O2 – Creative Writing Challenge

This time, the main theme is “reunited” with a secondary theme of showing a glimpse of the past and future. I’ve met those themes quite literally, showing a family reunion of sorts whilst also addressing the past. To be different (and creative!) I’ve wrapped that up in a future world where the air is no longer breathable. As you’ll see, it doesn’t necessarily work out well.

This is an idea I’m keen to explore further on down the track, so I thought this would be a good way to wet my feet in it. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out even if it can still be enhanced a great deal in a longer context.

Please enjoy:

O2
By Toddhunter

    The sun was shining strong and bright through the green trees, casting a dancing pattern on the ground from the gentle wind. The forest seemed calm, with everything being in its proper place. There were some small birds around; Anna could hear them as they sung to each other in the branches. Somewhere nearby echoed the sound of rushing water cascading over rocks and fallen branches. That river is where she wanted to be.
    It wasn’t easy to make progress towards it due to the thick undergrowth. She had to push her way through where it seemed to be at its lightest, making for each small clearing as it was discovered. Time didn’t seem to be flowing as she made each step in a determined manner, but the ever increasing sound of the water ahead kept her making progress.
    A larger clearing gave her an opportunity to pause and catch her breath. She felt fit for her age, but this was still hard work for her tired body. As she stood considering the situation, she placed her hands near her hips for balance and rocked back and forth for a while amidst the orange leaves. Satisfied with her determined course of action, she tested out her legs to see if they were ready to return to the arduous task.
    As if in confusion about why she had paused, a solitary yellow bird flapped across her line of sight and settled down with a sense of ceremony in front of her. The bright coloured bird considered her for a while, cocking its head first one way and then another as if it didn’t trust what each eye saw. Somehow approving, the bird took to the air with a sudden flutter of its wings, leaving behind one brilliant feather in the scattered dirt.
    For a moment, Anna stopped and pondered picking up the discarded plumage. Even from her height above she could see the perfection and wondered if it would be just right for … Shaking her head she tore her eyes away and started to move. The sound of the rushing deep blue water called to her; the tumultuous song urging her onward to where she needed to be.
Anna scraped through the bushes, not caring as the purple thorns ripped away tiny shreds from her arms. Nor did she concern herself with the noise of her stumbling through the tangle of branches. She had visited this same place many times before and knew that the real danger wouldn’t be found here.
    There were no birds anymore, not here or anywhere else. Often it seemed hard to realise the full extent of what she experienced, but the fake birds always showed the truth. In that moment of clarity amidst the constant bombardment of her senses, she accepted she was dreaming. It meant none of the trees or bushes or the river rushing somewhere ahead of her where real.
Anna was dreaming and she knew being caught in dreams could be dangerous. But just like every other time, she didn’t want to leave in case she was here.
    As she emerged from the clustered brambles, her arms now mimicking the river with their own droplets of thick red blood, she came to a halt. It was different every time she had been here but even so she felt surprised. The empty riverside scene faded away in front of her as the water melted into an inky darkness and the sounds of the forest around her drew back into the void.
    This hadn’t happened to her before. It felt like the dream was crashing towards an ending, yet she was still here inside it. Could she be trapped? If not, what did it mean? Before Anna had the chance to digest the strange darkness around her everything snapped back into focus. The river returned, somehow flowing stronger and with more urgency. But now the trees huddled closer, encroaching on her body as if they reached for her arms once again.
    That wasn’t all that had changed. She was now there too, sitting on a brown log in front of her. In a flash Anna forgot all about the unexplained glitch and sprang towards the young girl.
    She couldn’t see her face but there was no doubting for Anna who it was. She dressed in a colourful fashion like any normal teenage girl, but with more layers as if to protect from a biting cold. The girl turned towards her now as Anna closed to within a few feet of where she sat upon a fresh felled tree. Recognition flared in the little eyes, but that emotion seemed tempered by a strong hint of sadness too.
    “You came again.” The girl said, shaking her head as if to scold the much older women. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    Anna ignored the comment and reached out her hand to touch the girl’s cheek. As usual her hand fell agonisingly short. It hovered, millimetres away no matter how much she tried to reach further. Anna didn’t fight hard for the extra distance, having suspected all along that it wouldn’t work. It was always worth trying, in case the rules of this place proved to be as fluid as the white foaming rapids rushing away in front of her. So try she always did.
    The girl turned away, ignoring the futile effort as she faced back towards the river. “It is dangerous here,” she paused as if weighing each word against her heart, “you need to leave before something bad happens to you.”
    Anna withdrew her hand. “I know. It is just… I wanted to find you here. I needed to see you again before I have to go back. Please, can you look at me?”
    The girl shook her head. “No, it’s better if you just go. What do you want from me? You know there is nothing left for you here. You know what I am.”
    Anna tried to reach her one more time, “Please…”
    The girl hesitated then turned once again. This time her features remained hidden as her face blurred and shimmered in the failing sunshine. Startled, Anna drew back her hand as if bitten. Amidst the blur, the girl’s green eyes still pierced into Anna’s as if once again questioning the wisdom of her presence. “Please? How can you ask anything of me? You know what you did.” She paused as if deciding how cruel she needed to be. “You didn’t protect me, now it is too late.”
    With this accusation, the river rushing along behind them started to fade out of the dream. The dark blue water and sparkling foam giving way to a grey emptiness stretching along before them. It seemed the dream was destroying itself somehow; Anna knew she would be forced to wake soon.
    In desperation, Anna jumped towards the small girl and tried to grab her in a hug. But her arms somehow passed through like she was trying to clutch at the wind itself. Instead, she fell in a heap on the still solid ground, losing the air from her lungs as the world crashed down around her.

