When the man awoke, he could sense the rising of the sun before he opened his eyes. Reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he realized that his goggles, helmet, and leather jacket were all gone. Sitting up, he opened his eyes and the hard orange light of the morning slammed into his eyes with the force of a hammer. He blinked and tried to get used to the light, but his eyes were adjusting slowly and everything around him was fuzzy and indistinct. He blinked some more, and rubbed his eyes and gradually his vision seemed to clear and sharpen so that instead of seeing only blurry shapes, he could distinguish specific objects. When his eyes finally adjusted, he tried again to take in his surroundings.
He was in a hut of sorts, with a metal frame. He touched the walls.
"Leather." He jumped and barely swallowed the yelp that threatened to burst from his lips at the sudden break in the deafening silence. Looking around he saw a figure lying on the ground. The figure wore goggles, but they seemed to serve a different purpose than his own. His goggles were for shielding his eyes from the air as it whipped around him and his flyer. These goggles seemed to be for shading the eyes from the sun, or hiding the eyes more completely. He assumed it must be the latter reason, because the figure also wore a scarf over its mouth, and a bandana around its head.
"Who are you and where am I?" he demanded as he attempted to stand. His feet seemed to be unable to hold him up though, and the figure was already on its own feet, catching him before he fell too far.
"My name isn't what matters at the moment. What matters is that you get some rest. Sit. you were badly injured and you don't have the strength to stand without proper support, which my leather walls won't provide."
He stared into the goggles of the person as he sat down gingerly, trying not to cause his rumpus too much pain. Suddenly he said a little loudly, "You're a woman!"
Putting her hand up to her ear from the sting of the noise and moving toward a small sort of table in the center of the hut, she picked up a clay cup and filled it with water from a cantine hanging at her side from her belt. "How could you tell?" She asked as she pulled out an herb from a satchel on the table and crushed it, then added its juice to the water.
"Your voice," he answered. He maneuvered himself so that his back was against the metal frame of the hut and his feet hung off the edge of the bed. She approached him, handed him the cup of water and signaled for him to drink it. He looked at it warily.
"If I wanted to kill you I could have just left you with that machine. You'd have never made it out of this desert alive without an incredible amount of luck. Drink." She turned around and grabbed a fat sort of blade on a smooth cactus in a pot and broke it off, squeezing out a clear liquid and scraping it onto a wooden plate.
He looked back to his drink and decided to trust her, gulping the drink down as quickly as he could, almost gagging at the bitter, earthen taste. "This tastes horrible," his voice croaked a little as he spoke.
"Good. That means it's ripe," she said and she took off the baggy long-sleeved shirt she wore, revealing a more form-fitted shirt that showed her shoulders. Mesmerized, he couldn't help but stare at her beauty, even though he could see nothing of her face. As he watched, she began to smear the clear liquid from the plate onto her arms and shoulders. She seemed to flinch a little as she did this, and he realized that she was badly sunburned.
"What happened?" he asked softly. How had she gotten such severe burns? She spoke without looking at him.
"I went into the desert in the daytime without my cloak and tunic." She continued smearing on the liquid and broke off another part of a blade when she ran out of the first.
"Why did you do that?" He asked, wondering how someone who'd been smart enough to build a hut in the middle of the desert out of leather and scraps of metal could have made such a juvenile mistake.
"You had a fever and needed as much heat as you could get, and I needed to gather plants and herbs to help you and myself and it couldn't wait until night fell again," she said matter-of-factly as she finished applying the gooey liquid. "This is an aloe plant. It grows here in the desert, and its blades are filled with a serum that soothes and heals burns. What you drank is good for reducing fever."
"So... I'm in a desert?" He looked out the paneless window where he could see miles of sand. Although the bottom of the window was level with his sternum, he could reach out and touch the hot sand as if he were lying flat on the ground. "Are we underground?"
She looked up and nodded. " The nearest town is a few miles from here. Because of the heat, I dug into the ground to give myself some cool air."
Turning around he looked back at the woman, "You live all alone out here? Why don't you live in the village?" he regretted asking as soon as he saw her shoulders hunch and her whole body tensed. She no longer resembled anything close to relaxed. She looked as though she were ready to attack anything that walked within a few feet of her. "I-i," he began, but she cut him off tersely,
"I don't like people." By the tone of her voice he knew that the conversation was over, and so he resumed staring out into the desert until the sand began to glare and his eyes burned a little. When he closed them to rub them he awakened again at sunset. As he opened his eyes, he saw the woman again. She was donning her cloak, and she turned around and for the first time since she'd saved him he saw her face.
In his mesmerized state he forgot to pretend to be asleep and whispered, "It's you." A hard look crossed her face as she placed goggles over her eyes. Before she wrapped her scarf around her mouth she said in a cold voice,
"No it's not. Tomorrow night I'm taking you to the village. If you value your life, I suggest that you never return here again." With that statement she walked out of the door to her hut and left him in a wild flurry of emotions. He was filled with such joy, and yet... What did she mean, "No, it's not"? As he lay there in bed he eventually fell back asleep and dreamed of her face throughout the night. Once in the night, when she had returned, she heard him whisper "Merchant Torrez, wait!" It caught her by surprise, but she ignored his banter, for there could be hundreds of merchants named Torrez, and this need not be her father. She prepared a soup for the man to drink when he awoke, and then, when the horizon turned lavender-gray with the approach of the dawn, she laid her cloak down on the floor of the hut and fell asleep, with dreams somewhat more unsettling than the man's who lay in the bed opposite her.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Chapter 2: Red Glass
Micka awoke and stood, looking out her tiny window to see that the sun was just above the horizon, making the far end of the desert appear as if it were ablaze. The heat of the day had not yet died, and her little hut was much hotter in the places above ground than in the shaded parts below ground where she had dug to provide cooler air. Still, even though the air was cooler, she was sticky from sweating in her sleep. She reached beneath her bed made of the feathers of desert birds to find her cantine. She took a long drink and noted that it was still about three quarters full, but it was the only of her seven cantines that still carried water, a very precious commodity in the desert. She would fill them up from the wells on the way to the edge of the desert.
She found all her cantines and set them on her table, then retrieved her belt to tie the strings to and keep her arms free. She looked at her cloak with disgust. "What do you think, Elja," she said to the little fox, "should I bring this accursed monstrosity with me?"
