Guest guest Posted November 4, 2010 Report Share Posted November 4, 2010 Plans change so I got in an edit. It should read better now. A Bad Day for Some 11/04/10 It was cold at the front of the century old trading post. The wood burning stove was in the back outside my office and its heat stayed close to home. It was late winter yet still the air was cold enough to fog my breath and stiffen my fingers as they fumbled over the week’s sales book. Not that there was much to tally since customers came down the road as infrequently as power did down the lines these days. Raucous laughter from the card table by the stove broke my concentration. Four men lurked at the table, amusing themselves by cheating at cards and telling lies. Large men, ragged and dirty, in so need of a wash I could almost smell them sixty feet away. I’d have to open the window and back door to my office later to air out after them. A white ceramic jug of rotgut moonshine sat upon the table, and battered shotguns leaned against the wall, as my self described security guards protected my wares. If they only knew how useless they were. The heavy inner door a few feet in front of my station at the register opened, blocking my view of who entered my establishment. I’d neither heard nor seen anyone approach so my right hand casually slid under the counter to the cut-down double-barrel. I hoped my fingers had enough feeling to shoot straight. My guards in the back were oblivious to the newcomer. The lady appeared around the door, looked about the store until her gaze settled upon me. She smiled and closed the door behind her. My hand returned to the counter top. I wouldn’t have to shoot just yet, which was good because that beast was hard on my wrist. It was also loaded with lead and likely to only irritate my customer. She was dressed in clothes more than a century out of fashion. Her 1900’s dress was a dark royal blue with black highlights and a high collar that nearly brushed her jaw. Fine gloves of the same blue and black theme graced her hands. A black hat with a blue ribbon wrapped just above the brim sat atop her head at a jaunty angle. Midnight black hair framed a face of ice white skin, large amber eyes and a small expressive mouth. “Has my package arrived good sir?†the lady asked. Her voice was as wind driven snow. It carried to the back of the store. The four men forgot all about their game and stared wantonly. “It has,†I replied, my breath fogging the air more thickly now. The lady excitedly placed her hands on the counter. One was empty, the other held a small pouch, my payment for services rendered. I crouched behind the counter and pulled a blanket off a wicker basket. Inside was the small, plainly wrapped package the lady had come for. I stood with it and placed it before her on the counter, noticing yet again the elegant calligraphy I could only appreciate for its artistry. The lady picked up the package, roughly the size of a paperback book, and shook it gently beside her ear. She seemed as pleased with what she heard as it disturbed me. The four men in the back were rising to their feet. “Is there anything else I can help you with?†I asked out of habit and regretted it instantly. “You know there is,†the lady purred. her reminded me of the finely scrimshawed ivory handle of the straight razor in my shaving kit. “Sorry, but that’s still not happening,†I replied. Her laughter was genuinely mirthful, as a cat to a cornered mouse. She blew a goodbye kiss and exited through the heavy door. I could see her standing on the porch waiting for someone. “Who’s the skank?†grunted the first brute to reach my counter. He could see her through the window, his face a mask of feral lechery. “No one you should bother about,†I said honestly. “Bullshit,†came the witty reply. His cronies guffawed. “Just because you ain’t man enough to hit up on it doesn’t mean I’m not†“We’re not you mean,†said one of the others. I thought for a moment the first one, their leader by virtue of being the largest, meanest, and smelliest, was going to deck the upstart. Instead, the brute glared at his mate a moment, then laughed. He got first dibs, then the rest could have her. They exited the store and the leader sidled up to the lady. The rest surrounded her, blocking the steps on the end of the porch and my view from the window. I could hear the leader’s voice, but not the lady’s rebuff. The leader roared at whatever she said. The lady could handle herself I knew, but four to one might be too much even for her. I noticed the men had left their shotguns in the back, so I picked up my revolver, which had lain beside my blunderbuss and made for the door. No sooner had stepped onto the porch when the lady screamed. She fell the few feet down from the rail-less porch to land in a most unladylike fashion in the dirt. The men jumped down from the porch, surrounding her again before she could regain her feet. Their laughter spoke of the cruelties dancing in their heads. Then the Winter Queen arrived. She was suddenly just there, close behind the leader. Now, I don’t mean Winter Queen as some title from the fair or what some mad woman fancies herself. She was THE Winter Queen. Damn the bastards for bringing that kind of trouble to my doorstep. She was angry, too. You could feel it even though you couldn’t see her, not straight on anyway. At the edge of your sight you might see a fractional glimpse of a tall and terrible entity, but look straight at her and she was a blur as a shard of thin ice distorting the view beyond. Perhaps it was simply the mind blotting out what it couldn’t comprehend. I’d seen her once before clear as day, when she was in a good mood, well, I should say a hospitable mood toward me. To her, with what was coming, she was in a good mood. The brutes