Post by Zeffy on May 29, 2011 23:12:35 GMT -5
I'm assuming this board can be used for non-essay writings? I wrote this piece about two years go now, and it's the one I'm proudest of.
The Red Sun of Valaren
Across the vast ocean of Zayless in the east, from the barbaric lands of Drawia, a red sun rose. The first of the sun's rays found the shores of Valaren, where the sea men were already up and about, seeing to the repairs of their ships, or sneaking an early bottle of ale when the captain wasn't around. A hardy bunch, those sailors, getting ready to sail with the red omen starting to break through in the sky.
West the sun's rays flew, across fields and plains of feeding deer, across the Plains of Kass, where the old timers could still smell death, could still hear the screams of the victims of the Oranian Massacre. Still west, the sun's rays past cities and towns of all sizes, still asleep save for farmers an occasional merchant, and those working on the construction of the temple of the new religion, praising the name of their god, Ineem. This particular temple was colossal, being where the Father, the Chosen of Ineem stayed. The guards of the Father's room stifled a yawn as they saw the red sun rising through the window. They, who had fought for their god and to bring people under its light, now reduced to night time guards.
Not two miles away, the sun's rays came to a window of a first floor room, blinds down. The light stayed there at the window trying to creep through the cracks, and for all Malgan wished it would cease, it only grew brighter.
Giving up, she threw off the sheets, but still laid there, staring up at the ceiling. She had to get up. No, she could stay in bed now; it was over. But it went on for eight bloody years, waking up this early was built into her mind. It was still hard to believe that it was over, that he was gone, but it was, and she had to learn how to live without him now.
Long minutes later, she made herself throw her legs off the side of the bed. Stand up, step forward left foot, step forward right foot... She found herself just standing in the main room of the house. Not knowing what to do. If it was two weeks ago, she would—
No, she wasn't thinking about that. Not anymore.
Malgan spent her day sitting in the main room, only getting up to eat. Just like yesterday. And the day before, and the day before...
Her mother was at the new temple being built further in the city; as the head of the designing group that's how she spent her days, only being home for a few hours at night, which she usually spent sleeping or working even more. Maybe if her father never died in war, or if he never even went, he'd be working and she'd have time for her mothers, like normals girls did. Not that she was a girl anymore.
It was nearing nightfall when Malgan started weeping. There was nothing for her anymore; her childhood had been wasted away because of that sick bastard, and she no longer knew how to live. What did normal people do?
Shaking, she made her way to her room, and found papers that she had stored away. When she was a little girl, when she really was one, she had wanted to write fanciful stories, so she would steal papers from her mothers room, one at a time, in order not be noticed. She got tired of that dream when she realized it was easier to make a rock get up and walk than to write good stories, so all the blank paper she left in her floorboard.
But now, with her hand still shaking, she decided to write.
Mykal had hardly enough energy to push open her door. The Father had demanded extra work today—or was it yesterday already?—and she already worked during all waking hours of the sun. No, it was still the same day. The sun was setting, she should have noticed that riding back from the temple. Gods, but she was tired.
"Malgan? I need help getting up...the stairs," she said, a bit breathless. There was no answer. "Malgan! I need some ..."
She was in the main room, and on the great oak table there was a stack of papers. Her papers, actually, if just yellowed with age. Frowning, she struggled over to the table, and picked them up.
All her weariness faded away with her skin color as she began to read.
Dearest Mother,
I do hope you remember me, your daughter Malgan. Please, forgive me, but I won't be home again. Your god Ineem knows I've been here long enough, even if you don't. You won't cry for me, I know that much. You don't even know how my life was like.
I was just fourteen when you sacrificed me, you know. That's when real girls really start to live.
I was just fourteen when Nale fell; he was never the same again.
Father had already left for the Elan war, so when Nale couldn't move anymore, it was just up to us to help him. But how were we to live without anyone making money? I offered to find work, but you quickly said no. And I thought you were just protecting me.