Elja looked up at her from his place by her bed and sneezed, his head moving from side to side as he did. "I didn't think so either," she replied as he buried his nose under his tail. "Oh, but aren't you coming with me?"
He looked at her without moving his head, then closed his eyes again. "I see. Going on my own this time around. Oh well. At least I may get something worth my time." She continued getting prepared for the night. She grabbed her leather sack so she could put any plants or herbs in one side, and filled the other side with plenty of soft feathers so that her glass sculptures wouldn't unnecessarily break and lose worth. The last things she brought were her knife, her slingshot, and the three-inch cactus barbs she had dipped in the poison of a crushed scorpion's tail.
She stepped out of her door as the last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the burning horizon. The heat of the sand still seeped through her boots, warming her feet. Just as she stepped on the sand she saw an orange-gray figure dash between her feet. Elja was sitting comfortable on the sand just 15 feet ahead of her, his head tilted to the side as if to say "A bit slow tonight?" She laughed, "So you are coming with me then?" and shook her head, chuckling as Elja waited for her, and then walked next to her as they headed toward the mountains.
The walk was fairly easy. She had decided to bring her cloak in case it became cold, and she was glad of it. The air cooled more quickly than the sand due to a brisk northern wind from the mountains, and by the time the sand cooled she nearly shivered. Though she was glad of the warmth her cloak provided, she left the hood down, with her goggles and scarf in a pocket on the outside of her cloak. She picked a few plants and herbs on her way, and even saw a few animals, but she decided to wait til she was on her way back to hunt, so as not to carry around soggy meat any longer than she must.
The mountains seemed to have grown to enormous proportions as they took up half of the night sky. The moon was shining bright and was nearly full, and the stars seemed to twinkle clearly. The sand had already absorbed whatever moisture had gotten through the pass and was just as dry and shifting as it always had been. A few hundred yards ahead she knew that little bits of grasses were shooting straight upward like spikes because of the rain that sometimes made it to the very edge of the desert, but she also knew that she was more likely to find mountain lions than anything of use to her, and a slingshot was no match for a mountain lion. Instead of trying to collect the rather useless plants, she stuck to where she was, hunting for precious bits of glass made by the lightning storms that barely reached the sands below.
She walked carefully, always looking before she stepped so that she wouldn't damage any of the precious sculpture and thereby damage the price. The she saw it. About twenty paces ahead of her, glistening in the moonlight, was the precious glass she looked for. But something about it seemed strange. She cautiously approached it and leaned over to inspect. Touching it gently, she found that it was beautifully shaped, unique and glittering in the moonlight. But there was a strange tint to it. Places in the glass were red or pink colored, something she hadn't seen before. She delicately handled the sculpture, placing it in her bag, and then looked back at the place where it had been. Although it was difficult to discern colors in the night, she noticed the sand seemed a darker, redder color there, and that the color seemed to follow a line.
Her eyes traced the line and noticed that the sand had ruts in them, as if something very large and heavy had been dragged. Quickly and silently she retrieved her knife and slingshot from her belt. Ahead of her, at the end of the trail of red, was a large construct. It seemed as though the frame were made of metal or wood, and then that frame had been covered with something like cloth or paper. It wasn't anything she could recognize, but something about it was strange. She decided after watching it for a few moments that it wasn't dangerous, and that she would investigate to try and find something useful, or to just figure out what the thing was.
She had long been in control of herself in distressing situations. Defending herself against angry animals, or people, had taught her to maintain her thoughts to stay clear and prepared for action. With this cool, collected manner, she was able to survive the circumstances that had been thrust upon her since a short time after she'd left her home. Panic was the least helpful thing that could be done. Yet as she approached the tattered shape she found her heart beating wildly beneath her cloak. Her senses heightened with anxious anticipation; the nothing that she heard every day in the desert quickly became a thrumming murmur, the cool night breeze sent a chill down her spine and into her limbs, the tingle resting in her fingers as if she'd sat on them for too long. Her eyes darted about at intervals, checking and rechecking every bit of shrub and grass in her path. As she noticed how quickly her breath escaped her lips, she paused to collect herself, taking slow, deep breaths to lower her heart rate and calm herself down.
She was nearly ten yards from the thing, and it appeared to her to be a machine. She didn't know what for, but it seemed not to have been there for long. She new it must have happened at the tail end of the storm, or else the rain would have washed away the trail of red it had left behind. The moon was now at the height of it's trek through the dark night's cloak, and she decided that she was calm enough to finally get nearer to the machine.
She reached out her hand and touched the cloth-like material surrounding the frame. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was still damp, and there were gaping holes with charred edges and scrapes that had ripped and torn through the cloth, leaving the frame bare and exposed in many places. Had it been struck by lightning? She wondered. Touching the frame she found it was made of metal. If it had been struck, it would explain why it hadn't burnt with the rest of the machine. Taking a few steps back she observed it as a whole.
It reminded her of a dragonfly. It seemed to have a "body" that was composed of the same metal of the wings, and was dented and distorted where it had scraped against the ground. the parts of the machine with a frame covered by cloth stuck out from the body, parallel to the ground, she assumed. An idea crossed her mind. A dragonfly? Was it even possible? She shook her head disbelievingly. No, she thought, flight was meant for birds and insects, not humans. She stepped up to the machine to examine the "body" of it more closely and thoroughly.
Stepping closer, she saw a strange, lumpy figure in a hole in the side of the machine's body. As she stared at it, trying to identify it, the lumpy mass moved and emitted a sound like a groan. Shock, surprise, fear, and panic all seemed to race through her body at once, and the terror coursing through her veins settled in her fingers and toes with a wildly tingling feeling. She didn't move a muscle, hoping that her stillness would give her safety, and willing the lump to disappear, and for her heart to stop beating in her throat like the wings of a hummingbird. Although the mass did not disappear, her heart did lower itself to the protection of her ribcage.
The longer she stared, the more she seemed to recognize of the shape of the lump. It seemed to be a human from what she could tell, a man even. He wore goggles, and a strange hat, and a leather jacket. The lower half of his body was within the body of the machine, the upper half was without. She also noticed shards of flat glass sticking out from the body of the plane, as if there had been a pane of glass there, like a window. She shook her head to clear it and looked back at the person in the plane. Should she help? Could she risk it? What if the person was a man and he saw her? But what if the person died? The injuries could be extensive enough that it could be fatal. Or they may wander in the wrong direction, completely missing the only town for hundreds of miles and instead search the desert fruitlessly for a sign of human life. No, she knew she could not let that happen.
