


She continues the incarnation and dust which must have been in the pouch flung into the air, the words “Har’el de marser o garr…” they were soft and sung me into darkness, the words echoed in my ears. A blanket of silence and stillness not natural to reality encompassed me and held me firm. I gripped to every sense that I could strain yet nothing, no weight, no gentle breeze I had lost all sense of motion and space. The tide of panic rose up, welling and trying to escape my chest. My breathing hardened, my chest tight and filled with lead, each breath straining more labour from my body. Eventually, the darkness filled my mind, the strain consumed and my though lost.

Plot! Plot! Plot! :) Another good paragraph that captures the reader.


At this point death would have been a fitting result, but as yet the gods were not seeking my presence. I had wished they would, upon opening my vision, I felt a sharp pain in my side. The boot one of the Khgulli was pressed into my ribs. He pressed hard on my chest now and sneered “Aiding our prey was not wise, do you think yourself a saviour or might you be an accomplice?” My satchel was already in his partner's hands. He fondles the wrapped goods, after searching through the remaining pockets of the satchel and emptying my own, he let out a grunt. As if they shared a common language inaudible to me, they left me one last reminder of them in my side and departed.

Is the character feeling pain or are his senses cut off enough for him to assume death? Is it part of his personality not to struggle for life?


I clambered to my feet, dusting myself off. I finally though of something other than my own safety, the women, I ran after the Khgulli. As I rounded the corner I saw them, but the woman was not with them. I turned back, trying to find my bearings, “was I not in a shop” I thought to myself. Instead, I had been in the middle of the street all the time I was being prodded and searched by the Khgulli guards. My mind gripped with confusion, my memory still piecing the events of this morning, the Oni of the café, Kghulli guards, the women and… and that presence. The sun now had completed its assent, no longer was it mid-morning. Time had evaporated like water on a hot stone, so too my coherence of this morning.

I enjoy the cliff hanger you left, makes me want to read more of your story. Your characters are interesting and the world you have created definitely captivated me. Although, there are small spelling errors here and there, as well grammatical errors. My advice is to read what you write aloud, doing this will easily show you certain awkward phrasing, as well as spelling, and where to place your punctuation. Good luck to you and I can not wait to see what you write next. :)

StoneFrog
May 30th, 2016, 06:15 PM
Wow, really I am amazed. I feel my effort in writing, pales in comparison to your feedback. You have truly infused me with motivation now :cheers:
I will admit, I was aiming for 1000 words with this; things like protagonists details were omitted in an effort to be concise. I think what really happened is I ended up overshooting my aim and undercutting detail which would have helped the story. I feel I should go back and add the missing detail, since it was written for practice and pleasure.

Next time I find a moment alone ill be sure to voice my writing, I consistently struggle with grammar and punctuation.

Mermaid
May 30th, 2016, 06:19 PM
Wow, really I am amazed. I feel my effort in writing, pales in comparison to your feedback. You have truly infused me with motivation now :cheers:
I will admit, I was aiming for 1000 words with this; things like protagonists details were omitted in an effort to be concise. I think what really happened is I ended up overshooting my aim and undercutting detail which would have helped the story. I feel I should go back and add the missing detail, since it was written for practice and pleasure.

Next time I find a moment alone ill be sure to voice my writing, I consistently struggle with grammar and punctuation.
Thank you! Yes sometimes when we remove for what we think is better we end up doing the opposite. But of course in writing, technically, there is no wrong! Adding to your story is always a fun experiance. Well, in my opinion. [emoji2]

StoneFrog
May 31st, 2016, 04:46 PM
Revised version, I took aim at the first person narrative hopefully cleaned it up. I will say editing, is harder than the initial writting. I would be delighted for any feedback, espcially if i've made it better or worse. :disturbed:


--------------------------------------------------



Ting-clang… ting-clang. The sound ringing from a rough labourer beating his mug. A tinselled spoon, out of place in his hulking Goliath-esque mitt, pawing at his mug and hunched over in his chair. I thought it must be the cause of a heavy night, paying the cost of the drink with overburdened movements and shyness of light. Still with this impairment, he was an intimidating sight long dark mane bristled down his shoulders, stubble setting his face, and a jaw of an oni taken from tales of a long since gone culture. These demons had beast like qualities, tales which were once taught to me by a harsh scholar by the name of Narrid. Tales now brought into reality as I stare at this man. He set a change in stance, fighting what I can only guess from experience, a queasy and unsettled motion of waves, waves which he was the sole entertainer.

