I decided to write a short story format of how my novel is supposed to go, but about halfway through, I realized there was just too much substance to put into short story form, and I lost my interest. I did write alot, so I decided to put it up as a "part 1" and maybe in the future, I'll finish off the short story version before actually writing the novel.
Stormmaker
“Coughing, the silhouette of a body on the ground raises its head to a girl standing in front of him. “Tell me stories of your childhood” he asks with a frail voice. “All I remember of my childhood are storms” she responds with a soft, but determined voice. “Have mercy” he pleads.”
Our elders have told us the story ever since we were born. Legend has it that a long time ago, in an age that is hardly spoken of now, our ancestors once belonged to a great city in the mountains. They were a prosperous people that bathed in gluttony and indulged in sodomy for constant festivity. A man named Dorneo noticed how the city was falling, and pleaded to the king to save the city. The king was a drunken old fool, and cast Dorneo from the walls of the golden city that sat in the clouds.
Dorneo, and his followers moved down into the valleys, and tried to create a new life there. No more debauchery and greed to rob them of their senses. During the Feast of the Third Moon, the old gods grew tired of mankind’s’ folly, and with a large storm, they ended that gilded age, and wiped out most of the population.
Our tribe was spared the worst of it, but the age that grew from the bloated corpse of the previous was a horrible one indeed. The strong banded together to take what they needed. Like wolves, they would kill, rape, and steal whatever they needed, or for that matter, wanted. Up until fifteen years ago, shortly before my day of birth, my people were enslaved by a group such as this. To escape them, we moved up into the mountains, and tried to start a life.
Most wouldn’t even consider this living. The winters are freezing, and the other seasons bring constant storms. Food is difficult to grow, and hearts are usually just as empty as the stomachs. People would call me a free spirit, and with good reason. I was a peculiar child, with no friends, but a certain energy to me. I liked to spend my time out exploring for adventures as a child, and it was because of this that everything changed. It is because of this I would later become the hammer in smashing everything I loved about my people, and even some of the people themselves.
“You be safe now, and stay out of trouble young lady!” Mrs. Watts called after a girl with a large cloth full of odds and ends on her back. “I will!” the girl shouted cheerfully as she skipped down the only path out of the town. “It’s not proper,” a voice says behind the old woman. “What’s not?,” Mrs. Watts asked coyly. “You know damn well what I’m talking about! A girl her age running off, chasing fool dreams and childish fancies? She needs a good switching, and a husband to keep her in line,” the voice beams back as a woman steps out from behind a basket.
Mrs. Watts’ smile turns to a frown as she grabs the girl by her ear, and pulls her close. “You listen to me Abigail Finch, Olivia is a sweet girl, and if she wants to spend her life chasing after birds, or jumping into the clouds, or even building houses of mud to live in, it’s none of your business, and if you ever use that kind of language around me again, you’ll get a taste of that switching you seem to be fond of!,” Mrs. Watts exclaims. Rubbing her ear and bowing, she voices a rough apology, and looks up at Mrs. Watts. At her nod, Abigail begins to run away, and looks over her shoulder only a few spiteful times before disappearing into the throng of people. “You be careful, girl,” she mutters before wincing at a strain in her back.
“I’m going to find you today!,” the girl yells up into the mountains, “you faeries can’t hide forever!”. Her echo is the only response heard, but it doesn’t even give her pause. She just continues right on down the goat trail, searching for an adventure. Suddenly, she stops dead in her tracks, and her eyes glisten over as she tries to form words. A large stone outcrop that she had walked by a hundred or more times suddenly took shape. She realized it was the massive crown of a statue of a distant age.
Running towards the ledge, she slips on loose rubble, and plummets from the cliff, her screams and a shower of loose rock chasing her down. She gasps as her body collides with icy water, almost knocking the air out of her. A square of light above her shows the dim outlines of the statue before a large rock lands on top of it, taking away the light. Along in the cold, dark water, she cradles her arms, and starts to cry.
She sniffles, and tries to wipe away tears as she starts to see a brilliant blue light glowing at the bottom of the pool. Behind it, a large stone figure reaches out for it. In the dim light, she can see a hole in his chest faintly glowing the same color as well. Inhaling, she holds her breath, and swims down into the water, grabbing the stone and delivering it into his chest. For a moment, nothing happens, and she begins to swim back to the surface, feeling disappointed, but a hand reaches up and grabs her arm. The stone now starts to grow red, and eyes open on the stone creature. Struggling frantically, she passes out there, suspended in the icy water.
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