Stepping forward she pulled the cantine that still held water from her belt and placed it on the ground. Mustering her strength, she cupped her hands under the person's arms she tugged and pulled. She ceased puling and examined the body to find any snags or something that might be holding it back. As she leaned in closer she saw the face and pulled off the goggles that the person was wearing. The person's eyes fluttered for a moment and at that same moment she realized in terror that the person was a man. She fell backward and frantically scrambled away, sending the sand beneath her feet flying toward the machine in the process. Her hand slipped and her head landed against the sand with a muffled thud. After laying for a moment she unscrewed her face and opened her eyes.
The sky was a blue-purple and the stars shone vividly like glitter strewn across the sky, and the moon looked like a bright, flat, silver coin. The eastern horizon was beginning to glow a soft gray and in a few hours she new the sun would return in blazing heat. She had to decide now what she would do. Sitting up she looked at the man. His goggles lay on the ground where she'd droped them in her scramble. His face was dirty with sand, and his clothes looked a little weathered and worn. He had been traveling, most likely. Perhaps she could leave him a note, that said where to go. But the sun would scorch him if he didn't wake in time. And his legs could be broken. Standing up, she warily approached him.
Upon inspection she found he was wearing a sort of belt attached to the machine, probably to keep him from falling out. She fumbled with the latch until she got it undone, then placed her hands under his arms again. She was able to drag him out much easier than she'd expected and she fell over again, this time out of poor balance rather than fright. The air rushed out of her lungs when his shoulder and arm landed on her torso, and she struggled for a moment to push him to the ground, glad for his unconscious state and the cover of darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.
Rolling him over onto his back she reached for her cantine and lifted his head a little to pour some water down his throat. He coughed a little when she did, so she moistened the hem of her cloak and wiped it against his forehead and on his cheeks to cool him, and possibly wake him to a slightly more aware state. It seemed to be working. He scrunched his face up and coughed a little more, then groaned.
She decided if she was taking a chance, she might as well risk it all, and so she spoke.
"I need you to wake up. Please." Her words were soft and gentle, more gentle than she'd intended and it surprised her. She decided to ignore it until she was less pressed for time. She was glad she did, for when she refocused her gaze on the man his eyes were open. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on her, so she spoke again.
"I know you must be confused right now, but we need to hurry if you're going to be ok. I need you to help me get you to my house. Blink twice if you understand me."
He blinked twice. "Alright, we need to get you on your feet. We need to do this slowly. Tell me if you think a leg is broken, that way I can support you from that side." He nodded and so she stood up. She tucked the strap of her cantine back into her belt and noticed the goggles were still in her pocket. Maintaining her calm, she reached into her cloak and pulled them out and slipped them over her head. She realized that his eyes were likely not yet able to ascertain any of his surroundings. He may even believe it all to be a dream. Still, she decided it was better just to be safe.
Now, how to get him standing without causing to much pain, or nausea. Thinking back, she remembered how she and her brother had played together and how they'd found a way to stand up with ease. It would do perfectly.
"Okay. I need you to bend your knees so your feet are flat on the ground." He did, and she put her right toes on top of his left toes, and slid her left toes under his right. "Now lift your arms if you can, and then cross them at the wrist." He did so, seeming to wince only slightly as she tugged him up with her similarly crossed hands.
For a moment he stood on his own, then he began to totter backward and she grasped his forearm and yanked him toward her. She caught him as he fell against her, and she supported his weight as much as she could on her stronger right side. Seeming not to be in pain she decided it was ok to start walking. She was wrong. The man leaned forward, coughing and looking as though he may start to wretch any moment. Thinking quickly she pulled out her cantine and poured a small amount of water into her cupped palm and patted it onto his neck. He seemed to calm down a little and she instructed him to very slowly straighten up to avoid another wretching fit. He obeyed her instruction and she started off to the south, the eastern sky glowing brighter and brighter every minute.
She found all her cantines and set them on her table, then retrieved her belt to tie the strings to and keep her arms free. She looked at her cloak with disgust. "What do you think, Elja," she said to the little fox, "should I bring this accursed monstrosity with me?"
Elja looked up at her from his place by her bed and sneezed, his head moving from side to side as he did. "I didn't think so either," she replied as he buried his nose under his tail. "Oh, but aren't you coming with me?"
He looked at her without moving his head, then closed his eyes again. "I see. Going on my own this time around. Oh well. At least I may get something worth my time." She continued getting prepared for the night. She grabbed her leather sack so she could put any plants or herbs in one side, and filled the other side with plenty of soft feathers so that her glass sculptures wouldn't unnecessarily break and lose worth. The last things she brought were her knife, her slingshot, and the three-inch cactus barbs she had dipped in the poison of a crushed scorpion's tail.
She stepped out of her door as the last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the burning horizon. The heat of the sand still seeped through her boots, warming her feet. Just as she stepped on the sand she saw an orange-gray figure dash between her feet. Elja was sitting comfortable on the sand just 15 feet ahead of her, his head tilted to the side as if to say "A bit slow tonight?" She laughed, "So you are coming with me then?" and shook her head, chuckling as Elja waited for her, and then walked next to her as they headed toward the mountains.
The walk was fairly easy. She had decided to bring her cloak in case it became cold, and she was glad of it. The air cooled more quickly than the sand due to a brisk northern wind from the mountains, and by the time the sand cooled she nearly shivered. Though she was glad of the warmth her cloak provided, she left the hood down, with her goggles and scarf in a pocket on the outside of her cloak. She picked a few plants and herbs on her way, and even saw a few animals, but she decided to wait til she was on her way back to hunt, so as not to carry around soggy meat any longer than she must.
The mountains seemed to have grown to enormous proportions as they took up half of the night sky. The moon was shining bright and was nearly full, and the stars seemed to twinkle clearly. The sand had already absorbed whatever moisture had gotten through the pass and was just as dry and shifting as it always had been. A few hundred yards ahead she knew that little bits of grasses were shooting straight upward like spikes because of the rain that sometimes made it to the very edge of the desert, but she also knew that she was more likely to find mountain lions than anything of use to her, and a slingshot was no match for a mountain lion. Instead of trying to collect the rather useless plants, she stuck to where she was, hunting for precious bits of glass made by the lightning storms that barely reached the sands below.