I feared I did not want to be a witness, to the outcome of his increased swaying. Reached through an unbuttoned section of my charcoal vest, I pulled out a crypto-card and placed it on the table. I brushed my chlamys cloak as I straightened my body. The egg shell table, with a texture to match, sat next to a window with no pane. Open air gushed through the opening, keeping the Café cool in the warm mid-morning sun. I flexed and took in the breeze.
Noticing the table still circling the card with a blue glow. A rising moment, I thought it would snap red and I’d have to flee my payment. That morning I’d spent a large portion of funds on materials, they were needed for my ceremony to enter the Guild of Devotion. Vials and all sorts of instruments lay waiting in my satchel. All bought and carefully wrapped, so when the light dissipated I was relieved; for I didn’t want to chance breaking these prized objects in my escape.

A buttress sat shading my exit through a doorless frame; it swept up from the ground and met the building halfway up. I stood a while in the street, unsettled still, I played with the brooch which rested below my right shoulder, a greying-blue cloth hung between it and my barky cloak. The sun danced bright light, from the upper glass-enclosed portion of the building. I thought “I’d much prefer living in the open aired café below, than the residential quarter above”, more a fish bowl than a living space.

I strolled down the street seeking buildings who had etched ghoulish faces pressed into the walls; most taken from tales of the order which the owner was pledged. Gryphons and Stags were of common place. I’m unsure if these were once real creatures, or of pure myth. It was a common activity of mine to stare into these ornate designs, dreaming of unknown beasts and their world. Hidden in their crevasses hiding the umber sand, a common sight in these parts, it contrasted with the generally white and ash stone of most buildings.

Not all buildings were this blinding white, I liked the older buildings which bore dark iron stone. I stood before one now. It unlike the dancing white, but instead possessed the sun, shimmering not light, but vivid colour against the void of black. Greens and purples, conjured the sun, set itself to motion by jealousy and spite. Our very own guild hall was made of this ancient stone, no quarry is known to produce it; only buildings of the forgotten times and salvaged pieces are found.

The Hall of Devotion, where in a wyek of seven I’ll be finally accepted into the guild, as a Brother of Devotion. Seven changes from night to day, my eagerness drawing them into a span, which I felt would draw across my existence and then go further. I shall finally be lifted of the burden of scrimping and saving, efforts just to purchase instruments of our practice. I would be afforded an ample amount for my own resources, maybe I’ll even take in an apprentice.

I was ripped from my cradle of amour, the sensation of weightlessness followed by the inevitable grip of gravity. Landed with a thud, immediately I thought of my delicate possessions. I had not heard a smash, yet I had not known why the sudden shift in my orientation. I reached out grabbing at the ground around me, found in my grasp a cloth, delicate and feverish in colour, it sprung taught in my hand. At the other end I found a woman, two or three sol wyek younger than I. My eyes still shaky, I wondered if I knew this woman.

Now my sight was caught on her figure, slight of form wrapped by a crimson sash; still I held firm in my grip. She was set beside me, one hand lifting her face and shoulders out of the dusty cobblestone, no loss of direction or surprise present on her face. Instead, she held darting eyes and a willingness for me to release her. She was a stranger to me, but where had she come from?

At this time, I had not realised she was being pursued, I was more interested in an explanation. My ears met with a disturbance, not of our immediate surroundings. Soon after, two Khgulli Guards with their deep wine coloured cloaks and pointed gold helmets, came wailing from a fibre shop; it sat on the corner just down the street.