No, you just didn't want to be stuck with him. You quickly took a job working for that Father of yours, decorating the temple and such. I often wondered how many times you decorated his rooms on your back. After all, who were you to get a job of such high station so quickly?
At first I didn't mind taking care of Nale. He was my brother, after all. So I dutifully woke up right at dawn, and made breakfast for the two of us; you must have been too busy leaving to make for more than yourself. I'd feed him and give him drink, then finally get to myself. At first, I'd try to do things for myself for a few minutes every once in a while, but every bloody time he'd call me back, finding me something else to do. "Fix my pillow please, Malgan." "I thirst, Malgan, please get me a drink?""Malgan, I need a new shirt, you spilled something in this." "Malgan, it's time for me to change." "Malgan, don't leave me please, I don't want to be alone." 'Malgan Malgan Malgan Malgan MALGAN MALGAN MALGAN!"
So, I didn't leave his side more than necessary after about a month of this. I stopped my schooling for him, if you never noticed. The few friends I had then tried coming over to visit me, to play with me, but they soon learned that I was no fun anymore. We couldn't gossip in front of Nale, and when we tried to play a game Nale kept interrupting for something he needed. And if we tried to leave, gods did he go mental. "Malgan! Don't leave me for those little girls! Malgan! I know you won't come back if you leave! You'll just be killing me!"
One and a half months. That's all it took to break me. That's all it took to end my life. They never came over again, and I had never left, save to cook and other necessities. My identity had become totally Nale's.
If someone else happened to read this, they'd wonder why we never hired anyone to take care of Nale for me, so I could live. Well, Mykal? Why didn't you? I only asked you five times. Every sixth month, I asked you, "Mother, are you going to hire someone to care for Nale? I want to go out and play." After the second or third time, I didn't even know what that was like anymore. I just didn't know what else to say. But you knew what to say, didn't you?
"I'm looking for someone right now, dear." "Don't worry, just a little longer, Malgan." "Tomorrow, I'll have someone come over to see him." "Stop bothering me about it, Malgan, I'm doing what I can!" "What kind of girl are you! You won't even take care of your own brother without complaining! You should be ashamed!"
I was hoping you'd at least help when you came home, foolish enough thought as it was. You were probably very busy working on the decorations and paintings of the temple, of course. I don't remember you ever doing anything to help.
For eight years this went on, Mykal. Eight. I was, rather, am, twenty-two when he died. (Where did my childhood go? What did you do to it?) I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know how old I was.
Do you know how Nale died? I had to arrange all of the ceremonies after his death, since you were too busy working and all. It's understandable.
I had the pouch of medicines on the very table where I will leave this note to you. Near enough to the bed so he could reach it even with his limited arm use. Not that I knew he could reach it. I just left to get the hot water, and when I came back, the whole bag of herbs was empty. I looked up at him, and he looked at me. I didn't know what to do, I was frozen—frozen in place, and frozen inside, after eight years of nothingness. Then he started to shake, first just a little, then almost violently. Then he started to vomit. He was laying on his back, he couldn't move. He just kept throwing it up, always looking me in the eyes. He couldn't get rid of what was in his mouth, and after a few minutes, he drowned.
And I did nothing.
So, yes, you could say I killed him. But what will you do? Turn me in to the authorities? How will you, when I doubt you know what I look like? I don't think it will matter, anyway.
When Nale died, so did my identity. I didn't know what to do anymore. I had no idea how to live. What was I supposed to do? I had no Nale to care care of. Even though, I will admit, after the first month or so I didn't love him anymore, I needed him. Almost as much as he needed me. And when he was gone, no one needed anymore. With his death, my importance and significance died as well. I wasn't even important to myself.
No one is missing me now, nothing is missing from anyone's life.
If you care enough to look for me, I'll be hanging under the great oak in the forest to the west. Maybe you'd know where it was if you paid attention when I was a real girl, at least.