She walked carefully, always looking before she stepped so that she wouldn't damage any of the precious sculpture and thereby damage the price. The she saw it. About twenty paces ahead of her, glistening in the moonlight, was the precious glass she looked for. But something about it seemed strange. She cautiously approached it and leaned over to inspect. Touching it gently, she found that it was beautifully shaped, unique and glittering in the moonlight. But there was a strange tint to it. Places in the glass were red or pink colored, something she hadn't seen before. She delicately handled the sculpture, placing it in her bag, and then looked back at the place where it had been. Although it was difficult to discern colors in the night, she noticed the sand seemed a darker, redder color there, and that the color seemed to follow a line.
Her eyes traced the line and noticed that the sand had ruts in them, as if something very large and heavy had been dragged. Quickly and silently she retrieved her knife and slingshot from her belt. Ahead of her, at the end of the trail of red, was a large construct. It seemed as though the frame were made of metal or wood, and then that frame had been covered with something like cloth or paper. It wasn't anything she could recognize, but something about it was strange. She decided after watching it for a few moments that it wasn't dangerous, and that she would investigate to try and find something useful, or to just figure out what the thing was.
She had long been in control of herself in distressing situations. Defending herself against angry animals, or people, had taught her to maintain her thoughts to stay clear and prepared for action. With this cool, collected manner, she was able to survive the circumstances that had been thrust upon her since a short time after she'd left her home. Panic was the least helpful thing that could be done. Yet as she approached the tattered shape she found her heart beating wildly beneath her cloak. Her senses heightened with anxious anticipation; the nothing that she heard every day in the desert quickly became a thrumming murmur, the cool night breeze sent a chill down her spine and into her limbs, the tingle resting in her fingers as if she'd sat on them for too long. Her eyes darted about at intervals, checking and rechecking every bit of shrub and grass in her path. As she noticed how quickly her breath escaped her lips, she paused to collect herself, taking slow, deep breaths to lower her heart rate and calm herself down.
She was nearly ten yards from the thing, and it appeared to her to be a machine. She didn't know what for, but it seemed not to have been there for long. She new it must have happened at the tail end of the storm, or else the rain would have washed away the trail of red it had left behind. The moon was now at the height of it's trek through the dark night's cloak, and she decided that she was calm enough to finally get nearer to the machine.
She reached out her hand and touched the cloth-like material surrounding the frame. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was still damp, and there were gaping holes with charred edges and scrapes that had ripped and torn through the cloth, leaving the frame bare and exposed in many places. Had it been struck by lightning? She wondered. Touching the frame she found it was made of metal. If it had been struck, it would explain why it hadn't burnt with the rest of the machine. Taking a few steps back she observed it as a whole.
It reminded her of a dragonfly. It seemed to have a "body" that was composed of the same metal of the wings, and was dented and distorted where it had scraped against the ground. the parts of the machine with a frame covered by cloth stuck out from the body, parallel to the ground, she assumed. An idea crossed her mind. A dragonfly? Was it even possible? She shook her head disbelievingly. No, she thought, flight was meant for birds and insects, not humans. She stepped up to the machine to examine the "body" of it more closely and thoroughly.
Stepping closer, she saw a strange, lumpy figure in a hole in the side of the machine's body. As she stared at it, trying to identify it, the lumpy mass moved and emitted a sound like a groan. Shock, surprise, fear, and panic all seemed to race through her body at once, and the terror coursing through her veins settled in her fingers and toes with a wildly tingling feeling. She didn't move a muscle, hoping that her stillness would give her safety, and willing the lump to disappear, and for her heart to stop beating in her throat like the wings of a hummingbird. Although the mass did not disappear, her heart did lower itself to the protection of her ribcage.
The longer she stared, the more she seemed to recognize of the shape of the lump. It seemed to be a human from what she could tell, a man even. He wore goggles, and a strange hat, and a leather jacket. The lower half of his body was within the body of the machine, the upper half was without. She also noticed shards of flat glass sticking out from the body of the plane, as if there had been a pane of glass there, like a window. She shook her head to clear it and looked back at the person in the plane. Should she help? Could she risk it? What if the person was a man and he saw her? But what if the person died? The injuries could be extensive enough that it could be fatal. Or they may wander in the wrong direction, completely missing the only town for hundreds of miles and instead search the desert fruitlessly for a sign of human life. No, she knew she could not let that happen.
Stepping forward she pulled the cantine that still held water from her belt and placed it on the ground. Mustering her strength, she cupped her hands under the person's arms she tugged and pulled. She ceased puling and examined the body to find any snags or something that might be holding it back. As she leaned in closer she saw the face and pulled off the goggles that the person was wearing. The person's eyes fluttered for a moment and at that same moment she realized in terror that the person was a man. She fell backward and frantically scrambled away, sending the sand beneath her feet flying toward the machine in the process. Her hand slipped and her head landed against the sand with a muffled thud. After laying for a moment she unscrewed her face and opened her eyes.
The sky was a blue-purple and the stars shone vividly like glitter strewn across the sky, and the moon looked like a bright, flat, silver coin. The eastern horizon was beginning to glow a soft gray and in a few hours she new the sun would return in blazing heat. She had to decide now what she would do. Sitting up she looked at the man. His goggles lay on the ground where she'd droped them in her scramble. His face was dirty with sand, and his clothes looked a little weathered and worn. He had been traveling, most likely. Perhaps she could leave him a note, that said where to go. But the sun would scorch him if he didn't wake in time. And his legs could be broken. Standing up, she warily approached him.
Upon inspection she found he was wearing a sort of belt attached to the machine, probably to keep him from falling out. She fumbled with the latch until she got it undone, then placed her hands under his arms again. She was able to drag him out much easier than she'd expected and she fell over again, this time out of poor balance rather than fright. The air rushed out of her lungs when his shoulder and arm landed on her torso, and she struggled for a moment to push him to the ground, glad for his unconscious state and the cover of darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.
