Category: Writers Block
Hey, this is just a story I'm writing in my spare time as a hobby. i've got more chapters, so leave me some comments and if you like it, i'll post more!
Thanks!
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 1
“Karen, wait up!” I shouted as I ran toward our porch carrying a large armful of firewood. But, like the wonderful sister she is, she not only stopped and waited for me, but she decided she would take the armful of wood from me and carry them into the house. Her gentle smile made me feel all warm inside, despite the biting December wind.
“Ruby, you’re one of a kind,” she said, laughing. “Even a small armful of wood will send you teetering and tottering up the porch stairs!”
“I know. It’s funny sometimes, except for the times when you’re not here to help me,” I said, giving her an affectionate punch to the shoulder. She smiled at me as we both stepped into the dimly lit but rather warm house.
As I took off my dirt-caked boots, I looked around and was surprised to find Mom and Dad were still sleeping soundly on the futon. They were usually the first ones up, and would always tease Karen and I for being such sleepy heads. “Early to sleep, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,” Mom always liked to say. She had always been one to quote sayings like that, and Karen and I often scared ourselves whenever we found ourselves repeating these quotes to our cousins if they ever misbehaved, wanting to stay up past bedtime. The last things that we’d wanted for our lives was to become exact copies of our parents.
We crept around the cottage as quietly as possible, being careful not to upset any dishes or pans. I got to work on building the fire while Karen made dough for the daily bread that we often sold at the large open-air market. I stared into the livening embers as I listened to Karen’s rolling pin, the ticking clock, and, on this particular morning, Mom's and Dad’s inhumanly loud snoring. It was all VERY comforting, and I could not imagine my day starting without these simple comforts. The modest cherry wood clock hanging on the far corner of the living room, the paintings of Grandma and grandpa, the old but remarkably in tune and richly resonant grand piano, the mahogany bookshelves lined with heavy, leather-bound volumes, and the velvet-shaded curtains of the large front window were all home to Karen and I.
The marble fireplace with its almost over decorated mantle was now blazing and alive with flames as Karen and I set the pan of bread to baking. Patches of sunlight filtered through the partially opened velvet curtains and fell softly on Mom’s thick, flowered rugs. She had made them herself, Karen said, while she had been pregnant with me. I ran my fingers through the woven flowers and vines as I watched Karen once again take up the dress she’d been working on for the better part of the past month. For the large full skirt, Karen had chosen to use a champagne silk, hemming it with emerald lace and tiny, glass multicolored beads. The bodice of the dress was to be made of shiny, black velvet with a V-neck that was to be surrounded by rhinestones. The shoes, she said, would be finished in just under a week and would be worked on last since “they’re my favorite part of the outfit.”
She worked with such care and patience, seemingly to almost nurture the individual threads and fabrics to take shape. I smiled to myself as I thought about the time I’d tried my hand at sewing and knitting. Mom had tried to teach me the domestic arts, reasoning that I was to become a wife and mother someday and would need to care for my children and husband.
“Now Ruby,” she began, “your needlework must not be only practical but artistic and graceful,” she said, threading a needle not two inches from my eyeballs.
“Your husband will admire the great beauty of your work as well as its durability and practicality. Every time he puts that sweater on, you must see a smile on his face. It must remind him of you and you alone, or you’ve not done the job well,” she continued, taking my hands and forcing my fingers into painful twisted knots and entangling them with the numerous strands of thread that had somehow birthed themselves out of the needle’s eye.
As she went on for another hour and lectured me on the importance for a woman to be “adept in the domestic arts,” I nodded and responded when necessary. I remembered with a smile that Karen just looked on helplessly as Mom tried to mold me into the perfect seamstress.
“Poor Ruby,” she’d said afterward when we were both getting ready for bed, “you looked like Her Majesty trying to change the oil on a car! It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that you clearly weren’t meant for the domestic life.”
“Well,” I said with a sigh of resignation, “society calls for it, I guess. If you’re a baby girl, you grow up in your early years playing with dolls and using them as a learning tool for housewifery and such. Then, you become an older child, around ten years old I’d say, you’ll learn about the arts of domesticity and use them to care for your future husband and children. That, according to society, is the life a woman is supposed to live.”
“Well, that’s only what most people think. Personally, I believe that you were meant for much greater things than that, not that mothers who choose to become housewives aren’t important, but you’re just not made for that role,” she continued, turning over in her bed to face me.
“Well, how do you know that?” I asked, my eyes now trained on her face and waiting for her answer.
“Well, for one thing, you’ve always been very gifted in the area of the performing arts. You sing, play the piano, the guitar and the flute, and you’ve written a musical, which was excellent by the way. You’re a very good writer, and you love performing every chance you can get.” And just as I was about to ask a question…
“And don’t think I’ve not noticed you locking yourself up in our cellar, of all places, with your book of sheet music in hand and practicing until I’ve pounded on the door for you to come out and eat something before you faint!” she finished with a smile, throwing her two-ton, pink plush rabbit at me.
After that, we decided to drop the discussion, concluding that I was really meant for something other than housekeeping and childrearing, and a furious pillow fight lasting until three in the morning ensued.
Good beginning. If you aren't careful though, you'll drown your readers in the details.
It's hard to keep up with the characters. In the beginning it's up in the morning with mom and dad still sleeping, and in the end it's 3 a.m. at the end of a pillow fight.
However, as I say, it's a good beginning. Bring on the rest as soon as it's done.
Bob
lol thank you! I'm glad you liked it! Well, see, this is kind of the way I think. Just pure randomness!
Well, i'll post the second chapter, but just as a preface, the second chapter begins with a new character who will occupy its entirety. Well, for the record, Kage-maru is a character taken from the Virtua Fighters game/anime and its copyright belongs soley to Sega. The storyline is also the property of Sega and has been borrowed for use in my own creative work without the copyright holder's permission. additionally, the character shall be henceforth used with creative license.
To continue regarding chapter two, the format I have chosen is similar to that of the book The Pearl by John Steinbeck, i believe.
Thanks for reading! Keep the comments, questions, and suggestions coming!
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 2
Alone.
Not a soul was in sight as he walked through the forest that surrounded the small village he would be calling home from now on. The sun filtering through the thick tops of the tall sycamores warmed his skin and succeeded in temporarily relieving him of the hollowness that had now taken over his soul. Everything was gone. His people, his village that had been his birthright and sanctuary. Gone. Gone up in flames. All gone because he and his father had not been able to run back in time to save the people that he lived for. His mother? She was gone too. Turned into some fighting machine that he, in the end, had to kill. Just at the thought of her face and the momentary peace that had been in her eyes when he had succeeded in rescuing her just that once rended his heart in half and again.
The path that lay before his mechanically moving feet was littered with leaves that had been late in falling off the trees. It was mid December now, but the snow still had not come. A few years ago when it had been like this, many in his village had counted their blessings that their crops had flourished so well and had even now continued to grow, but the sages of the mountains had warned of a cruel but late winter. They had often told him to advise his villagers to store three times the usual amount of food in their homes and to preserve as much fish and meat as was needed to last them for at least six months. Many had done according to his advice, but many took the extra precaution and had already begun preserving and storing enough for them and their neighbors. He remembered with a slight smile crossing his lips that he had been one of them.
Hours had been spent gathering the food, and he had remembered with fondness that they had made somewhat of a festival out of it. Men, women, and children traveled in small groups of five or six and carried baskets on their arms, picking whatever they could manage to preserve from the fields. What had already ripened was to be taken in and prepared as a feast for the entire village afterward, and all the children were to make desserts and decorate them.
But now as he stared up at the rays of sunlight that had now begun to flood the moss-crowded forest floor, he felt a long-forgotten stinging sensation well up behind his dark, brown eyes. The sharp lines of the dark sycamores quickly blended in and blurred in his vision with the bright, yellow dandelions that grew around them. He sat down on a nearby stump and tried his best to ignore this feeling.
He was a man. A man who had come from ten generations of legendary warriors who fought in the shadows in their endeavors to protect Hagakure and uphold its values. He had endured many tests and had triumphed over them all. From physical torture to psychological torture, he had emerged victorious and had proven himself worthy of his place as the leader of Hagakure.
Yet, as he shut his eyes tightly against this stinging sensation, pictures of his village flashed before his eyes, and the guilt washed over him, relentlessly pounding at his sense of honor and pride.