    Anna woke with wild eyes and scratched at her throat as she gasped for breath. She was awake now, but terror gripped her as she realised something was wrong. The canister inserted into her neck flashed dark red as the oxygen level threatened to drop to zero, leaving her dead in the murky darkness of the decrepit office building.
    Her joints creaked as she shot to her feet and ripped the tiny canister out to check the meter. It flashed back at her to say it was empty, but she knew that couldn’t be right. She never would have dared sleep if it was even close to running low. But she didn’t have time to puzzle out the mistake, she just needed air and she needed it fast.
    Blinking her eyes in the pale light she tried to make out the buttons on the small lockbox she always kept with her. In the night gloom it was almost impossible to enter the correct code and the gasping of her breath just made it harder.
    The code must have been in, but the box flashed back at her in error as the door remained shut. She tried again, fighting her instinct to gasp at whatever poisoned air was around her, knowing it would lead to her certain death.
    Just as her lungs threatened to explore the code was right and the lockbox opened. A small treasure trove of canisters greeted her failing sight as she scrambled to grab the nearest one. Not even stopping to check how much oxygen remained in it, she ripped at the seal as her life slipped further away.
    A distant voice yelled out through the darkness, but Anna didn’t care. The tube of life was open now and was hissing in anger as she shoved it towards the socket burnt into her throat.
    The air never made it. Instead it clattered to the ground, spewing out its contents into the freezing night air. Anna soon joined it, slumping down onto the dark stained carpet as a vicious blow caved in the back of her head.
    Her last thought was to reach towards her belongings to take one last look at an old faded photograph. It was the same photograph she had kept with her as she struggled to survive each tortuous day. But as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t reach it.

The Rising Saga – Short Story Writing Challenge

Here we are again with another short story. I must say after spending so many months editing and revising, it felt really good to just sit down and bash out a few words for a change.

The challenge this time? Was performance anxiety with a secondary theme of personal embarrassment. For a really big change, I chose to take the themes completely literally and then proceeded to build up a story around them.

To be honest this story is the beginning of an idea I’ve been kicking around in my head for a while. It is to produce a fantasy novel based on a group of everyday kick around characters. Been done? Probably many times, but so has most things these days. At this stage, it is good to just bash out a chapter and see where it all goes. I’m not sure about this world yet, but will let it marinate for a while and who knows what the future will hold.

In terms of the actual writing, what I’m trying to focus on here is building up the world without the use of long introductry paragraphs (something I personally don’t like). For example a small reference to candlelight places them in a world without electricity. The dirt floor? That means they are impoverished and so on. It is something I’m still working on, but that is all part of the fun of this crazy writing journey.

Either way, here it is and please enjoy. (PDF Version)

<strongThe Rising Saga
By Todd Hunter

   “You know… Lately I’ve been thinking…” Peter paused just long enough to see if anybody was listening to him around the old wooden table. As usual, everybody was too consumed with their eating and drinking to pay him much heed. Disgruntled by the lack of attention, Peter pounded the table in front of him causing the assortment of chipped plates and pewter mugs to bounce violently. “Hey! I’ve got something to say here. You guys better listen up whilst I say it.”