Rolling him over onto his back she reached for her cantine and lifted his head a little to pour some water down his throat. He coughed a little when she did, so she moistened the hem of her cloak and wiped it against his forehead and on his cheeks to cool him, and possibly wake him to a slightly more aware state. It seemed to be working. He scrunched his face up and coughed a little more, then groaned.
She decided if she was taking a chance, she might as well risk it all, and so she spoke.
"I need you to wake up. Please." Her words were soft and gentle, more gentle than she'd intended and it surprised her. She decided to ignore it until she was less pressed for time. She was glad she did, for when she refocused her gaze on the man his eyes were open. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on her, so she spoke again.
"I know you must be confused right now, but we need to hurry if you're going to be ok. I need you to help me get you to my house. Blink twice if you understand me."
He blinked twice. "Alright, we need to get you on your feet. We need to do this slowly. Tell me if you think a leg is broken, that way I can support you from that side." He nodded and so she stood up. She tucked the strap of her cantine back into her belt and noticed the goggles were still in her pocket. Maintaining her calm, she reached into her cloak and pulled them out and slipped them over her head. She realized that his eyes were likely not yet able to ascertain any of his surroundings. He may even believe it all to be a dream. Still, she decided it was better just to be safe.
Now, how to get him standing without causing to much pain, or nausea. Thinking back, she remembered how she and her brother had played together and how they'd found a way to stand up with ease. It would do perfectly.
"Okay. I need you to bend your knees so your feet are flat on the ground." He did, and she put her right toes on top of his left toes, and slid her left toes under his right. "Now lift your arms if you can, and then cross them at the wrist." He did so, seeming to wince only slightly as she tugged him up with her similarly crossed hands.
For a moment he stood on his own, then he began to totter backward and she grasped his forearm and yanked him toward her. She caught him as he fell against her, and she supported his weight as much as she could on her stronger right side. Seeming not to be in pain she decided it was ok to start walking. She was wrong. The man leaned forward, coughing and looking as though he may start to wretch any moment. Thinking quickly she pulled out her cantine and poured a small amount of water into her cupped palm and patted it onto his neck. He seemed to calm down a little and she instructed him to very slowly straighten up to avoid another wretching fit. He obeyed her instruction and she started off to the south, the eastern sky glowing brighter and brighter every minute.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Chapter 1: The Crash
The day was dry and hot, like every other day in the desert land she lived in. Many did not survive, but Micka had learned the secrets of the flameless hell. She went out at night, when the sand was still warm, and fetched water for herself and Elja, the small desert fox that she had saved a year ago. The wells she dug, she dug at night. In fact, most of her activity happened at night. She only came once a week, but when she did she was always the first to arrive at the early morning market in the town three miles away, and the first to leave to beat the heat of the sun. She always bought meat, and sometimes a few fruits when she had the money. All of her activity around people was down in a full cloak, with a scarf covering her mouth and goggles sheilding her eyes, prefering those looks to the looks she would receive if not for her normal garb.
The items she sold were always handmade or difficult to attain; pelts and furs from rare desert animals, cactus poisons for doctors, sharp needles, medicines and herbs from rare plants, and even, rarely, strange glass sculptures made from the violent storms that sometimes made it just past the mountains to leave its mark on the blistering land below.
Looking out her window, she shaded her eyes with her hand and searched the bright blue sky around the mountains. There, far off, was the tiniest hint of a violent, thunder-filled cloud that tinted the edge of the sky with a dark, dank blue-gray. Tonight she would head to the foot of the mountains, where she was sure to find glass to sell to middle-class merchants like her father for a fair penny, who would in turn sell it to rich nobles, claiming outrageous adventures filled with wonder and danger all for the sake of the simplest treasure.
She still remembered the first time she'd found one. It sat on her makeshift table, in the center, and glistened when the sun shone in through the window. These glass anomalies had saved her in the desert. If it wasn't for them she would never be able to buy meats and supplies for tanning leather and knives for various tasks. Surviving in the desert was no easy task. Few men ever tried, but she was certainly no man. Many would say this was a disadvantage, as men tended to be tougher, stronger, and better suited to lonely survivals. But to her it didn't matter. She didn't care how strange it was that she would live alone in the desert. This was the life she chose. Well, no. She didn't choose this life, but she would rather live alone for the rest of her life than to never be known as herself to anyone but those who would hate her.
She looked down as Elja rubbed his head against her leg. Reaching down, she petted him behind the ears, glad to be drawn from her thoughts. No matter the loneliness, she did have Elja, and for that she was thankful. Taking a drink from her cantine, she stepped down to the lowest part of her little hut, her bed, and layed down to get a full day's rest before heading to the mountains that night.
~
He wiped the rain from his goggles as squinted to see through the dark clouds. The water droplets pelted him with the force of pebbles from a slingshot and the wind blew with a freezing force that stiffened his soaked clothes. He needed to land, to take shelter somewhere, but he could see nowhere flat to put the flyer down due to the darkness of the storm raging around him. There probably wasn't a place to land in the mountains anyway.
Suddenly the wind blew hard and sent him careening upward where the water droplets no longer bruised him. Now they were shards of ice that cut through his clothing and the wings of his flyer, causing his blood to slowly fall from his frozen, damp chin. He preferred the bruising.
He wiped at his goggles again, this time scraping off ice.
Could it be? No, certainly not. Must be ice on my goggles again. But looking again, he knew that it was true. It was a pass through the mountains, illuminated briefly by the sun, a glowing orange of the sunset. He had to make it there no matter what, or else he'd never see tomorrow. Or her.
The items she sold were always handmade or difficult to attain; pelts and furs from rare desert animals, cactus poisons for doctors, sharp needles, medicines and herbs from rare plants, and even, rarely, strange glass sculptures made from the violent storms that sometimes made it just past the mountains to leave its mark on the blistering land below.
Looking out her window, she shaded her eyes with her hand and searched the bright blue sky around the mountains. There, far off, was the tiniest hint of a violent, thunder-filled cloud that tinted the edge of the sky with a dark, dank blue-gray. Tonight she would head to the foot of the mountains, where she was sure to find glass to sell to middle-class merchants like her father for a fair penny, who would in turn sell it to rich nobles, claiming outrageous adventures filled with wonder and danger all for the sake of the simplest treasure.