He had passed every test, every trial, and had overcome every obstacle that had been placed in his path, but he could not save the very village and people that he loved. They had counted him as their savior and guardian, and he had failed them!
He buried his face in his hands as this final realization tore away at the last bricks of the walls that he had put up around his heart. The wounds and scars now opened themselves, letting billows of painful memories and bittersweet dreams cascade down his smooth, tan cheeks. As the sobs shook his solid frame, wells of pent-up emotion and pain freed themselves of his icy grip. His father had taught him long ago that for a man to cry openly was a shame.
Kage-maru was to stand strong, rooted and grounded in his honor and strength. He was to face even the most cruel and harsh storm with a face of stone. Anything short of this would be a disgrace.
As the tears continued falling, the wounds and scars seemed to grow deeper and more painful with every breath. It was as if the very act of letting these emotions run free and uninhibited only added more salt to them. For years, he had pushed these feelings aside, and he had been successful for a time. But now, as the forest embraced him warmly in its blanket of bird song and chirping crickets, the numbness of keeping to the traditions of the honor code lifted as tears now flowed freely.
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 3
By the time the bread had finished baking, Mom and Dad were awake and yelling for Karen and I to pack up the bread and bring it to the market while they busied themselves with the preparations for our Christmas party. Mom had already finished decorating our small cottage with holly and red berries, and Dad had already begun carving out the nativity scene for our window display.
“Well,” Karen remarked as we stepped off our porch, “guess we won’t be having a white Christmas this year. It’s the fourteenth of December and there’s still no snow.”
I looked out over the still green fields of grass that served as our front yard and wondered if that meant that we wouldn’t be having Mom’s famous apple cider this Christmas since it wouldn’t be cold enough.
“Well, if it doesn’t snow, you know Mom won’t be making her apple cider,” I said as we turned the corner and walked on the thread of pavement we called a sidewalk.
Karen, who usually responded to my silly comments, was unusually quiet, even for her. She walked on beside me and stared up at the blue sky as if she would go blind if it ever ceased to be her focus. Her face was thoughtful and somewhat sad, and as we neared the stalls and carts of the market, I thought I saw her wipe away a tear with the sleeve of her corduroy jacket. She didn’t seem to want to talk, so I didn’t want to ask her.
“Good morning, Ruby! Good morning, Karen!” little Roger shouted from his father’s vegetable cart. As usual, his hands and face were unbelievably sticky with powdered sugar from the funnel cakes and candy that his mother always gave him to keep him occupied and out of their way on market days. He hung over the side of the cart and waved to us as we passed and occasionally licking his fingers when he thought we weren’t looking. He was a cute little boy, maybe just a tad spoiled and rather rotund, but cute nonetheless, and rather sweet too. Whenever Mom invited him over for tea, he would always come to our cottage bearing a gift for each one of us, usually a wrapped piece of cake or some such sweet.
“Too bad his parents pay no attention to him,” Dad always said after the little boy left. “If he were my son, I’d teach him the arts that every self-respecting man aught to know—painting, carving, and cooking!”
Karen and I wholeheartedly agreed with him, especially since we both hated cooking, and I couldn’t cook anything for anyone to save my life!
Today, the market was unusually busy, and people all crowded their carts into the tiny little patch of grass that served as the area for produce, cooked and dried meats, and fresh baked goods. Even the larger area for cattle, horses, and clothing was crowded. Mrs. Emmerson had already seized the opportunity to stop Karen and I and ask if we’d heard the latest gossip.
“Well, since you ladies aren’t married I just thought that you would be interested in hearing this,” she began, pulling us close to her large stomach so she could whisper in our ears.
“Mary Lou told me just this very morning that a very nice-looking young man stopped by her inn today to get a room. He’s apparently very tall and handsome.”
“And wait,” she said, putting a gentle but restraining hand on my shoulder as I politely nodded and was about to head in the direction of our cart, “he’s right over there talking to my husband about carpentry or some such nonsense! You should go see him. Your mother must not know about him, does she? I bet not or else she would’ve sent you in something much finer than those unsightly jeans and old T-shirt!”
Mrs. Emmerson’s piercing blue eyes scanned my modest outfit and shook her head in disgust. Then, her eyes traveled to Karen’s corduroy jacket and faded blue jeans and gave her the same. She was, as should be rather obvious, our very own, homegrown local gossip. No dirty secret failed to catch her ears, and no relational squabble escaped her attention. I only said good-morning to her out of sheer politeness and respect, but I did my best to stay as far away from that woman as I could. And so did everyone else. She had quite a reputation for causing trouble and was even one of the reasons why Karen’s previous fiancée broke off his engagement with her.
As I had expected Karen quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me away from her the very second she was distracted by an unnecessarily loud “Good-morning!” from one of her other gossipy friends.
“That woman makes me so angry!” Karen whispered under her breath through clenched teeth as we practically jogged toward our cart.
“Yeah, she’s so nosy and feels the need to butt her head into everyone’s business.”
“Yes, and to make matters worse, Sean won’t talk to me anymore no matter what I tell him. Even Mom and Dad have tried convincing him that those rumors aren’t true.”
She sighed and wiped away another tear before taking my basket from me and putting it onto the cart. She tried to hide her face behind one of the large handkerchiefs that Mom used to cover the bread baskets, but I could already see that her eyes were now brimming with tears. Never having been engaged or courted myself, I felt utterly helpless, not knowing how to console her. She was my hero and role model and always encouraged me when others had nothing but criticism. Now, she was in tears, and I…
“Excuse me.” A voice broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.
“Yes sir, can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes. How much for a loaf of bread?” he asked, pointing to the overflowing wicker basket.
“One dollar,” I replied.
“One dollar? Are you sure?”
He looked incredulous, to say the least.
“Yes sir, one dollar.”
“Well, all right. Here, how about I pay you two for good measure,” he said as he handed me two crisp dollar bills.
“No, that would be dishonest of me, sir.”
“Dishonest nothing! I gave it to you. You didn’t trick me into doing so.”
Not willing to argue any further, as that would be rude of me, I took the dollar bills and put them in our money box.
“Thank you, sir.”
I like it, I can't wait to read more!
Thank you! Well, currently, chapter four is still in the works, as it were, and will be coming shortly!
Please, do drop me some comments if you guys would like anything changed if there's anything I can improve on!
Thanks again!
Chapter 4
The village that I had decided to settle into bore a striking resemblance to Hagakure. Stone cottages stood around the center walkway like miniature sentinels, and tall, majestic sycamores and birches fringed the village’s outermost limits. The walkway was only a thin strip of pavement that quickly gave way on either side to wide, lush green fields of grass, dotted with yellow dandelions. Here and there, flocks of sheep grazed peacefully, while their shepherds gathered in small groups and played away on a bamboo flute or pipe. Their music filled the air and mingled with the songs of the chattering squirrels and various birds that sat aloft in the trees. Nearby, large flower beds caught the observer’s eye with their vibrant colors and teased the senses with their fragrant buds.
As beautiful as this all was, I couldn’t help but feel alone. The bird songs, the chattering squirrels, the bleating sheep, the vibrant flowers, all of them protested the coming of winter. They had somehow, surprisingly, managed to keep winter and her icy grip at bay until now. It was the middle of December, but the grass still looked lush and the flowers still opened up to the golden streams of sunlight. Only the tall sycamores and birches had shed their leaves and adorned the ground with fiery reds and oranges. This village had managed to stave off winter, but why couldn’t I stop a fire that destroyed my people? Why couldn’t I have been more alert? Had all these years of training and testing been for naught?
I shoved these thoughts and questions roughly aside, aware that if I let them take their course, I would once again weep shamefully and dishonor my father’s memory once more.
For now, I had to find a place to stay.
I had to busy myself by gathering up the necessary materials to build myself a decent cottage among this people.
I had to move on.
A small inn nestled between two, large oaks caught my attention and I hurried toward it, eager to lay my aching body down on a soft, feather mattress. It had been quite a while since I last had a place to stay for more than a week at a time. The hotels that I had managed to stay at during my various missions had been uncomfortable, made even more pleasant by filthy sheets and exceptionally rude staff. I cringed as I remembered the last ordeal I’d experienced. Upon entering the room, I was aghast to find that the odor of beer, cigarettes, and various other drugs no doubt, had permeated the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe without feeling nauseous. I promptly asked if there were other rooms but was greeted by a, “No sir. If you want another room, go to another hotel!” I would’ve gladly gone somewhere else or even camp outside, but seeing that I was in a mosquito-infested climate that had no shortage of disease, I didn’t want to take my chances. Even a shinobi coming from ten generations of stone-faced shadow warriors were, at the end of the day, flesh and blood and susceptible to life’s perils.