were frozen in terror at the sight. They wanted to run, I could see them fighting to, and scream, only to jerk and twitch as if a spider were worrying a puppet‘s strings. That’s when her gaze fell upon me like a tsunami of liquid nitrogen. My breath crackled in the air as it froze, falling as sleet to land with a whisper on the weather wooden boards of the porch. The lady said something. I recognized a word or two, but Sylvan is a bloody hard language for humans to fathom. The Winter Queen’s gaze softened to a mere stream sized torrent of water from the arctic depths. “Mind your business, mortal,†the Winter Queen’s voice said directly to my mind leaving a chill imprint of the words upon the gray matter itself. I nodded and hurried back inside. I caught the spring loaded outer door to keep it from slamming, and bringing attention back to myself. Leaving the eyehook dangling, I closed the heavy inner door as quickly as silence permitted and pushed the bolt home then made my way to my office in back. Their kind provided me with more custom than the humans in these parts. My place is kind of a neutral ground where the different houses and kinds come to trade now and then. I’ve gotten pretty used to their kind and they to me, but still they are touchy and best handled with all due care and caution. The greatest should be avoided at all costs. I warn folks now and then to be careful about who they meet around here and in the woods. But they just laugh at the crazy rustic who runs a store in the middle of nowhere on the side of a decaying road seldom traveled. Like I’d warned those very four just this morning: Don’t trifle with the fey. This is a rough draft of a story based on one of the dreams I mentioned. It needs some polish but I don't have time for that at the moment. If anyone reads it and catches typos or other errors, let me know. I'll touch it up before long, soon as I get my printer working again. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 10, 2010 Report Share Posted November 10, 2010 Enjoyed reading the story, noticed a few things/typos. 'It was late winter yet still the air was cold enough to fog my breath and stiffen my fingers as they fumbled over the week's sales book.' The above sentence seems to read better if you omit the word 'still'. Not sure why every so often within your text odd symbols appear, some formatting problem? '“You know there is,†the lady purred. her reminded me of the finely scrimshawed ivory handle of the straight razor in my shaving kit.' The above sentence doesn't run quite right, could it be 'She reminded me of...',rather than 'her reminded me of...' '“Sorry, but that’s still not happening,†I replied.' This has me wondering what it was, good intruige, although I don't think it was ever explained - did you plan on it being that way? '“We’re not you mean,†said one of the others.' Not sure what the above sentence means? is it meant to read 'We're not you'? Some very nice descriptive lines for example; 'That’s when her gaze fell upon me like a tsunami of liquid nitrogen.' and 'My breath crackled in the air as it froze, falling as sleet to land with a whisper on the weather wooden boards of the porch.' also, 'The Winter Queen’s gaze softened to a mere stream sized torrent of water from the arctic depths.' ' Like I’d warned those very four just this morning: Don’t trifle with the fey.' Nice line to end with :-) > > Plans change so I got in an edit. It should read better now. > > > > A Bad Day for Some > > 11/04/10 > > It was cold at the front of the century old trading post. The wood > burning stove was in the back outside my office and its heat stayed close to > home. It was late winter yet still the air was cold enough to fog my breath and > stiffen my fingers as they fumbled over the week’s sales book. Not that > there was much to tally since customers came down the road as infrequently as > power did down the lines these days. > Raucous laughter from the card table by the stove broke my concentration. > Four men lurked at the table, amusing themselves by cheating at cards and > telling lies. Large men, ragged and dirty, in so need of a wash I could > almost smell them sixty feet away. I’d have to open the window and back door to > my office later to air out after them. A white ceramic jug of rotgut > moonshine sat upon the table, and battered shotguns leaned against the wall, as > my self described security guards protected my wares. If they only knew how > useless they were. > The heavy inner door a few feet in front of my station at the register > opened, blocking my view of who entered my establishment. I’d neither heard > nor seen anyone approach so my right hand casually slid under the counter to > the cut-down double-barrel. I hoped my fingers had enough feeling to shoot > straight. My guards in the back were oblivious to the newcomer. > The lady appeared around the door, looked about the store until her gaze > settled upon me. She smiled and closed the door behind her. My hand returned > to the counter top. I wouldn’t have to shoot just yet, which was good > because that beast was hard on my wrist. It was also loaded with lead and > likely to only irritate my customer. > She was dressed in clothes more than a century out of fashion. Her 1900’s > dress was a dark royal blue with black highlights and a high collar that > nearly brushed her jaw. Fine gloves of the same blue and black theme graced > her hands. A black hat with a blue ribbon wrapped just above the brim sat > atop her head at a jaunty angle. Midnight black hair framed a face of ice > white skin, large amber eyes and a small expressive mouth. > “Has my package arrived good sir?