She still remembered the first time she'd found one. It sat on her makeshift table, in the center, and glistened when the sun shone in through the window. These glass anomalies had saved her in the desert. If it wasn't for them she would never be able to buy meats and supplies for tanning leather and knives for various tasks. Surviving in the desert was no easy task. Few men ever tried, but she was certainly no man. Many would say this was a disadvantage, as men tended to be tougher, stronger, and better suited to lonely survivals. But to her it didn't matter. She didn't care how strange it was that she would live alone in the desert. This was the life she chose. Well, no. She didn't choose this life, but she would rather live alone for the rest of her life than to never be known as herself to anyone but those who would hate her.
She looked down as Elja rubbed his head against her leg. Reaching down, she petted him behind the ears, glad to be drawn from her thoughts. No matter the loneliness, she did have Elja, and for that she was thankful. Taking a drink from her cantine, she stepped down to the lowest part of her little hut, her bed, and layed down to get a full day's rest before heading to the mountains that night.
~
He wiped the rain from his goggles as squinted to see through the dark clouds. The water droplets pelted him with the force of pebbles from a slingshot and the wind blew with a freezing force that stiffened his soaked clothes. He needed to land, to take shelter somewhere, but he could see nowhere flat to put the flyer down due to the darkness of the storm raging around him. There probably wasn't a place to land in the mountains anyway.
Suddenly the wind blew hard and sent him careening upward where the water droplets no longer bruised him. Now they were shards of ice that cut through his clothing and the wings of his flyer, causing his blood to slowly fall from his frozen, damp chin. He preferred the bruising.
He wiped at his goggles again, this time scraping off ice.
Could it be? No, certainly not. Must be ice on my goggles again. But looking again, he knew that it was true. It was a pass through the mountains, illuminated briefly by the sun, a glowing orange of the sunset. He had to make it there no matter what, or else he'd never see tomorrow. Or her.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
A story: Skin Deep: Introduction
Elleisa Nerine was born to a family of the lower class. She was the oldest of three boys and seven girls. Of all her sisters, she was the most beautiful. She was, in fact, the most beautiful girl within 30 miles of her home. It was her beauty that caught the eye of the young merchant, Fodrey Torrez. He was a man who held more wealth than Elleisa's family could ever hope to attain, and this wealth is all that drew her attention to him. They agreed to marry, and the whole village prepared to celebrate.
When it came to weddings, the village had an old custom, where every family in attendance would offer up a gift. It so happened that the village was home to an old herbalist whom Elleisa had scorned once, many years ago, for her aged and weathered face. That day, all those years ago, the herbalist promised to curse Elleisa forever. As the herbalist approached Elleisa and Fodrey to present her gift, Elleisa remembered the promise. Fear filled her eyes and her heart, and the herbalist smiled. This smile, crooked and lacking several teeth, did nothing to calm the fears of Elleisa. She smiled nervously at the old woman hobbling toward her, leaning heavily on her gnarled cane.
"Although I haven't much to offer, I humbly ask that you accept this, my gift, as a blessing for you and your family, that you may be prosperous." the herbalist's voice croaked out as she extended her gift to Fodrey.
He began to unwrap the gift. It was wrapped in some kind of leather, and Fodrey had no problem opening the package. Inside it was a bottle whose exterior seemed to absorb the moon's soft glow and the fire's blazing light and reflect it back out as if it were lit from the inside. Elleisa's gaze lingered on the bottle, and after a moment she looked back at the herbalist and thanked her,
"Your gift is both generous and kind. I thank you for that and for your blessings." With that statement the herbalist nodded her head graciously, smiled her crooked smile and hobbled away.
Elleisa's relief did not show on her face, but in her posture. Fodrey grinned as he handed the bottle to his new wife, but he did not notice her trembling hands' hesitation in taking the bottle. When settled in her new home in a bustling little city named Gavino, she wrapped the bottle in cloth and set it inside a box, then hid the box among many of their belongings in the cellar where she promptly forgot about it.
Three years later Elleisa gave birth to a son, whom she named Forj. He was strong and handsome and even at two seemed amiable. Shortly she had another child, a daughter named Strila. Strila was a lovely baby girl, but tended to be rather fussy and took much pampering to keep her quiet.
One day, while searching for lavender in her cellar to calm Strila, Elleisa came across a box, the contents of which she couldn't recall. When she opened the box, she found a colorful bottle wrapped in cloth. Wondering what was inside the bottle, she pulled off the cork, and then dropped the bottle in shock.
The bottle didn't break when she dropped it, and the swirling orange smokey mist that had shocked her kept pouring out of the uncorked top. She held her breath, fearing that the smoke might choke her, but it didn't spread out as smoke should. Instead it stayed focused directly above the bottle, and the thin line of smoke that spat out of the bottle seemed to connect it. Eventually the smokey apparition ceased to grow, but only when it reached at least ten feet tall. The figure then seemed to solidify into the shape of a muscle bound, male torso. The ghostly being had swirling orange skin and shiny black hair only on the top of his head, and it was pulled into a top knot. His eyes were a swirling and smoky red without iris or pupil, yet Elleisa knew he was looking at her, and the only thing that kept her from screaming was the fear that seemed to have wired her jaw shut.
Without moving his mouth, he spoke in a voice both ethereal and terrifying. "Tell me your wish, woman, and I will grant it. But take care in your wishes, nothing is free, and the proper recompense will be paid at a time of my choosing."
At that, the orange man crossed his heavy arms and waited, staring into nothingness for Elleisa to make her wish. For several moments Elleisa thought. She looked down at the floor and the bottle, and saw her hands. Her knuckles seemed to protrude a little more every day, and the veins stood out against her once ivory skin. And perhaps she was imagining it, but she even thought she saw age spots beginning to appear. Perhaps, she could wish for everlasting beauty. But then, she did have a daughter. Elleisa decided that it was a worthy sacrifice and spoke to the man.
"My wish is that my daughter will be the most beautiful woman every man has ever seen from the age she turns 14 and on."
The man nodded his head, and his eyes swirled like a bloody whirlwind. When his eyes stopped swirling, he looked at Elleisa again and spoke, "Your wish will be granted at the proper time, and you will repay me shortly after then."
"But with what will I pay you?" Elleisa asked, but the man had disappeared along with the bottle before she had finished her sentence. She stared at the spot where the bottle had been, and then warily left the cellar to tend to her children.
Eight months later, Elleisa gave birth to another child, a daughter.