I'm really sorry I had to borrow your rope.
Malgan
The Red Sun of Valaren
Across the vast ocean of Zayless in the east, from the barbaric lands of Drawia, a red sun rose. The first of the sun's rays found the shores of Valaren, where the sea men were already up and about, seeing to the repairs of their ships, or sneaking an early bottle of ale when the captain wasn't around. A hardy bunch, those sailors, getting ready to sail with the red omen starting to break through in the sky.
West the sun's rays flew, across fields and plains of feeding deer, across the Plains of Kass, where the old timers could still smell death, could still hear the screams of the victims of the Oranian Massacre. Still west, the sun's rays past cities and towns of all sizes, still asleep save for farmers an occasional merchant, and those working on the construction of the temple of the new religion, praising the name of their god, Ineem. This particular temple was colossal, being where the Father, the Chosen of Ineem stayed. The guards of the Father's room stifled a yawn as they saw the red sun rising through the window. They, who had fought for their god and to bring people under its light, now reduced to night time guards.
Not two miles away, the sun's rays came to a window of a first floor room, blinds down. The light stayed there at the window trying to creep through the cracks, and for all Malgan wished it would cease, it only grew brighter.
Giving up, she threw off the sheets, but still laid there, staring up at the ceiling. She had to get up. No, she could stay in bed now; it was over. But it went on for eight bloody years, waking up this early was built into her mind. It was still hard to believe that it was over, that he was gone, but it was, and she had to learn how to live without him now.
Long minutes later, she made herself throw her legs off the side of the bed. Stand up, step forward left foot, step forward right foot... She found herself just standing in the main room of the house. Not knowing what to do. If it was two weeks ago, she would—
No, she wasn't thinking about that. Not anymore.
Malgan spent her day sitting in the main room, only getting up to eat. Just like yesterday. And the day before, and the day before...
Her mother was at the new temple being built further in the city; as the head of the designing group that's how she spent her days, only being home for a few hours at night, which she usually spent sleeping or working even more. Maybe if her father never died in war, or if he never even went, he'd be working and she'd have time for her mothers, like normals girls did. Not that she was a girl anymore.
It was nearing nightfall when Malgan started weeping. There was nothing for her anymore; her childhood had been wasted away because of that sick bastard, and she no longer knew how to live. What did normal people do?
Shaking, she made her way to her room, and found papers that she had stored away. When she was a little girl, when she really was one, she had wanted to write fanciful stories, so she would steal papers from her mothers room, one at a time, in order not be noticed. She got tired of that dream when she realized it was easier to make a rock get up and walk than to write good stories, so all the blank paper she left in her floorboard.
But now, with her hand still shaking, she decided to write.
Mykal had hardly enough energy to push open her door. The Father had demanded extra work today—or was it yesterday already?—and she already worked during all waking hours of the sun. No, it was still the same day. The sun was setting, she should have noticed that riding back from the temple. Gods, but she was tired.
"Malgan? I need help getting up...the stairs," she said, a bit breathless. There was no answer. "Malgan! I need some ..."
She was in the main room, and on the great oak table there was a stack of papers. Her papers, actually, if just yellowed with age. Frowning, she struggled over to the table, and picked them up.
All her weariness faded away with her skin color as she began to read.
Dearest Mother,
I do hope you remember me, your daughter Malgan. Please, forgive me, but I won't be home again. Your god Ineem knows I've been here long enough, even if you don't. You won't cry for me, I know that much. You don't even know how my life was like.
I was just fourteen when you sacrificed me, you know. That's when real girls really start to live.
I was just fourteen when Nale fell; he was never the same again.
Father had already left for the Elan war, so when Nale couldn't move anymore, it was just up to us to help him. But how were we to live without anyone making money? I offered to find work, but you quickly said no. And I thought you were just protecting me.
