Divided: Part 1

Since I had several people tell me I should continue developing the story from my last post, I decided to do just that and this is the first part of the continuation of that story. Let me know what you think in the comments!

A soft chanting came from deep within the monastery, echoing off the bare stone walls. They stood in a circle around the flames, their hands joined together as they sought the wisdom of their god. Carefully arranged in a circle around the flames were laid six thin sheets of stone painstakingly carved with ancient runes that only the monks of the monastery could read. The words glowed scarlet in the dancing firelight, seeming to take on a life of their own.

This was the prophecy. Thousands of years ago their god had spoken to the head of their order, giving him the prophecy that was to change the order of the world. Since that time, the prophecy had been fiercely guarded by the monks, the exact words known only to their inner circle. But now the time was coming for it to be set into motion. If ever there had been a time when the world needed to change, it was then for the world was terribly divided. The rich lived in towns of extreme grandeur, feasting on the best food, dressing in the most elegant clothing, living in opulent mansions, all of them commanding a bevy of slaves and servants from the poor class. The poor lived in towns set far apart from those of the rich, forced to survive and try to scrape out a living in the frigid mountains, arid desert or rugged plains, the best land, of course, in the possession of the rich. There was no equality; the rich ruled and the poor served. They had no rights, no ownership, nothing. Everything they had could be stripped from them at a moments notice.

And though the rich depended on the poor to till their fields, raise their livestock, cook their meals, sew their clothes, and serve them in every way, they refused to lift even a finger to help them regardless of how dire their circumstances. Entire towns of the poor were regularly wiped out by disease, wild animals, bandits, and natural disasters without the rich ever noticing. They were safe behind the high walls and gates that protected them.

And so as the division between the two classes continued to grow, the monks prayed over and over again for the events of the prophecy to be set into motion. Surely it was time. Their chanting grew louder as they poured out their hearts and souls, the sound traveling through the dark halls out into the frigid mountain air carrying a message of hope and change.

Divided: Prologue

Writing Prompt: As my story came to a close I realized that I was the villain all along.

I've always been intrigued by the idea of writing a book or short story focusing on the "villain" who really doesn't understand until they've lost everything that they were the villain. A villain who's very human, who truly believes they're doing the right thing for everyone involved. This is a very short portion of a story that I have semi-formed. So at the moment I'm asking for opinions. Should I continue and flesh it out, or just drop it?

The flames were getting closer. I shifted slightly in an effort to move away from the heat, stopping as a searing pain exploded in my chest. I could feel the blood pooling in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. At the same time I realized that I had no feeling in my legs. I gasped out a laugh at the irony of it all. The prophecy, that damn prophecy. It was the cause of all this. The laughter died on my lips as I stared up at the darkening sky. I tasted blood, my blood. No, it wasn't the prophecies fault, it was mine. Me thinking that I could stop it from happening and instead putting everything in motion. Me thinking that I was the hero destined to save everyone. But no, I was the villain. Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks. All I'd wanted to do was help, to be the hero for once. I was no hero, I was never meant to be one. I could feel the heat searing my skin. So this is how it will end, I thought, just like all the stories children love. The hero has vanquished the villain and everyone lives happily ever after. I closed my eyes for the last time and gave myself up to the flames.

The Dream

Writing Prompt: She was the ghost haunting his dreams, with a sad song and murderous eyes.

This prompt just sounded so fascinating and so perfect for a horror story that I couldn't resist passing it up and giving it a go. I actually didn't intend for it to become quite as dark as it did, but I'm actually rather pleased with how it turned out. Hopefully it's not too creepy or disturbing for anyone.

Every night, for two long weeks, he had dreamed the same dream. He found himself standing on a gravel path in the middle of a sea of grass. The waist height grass was a strange blue-grey color and it stretched in every direction as far as he could see. The sky above him was a forbidding grey, but not a cloud was in sight. And then there was a silence, a silence so profound that he could hear every beat of his heart, could almost imagine he was hearing the blood pump through his veins. Not a breath of wind disturbed the grass, there were no birds, nothing. The air was heavy, every breath a struggle. He sensed rather than knew that he was the only living creature in that strange, grey world.

He would walk for what seemed like hours along the path, searching for he knew not what. He never strayed into the grass, there was a malevolent energy that seemed to come from it and he had no desire to encounter it, even in his dreams. No matter how far he walked though, the scenery around him never changed. So when he at last grew weary of wandering, he would sit down in the middle of the path and search for something, anything that was different. There never was. Every blade of grass was identical to all the others, every pebble beneath his feet identical to the one next to it. He found it all equal parts fascinating and disconcerting.

And then she came. An ethereal creature the likes of which he had never seen; her skin lily white, her cheeks and lips a soft coral pink, her hair the pale gold of a new sunrise, her eyes the clear blue of a summer sky. She wore a gossamer dress of purest white that seemed to float about her as she walked lightly through the grass. She was the most beautiful, fey thing he had ever seen, yet he sensed that she was or could be dangerous. If she ever chose to harm him, she could do so, dream or no dream. And that realization frightened him.

Broken

Writing Prompt: Write about the loneliness that took you by surprise.

I saw this prompt and for some reason it really stuck with me. I haven't written anything in a long time, so I don't quite know why it struck me, but it did. As I started writing though, it took a different direction from what I was expecting so the end product doesn't really follow the prompt. It is generally based on a real event in my life but as my memory is imperfect, there is also an element of fiction. Hopefully it's not too horrible since it has been so long.