When it came to weddings, the village had an old custom, where every family in attendance would offer up a gift. It so happened that the village was home to an old herbalist whom Elleisa had scorned once, many years ago, for her aged and weathered face. That day, all those years ago, the herbalist promised to curse Elleisa forever. As the herbalist approached Elleisa and Fodrey to present her gift, Elleisa remembered the promise. Fear filled her eyes and her heart, and the herbalist smiled. This smile, crooked and lacking several teeth, did nothing to calm the fears of Elleisa. She smiled nervously at the old woman hobbling toward her, leaning heavily on her gnarled cane.
"Although I haven't much to offer, I humbly ask that you accept this, my gift, as a blessing for you and your family, that you may be prosperous." the herbalist's voice croaked out as she extended her gift to Fodrey.
He began to unwrap the gift. It was wrapped in some kind of leather, and Fodrey had no problem opening the package. Inside it was a bottle whose exterior seemed to absorb the moon's soft glow and the fire's blazing light and reflect it back out as if it were lit from the inside. Elleisa's gaze lingered on the bottle, and after a moment she looked back at the herbalist and thanked her,
"Your gift is both generous and kind. I thank you for that and for your blessings." With that statement the herbalist nodded her head graciously, smiled her crooked smile and hobbled away.
Elleisa's relief did not show on her face, but in her posture. Fodrey grinned as he handed the bottle to his new wife, but he did not notice her trembling hands' hesitation in taking the bottle. When settled in her new home in a bustling little city named Gavino, she wrapped the bottle in cloth and set it inside a box, then hid the box among many of their belongings in the cellar where she promptly forgot about it.
Three years later Elleisa gave birth to a son, whom she named Forj. He was strong and handsome and even at two seemed amiable. Shortly she had another child, a daughter named Strila. Strila was a lovely baby girl, but tended to be rather fussy and took much pampering to keep her quiet.
One day, while searching for lavender in her cellar to calm Strila, Elleisa came across a box, the contents of which she couldn't recall. When she opened the box, she found a colorful bottle wrapped in cloth. Wondering what was inside the bottle, she pulled off the cork, and then dropped the bottle in shock.
The bottle didn't break when she dropped it, and the swirling orange smokey mist that had shocked her kept pouring out of the uncorked top. She held her breath, fearing that the smoke might choke her, but it didn't spread out as smoke should. Instead it stayed focused directly above the bottle, and the thin line of smoke that spat out of the bottle seemed to connect it. Eventually the smokey apparition ceased to grow, but only when it reached at least ten feet tall. The figure then seemed to solidify into the shape of a muscle bound, male torso. The ghostly being had swirling orange skin and shiny black hair only on the top of his head, and it was pulled into a top knot. His eyes were a swirling and smoky red without iris or pupil, yet Elleisa knew he was looking at her, and the only thing that kept her from screaming was the fear that seemed to have wired her jaw shut.
Without moving his mouth, he spoke in a voice both ethereal and terrifying. "Tell me your wish, woman, and I will grant it. But take care in your wishes, nothing is free, and the proper recompense will be paid at a time of my choosing."
At that, the orange man crossed his heavy arms and waited, staring into nothingness for Elleisa to make her wish. For several moments Elleisa thought. She looked down at the floor and the bottle, and saw her hands. Her knuckles seemed to protrude a little more every day, and the veins stood out against her once ivory skin. And perhaps she was imagining it, but she even thought she saw age spots beginning to appear. Perhaps, she could wish for everlasting beauty. But then, she did have a daughter. Elleisa decided that it was a worthy sacrifice and spoke to the man.
"My wish is that my daughter will be the most beautiful woman every man has ever seen from the age she turns 14 and on."
The man nodded his head, and his eyes swirled like a bloody whirlwind. When his eyes stopped swirling, he looked at Elleisa again and spoke, "Your wish will be granted at the proper time, and you will repay me shortly after then."
"But with what will I pay you?" Elleisa asked, but the man had disappeared along with the bottle before she had finished her sentence. She stared at the spot where the bottle had been, and then warily left the cellar to tend to her children.
Eight months later, Elleisa gave birth to another child, a daughter.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Inspiration
This is the song my fiance (soon to be husband) and I wrote together. It's probably the best one in my repertoire.
For a moment in time
Just your heart and mine
Everything else seems to fade
Except you and I
For a moment in time
We're all on our own
But when I'm with you
My heart is home
Our lives are built of moments
So I'll spend mine with you
Your heart is worth protecting
If it's the last thing I do
I'll give you every single moment
And you'll be all my dreams come true
Because I've loved you now and always
So now and always I do
In a moment in time
Our hearts are entwined
Beating as one
With your hand in mine
In that moment in time
Nowhere I'd rather be
Than with my arms around you
And your arms around me
Our lives are built of moments
So I'll spend mine with you
Your heart is worth protecting
If it's the last thing I do
I'll give you every single moment
And you'll be all my dreams come true
Because I've loved you now and always
So now and always I do
For my love,
In just 21 days I will be your bride and you will be my husband. We will be one in heart, mind, body, and soul. We will not always agree, but we will find our unity in Christ. He has given you, the most beautiful soul I've ever seen, to me to have and hold forever in my arms and heart. Together we will take on the world with God as our guide. While I love you exactly as you are, I can't wait to see how He changes you and I together. We will grow and learn as two and as one. This is the end and beginning of lives. It is the end of our lives in our parents' households and it is the beginning of our lives in a new home and a new family. This is it. It's real and it's really happening.
Do I really want to take on this challenge? Do I really want to wake up next to you every day? Do I want to fall asleep in your arms? Do I want to cook for you when you're tired? Do I want to let you cook for me? Do I want to share your home? Do I want to share my body with you? Do I want you to share your body with me? Do I want to depend on you to fulfill my needs? Do I want to fulfill yours?
I do.