†the lady asked. Her voice was as wind > driven snow. It carried to the back of the store. The four men forgot all > about their game and stared wantonly. > “It has,†I replied, my breath fogging the air more thickly now. The lady > excitedly placed her hands on the counter. One was empty, the other held a > small pouch, my payment for services rendered. I crouched behind the > counter and pulled a blanket off a wicker basket. Inside was the small, plainly > wrapped package the lady had come for. I stood with it and placed it before > her on the counter, noticing yet again the elegant calligraphy I could > only appreciate for its artistry. > The lady picked up the package, roughly the size of a paperback book, and > shook it gently beside her ear. She seemed as pleased with what she heard > as it disturbed me. The four men in the back were rising to their feet. > “Is there anything else I can help you with?†I asked out of habit and > regretted it instantly. > “You know there is,†the lady purred. her reminded me of the finely > scrimshawed ivory handle of the straight razor in my shaving kit. > “Sorry, but that’s still not happening,†I replied. Her laughter was > genuinely mirthful, as a cat to a cornered mouse. She blew a goodbye kiss and > exited through the heavy door. I could see her standing on the porch waiting > for someone. > “Who’s the skank?†grunted the first brute to reach my counter. He could > see her through the window, his face a mask of feral lechery. > “No one you should bother about,†I said honestly. > “Bullshit,†came the witty reply. His cronies guffawed. “Just because you > ain’t man enough to hit up on it doesn’t mean I’m not†> “We’re not you mean,†said one of the others. I thought for a moment the > first one, their leader by virtue of being the largest, meanest, and > smelliest, was going to deck the upstart. Instead, the brute glared at his mate a > moment, then laughed. He got first dibs, then the rest could have her. > They exited the store and the leader sidled up to the lady. The rest > surrounded her, blocking the steps on the end of the porch and my view from the > window. I could hear the leader’s voice, but not the lady’s rebuff. The > leader roared at whatever she said. The lady could handle herself I knew, but > four to one might be too much even for her. I noticed the men had left > their shotguns in the back, so I picked up my revolver, which had lain beside > my blunderbuss and made for the door. > No sooner had stepped onto the porch when the lady screamed. She fell the > few feet down from the rail-less porch to land in a most unladylike fashion > in the dirt. The men jumped down from the porch, surrounding her again > before she could regain her feet. Their laughter spoke of the cruelties > dancing in their heads. > Then the Winter Queen arrived. > She was suddenly just there, close behind the leader. Now, I don’t mean > Winter Queen as some title from the fair or what some mad woman fancies > herself. She was THE Winter Queen. Damn the bastards for bringing that kind of > trouble to my doorstep. She was angry, too. You could feel it even though > you couldn’t see her, not straight on anyway. At the edge of your sight you > might see a fractional glimpse of a tall and terrible entity, but look > straight at her and she was a blur as a shard of thin ice distorting the view > beyond. Perhaps it was simply the mind blotting out what it couldn’t > comprehend. I’d seen her once before clear as day, when she was in a good mood, > well, I should say a hospitable mood toward me. To her, with what was coming, > she was in a good mood. > The brutes were frozen in terror at the sight. They wanted to run, I could > see them fighting to, and scream, only to jerk and twitch as if a spider > were worrying a puppet‘s strings. That’s when her gaze fell upon me like a > tsunami of liquid nitrogen. My breath crackled in the air as it froze, > falling as sleet to land with a whisper on the weather wooden boards of the > porch. > The lady said something. I recognized a word or two, but Sylvan is a > bloody hard language for humans to fathom. The Winter Queen’s gaze softened to a > mere stream sized torrent of water from the arctic depths. > “Mind your business, mortal,†the Winter Queen’s voice said directly to > my mind leaving a chill imprint of the words upon the gray matter itself. I > nodded and hurried back inside. I caught the spring loaded outer door to > keep it from slamming, and bringing attention back to myself. Leaving the > eyehook dangling, I closed the heavy inner door as quickly as silence > permitted and pushed the bolt home then made my way to my office in back. > Their kind provided me with more custom than the humans in these parts. My > place is kind of a neutral ground where the different houses and kinds > come to trade now and then. I’ve gotten pretty used to their kind and they to > me, but still they are touchy and best handled with all due care and > caution. The greatest should be avoided at all costs. I warn folks now and then > to be careful about who they meet around here and in the woods. But they just > laugh at the crazy rustic who runs a store in the middle of nowhere on the > side of a decaying road seldom traveled. Like I’d warned those very four > just this morning: > Don’t trifle with the fey. > > > In a message dated 11/4/2010 11:34:47 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time, > VISIGOTH@... writes: > > This is a rough draft of a story based on one of the dreams I mentioned. > It needs some polish but I don't have time for that at the moment. If anyone > reads it and catches typos or other errors, let me know. I'll touch it up > before long, soon as I get my printer working again. