Alaeha Posted March 12, 2003 Report Posted March 12, 2003 Same as last time... the 5* lines are meant to be centered. I wrote this today and it's in a second draft state. It probably needs some work, so let me know what you think, please. There was no siren, there was no alarm. There was no perceptible signal at all. The radio announcers didn’t announce it, and there were no phone calls made. There weren’t even any large groups moving toward the field at any one time. Yet if one could have seen the city from above, with eyes good enough to see the individuals, one would have noticed that gradually, the citizens of the city were congregating in the field. Some even turned around so suddenly that they crashed into those following them on the sidewalk. All walked with a sense of apprehension about them. It had come. The dreaded thought pervaded the city, until even those few with no psychic sense at all could feel it. Eryn was the last to come into sight of the throng, walking casually toward them, unaware of what “it” was. As she inhaled to ask, she was cut off by the sudden silence of the crowd. “She’s the one!” Someone shouted. She was the what? The panic emanating from the crowd overwhelmed her, driving her to her knees as visions of terror flooded over her. The world grew black as they began. * * * * * It was night. A figure garbed in shadow sat atop a dragon as it spat fire down on an army beneath it. An army of peasants. Their terror at the sight of a dragon only enhanced by the mystic spell of fear cast on them, the poorly trained army scattered and fled. They were incinerated in moments. * * * * * By dim candlelight, she saw the outline of a black-robed being raise it’s arms. As it shouted a few words, the barrier between the realms of the living and the dead was torn, and an army of the dead rose up from the ground around him. * * * * * Again and again the visions changed, and never could the mysterious figure behind the atrocities be seen. Finally, the figure stepped out of the shadows, into the light of the sun. His eyes glowed red beneath his short, jagged black hair. Loose, black silks covered most of his body, and on his face he wore a mask of deep purple. Slowly, he faded out, leaving only his mask behind. When he disappeared completely, the mask fell to the ground, covered in spirals of a metallic blue. * * * * * A bullet flew through the air, jerking her to the present. Forcing a shield between her mind and the minds of the mob, she fled from her kinsmen and those she had grown up with. If she could reach the forest, she could hide there, and they would never find her. It grew steadily closer, until she reached the edge. As she passed the first tree, the world exploded in pain as her back was torn open by a bullet. It struck just below the ribs, without hitting her spine. Crying out, she fell. Her shield shattered when she struck the ground, leaving her senses screaming until she managed to put it back up. Knowing that she couldn’t go back to town, she feigned death for a time, hoping they’d assume the shot had been lethal. The grass rustled beneath the feet of an approaching man. A heavy one at that, from the sound of it. He was probably a construction worker or some such. Forcing herself to remain relaxed, Eryn kept her eyes closed in hopes that he would just move on. The sound of steel sliding from a sheath, however, convinced her otherwise and her eyes snapped open. Finding him, she leaped up and buried her fist in his gut, knocking him to the ground and the sword from his hand. She caught it by the hilt, studying it for a moment. It was a rapier, it would do nicely. A laugh came behind her, and she spun around to find herself completely surrounded. Every man, woman, and child held a knife of some sort, and all held grim looks on their faces. “So, you’ll kill me then? Without even giving me a sporting chance?” She asked with a bitter laugh. “If only you truly understood what you’ve done, you’d know why we must do this.” The man she had struck said, as he stood up. “We give you an honorable death, by the sword, rather than hanging you or burning, because we know that you did this unintentionally. We cannot, however, allow the Mask-Bearer to survive, no matter who it is.” So saying, he took another man’s sword and thrust it at her heart as her vision blurred and the Mask leaped up into view in her mind. His blade whistled through the air, flying true. It struck her exactly as he had intended, with all the might of a construction worker behind it. It struck a black silk tunic that had not been there a moment before. It shattered. There was a momentary flash of light. For an instant Eryn stood illuminated, her brown hair pouring over her shoulders as the only obvious sign that it was her, as her face was covered by a mask of deep purple and blue. Then shadows engulfed her and all that could be seen was a pair of glowing red eyes looking out from the blackness. She reached out with her rapier, taking the man in the throat. With a savage twist of her wrist, she decapitated the man, and turned to see the semi-circle of townsfolk that had come to kill her. Her eyes flashed, and they turned, panic-stricken, and fled. A small part of her cried out against the avenging demon she had become, even as the greater portion of her being drank in their fear as if it were the sweetest drink ever brewed. Then she began the chase. * * * * * It was over quickly. It could not have been otherwise. The moon had not progressed perceptibly in its journey across the sky. Yet in those few minutes, it seemed that all the world had changed. Eryn stood in the center of a field, holding a blade that had slain thousands. Her arms were coated, slimy with the blood of those she had grown up with, laughed with, and (in many cases) loved in one way or another. The black silk she wore somehow kept the chill of the night air out, but it could not warm the cold feeling inside of her as she looked out at the bloody field. It had not been a fight. It had been a massacre. Looking down at the mask she now held in her left hand, she saw a small blank spot on one of the cheeks. One of the spirals was unraveling, and a cold voice sounded in her head. “Three hundred and sixty five days more, and I shall be free... free...” Turning numbly from the horrors of her surroundings, Eryn went home to pack, with words of the voice echoing in her head. and I shall be free...
Archaneus Posted March 16, 2003 Report Posted March 16, 2003 I really enjoyed this. It was a great story and, at first, I couldn't think of any way to improve it. Looking it over again, I think you could improve this by being more descriptive. This story has great imagination and as such I'm not sure if being more descriptive would ruin hte original feel to it or improve, but I would fool around with it and see what you can do. Great job.
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