   Peter was just the type of guy who could make such a demand and have people stop to listen to him. He was also just the kind of guy who people would straight away disregard once they saw who it was. Everybody knew Peter; even by the weak candlelight you couldn’t miss a man with his size, strength and immense levels of stupidity. Through long experience they all knew it was best to completely ignore him, as difficult as that could sometimes prove to be.

   Greg however, was always a slow learner. It had been a quiet night tonight, with a distinct lack of energy in the old run down inn. If anything could spice things up, it would be winding up his old childhood friend.

   After draining his mug quickly and wiping his mouth across his sleeve to thinly conceal a large burp, he turned to address the target of his mirth. “What have you been thinking Peter? Wondering when you’ll be able to look down past your stomach and see your cock again? God knows how you manage to keep that belly going with the lack of food around.”

   Peter stood up with violent intent, this time bumping the table so viciously that several of the plates scattered themselves onto the floor. In the process they spilled the thin stew across the dirt, adding forever another layer of fifth and ambiguous odour. “You take that back you little shit, you take that back-”

   Greg held up his hands submissively whilst trying desperately to suppress a fast escaping grin. “Whoa there big fella… Sorry, I take it back. I was just joking around you know? So tell us then, what were you thinking about?”

   Peter stopped to consider this carefully as his slow mind mulled it over. The noise of the common room of the inn had subsided noticeably in the last few seconds as some people stopped to watch the events play out over the rims of their cups. However the majority simply went about their task of drinking themselves to oblivion. They had seen this scene many times before and knew how it all ended. Peter would just sit down again with taking things further. Peter always did.

   On cue, Peter scratched his head as he sat down roughly. “I was just… Nope, it is gone now. Thanks for that you idiot.” Greg tipped his now full mug towards his friend and smiled cheerfully. Peter had not yet noticed that his drink had been stolen in the confusion.

   Silence hit the small dinky hollow as the battered inn door suddenly creaked open. Now the only sound that could be heard was some distant and frantic barking off in the distance. It was a common sound these days, as what were hopefully dogs fought over a scrap of what was hopefully some piece of a wild animal. Everybody stopped to see who was entering, some glasses frozen in mid drink, other heads dropping down lower to the table or looking to sulk back into the shadows.

   To their relief it was only old Sam Bothring, the local blacksmith. Despite his rock hard and muscled physique, he still bustled himself inside with the wide eyed look that every member of the small town wore as they moved about alone. He stopped in the doorway himself, as in return he scanned the room for any hidden dangers. Satisfied, he raised his hands in half greeting and half apology to those present and moved in to find his usual seat. Following in on his heels from the door behind him, was a rich stench of shit, death and lingering fear. But none of the locals seemed to really notice, that was just the normal smell of their lives.

   The interruption had served a useful purpose as the inn sprang to life again. Peter had used the pause to rediscover the inspiration for his earlier idea.
“This was what I wanted to talk about. This,” he pointed at the door, “bullshit of living in constant fear for our lives every time a door opens. I’m sick to death of it, if you guys only grew some balls and joined with me then-”

   Greg rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again…”

   “Yes this shit again!” Peter thought about banging the table again with his massive arms to get his point across. However another quick look at the ominous doorway made him think better of it. It really could open again at any time and it was best not to be doing anything untoward if it did. “Look, I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be this way.” Despite himself, Peter still had the presence of mind to lower his voice carefully. He also instinctively glanced through the only window in the room to check that it wasn’t yet dark. A glimmer of light streaming through the cracked and broken glass told him that they still had a little bit of time before they would be forced to scurry home for their lives. “If we all just got together we could finally put an end to all of this. Are you really happy living this way?”

   “Rats.” Stated Greg simply, nodding his head towards the third silent member of their group.

   Peter was taken aback. “Rats? What do you fucking mean rats?”

   “When you get your stomach split open for talking shit like this, your guts will spill out everywhere. Then who is going to come in to clean it up? You know how much I hate rats”.

   Tom looked across at his friend and nodded reasonably. It wasn’t just that what he had said made sense, Greg also happened to have a lot of rat like features so he figured he would know what he was talking about. Still, “You do know that isn’t prime quality beef in that old stew you’ve been poking at right? Did you ever stop to think about what it really is?”