For a moment in time
Just your heart and mine
Everything else seems to fade
Except you and I
For a moment in time
We're all on our own
But when I'm with you
My heart is home
Our lives are built of moments
So I'll spend mine with you
Your heart is worth protecting
If it's the last thing I do
I'll give you every single moment
And you'll be all my dreams come true
Because I've loved you now and always
So now and always I do
In a moment in time
Our hearts are entwined
Beating as one
With your hand in mine
In that moment in time
Nowhere I'd rather be
Than with my arms around you
And your arms around me
Our lives are built of moments
So I'll spend mine with you
Your heart is worth protecting
If it's the last thing I do
I'll give you every single moment
And you'll be all my dreams come true
Because I've loved you now and always
So now and always I do
For my love,
In just 21 days I will be your bride and you will be my husband. We will be one in heart, mind, body, and soul. We will not always agree, but we will find our unity in Christ. He has given you, the most beautiful soul I've ever seen, to me to have and hold forever in my arms and heart. Together we will take on the world with God as our guide. While I love you exactly as you are, I can't wait to see how He changes you and I together. We will grow and learn as two and as one. This is the end and beginning of lives. It is the end of our lives in our parents' households and it is the beginning of our lives in a new home and a new family. This is it. It's real and it's really happening.
Do I really want to take on this challenge? Do I really want to wake up next to you every day? Do I want to fall asleep in your arms? Do I want to cook for you when you're tired? Do I want to let you cook for me? Do I want to share your home? Do I want to share my body with you? Do I want you to share your body with me? Do I want to depend on you to fulfill my needs? Do I want to fulfill yours?
I do.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Selfish
We've been talking about humility a lot in choir. It's been said that humility flows into service, which flows into sacrifice, which flows into worship, which finally flows into love. We're about to go on choir tour for spring break, so it's essential that we have loving and humble attitudes. Someone said during chapel that humility is not thinking little of yourself, but it is thinking little of yourself. Basically, humility is not thinking you are a horrible person, because you're still thinking about yourself. Humility is not thinking about yourself, it is thinking about God, and others. Not contemplating them, but putting them before yourself. Thinking about looking out for them before looking out for yourself. It comes from a love for God, and it flows into a love for God.
Humility is putting others before yourself. When you do that, you will be serving them. Service doesn't exist without sacrifice. When you give up your time, you are sacrificing. Sacrificing is what Christ did, therefore it is living like Him. Living like Christ did is living a life of worship. And when you worship God, you are loving Him. And if you are loving God, you are loving others.
Now, I'm not talking about the noun love. I mean the verb. The love that requires action to be. This love is the love that says, "I'm tired, but she needs someone to talk to, so I'll stay up." It's the love that gives up it's seat. It's the love that can only come from God, because He is the perfect essence of that love. I used to think God loved us a little more each day. Then I realized, that as cute of an idea, it was impossible. See, for God to love us more He'd have to have loved us less. So I came to the conclusion that God loves us wholly and completely. He could never love us more than He does right now. If He could, He would be acting outside of who He is. He would not be acting as God. And all we have to do to is ask Him for that love to help us to love others. He'll give it to us, even if it's just by giving us the opportunity to love others.
Lately, I have been doing a bad job at loving. I've been selfish. And if humility is not thinking about yourself, then selfishness is the opposite of humility. And sort of the opposite of love. I didn't even realize that I'd been so selfish. And I was too busy with it to realize someone was trying to tell me what I was doing. Basically, I screwed up. And now I have to figure out how to forgive myself. It's not an easy thing to do. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Humility is putting others before yourself. When you do that, you will be serving them. Service doesn't exist without sacrifice. When you give up your time, you are sacrificing. Sacrificing is what Christ did, therefore it is living like Him. Living like Christ did is living a life of worship. And when you worship God, you are loving Him. And if you are loving God, you are loving others.
Now, I'm not talking about the noun love. I mean the verb. The love that requires action to be. This love is the love that says, "I'm tired, but she needs someone to talk to, so I'll stay up." It's the love that gives up it's seat. It's the love that can only come from God, because He is the perfect essence of that love. I used to think God loved us a little more each day. Then I realized, that as cute of an idea, it was impossible. See, for God to love us more He'd have to have loved us less. So I came to the conclusion that God loves us wholly and completely. He could never love us more than He does right now. If He could, He would be acting outside of who He is. He would not be acting as God. And all we have to do to is ask Him for that love to help us to love others. He'll give it to us, even if it's just by giving us the opportunity to love others.
Lately, I have been doing a bad job at loving. I've been selfish. And if humility is not thinking about yourself, then selfishness is the opposite of humility. And sort of the opposite of love. I didn't even realize that I'd been so selfish. And I was too busy with it to realize someone was trying to tell me what I was doing. Basically, I screwed up. And now I have to figure out how to forgive myself. It's not an easy thing to do. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
I worked on wedding plans today. It was a lot of fun. I found someone to play the acoustic guitar during the ceremony, and looked at music for the ceremony and the reception. Also looked at different flowers and reception decorations. I'm really enjoying it. We're thinking of having paper lanterns, kanji table cloths, and other fun things. :)
Also, I'm not angry anymore. Or at least not as angry as I was. I guess what it really was was the fact that I can't stand being confused. And I was definitely confused. So, knowing that I was confused helped me not to be confused. Which in turn helped me not to be angry. YAY NOT ANGRY!
Anyway....
I'm going to be singing a song called "Duetto Buffo di Due Gatti". That means "Comic Duet for Two Cats." The entire song consists of me and the other "cat" meowing. It's really fun. And we get to sing it with the local symphony orchestra. I'm really excited! I've never had this opportunity before, and I'm so glad I made the audition.
I want to paint. But I need more materials. Namely I need more paper for it. Cause I'm running out. And it's expensive. I like painting. It's fun. I'm not nearly as good as my sister, who happens to be an artist of sorts, but I still have lots of fun with it.
kbai!
Samantha
Also, I'm not angry anymore. Or at least not as angry as I was. I guess what it really was was the fact that I can't stand being confused. And I was definitely confused. So, knowing that I was confused helped me not to be confused. Which in turn helped me not to be angry. YAY NOT ANGRY!
Anyway....
I'm going to be singing a song called "Duetto Buffo di Due Gatti". That means "Comic Duet for Two Cats." The entire song consists of me and the other "cat" meowing. It's really fun. And we get to sing it with the local symphony orchestra. I'm really excited! I've never had this opportunity before, and I'm so glad I made the audition.
I want to paint. But I need more materials. Namely I need more paper for it. Cause I'm running out. And it's expensive. I like painting. It's fun. I'm not nearly as good as my sister, who happens to be an artist of sorts, but I still have lots of fun with it.
kbai!
Samantha
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