As I made my way to the front door, I noticed that the front courtyard was quite a feast for the eyes. Along the well-paved, cobblestone walkways grew full-figured sunflowers and primroses. Honeysuckle grew sporadically here and there among the tall grasses that accentuated the glimmer of the sun off the surface of the large fountains that dotted the exquisite space. Various fruit trees had been planted along the edges of the courtyard and now hung heavy with cherries, apples and pears. Every bough served as a perch for wrens, red-breasted robins, oriels, blue jays, doves, and crows. For a moment, I was able to briefly forget all that had happened in my past as I drank in the beautiful gifts of nature around me.
“Good morning, Ma’am,” I said to the young lady who greeted me at the door, “do you have any rooms here?”
“Yes, we do. Would you prefer a room in the upper level or on the first floor?”
“The first floor will be just fine,” I said, promptly filling out the check-in sheet that lay on the rather cluttered front desk.
I followed a young man as he handed me a set of keys and showed me to my room. I was rather impressed at the cleanliness and beauty of the place despite being located in a small village of people who didn’t often get visitors. The modest tiled floors had been swept, the walls were almost dripping with handmade tapestries and upon entering my room, I was surprised and delighted to find that even the bed clothes had been handmade and woven with artistic taste and care. To my relief, the room smelled fragrantly of jasmine and lavender, and not a speck of dust was to be seen anywhere. Not even the lampshades or lightbulbs, for that matter, showed signs of being dusty. In short, every last detail had been tended to. Relieved and quite exhausted, I laid my tired and aching body on the down mattress and slept.
Iris, it's good, and I want to keep reading, however my one comment is that you've been writing it as if yu are 2 different carictors. In chapter's 1 and 3, you are one of the daughters, and in chapters 2 and 4, you are the man. it just feels a bit strange to read it this way.
oh, that format was on purpose. i'm glad you liked it! Well, if you've ever read "As I lay dying' by Bill Faulkner or "The Pearl" by John Steinbeck, that's the kind of format that it's in.
I'm not sure about the extreme contrast between the two chapters: Chapter one and two. The first chapter is very vibrant, while the second chapter is a lot more solemn. You may want to consider that in future modifications -- it's hard to read both sides of a coin consegutively.
The story is well written, as I've told you before. I think you've got the nack of giving people real-world responses and reactions, which is in opposition to my setting everything up in a more roundabout, less realistic fashion.
I look forward to more chapters! Type type type!
Kai
keep the practice iris. you write very well. I may be able to say more once i read the whole story.
Thank you!
Lol, chapter five is in progress, so please drop any comments you'd like!
Very good story indeed. The contrast between the two chapters are meant to be quite different. I have looked into the novels you have given, and the style is very much the same. Usually, peoe take this style to do two stories taht are going to cross road in the middle of a huge conflict or ordeal, if you take this route, that would be good. Also, include Sarah!!! Sarah is awesome... she owns everyone! My opinion mind you. XD
Fonzie!
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 5
As I carefully slid the crisp bills into the slot at the side of our money box, I watched as the young man walked away with the loaf of bread in hand, disappearing into the crowd of housewives and matronly figures that were congregating in between the stalls. Upon seeing the tall, handsome figure pass, they gave each other knowing glances and gestured in my direction.
“Margie Emmerson, that girl Ruby would be a perfect match for that young man!” exclaimed Emma Chang, another of our homegrown gossips.
“Yes, I quite agree, but he’s too handsome for her. She’s quite ahomely little thing, you know. Her eyes have that odd cloudiness and bluish-grey to them that I just don’t like! Besides, she looks like a dwarf standing beside him. Plus, she’s too thin! To make matters worse, I’ve personally witnessed the fact that she can’t cook, sew, clean, or keep hous! What’s a girl like that worth? Nothing!”
“I agree,” the other women chimed in unison, collectively hurling a disgusted look in my direction.
“Don’t you dare speak about my sister like that!” karen shouted as she burst from her place beside the largest of the bread baskets.
“And don’t you talk to your elders like that,” Mrs. Emmerson retorted.
“Look, I have a lot of respect for my elders, but only if they’re wise and seek to build the younger generation and pass on their wisdom.”
“That’s all well and good, Miss Willson, but a girl like you who slept around with ten men in one week shouldn’t be talking!” Mrs. Emmerson scolded, waving her fan in Karen’s face.
“No wonder he wouldn’t marry you! Can’t believe I’m forced, every hour of my waking life, to live in the same village as such a dirty little wretch!”
Without another word Karen threw her handkerchief in Mrs. Emmerson’s face and sprinted toward the nearby grove of sycamores, leaving me to tend to our bread stand. The women went back to their respective stalls and gave me dirty looks as they passed. I bit my lower lip and tried desperately not to cry. I’d never before seen Karen so upset, and I knew all too well that the women would only continue in their insults, knowing that no one would dare oppose them. During council meetings, their counsel was irrefutable, and their advice was the only advice. No one was allowed to give a second opinion, not even our leader himself. They wouldn’t outright force him to take their side of the matter but would instead manipulate situations, facts, and words to bring him to their conclusion.
By the time all our bread had been sold, the sun was beaming down mercilessly from overhead, practically melting all of Mr. Thomas’s hot fudge sundaes. I watched as the gooey, brown ice cream and fudge slowly crept down the sides of his rickety old table, creating quite an interesting looking puddle on the green grass below. Poor Mr. Thomas began shoving all the partially melted cones into his icebox, but by that time, more than half of his ice cream had been donated to the ants. My skin began to crawl as I watched literally hundreds of those creepy, crawly black dots march right upt to the puddle and help themselves. They were crumbs on tiny, spindly legs, intent upon invading every source of food us humans had to offer.
I sold the last loaf of my bread to an old lady with a headful fo silver hair and watched as the gossips got itno a scuffle about me and whether or not I would be pretty enough to marry anyone or become anything. They argued back and forth, wondering with amazement how I even was able to have any friends or make any acquaintances.
After seeing that his cones were no longer fit for sale, Mr. Thomas, or Grandpa Tom as we all affectionately called him, gathered all the little kids, and those who were, well, young at heart, around him and began handing out the half-melted ice cream cones. Everyone held out their hands eagerly and waited for Grandpa Tom to hand them their ice cream. Here in our little village, he was famous for his ice cream and confectionaries.
“Wow Roger! Back for another one?” Grandpa Tom beamed as he handed Roger an almost-melted cone of French vanilla and chocolate fudge.
“This ice cream’s yummy! It’s better than what my mom makes at home!” Roger answered with fudge starting to dribble down the front of his once starched and white T-shirt.
“Aww, well, your mommy makes the best shepherd’s pie though, doesn’t she?”
“Well, Dad makes it better, but Mom makes good hot chocolate. With ripped cream, little mushy round things, and chocolate chips.”
“Don’t you mean whipped creamm, Roger?” I asked as I ridded Grandpa Tom of his last ice cream cone.
“no, Ruby! Silly head! It’s ripped cream,” he corrected sternly, shoving the last bit of the cone into his mouth and wiping his sticky hands on his denim cut-off shorts.
“Oh, all right. You win. It’s ripped cream, then!” I said putting my hands up in mock surrender.
Soon, little Roger’s parents ran up to Grandpa Tom, and after handing him a basket of peas and peppers and exchanging a few comments about the rise in their sales, took little Roger by the arm and led him to their waiting cart.
As I watched Roger’s, and presently Grandpa Tom’s, carts bob down the thin thread of pavement, I breathed a heavy sigh and cast a glance toward the tall grove of sycamores. It was almost noon now, and the sun was overhead, flooding the grass below the treetops with brilliant, golden patches of light. I leaned back against the edge of my overflowing and precariously topheavy cart as I watched birds flitting from one tree to another .
The crows didn’t seem to care much that their song was naught but an ugly squawk, and the bluejays could care less if their song was anything but ordinary. So, if we were all made differntly, thus adding to the color of the world, why did I care so much about the opinions of the group of gossipss for whom I had little but superficial respect?
Good addition to the chapter.
there were a ocuple of sentences that were a little long, for example hte opening sentence for the chapter. thats probablly a "me" thing, so you don't have to worry about that.