   Greg shook his head furiously. “Nope, I’ve never thought about it. Don’t think I’ll be starting any time soon either”.

   Peter reached across to yank his own beer roughly away from his disgusted pal. “Forget about the rats. Are you two happy with how things are at the moment? Is this how you want to live your lives? Are you fine with digging fucking holes all day for those… things … and then being sent off to sleep before the sun goes down?”

   “We’ve been through this,” Tom stated calmly, trying to sooth Peter’s anger.

   Greg took the opposite approach. “And just what do you think we can do about it?”

   “I don’t know,” Peter admitted, “but I heard up at Blanestown they started to do some planning. Apparently they took a couple of them out before it all went astray. Maybe we can learn from that.”

   Tom sighed deeply before he too looked around to make sure their conversation was not being overheard. They were a tight knot group in the town, at least amongst what was left of the humans. But you never could be sure who was watching and listening. Some people wanted to secure themselves a bit of favour or extra privileges, even if it only got them an extra painful death. The way things were going, he thought Peter was about to join them.

   “Look, the only thing we can learn from Blanestown is exactly what not to do. Who are you going to talk to about it anyway? There isn’t a Blanestown anymore. They are dead now, every last one of them.”

   “Lots of rats though, rats everywhere,” chimed in Greg, somehow enjoying the conversation despite its morbid tone.

   Peter wasn’t convinced. “So what should we do? Are you fucking happy with living in fear every second of your life? At any second that door could swing open and a Stalker could walk in here and start slicing us up. I’m sick of it.”

   “No of course not,” Tom soothed again, always trying to be the voice of reason. “But what would you really do about it?”

   Peter thumped his chest again. “I could take a Stalker.”

   “Fuck off could you,” scoffed Greg. “First thing it would do is freeze you and then it would kill you. Then bingo, rats are in here chomping away. Then the floor is all sticky for the next week.”

   Peter sat back stiffly in his chair, clearly exasperated by it all. “Well you can all go and get fucked then. If you all can’t be -”
Peter stopped short, but this time it wasn’t Greg that interrupted him, but the petite serving girl who had brushed past their table. This time around she had been a bit clumsier than usual as her behind had accidentally come into contact with the giant lump of a lad’s arm. There wasn’t much that could stop the beast mid-sentence, but that sort of intimate contact with the girl he lusted after was just one such thing.

   Sarah immediately knew her mistake. Excusing herself with not much more than a grunt, she gathered whatever kitchenware she could get within arm’s reach and scuttled away before any further damage could be done. As usual, all the guys watched her leaving with every last wiggle.

   When he could finally speak again, Peter wasn’t going to waste his words on flowery poetry as he dramatically shot up again to his feet. “Fuck me. Did you guys see that? Tell me you guys saw that?”

   “I saw it” stirred Greg, not having any clue about what had just happened. More than stirring up his companion about his weight, getting him excited about Sarah was always much more fun. “That was awesome!”

   Peter thumped his chest emphatically. “I’m so going to hit that one of these days. I’ve been thinking she might be into me, but now I’m starting to know for sure.”
Unlike the less responsible member of the group, Tom was not one to encourage such frivolities. “I saw it and it was just a bump. Just forget it Peter, or better yet keep your arms over the table so people in the next town can walk past.”

   Somehow, Tom always had a calming effect on the giant. He was a tiny man by comparison and thinly built besides. But his voice was always pitched just right to hit an understanding tone. Sometimes Peter even started to listen to him.

   “Not a bump,” Greg disagreed to keep the party moving, “I saw it and she looked at you straight in the eyes before waving her rear past you. She knew what she was doing.”

   “See!” Peter threw up his hands towards his tiny friend. “I told you it was something special. Maybe I should go talk to her…”

   “No you shouldn’t,” Tom calmed again, placing his arm upon his friends as he rose to his feet. “You know if you try to talk to her you’ll just end up vomiting all over the floor or standing there silently in front of her. Just what are you going to say exactly?”

   “I…” Peter looked confused now. “I’d just tell her that I … Yeah ok I don’t know.” He sat down again now with enough force to make the old cobbled together chair groan out in a creaking fit of agony. “Why can’t I ever talk to her? I’ve got so much to say but… it just never comes out. Come on Tom, help me out here?”