Khgulli are known to be ill in temper and possess a dispassionate sterile attitude, I was not eager to be a part of any drama that may unfold. I swiftly leapt to my feet, still with the sash in my hand, the poor girl now dragged to her feet and trailed with protest behind me. I felt she at least owed me an explanation, I was unwilling to release her of that debt( perhaps it was more to keep her in my custody, in the case that I had to lift some allowance from her; to repay for any damages that lay waiting in my satchel.) My detainee and I leapt through fabric lined marquees, all while merchants cursed our ill-mannered presence. We eventually found ourselves taking refuge in a small shop, with no theme but one of miscellaneous. It was one of those buildings of dark iron stone, likely why I sought safety here.

A low grunt emanated from deep within the shop, my eyes still not adjusted to the seemingly endless depth. I assumed it was an impatient merchant, prompting us. It would be rightfully so, since I was not interesting in browsing, I thought he’d have to be far in the back since I had not sensed anyone when I entered. I blamed my attention was still drawn for any sign of the Khgulli, I had just missed him in my frantic state. I was half torn between the street and the merchant.
My captive had lost her willingness of flight, instead captivated by the source of the grunt. I sought to follow her gaze, before my eyes had a chance to adjust, eerie light filled my vision. A presence, the same as the stone that conjured and played spiteful scenes against the sun. At the back of the shop a form as small as a young child not yet half the height of an adult. The low grunt once more filled the room, now deeper, the resonance squeezed my chest.

The women in crimson, flung open a pouch she had tied under her sash. Two fingers grasping the contents, the other forming incarnation in the air; I had only once seen something similar, the master who was no master, but only in title held station within the Guild of Devotion. He gave a lesson which was rarely attended, something on the subject of soul and vision. He presented such a similar form as the women now had, it was after a young boy was found wandering the gardens; we grew our herbs for lessons and application. The Master was near when someone found him, and a group of us with mild interest watched as he pushed the student aside and completed his motions over the boy. What happened after I have since forgotten, I figured it was of unimportance, now I’m not so sure.

She continues the incarnation and dust, which must have been in the pouch flung into the air, the words “Har’el de marser o garr…” they were soft and sung me into darkness, the deafening words echoed in my ears. A blanket of silence and stillness not natural to reality encompassed me, and held me firm. I gripped to every sense that I could strain yet nothing, no weight, no gentle breeze, I had lost all sense of motion and space. The tide of panic rose up, welling and trying to escape my chest. My breathing hardened, my chest tight and filled with lead, each breath straining more labour from my body. Eventually, the darkness filled my mind, the strain consumed and my thought lost.

At this point death would have been a fitting result, but as yet the gods were not seeking my presence. Finally a sense of ease, the world started rushing in. Upon opening my vision, I felt a sharp pain in my side. The boot one of the Khgulli was pressed into my ribs. He pressed hard on my chest now and sneered “Aiding our prey was not wise, do you think yourself a saviour or might you be an accomplice?” My satchel was already in his partner's hands. He fondles the wrapped goods, searching through the remaining pockets of the satchel and emptying my own, he let out a grunt.

His voice still held to the grunting noise, “Where be the girl? We saw you fleeing by her side.” I lay there gasping still, unable to form a single word. I felt I’d soon meet with another boot, then one caught the air in his nostrils. As if they shared a common language inaudible to me, they shared a gesture. After leaving me one last reminder in my side, they departed.

I clambered to my feet, dusting myself off. I finally thought of something other than my own safety, the women, I ran after the Khgulli. As I rounded the corner I saw them, but the woman was not with them. I turned back, trying to find my bearings, “was I not in a shop” I thought to myself. Instead, I had been in the middle of the street all the time I was being prodded and searched. My mind gripped with confusion, my memory still piecing the events of this morning, the Oni of the café, Kghulli guards, the women, and… and that presence; that was no merchant. The sun now had completed its assent, no longer was it mid-morning. Time had evaporated like water on a hot stone, so to my coherence of this morning.

Mermaid
June 1st, 2016, 05:39 AM
I enjoyed this revision much better!