Good contrast for characterization, and nice touch with the langauge, especially the use of wrip instead of whip.
Keep it up!
fonzie!
PS
I still want Sarah! lol
Awww, Fonzie, just admit it! You've got a crush on Sarah! lolol jkjk!
I like it, keep it up, Iris!
Thanks Iris, another ennjoyable installment.
No! Thank you for reading, guys! "Preciate it! Chapter 6 will be up soon, lol provided that I don't procrastinate.
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 6
By the time i’d gotten out of bed, the midmorning sun was beating down furiously upon the wooden planks of the deck and green grass below. Despite the crisp, cool wind that now whipped the fallen leaves around like miniature daggers, threatening to hit some poor unsuspecting old woman in the eye, men, women and children wheeled their loaded carts down the strip of pavement toward the large market. They all seemed to plod along happily, some even picking flowers along the way and putting them into each other’s hair.
On every face was written an unspeakable love for life and vitality that I’d only come to know in the faces of my people. Even the old men with their headfuls of silver hair seemed to trot along with the vigor and vitality of a twenty-year-old. They laughed, smiled, and some of the older women even giggled as they helped their grandchildren push the small, but fearfully overloaded, carts that tottered from side to side. All was at peace here, and I smiled wistfully as I closed the window and promptly changed into a pair of faded blue jeans and an immaculately white T-shirt.
Upon my arrival into the village, I had been intent upon keeping to myself as much as possible. I did not wish for those who had so cruely burnt down my village to find this village of innocent people and destroy them, all on my account. For the better part of this year, they had been bloodthirsty hounds, intent upon my capture and consequent death. I shuddered as the image of my blazing village, flashed before my eyes and quickly distracted myself from these thoughts with a box of interesting looking cereal that sat atop my chestof drawers. I wasn’t quite hungry, but the cereal, with its rabbit-eared flaps at the top, proved to be a nice diversion.
After having taken a meal at the small diner that sat opposite to my room, whose food was quite dilectible by the way, I hurried to the open air market and introduced myself to the villagers. Despite my misgivings of beeing seen with the villagers, I found that all my time of being alone to train and complete missions was more than I could take. Through all these ordeals, I’d come to realize that I was like any other human being; I needed to keep in company with other people, just like everyone else. I was no different.
The market was already fairly crowded when I reached its large, red sign and an overabundance of carts, stalls, and people. Some were pushing and shoving one another in order to secure the most prominent spots on the small strip of grass. Everyone wanted to be by the “big red sign” so that their stalls or stands would be spotted first. I smiled as I watched a dumpy little boy waddle past me and help himself to a rather large helping of cotton candy. He got his face and hands very, very sticky and proceeded thereafter to wipe them on his neatly pressed, starched, denim jeans.
“Roger!” a midget-sized woman, presumably his mother, scolded.
“What, Mama?”
“I just cleaned those jeans last night, and there you go making a mess of it again!” She wrung her hands in exasperation, leaving the little boy standing in front of the candy bowl with eyes all asparkle with tears.
“Roger?” I tried, stepping up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Go away!” he said, pushing me away with his gooey, pudgy hands. “I’m eating!”
“Well, I kind of wanted some candy too. Would you mind sharing?” I asked, not really wanting the candy after he’d dug his fingers into it.
“Well,” he said looking quizzically at me, “ you can have this half, and I’ll eat this half because it has sour squirmies in it.”
I stood there for a few minutes longer, watching as he shoved handful after handful of candy into his relatively small mouth, or was it the folds of bulge that hid it from view? I can’t be quite sure, but I grew rather apprehensive when I saw him slurp up sparkling, green strands of what appeared to be worms. Perhaps they were candy worms, I reasoned. But they had too much detail and really seemed to wriggle and writhe as he slurped them up. I seriously thought about changing my mind, saying I was indeed very full and walking away, but I remembered the look of loneliness and despair that filled his eyes as his mother walked away and decided to brave the “sour squirmies” for his sake.
Cautiously, I knelt down on the grass next to the gargantuan candy bowl and took a pinch of candy from my side. After seeing the little boy slurp up sparkling, green squirmies from his side, I couldn’t help but put the pinch of candy into my palm, turn it over in the bright sunlight, and scrupulously examine it for any signs of life.
“Don’t you like my candy, Mister?” he asked as he slurped up another worm.
“Well, Roger, I...” But apparently he wasn’t paying attention.
Since he wasn’t exactly watching but expecting me nonetheless to finish my candy, I quickly took a leather pouch and emptied my half into it, hoping that I wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
“well, Roger, it was very nice eating candy with you, but I’ve gotta go now.’
“will you come back and eat candy with me, Mister?” he asked, making an incredible mess all over the grass.
“Yes, I will,” I said, smiling as I walked toward the nearby bread stand.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I spoke to an old man in dirty, green overalls and blue T-shirt about the kinds of wood that were available to me, and thereafter headed off to buy some bread. The young ladies who tended to the stand were about nineteen and twenty-one respectively, but the elder of the two was standing in a corner and sobbing heavily into a handkerchief. I spoke to the younger one and bought a loaf of fresh honeywheat bread, wondering why she, too, looked so glum.
It’s peculiar how one may fool the world with his facades and social masks. For in this village, I thought I’d found a people whose joy was inexhaustible. They were all smiles when they walked past my window, but here, I’d come to find that this village was just like any other. Little Roger lived in a home where he was scolded for getting in the way, and the young ladies at the breadstand were plagued by tears. As I headed for the little inn that afternoon, my heart was heavy, pondering over all the troubles that this little village must bear. I, too, had been the leader of a village and knew all too well what havoc the lack of good leadership could reak if allowed to take its course. It destroys, corrupts, and hardest of all, forces its innocent inhabitants to pay the costly price.
I can't wait to read more, Iris!
i'll try not to procrastinate too much. lol
Thanks for reading!
Good development on your other character.
Read more soon!
Fonzie
keep posting iris
Thanks Iris, some great discriptive writing again.
Chapter 7
The sun was directly overhead as I pushed the heavy cart down the strip of pavement. As I threw my weight into pushing the cart with its tower of baskets, I cried softly into the late autumn air. Mrs. Emmerson’s face flashed in my mind’s eye, and an intense fire, such as I’d never felt before, burned a long, painful gash into my heart. In that very moment of anger, I hated her. I truly hated her. I almost closed my eyes and prayed that a tempetuous storm of thunder, hail, and lightning would sweep her off her feet and carry her away. FOREVER! How dare she accuse my sister of such a crime! How dare she accuse my sister, the one who had been my hero from as far back as I could remember, of being immoral! I didn’t want to go home. I really didn’t. See, the thing that I was very reluctant to admit was that Mom agreed with Mrs. Emmerson and looked down upon Karen and I for opposing her views.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” I said as I was suddenly jolted back to reality when all of my baskets tumbled off the cart and flew everywhere, causing the young man who had paid double for his loaf of bread earlier today to scramble hurriedly out of the way.
“Not a problem,” he said, smiling and bending down to pick up the baskets.
“Oh, no, i’ve got it,” I replied, slightly embarrassed that this man who I barely knew was now helping me pick up baskets that I’d dropped.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ve got nothing else to do all afternoon aside from drawing up a plan for my house, but that can wait.”
For the next five minutes, he and I crawled on our hands and knees along the sidewalk and chased after wicker bread baskets. The wind had picked up considerably since this morning, and it had quite a lot of fun seizing the baskets and making us chase after them. As we ran after the last and largest of the baskets, I found myself smiling for the first time in a long time. Oh sure, if you’d asked my neighbors if I’d smiled in the past week, everyone would’ve undoubtedly said yes, but those smiles were contrived and those who knew me well, with the exception of Karen, didn’t even notice and most likely didn’t really even care.
My parents, aside from nagging us and trying to mold us into perfect little ladies, paid little attention to Karen and me. The majority of their time was preoccupied with our tailoring and clothesmaking business. Silks, tapestries, yarn, and a whole bunch of other sheets of stuff of all different colors crowded our living room coffee table and made it virtually impossible for Karen and I to play cardss, write stories, or play chess. The windows were forever partially open because if the cloths, according to Mom, were exposed to too much sunlight or too little sunlight, they would be ruined. So, our abode was a half-dark, half-light little cottage with large front windows and an even grander mahogany front door. Its paint was fresh and hardly chipped, and its architectural craftsmanship was perfect, according to Dad. Outwardly, it was a palace, but the interior was just a chilly home of two sisters who loved each other more than life itself, two parents who preoccupied themselves with the cares of this world, and a cat whom the sisters held dear to their hearts.