   Tom considered this carefully but was held back by a small pang of jealousy. Sarah wasn’t just one of the most attractive girls in town; she was one of the only girls in town. He was well aware of how the big lump next to him felt about her, but he had his own feelings too. The difficulty he faced was how to best sabotage his pal whilst still coming across as a great helper.

   Greg beat him too it. “Hang on, one second you are going on about how you can take down a Stalker. The next minute you are too scared to hit up old sweet tits over there for a bit of a kiss. You’ve got some messed up priorities right there you know?”

   “He has a point,” Tom agreed readily, “shouldn’t you be pretty good at that stuff after Kate?”

   The early drunken glow that Peter had been working on suddenly turned a much more distinct shade of red. “Well I didn’t… I…” Immediately, he realised his slip with wide eyes and stammered for a little bit longer before hiding his embarrassment behind a drink from his now near empty mug.

   Greg leant forward earnestly. “So hang on here, Kate was your first right? So if you didn’t-”

   Tom cut him off sharply with a look that could have set a whole pack of Stalkers running. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about talking to her tonight. You are probably too pissed anyway. If you want … I could have a word to her.”

   Peter’s embarrassment flashed to anger now. “A word with her? I fucking bet you would. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” He jumped up, again sending the chipped crockery flying. “I’m done with this.”

   With that he stormed out of the inn, using his massive frame to almost rip the door off its hinges. Tom looked at Greg with an obvious unspoken question. Greg just shrugged back at him. “Yes, we had better go after him. It is getting a bit late anyway.”

   Tom and Greg walked out together, not even stopping to pick up the shattered plates and glasses from the uneven floor. Nobody bothered much to keep things clean and tidy these days. There just never seemed to be much point.

***

   Their friend was large and built like an overweight bull, but he wasn’t equipped for speed. They found him half a block away, spewing his guts up into an empty barrel that once must have held something like fresh apples or fish from the nearby stream. For that barrel too, life had taken a turn for the worse.

   Greg was the first to try to appease him again in the fading light. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir you up there. It has been a tough day you know?”
Peter didn’t reply straight away. He simply held up his hand for silence and then proceeded to continue on with his job of filling the barrel.

   Tom was getting worried. “Ok, it is starting to get a bit late. Are you going to be able to get home alright? There is no way the two of us can carry you and-”

   Suddenly he froze as a shape loomed up out of the shadows towards them. It wasn’t Sarah, or even another member of their small community. It was a Stalker and it was coming right for them. Immediately he cast his eyes down towards the ground. No man was brave enough to look at a Stalker for long. Even those who did didn’t tend to live to brag about it.

   Unfortunately Peter was still occupied with bringing up whatever exotic meat he had earlier consumed as part of his daily meal. It didn’t take him long to sense the change in mood though. There was something about the sudden look of horror on Greg’s face that told him exactly what was happening.

   The Stalker considered the three carefully. It was short when compared to a man and deathly thin. Whatever features it had or didn’t have where concealed in one of the thick brown robes they were told to wear, so as not to alarm the humans. Despite this concealment, the three men could somehow tell that it was thinking about which one it would like to kill first and in which manner it could most spectacularly do it. The low hiss it spat at them might as well have been a cruel smile.

   All three of them automatically dropped to their knees in front of the strange figure. There wasn’t ever a question about a lack of obedience; this was what you had to do to live when you heard that distinctive noise. There would be no bravado today or false show of courage. If it wanted to kill them, it would. If it left them alone, they might get to see another day.

   Tom’s heart almost exploded as he suddenly saw Peter jerk up beside him. The Stalker too noticed the motion and with a flash a long purple blade was drawn and held against the fat man’s neck. But it wasn’t an attack that Peter had planned; his body had merely betrayed him and started to vomit again. All he could do was hold the torrent back into his mouth whilst he tried desperately not to gag. Then he swallowed it again whilst wishing for all his life that he would be able to keep it down.

   If the Stalker could laugh, it would have been laughing right now. But that wasn’t something a Stalker could ever do. Instead, the blade seemed to disappear from its hand and it mercifully decided to slink off again, quickly lost in the deepening shadows.

   As a group, the three friends started to breathe once more. Without a further word, they each headed back off alone to their homes. All of them, even Peter, ran the entire way.