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 10, 2010 Report Share Posted November 10, 2010 Thanks for reading, , and I'm glad you liked it. Dropping the "still" does make the sentence read more smoothly. The symbols that come up are due to AOL. I've seen it do that with quoted articles but I think this is the first time it has done it with anything I have posted writingwise. The next mention: '“You know there is,†the lady purred. her reminded me of the finely scrimshawed ivory handle of the straight razor in my shaving kit.' An editing error on my part. That should read: "You know there is," the lady purred. Her smile reminded me of the finely scrimshawed handle of a straightrazor. Looking at that again, the basic theme is there but its still off. I'm looking for something that denotes beauty but also danger, preferably not something animal related. Perhaps: Her smile reminded me of the pleasingly smooth, mother of pearl handle of my straight razor. The scrimshaw reference, while that can be beautiful in its own right, can seem harsh and broken when compared to a smile. I'm going for something more pleasant, in this case using a direct physical sense, the smooth touch, and indirect visual, mother of pearl. This is the image I want to use, I'll get it right eventually. The intrigue is part of a backstory that came to mind. The lady, who doesn't have a name yet and probably won't for various reasons, is a dangerous creature. Not super powerful, but still dangerous and somewhat evilly aligned. While writing this story, it seemed to make sense to have this cat and mouse game going. The character might be tempted to indulge, but knows better. This might come more to light if I write up more stories based around this one. The "We're not you mean" was meant to have one of the background thugs support their leader and prove that he was "man" as well, as were the rest of them. The intent was to portray the lot of them as rather cave man like, brutish and nasty. The world this story is set in is one in decline and they personify that, just as the mention of rare electricity and the crumbling road did directly. The main character is trying to hold on to civilization even out there by maintaining the store, even if most of his customers aren't human. I might flesh that out in other stories. I'm glad that description of the Winter Queen's gaze worked. I feared it might be too much. The backstory is that magic is real, just rare and subtle. The fey folk and other things are real too, just most people don't notice them. The main character was intended to be a plain, ordinary guy, but I'm thinking about giving him minor magical talent. Nothing world shaking by any means, more of a survival type set of abilities rather than offensive, making him different from some of my other characters. He defers to the Winter Queen not only because she's vastly more powerful than he is (and that she is about to take care of a problem for him, indirectly from her point of view), but because he depends on the good will and protection of the fey. They use his store to trade between their kinds without having to actually meet each other and risk fighting between rival camps, so to speak. He charges a small fee for the services, something they expect and accept, and in return they keep the really bad things away. The trick is that he has to be more or less neutral in his dealings. He doesn't care for the more evil fey but at the same time doesn't trust the "good" fey very much either. Then there are the humans who think he's crazy for talking about fairies, trolls, and other things. If the story goes one way and magic becomes a stronger part of it, I might change the "crazy" aspect to more one of fear. Still, because his specialty isn't flashy, destructive magic and the other humans wouldn't be aware they've seen him actually use it, perhaps they might still think he's nuts. Sure the news might have stories about magic, and about the newly appearing wizards being hunted down by a fearful populace, but that's just mass hallucination isn't it? No wizards around these parts, and the hot chick running around naked in the woods on the back corner of the shopkeeper's land is just some crazy hippy, certainly not a Dryad protecting her tree (and certainly isn't tending ginseng and herb gardens to trade with the shopkeeper for simple jewelry, specialty honeys and the occasional conversation with a respectable human). Thanks again for the comments. Enjoyed reading the story, noticed a few things/typos. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 10, 2010 Report Share Posted November 10, 2010 Would the protagonist know what a tsunami is though? Administrator Some very nice descriptive lines for example; 'That’s when her gaze fell upon me like a tsunami of liquid nitrogen.' and 'My breath crackled in the air as it froze, falling as sleet to land with a whisper on the weather wooden boards of the porch.' also, 'The Winter Queen’s gaze softened to a mere stream sized torrent of water from the arctic depths.' Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 10, 2010 Report Share Posted November 10, 2010 Yes, he would. This story is set in the future of this world, well this world if magic existed on a low-key level. I'm working on the earlier story now that fills some of the backstory in. I'm also going to introduce magic as well. He's not flashy, unlike some of my other characters his magic being much more defensive in nature. This one is progressing more slowly because of the amount of dialog, something which I have to concentrate on to get close to right. I'm also trying not to "data dump" on the reader. In a message dated 11/10/2010 1:01:04 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, no_reply writes: Would the protagonist know what a tsunami is though?Administrator Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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