By the time we finally got hold of the last basket, it resembled an avant-guard leaf/floral setting with crunchy, very dried, red and yellow leaves and twigs hopelessly entangled into the wicker. I laughed as I turned it around in my hands and realized that it quite resembled a leafy porcupine. It felt good to laugh, and I was glad that Kage had offered to take the cart for me and walk me home. It was only a ten-minute walk from the market to our house, but we talked and laughed the whole way there. He told me stories about the different places that he’d been to in the course of his work, and I told him of the days when our village had been a happier place, much less troubled than it was now.
“So, it wasn’t always like this?” he asked.
“No, not at all. Every Friday, we used to have village-wide campfires where everyone would bring some food to cook and share with everybody else. Before our business Dad would make the best smoked salmon for us, while Mom made the best angel food cake in the world. I mean, they were both famous for their cooking and had even won a prize in a cooking contest that was held just last year!” I boasted, now almost proud of my parents.
“Oh, was it the International Pot of Gold event of last June?”
“Yes, yes, it was! How did you know?”
“I know because I was one of the professional cooks that served on the panel of judges. I still remember your Dad’s fried crab pastries! They were, to say the least, interesting but surprisingly good,” he said, grinning at the memory.
When we finally arrived, Kage introduced himself to Mom, unloaded the baskets onto the racks, and helped Mom hang up some laundry she couldn’t reach. By the look on her face, I knew she was in no mood for visitors, but her good breeding and almost aristocratic manners would not allow her to show any signs of annoyance. I knew that when she was in one of those moods, she would yell at me for anything and everything after anyone who wasn’t in our immediate family was gone. She would not disgrace herself in front of them. Not a chance.
Sometimes, I think that her mission in life is to put on the best front she can in front of our family friends whilst revealing her true nature at home. So often, people came up to me and commented, after returning a baking dish or tupperware, on how warm and hospitable she is and how lucky I must be to have a mom like that. In those cases, I have no other choice but to smile and agree, knowing all the while that there was a darker side to her. Most people don’t want to be the one on the outside looking in, but in this case, I wouldn’t mind a bit. It must be nice to be the outsider and be free to observe a family while not really having to be emotionally tied down to the situation at hand. You’d be able to see the seemingly warm dinners, listen to the lively, but empty, chatter and almost feel the goodnight kisses that the little kids get, all without actually having to go through the pain of being hurt and betrayed.
But now as I sit here on the steps of my porch listening to Mom and Kage chattering on about vegetable gardens, I’m not so sure. I mean, it’s been very difficult, and there have been times when I sincerely wished that I could have someone else’s figure, face, smile, voice, and life. Almost every other girl in our village had something that I envied her for. Charlotte was toothpick skinny and considered very attractive by the boys, Claire’s eyes could melt a heart of stone, and lu’s voice and smile were always said to be a gift from the heavens. I knew, however, that all these attributes could never amount to the riches I’d been given through the course of all my trials. Shimmering in the palm of my small hands lay the gems of patience, perseverance, unconditional love and forgiveness, compassion, sympathy, empathy, and so much more than I could’ve ever hoped for.
I smiled warmly as this new realization imbedded itself into the bedrock of my heart. By the time I had roused myself from my musings, Mom was already heading back into the house and Kage was standing by the porch stairs apparently waiting for something.
“Hey Ruby, I need some help cutting and sanding down a few boards. Could you lend me a hand?”
“Sure!”
I love it Iris, please keep writing and sharing.
nicely written Iris! more I say, more!
Interesting development so far. Glad to read!
Foz
Love your writing. Keep it up.
Thank you! I appreciate it! Chapter eight's coming soon!
So, after much procrastination, here's chapter eight!
Enjoy!
Comments, questions, etc. always welcome1
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 8
After i’d retrieved the sanded boards from my little room in the inn, we sat on Ruby’s porch and began the excruciatingly slow process of sanding the surface, sides, and corners of each of the numerous boards that I’d managed to carry with me from the open-air market. I’d bought them from a kindly old gentleman, husband of Mrs. Emmerson and, ironically, Ruby’s biggest fan. Ruby was quite talented. She wrote songs, played several different instruments, and was very knowledgeable about the voice and its inner workings. I myself was very fond of music and was only successful in convincing her to sing for me after I’d sung Nessun Dorma for her. It was quite a feat since I had no accompaniment to speak of, but she was very gracious and even complimented me on my technique.
As we worked we talked about everything from music history and theory to zoology, botany and economics. Surprisingly, the usually mundane task of sanding down boards became quite bearable, and even enjoyable, as the time flew by. It was rather refreshing to hold such a diverse conversation with a person who apparently possessed such a passion for learning. Whenever she spoke of a subject that held some place in her heart, her eyes lit up and shone with all the fire of one who genuinely loved life. As miserable as this village could be at times, I stood confident that no peril, trial, or hardship could dim the light in her eyes. They could obscure it, yes, but they could never extinguish it.
Some hours later when Ruby became very worried for her sister Karen, we left our sanding to look for her since the sun was beginning to set. She told me that Karen often wandered off into the groves when she was very upset but usually came back to the house before noon. However, noon had arrived and passed without a word, and Karen was still nowhere to be seen.
“In what direction was she heading when you first saw her run off?” I asked, already beginning to examine some nearby branches and twigs that littered the forest floor for any signs of disturbance.
“Southeast, I think.”
We headed southeast, forging a path through the thick brambles that had grown up around the once healthy lillies. Ruby told me that this part of the forest used to be a rather prosperous farm, which had been the envy of the villagers.
“Mr. Harvey grew rows upon rows of corn and had enough grain to feed our whole village for two years stored up in his barns,” Ruby explained, “and he was quite the generous fellow, too. Oftentimes, he would come around every other weekend to see if any of us were lacking in anything. Clover, who lives just across from our house, had a huge crush on him!” ruby finished with a reminiscent smile.
“Really? He sounds like quite the gentleman,” I commented, hoping to get her mind off of karen. We had now walked about a half a mile, and i’d seen no signs of Karen or that she’d been there. The fallen leaves, moss, and twigs sailed through the air as usual as the wind directed their course, but the dirt revealed no secrets and disclosed no footprints.
For the next hour or so, I listened as Ruby chatterd on and asked her questions to keep her mind focussed on the happy memories of the village. Partially, I was rather curious about the village’s history, but I was more concerned for her well-being and peace of mind. I could tell by the way Ruby often smiled at Karen when she saw her that she held her in very high esteem. More than that, Karen was her world and the glue that held her together when everything around her crumbled and fell apart. As we passed by a gently rippling stream, I stooped down to examine a fluttering, red object that had been securely tied to a weeping willow. My heart pounded in my chest as I undid the knot. I usually was rather nonchalant and had had to keep my cool even when my very life was at risk. However, I was quite aware of the fact that if anything happened to Karen, I would have the added responsibility of telling Ruby of the tragedy and of comforting her thereafter.
“Hey ruby,” I interrupted as she was describing the recently elected village leader to me.
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind picking me some apples from that tree over there? I’m kind of thirsty, but this water’s filthy,” I said with a smile, hoping to hide my anxiety.
“Oh, sure!” she said, bounding off to the ancient apple tree that stood just behind me.
As I stooped down to examine the object, I was keenly aware of a presence of someone other than Ruby and myself. The trees rustled lightly in the cool, evening air, but before I knew it, Ruby came bounding toward me with the apples in her arms and Karen at her side. They were both laughing, thank God, and didn’t seem to notice my concern. Fortunately, karen hadn’t gone too deep into the forest and explained that she’d only taken refuge at lucy’s house.
“Lucy is Sean’s mom,” Ruby explained, “and even though Sean broke off his engagement with her, lulu and her are practically best friends. She’s kind of a second mom, even to me.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Karen,” I said, extending my hand to her.
“Likewise, kage. Were you the gentleman who bought bread from us today?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes, I was.”
For the next three hours, we sat by the stream and just talked. Much like her sister, Karen also possessed a great passion for learning. However, unlike her sister who was sunshine incarnate, Karen was somewhat more sober and motherly. Upon discovering that I worked as a ninja, she wasted no time in cautioning me against the perils of working for long hours out of doors, specially at night. She then proceeded to name lists of diseases that I could possibly contract if I was exposed to the wrong elements in nature, some of which I’d never even heard of or knew existed despite my extensive training in herbology, medicine and anatomy. Ruby smiled and managed to convince her that I was quite all right since I’d apparently survived for twenty years on this Earth.