She sat by the window, staring absentmindedly into the rain. All around her was sound: music, laughter, idle chatter, the clatter of dishes, the clink of cutlery, the metallic clang of pots and pans. But in her little corner, there was silence; she was alone. There the sound seemed muffled, as though heard from a great distance. She heard it, but it didn't fully register. All around her was the sound of life and happiness and friendship, all sounds that she didn't want to hear because they reminded her of how alone she was.

Her head snapped around as she heard a familiar voice among the clamour of so many that were totally unfamiliar. There he was, just walking in with his roommate and a couple other friends. As if drawn by her gaze, he suddenly looked in her direction. Their eyes met for a brief moment and he seemed to pause, but then he turned and continued on with his friends, getting their food and choosing a booth on the opposite side of the room.

She fought back the tears that threatened to escape and turned to look back out the window. The rain was coming down harder now, mirroring the storm she felt inside. A few weeks ago she had been part of that group, laughing and joking and talking. Even then she'd felt lonely, like she didn't really belong, but at least she could fake it and at least she wasn't totally alone. Not like now. Alone in a crowded room. She scanned the room and realized that she really was the only person sitting alone. That realization was even more depressing.

Darkness Calls

The darkness reached out to her, its dark arms warm and inviting.  She took a stumbling step forward, one arm rising reluctantly from her side to reach for the comfort of those arms.  Her face was a picture torment, torn between desire and defiance.  She stood frozen for a moment, then with a wild cry she pulled away forcing herself to turn her back to the darkness.  Her whole body trembled from the effort of resisting.  How much longer could she hold out?  How much longer before she gave into the darkness's tender embrace?

~~*~~

She lay in her darkened room, clinging to the giant teddy bear that had been a constant comfort to her for the last five years.  Her tears spilled onto the warm fur of his face as her body shook with grief.  Another confrontation with her parents.  What are you going to do with your life?  You can't live here forever.  You need a plan.  You don't do anything to help out around the house.  Why do we have to remind you of everything?  The list of her failures went on and on.  She did her best to hide her pain and frustration.  Didn't they know she despised herself?  That getting through each day without falling to pieces required a herculean effort?  That she found herself so incapable of figuring out her future because she didn't see one for herself?  That she thought herself so worthless that there was no point in even trying?  At times her failure became so overwhelming that she stared at the bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand or the block of sharp knives sitting on the kitchen counter and wondered how hard it would be to end everything.  No more worries, no nothing.

But there was a spark of life in her yet that stayed her hand.  A faint flicker of hope that fueled the dream of a time when she was successful and independent, somebody worth knowing and caring about.  But as the days slowly passed and she found herself struggling and failing to change anything, that flicker of hope grew dimmer and dimmer as the darkness closed in.  It was only a matter of time before hope was extinguished and she sought the finality of the darkness.

Abandoned

This is a continuation of the short story Abandon but from the perspective of the girl.  It's a little bit darker than anything else I've ever written or posted so hopefully it's not too much.  I don't feel this is one of my stronger writings so any constructive criticism, general thoughts, or opinions would be very welcome!

The girl cried desperately, reaching out to grab him as he ran.  Terror coursed through her, lending her broken body enough strength to sprint after him for several feet before that strength abandoned her and sent her crashing to the floor.  She continued to scream after him, fear making her heedless of the danger she was in.  She tried to drag herself to her feet, but her legs refused to support her.  Still screaming and crying, she began dragging herself across the ground.  The rational part of her brain told her there was no way she could possibly catch up to him now, not walking and certainly not crawling, but desperation and fear had driven away all rational thought and she continued to toil in vain.

She screamed for the boy until her voice was no more than a whisper, crawled until her legs and hands were scraped and bleeding.  Exhaustion finally brought her to a shuddering stop.  She lay on the cold ground, heedless of the passing time, her body shaking as she sobbed brokenly.  She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, struggling to hold herself together.  Sleep eventually took her, drawing her into its calming embrace, releasing her, at least temporarily, from the living nightmare she found herself trapped in.

Abandon

This is just a short story.  Though I have some ideas to continue it, that's not something I'm going to be working on right now as I have two other full length novels in progress.  This story came to me while I was at work a week or so ago during a longer break between customers.  I have a tendency to bring a notebook with me to work in case I feel like writing and that's what happened here.  The first sentence just came to me and I ran with it and this is the finished piece for now.  So hopefully you will enjoy it or, if nothing else, find it moderately interesting.

I didn't want to leave her there alone, but what choice did I have?  With the world falling apart around us, how was I to protect her and save myself at the same time?  The unselfish answer was, of course, that I wasn't.  I should give myself up, willingly, so that she could have the chance to live.  Ah, but I was not so unselfish and even if I did give my life up and she escaped, there was no guarantee that she would survive.  In fact there was every chance that she would not.  However, if I saved myself and left her behind, I was fairly certain that I would survive, more certain by far of that outcome than the one of her surviving on her own.

So I left her, alone in those dark echoing caves, alone and injured, hunted by creatures not of this world.  I told her how to get out, but I had no hope that she would be able to outrun our hunters.  They were far too cunning and deadly for a single girl to be able to defeat.  She had nearly collapsed when I told her I was going on without her.  Falling to her knees, she pleaded with me, begged me to stay, to not abandon her.  She knew I was handing her a death sentence.  Her eyes, desperate and haunted, had filled with tears as she realized that she had no hold on me.  Those eyes, shining like the rarest of sapphires in the dim torchlight, had very nearly changed my mind.  But self-preservation is often stronger than the strongest pull to stay.  And so I gave her two of our remaining torches, flint and a piece of steel, and with a quick kiss on her forehead, I left her.