No, you just didn't want to be stuck with him. You quickly took a job working for that Father of yours, decorating the temple and such. I often wondered how many times you decorated his rooms on your back. After all, who were you to get a job of such high station so quickly?
At first I didn't mind taking care of Nale. He was my brother, after all. So I dutifully woke up right at dawn, and made breakfast for the two of us; you must have been too busy leaving to make for more than yourself. I'd feed him and give him drink, then finally get to myself. At first, I'd try to do things for myself for a few minutes every once in a while, but every bloody time he'd call me back, finding me something else to do. "Fix my pillow please, Malgan." "I thirst, Malgan, please get me a drink?""Malgan, I need a new shirt, you spilled something in this." "Malgan, it's time for me to change." "Malgan, don't leave me please, I don't want to be alone." 'Malgan Malgan Malgan Malgan MALGAN MALGAN MALGAN!"
So, I didn't leave his side more than necessary after about a month of this. I stopped my schooling for him, if you never noticed. The few friends I had then tried coming over to visit me, to play with me, but they soon learned that I was no fun anymore. We couldn't gossip in front of Nale, and when we tried to play a game Nale kept interrupting for something he needed. And if we tried to leave, gods did he go mental. "Malgan! Don't leave me for those little girls! Malgan! I know you won't come back if you leave! You'll just be killing me!"
One and a half months. That's all it took to break me. That's all it took to end my life. They never came over again, and I had never left, save to cook and other necessities. My identity had become totally Nale's.
If someone else happened to read this, they'd wonder why we never hired anyone to take care of Nale for me, so I could live. Well, Mykal? Why didn't you? I only asked you five times. Every sixth month, I asked you, "Mother, are you going to hire someone to care for Nale? I want to go out and play." After the second or third time, I didn't even know what that was like anymore. I just didn't know what else to say. But you knew what to say, didn't you?
"I'm looking for someone right now, dear." "Don't worry, just a little longer, Malgan." "Tomorrow, I'll have someone come over to see him." "Stop bothering me about it, Malgan, I'm doing what I can!" "What kind of girl are you! You won't even take care of your own brother without complaining! You should be ashamed!"
I was hoping you'd at least help when you came home, foolish enough thought as it was. You were probably very busy working on the decorations and paintings of the temple, of course. I don't remember you ever doing anything to help.
For eight years this went on, Mykal. Eight. I was, rather, am, twenty-two when he died. (Where did my childhood go? What did you do to it?) I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know how old I was.
Do you know how Nale died? I had to arrange all of the ceremonies after his death, since you were too busy working and all. It's understandable.
I had the pouch of medicines on the very table where I will leave this note to you. Near enough to the bed so he could reach it even with his limited arm use. Not that I knew he could reach it. I just left to get the hot water, and when I came back, the whole bag of herbs was empty. I looked up at him, and he looked at me. I didn't know what to do, I was frozen—frozen in place, and frozen inside, after eight years of nothingness. Then he started to shake, first just a little, then almost violently. Then he started to vomit. He was laying on his back, he couldn't move. He just kept throwing it up, always looking me in the eyes. He couldn't get rid of what was in his mouth, and after a few minutes, he drowned.
And I did nothing.
So, yes, you could say I killed him. But what will you do? Turn me in to the authorities? How will you, when I doubt you know what I look like? I don't think it will matter, anyway.
When Nale died, so did my identity. I didn't know what to do anymore. I had no idea how to live. What was I supposed to do? I had no Nale to care care of. Even though, I will admit, after the first month or so I didn't love him anymore, I needed him. Almost as much as he needed me. And when he was gone, no one needed anymore. With his death, my importance and significance died as well. I wasn't even important to myself.
No one is missing me now, nothing is missing from anyone's life.
If you care enough to look for me, I'll be hanging under the great oak in the forest to the west. Maybe you'd know where it was if you paid attention when I was a real girl, at least.
I'm really sorry I had to borrow your rope.
Malgan