“Well, you may have survived for the first twenty years of your life, but how about the next fifty or seventy? During any of those years, you could contract some terrible disease and die!” she fretted.
I smiled and told her that I was well-versed in medicine and that if anything should happen, I would be adequately prepared to deal with it. As proof of my medicinal prowess, as she would not take my word for it unless she had proof, the three of us took a leisurely walk by the stream as I pointed out pretty much every plant, named it, and told of its medicinal properties.
As the evening drew to a close, I caught some fish and prepared dinnerfor the girls. I cleaned and sliced the fish while Karen grilled some vegetables that I’d picked. Ruby busied herself with building the fire and making sure that it burnt steadily. We were silent for a time, staring up into the velvet sheet of stars above us as we worked. A peace such as I had never known nor thought possible fell upon our little party. For once, I didn’t have to hide in my own shadow. For once, I could feel comfortable in my own skin and learn to even accept my flawed, imperfect self.
I was home.
Iris, I love this story, thank you
hey thanks for writting this story it is great is there a copy right policy on this story?
Well, not really, but if you'd like to use it, please do ask me first. However, as written above, Kage-Maru si copyrighted by Sega, and I will post additional parts soon.
However, for reasons of fluidity and for the sake of readers having more continuation in the story, i've changed the format somewhat.
Enjoy!
As the Shadows fade
Chapter 9
A week after our dinner with Kage, our first flakes of snow fell. Karen and I rubbed the sleep out of our eyes, expecting to find a lawn of green grass and flowers, but were wonderfully surprised to find that our lawn had been blanketed in soft, silvery sheets of fresh-fallen snow! I remember even pinching myself rather hard on the forearm just to confirm that I hadn’t been dreaming.
“Karen, it’ snowing!” I exclaimed as I promptly jumped, whooped and hollered on my springy bed.
“Yes, yes, that’s nice,” she replied rather blandly.
In my excitement, I hadn’t noticed that she didn’t quite share my enthusiasm for the coming change in seasons. Like the seemingly naive little child I was, I promptly carried on with my babbling about snowflakes and frothy hot chocolates.
“Karen, Karen, since it’s snowing, we should have hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows! Grandma will come over, and she, Mom and Dad will bake gingerbread men for all the poor little orphans! Maybe the village will even ask me to compose a Christmas carol! Yay, that means I’ll get to perform!”
For about fifteen minutes longer, I continued my prancing and jubilation until the excitement finally gave way to active preparedness. As I bustled about dusting furniture, stopping to make my bed (something I never did unless guests were expected), and hanging up fresh wreaths of red berries, I finally noticed that not everyone shared my enthusiasm. The silence in the house was deafening as I paused in the middle of my senetence to catch my breath. Crystalline icicles clung to the branches of the sycamores and birches that grew just outside our large livingroom window, and the birdsong that had served as my daily vocal perfection had now gone silent. Although the hearth was now alive and warm, the air hung stiff and cold over our heads. No one smiled, and with the exception of little Tabby, who was happily nibbling at a piece of bread I gave her, everyone else’s countenance were model living ice sculptures.
Not wanting the awkward silence to ruin a perfectly wonderful day, I announced quietly that Tabby and I were going to take a brief excursion outdoors to collect firewood. Including myself, everyone knew perfectly well that that was an excuse on my part to not face the conflict that lay behind me as I bounded down the porch steps. As a frosty gust whipped my hair into my face, I had the sudden urge to run. I wanted to somehow run fast enough so that the problems left behind would stay behind me. Fast enough so that the burden to constantly smile fell from my small, aching shoulders.
The snowflakes drifted through the air, landing on my nose and cheeks as there intricate shapes melted into my skin. Tabby frolicked in the snowbanks left by the sidewalk cleaners, and I took the liberty of joining her. My bearskin mittens held the handfuls of powdery, white snow and shaped them easily into small, round, compact snowballs. I whiled away the time by throwing the snowballs at Tabby and watching as she caught them in midair and devoured them. One of her favorite foods, in fact, was snow. She devoured at least fifteen of my handmade snowballs before she ran in the direction of our house, urging me to follow.
At first, nothing semed out of the ordinary. Wisps of smoke billowed from our chimney as usual, and the smell of burning firewood permeated the air around me. The path leading up to the front porch of our cottage was well-swept with only a few soggy leaves plastered to the strip of pavement. However, as Tabby and I neared our porch, I immediately noticed that our curtains, including the thick outer, velvet ones, were drawn tightly shut. Because of our fabrics, Mom and Dad never allowed us to shut them, day or night. As I climbed the porch steps, Tabby grew increasingly nervous. Ever the independent feline, she was never one to cling to either Karen or me, but she was now hugging my legs, not willing to go any further toward the door and what lay within.
“Ruby, get out!” Mom shouted as I took off my boots and was about to lay my coat on the rack.
“What’s going on?” I asked, frantically surveying our livingroom.
“nothing that concerns you, wretch!”
Having grown rather accustomed to my mother’s angry name-calling outbursts, I slipped passed her and ran upstairs where all the noise was coming from.
Outside of Karen’s room, a group of approximately ten or so elderly women, all from Mrs. Emmerson’s little clique, huddled together in a dark mass as Mrs. Emmerson yelled at a very shaken and tear-stained Karen. Mom and Dad stood nearby and watched with approval as she continued scolding their daughter and elaborating on all of the supposed “scandalous activity” that Karen had been engaging in since her engagement with Sean broke. My heart pounded as I walked toward her door, intent upon defending karen’s reputation, which had been spotless as far as I was concerned.
“Mrs. Emmerson, with all due respect, this is our home, and this is my sister. Although you are an active elder on the village concil, you have no right to invade our home, along with a group of your friends, and accuse my sister of crimes for which you have no proof”
“I’m not done with Karen, but you just wait until I get to you! You’re no angel either!”
“What have you against me? What have I done to offendyou?” I asked, now genuinely enraged.
Our little hallway was silent for a minute or two as she fumed. All the elderly ladies and our parents shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as they waited for Mrs. Emmerson to reply. Even Karen, who was quite distraught, had now stopped her sniffling to listen.
“You girls had quite an evening a week ago, didn’t you? I was taking my nightly walks through the forest when I heard laughing, and lo and behold, I looked over only to see you two gathered ‘round a fire with a nice-looking young man. You lot were carrying on like heathen sinners, you were. And you, Ruby, are especially guilty! He was fairly doting upon you!” At this point in her narrative, she shot me a murderous look. She had two daughters who were more akin in temperament to Cinderella’s stepsisters than Cinderella herself. They were rather manipulative, and tried to ruin people’s close relationships, specially marriages or engagements. In fact, it was well-known that they themselves regularly engaged in immoral activity to ensure their mother’s place on the village council and stayed in the governor’s good graces.
The room was silent for the next thirty seconds as I stood the center of the attention of so many pairs of staring eyes. My parents were angry that I had dared to see a man without their approval, and the other women stood amazed at my immorality. Although I could not see my reflection, I knew that my face had turned a deep shade of red, and to round out the matter, I could not think of anything to say. Her account of the matter had been true. Karen and I had been seated around the campfire with Kage and had been laughing and enjoying the dinner that he and Karen had prepared. If it hadn’t been for my newfound friendship with Kage, I think that I would’ve ventured to regret ever having spent time with him.
“So? What’s your answer? See how she stands here silent and blushing before you? This is unrefutable evidence that she, and her deplorable sister, are immoral and should be purged from this village!” Mrs. Emmerson shouted, waving a bony finger in my direction. If there hadn’t been so many people watching and if I wasn’t afraid of my mother, I would’ve laughed out loud because as I watched her shout, I distinctly noticed that there were a few veins in her head and neck that were vying for publicity as she strained with the effort of yelling, almost screaming at us. Furthermore, I could see drops of spittle fly from that overly crimson mouth of hers as she berated Karen and I for our “treacherous” and “filthy” acts of immorality. As she continued shouting about God only knows what, I fixed my attention on Mrs. Emmerson oft-sported expression of rage and found it to be quite amusing. I beckoned to Karen behind her back and watched as she tried to stifle a giggle in her sleeve. This newfound form of entertainment was almost too funny to bear.
After twenty or so more minutes of this ridiculous nonsense, Karen and I were told to remove our filthy presences from the house and to never return again. We were more than ecstatic. We packed up our belongings, which were fortunately few, and jogged through the forest toward Lulu’s house with Tabby meowing and running behind us. Prior to this incident, Lulu, in fact, had begged of my parents for permission to adopt us. She had heard our stories and had seen firsthand how we were treated. However, our parents refused to consent. For a few days thereafter, Karen and I daydreamed and pretended that we were mere servants in this house, looking very much forward to the time when we would once again be allowed (have time to) see Lulu, our warm, beloved mother. As we ran, I’d never felt so free. Tabby was now perched securely on my shoulder and was thoroughly enjoying the scenery that flew past her dark, green eyes. Karen was singing “Do your Ears Hang Low,” of all things, and was enjoying herself more than I’d seen in quite some time.
Can't wait for more iris. thanks.
Do you think it would be ok for me to use it in a story for my english class and say thatis mine or would that not be a good idea
Um...honestly, that would be a very, very, very bad idea. First of all, it's wrong. Second of all, anyone can google it and see that it's not your work.
Plus, you would, I know it's cliche, not reap the full benefits of your education if you did.
I pushed aside the thick curtains of the little inn that I, for the time being, would call home. It had been a week since I last saw either Ruby or Karen, and I was beginning, for the first time, to miss them. I’d met some of the other villagers, but none of them were quite as, shall we say, intelligent as those two. They were two of a kind. Ruby was bright and lively, while Karen was somber and thoughtful. During our little dinner party of sorts, we’d managed to cover quite a broad range of subjects. As with Ruby, Karen seemed to show a deep interest in all things intellectual and exhibited an intense curiosity for life itself. Both of them kept me on my toes as to what questions they would ask next.
As much as I missed them both, there was another feeling, however, that intrigued me even more. Every time Ruby and I parted, I was keenly aware of a strange, hollow sensation that washed over me. It was almost as though I were not whole without her. Every time she smiled, I felt nervous and weak. I knew what this feeling was, but I had tried to ignore it. A shinobi was to keep himself from all such emotions and to focus on the task at hand. He was to only marry if he wished to continue the family line.
Before my village had been burned, my villagers had been pestering me to find a suitable wife and to start a family. I had made up all sorts of excuses as to why that life could not be for me. I told them that in order to protect them, I had to focus entirely on my work and couldn’t afford to be distracted. However, as Ruby’s face flashed in my mind’s eye, I quickly renounced that position.
The day progressed as usual, and I began work on my cottage. The foundation was already up, and the walls were quickly taking shape. Nearby, other villagers were busy weather proofing their houses and hanging up Christmas lights on their window sills. I sighed as I realized that after the cottage was up, I’d have no one to come home to. The house would be empty, and I would be left to sit by the hearth alone. I hoped to finish the cottage by the end of this month and finally be out of the inn for good, but the recent snowfall threatened to thwart my plans.
“Where’s Ruby?” an elederly woman’s voice hollered as she passed by with her cart of wood, flour, and other supplies.
“I don’t know,” a few neighbors replied.
“We’ve not seen her since this morning.”
“I need her to write a Christmas caro for my choir!”
“Well, she’s not here, Thelma.”
“where did you last see her?” I asked.
“We saw her and Karen running through the forest with their suitcases at about nine-thirty this morning,” Grandpa Tom informed me. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into those two. They used to be so down-to-earth, but now they huddle together as though the whole world’s out to get ‘em!”
His kindly old brow furrowed as he leaned into me and whispered, “You know, son, this village needs a new leader. The one we’ve elected is starting to show signs of corruption. There’s been quite a bit of evidence that Mrs. Emmerson’s daughters are engaging in some questionable activities in order to ensure that their mother stays on council despite her manipulative ways.”
“Well, is there no way of impeaching the leader if such corruption should be discovered?” I asked.
“no, Mrs. Emmerson and her friends hold solid seats on the council. In this village, once a man has been elected to council, he serves for life.”
//With the realization that two members had disappeared, the villagers hurriedly put down their tools and organized search parties to look for them. I opted to search for them alone and headed to the forest.
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 11
The snow was accumulating at such a rate that my tracks from five minutes prior were now completely covered. Visibility was terrible. I could not move an inch without first scanning the ground my feet were about to land on. To make matters worse, the wind howled in my ears, making it nearly impossible to hear them if they were to shout for help.
Finally, I sought shelter in a cave, determined to continue my search once the blizzard had subsided. In the half-light, half-shadow interior of the cave, I busied myself by making a small fire with some dry wood and twigs that I always carried with me. As the wind continued to howl outside, I played my shakuhachi flute, the one that I’d managed to salvage after I’d buried my father after the fire. Music seemd to have an uncanny ability to calm my spirit even during the fiercest of storms. As the notes poured forth from the long, bamboo flute, memories of my father’s face and voice washed over me.
He had always been a firm disciplinarian and would not allow me to grow up as other children did, free from rigorous training regimes and stringent dietary restrictions. When I was young, I remembered hating his training sessions because as I trained, I could hear children playing in the fields and enjoying life. I, however, was in pain and was keenly aware of the burning septic acid that fairly pulsed through every muscle in my body. They were free to run and stop running whenever they liked and could eat candy, like little Roger, until their stomachs beggd for them to stop.
After playing through a few pieces, I heard a scuffling of feet outside the cave entrance and was elated to see Ruby and Karen step into the dim firelight. Their faces looked frost-bitten, and Tabby was curled up in a furry, grey ball in Ruby’s hood.
“Well, it’s about time you two showed up,” I said, taking their coats and forcing them to sit close to the fire.
“Are people looking for us yet?” Karen asked.
“Yes, they’ve sent out search parties after you two, and the whole village has stopped their work to look for you.”
Karen’s face remained emotionless, but Ruby looked slightly ashamed.
“I don’t want to go back,” Karen said as she stared into the burning logs. “I don’t care if the whole village’s out looking for me. You can go back Ruby, but I’m not coming.”
In such a short time, Karen had grown even more somber than before. Her face had now become gaunt, and her smile had disappeared completely. Although there were still momentary glimpses of the young woman she once was in the occasional smile, Karen was now years older and much more grim.
“But if you’re not coming back, where are you going?” Ruby asked, tears already beginning to form in her bluish-grey eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll head across the river and explore that big city Lulu’s always talking about. Maybe I’ll meet a nice rich man and marry him there too. I don’t know! Stop asking me so many questions!”
We sat by the fire for a few minutes, none of us daring to even breathe louder than our own heartbeats. The silence was almost unbearable when Ruby said, barely above a whisper.
“Karen, I knew this day would come, but I never wanted to face it. I knew that the day would come when you’d no longer be carefree and would consider me childish for believing so naively that life is easy. You’d look down upon me for giggling like an immature schoolgirl and running without a care through snowdrifts and diving into snowbanks. You would someday get married, have children, and move away to some unknown place and forget all about me. I knew all this would come, so I guess now is as good a time as any other to let you go…” she trailed off, gritting her teeth and trying not to cry.
I instinctively put an arm around her shoulder to comfort her as she sobbed. I was accustomed to stressful situations, but then again, they had never impacted me personally. Karen had now isolated herself in a far corner of the cave, as I held the sobbing Ruby in my arms. The snow continued to fall soundlessly outside, but the warmth in the cave could not melt the ice that had formed over Karen’s heart.
As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 12
As Karen and I picked through the ever-higher snowbanks, the world around us turned white. Tabby meowed loudly in protest of the snowflakes that were already clinging in little icy clumps to her face and whiskers. I tucked her in my hood behind my scarf to keep her warm. Karen was just a few feet ahead of me but decided to stop when she could no longer see even a foot in front of her.
“Ruby, there’s no point in going any further. I can’t see a thing, and besides, we’ll probably freeze to death anyway, so what’s the point? I just wish that I was never born! It was my fault anyway that sean decided not to marry me after all.”
With that, she sank into the snow and sobbed harder and louder than I’d ever heard. Her sobs sounded as though the icy winds that now whipped around us in bone-freezing gusts were slowly but surely freezing her heart over and wrenching it from her chest. Tabby tried to squirm out of my hood to comfort her, but I baracaded her way with my mittens so she couldn’t get out.
“excuse me, ladies. Do you need some help?” a baritone voice asked, breaking through the howling wind.
“no, we’re fine, thank you,” I said, just barely keeping my tearful voice under control.
“are you sure? I could give you ladies a lift to wherever you’re going,” he pressed.
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“Well, my wife and I have a cabin nearby where you two could warm up and rest a while,” he continued, inching closer to Karen and me.
“No, I’m absolutely positive. We’re fine,” I said with a final note of authority.
“Well, how about your friend here?” he asked.
“No, she’s fine too,” I said, beginning to get the creeps.
“Well, you say she is, but she didn’t answer for herself. So how ‘bout it? Wouldn’t you like to get out of this dreadful cold, unlike your friend here who will freeze to death?” he prodded.
I looked over at Karen, who was now getting up to follow him. Tabby meowed loudly in protest, but the man quickly reached a hand out to shush her.
“Yes, that would be very nice. I would like to get out of this cold,” she said, taking the man’s outstretched arm.
We walked through endless snowdrifts until we reached the part of the forest that was rather crowded with trees, trees that were all stripped bare of their leaves and were now heavily laiden with glacier-sized icicles. Upon asking him where the cabin was, he said that it would only be a five-minute walk from where we were. Tabby continued shifting and meowing in my hood, causing my hair to become rather messy. I was cold, getting tired, and beginning to notice that my stomach was rumbling rather loudly. Five minutes had come and gone and still we kept walking. After about fifteen minutes or so, we suddenly stopped as the man led Karen into a clump of bushes where he said his cabin would be. Tabby clawed at my hair, and despite my efforts to hold her back, managed to get out and scampered away in the direction of Karen and the man.
After two or three minutes, Karen returned with Tabby at her heels and was, from that moment on, a new person. She suddenly looked years older, In spite of being only twenty-one, she looked as though the world had turned its back on her and that not a person on Earth could ever pull her out of the little cuccoon that she had built to protect herself. I followed her as she turned and headed back the way we came, all the while trying to figure out what was going through that auburn-haired brain of hers. Tabby curled up, as before, in my hood as we soon found and took shelter in a cave around a fire with Kage, who, to my relief, just so happened to be there while searching for us.
My heart was heavy, but I tried my best to hide it. He looked relieved as he came to the cave entrance to greet us, and I just wished that we could feel the same to be in the warm, dim light of the fire. He informed us that the villagers had been out looking for us and that they had stopped their work. He seemed to be able to sense that something was amiss before Karen said that she would not be returning to the village with me. He immediately drilled Karen with questions as to where we’d been, what we’d been doing, and who we’d met. Although she looked rather annoyed, she answered him nonetheless.
Finally, Karen let loose with the news that she would not be coming back, and I knew that I would have to let her go. She had been my best friend since we were kids, but I knew that the day would come when we’d finally have to grow up and fulfill our separate duties. She would become a mother, while I would bury myself in my music and performances. I told her that she was free to live her life and cried as Kage put his arm around my shoulder. Life was fraught with change, I knew that. I just wished that something would stay constant, that something would be there for me to fall back on if my sister never came back.
After about half an hour of crying, I fell asleep with tabby curled up next to me. Karen had isolated herself in a corner somewhere, and when I woke up, the smell of burning firewood and roasting meat reached my nostrils and temporarily got my mind off of Karen’s moods. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that a thick, warm, leather overcoat was draped over me and that I was resting on a thin bamboo mat next to Karen on the floor. I must’ve showed my confusion a bit more than I would’ve liked because Lulu’s rich, dark alto broke the silence and told me that Karen and I were in her living room and that Kage had left to inform the rest of the village that he’d found us.
“Of all the days to run away on!” she scolded as she set a pie to baking in her brick oven. “You could’ve been killed! I’m very disappointed in you both. I thought you had more sense than that.”
I looked very ashamed, and by the reflection in the mirror that hung over her fireplace, I looked very pathetic as well. My hair was a disheveled mess, and my clothes? My once soaking pair of jeans and waterlogged sweater had been replaced with a pair of sky-blue sweat pants and sweat shirt. Karen, who was now awake and heading over to the fire to help Lulu, had been outfitted with a snow-white, pressed and starched apron and pajamas. Lulu had set a whole turkey to roasting on a spit over her large hearth and was helping Karen to knead the dough for her famous pumpkin wheat loaf.
“So, what happened this time?” she asked, wiping her floury hands on her apron and turning to look at me.
“well, Mrs. Emmerson and her clique of geezers decided that they would barge into our house, corner Karen and proceed to list all the immoral activities that Karen had been engaging in, supposedly. All her friends, and our parents, were present for this bashing. I had only found out about when I’d come into the house from walking with Tabby,” I finished.
Lulu looked rather calm, but I knew that beneath that pleasant smile she was fuming. She never hated anyone, but she most definitely did dislike certain persons more than others. Mrs. Emmerson had been around for quite some time and had caused many a person’s relationship, reputation, and credibility to go down the drain.
“Well, you just rest your head and heart awhile now and go to my room and fetch that portable piano. Karen here and I need a bit of music to calm our hearts and soothe our souls.”
I did as she bade me and sang “home sweet Home” as my opening number. I didn’t expect much of a reaction as Karen and Lulu seemed pretty wrapped in kneading the dough, but when I’d finished, I noticed that both their eyes were brimming with tears, which was surprising because both Karen and Lulu weren’t the emotional type. They both preferred to keep their weaknesses hidden and face the world with a seemingly placid demeanor.
Karen and lulu were almost identical in temperament, leaving me to be the emotional, mushy oddball who wore her heart on her sleeve. Unlike those two, I wasn’t ashamed of crying out in public and most definitely thought nothing of running up to people I cared about and trusted and giving them a random hug and telling them I loved them. I sighed heavily as I recalled the time when I’d last do
ne that on an excursion to the museum that Karen and I took when our parents were out of town for a tailoring convention. She had blushed, saying that she didn’t know me and began to presently walk away. Even complete strangers who had no relation to us cover their mouths and laughed as they watched Karen’s apparent embarrassment at my unabashed public show of affection.
When the turkey was thoroughly cooked and the bread was fully baked, we all sat around the low, square table by the hearth and ate heartily. Lulu was an excellent cook, and I had forgotten just how hungry I was. Kage joined us shortly thereafter and told us that while we had been gone, Mrs. Emmerson had managed to convince everyone that we were as good as dead. At first, no one bleived her, but when she’d frozen one of her daughter’s dolls that looked almost exactly like Karen and shown it to them, everyone stopped searching for us. Upon asking him if our parents seemed the least bit concerned, he shook his head with disgust and said that they had actually seemed happy to learn that we were either missing or dead. Karen merely grumbled something or other under her breath, but my face turned bright red as I tried to keep my temper under control.
“So, why didn’t’ they just abort me, then!” I shouted as I jumped up from the table and ran in the direction of the bathroom. At that moment, I hated my parents just as much as I hated Mrs. Emmerson. All three of them were not to be trusted, and they weren’t worthy of forgiveness or trust on my part ever again.
I cried for what seemd like hours in there, washing my face more times than I could keep track of. Finally, Lulu knocked on the door softly, asking to be let in.
“Ruby?” she tried as I backed up to a far corner of the bathroom.
“Leave me alone,” I managed to say through sobs.
There were a few seconds of awkward silence as Lulu gauged my mood and tried to find something suitable to say.
“Ruby, your parents still love you. They just seemed unconcerned because they don’t know how to deal with the shock of losing both of you,” she reasoned, now seated on the lid of the toilet seat.
“I don’t care. All my life, they have never understood or cared about me. They cared in a superficial way, but they’ve never bothered to see beneath the surface and into my heart. Never once have they even tried to see things from my point of view or even try to understand the turmoill and emotions that have kept me awake every night!” I shouted.
After I’d finished crying, Lulu led me to a place by the fire and made me sit down. The room was quiet and only lit by the new logs Kage had just set on the dying fire. Karen sat staring off into space as kage and Lulu busied themselves by clearing away the dishes and washing them in the brass water basin beside the hearth. A heavy silence fell over the room as I closed my eyes and fell asleep to the sound of a reedy flute and the crackling fire at my side.
I love your story. When reading it, I feel as if I am there with the characters. I look forward to reading more, it is a comfort to me and makes me smile. keep up the good work.
Thank you so much! I enjoy writing it, and it serves as an outlet for everyday frustrations.
The next chapter will be coming up shortly!
Wow Iris, I really dig your story. Keep it up, I can't wait for more.
Thank you! More shall be coming soon!