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A Wolf's Age (Prologue) posted 06 Aug 2004, 17:08 by Alric, Auditor

The attached is a short, very short, prologue to a story that I've been working on for quite some time. It is not in final edit form, so grammar/punctuation might not be all that it should be. Those of you from Wotmania, may have seen this before. But, I'd like to hear what others of you think. (Okay... attach doesn't seem to be working right now... so copy/paste) A Wolf’s Age (Prologue) At first there was nothing. Then, suddenly out of blankness came awareness, not of self, the body or a place of existence but an awareness of the void left by their absence. A thought bloomed in the emptiness of consciousness, flower-like in the form of a question –always a question comes first. [i:zvj3i0wq]Are there no answers at the end?[/i:zvj3i0wq] The question blazed; it burned his body back into existence quickening in breathless waves. He felt he struggled to wake from a dream that was no dream; he wrestled with nothingness. The flame continued to burn through his body. He hurt, but pain was good because it was something. Radiating pain cleansed his thoughts as pieces of him came back together, washed back into his mind. Slowly, his consciousness spiraled outward as it collected shards of memory and physical awareness. His body continued to burn…muscles rigid, squeezing his body as if it were in a giant’s grip…as his chest contracted defiant of the need for air. Confusion griped him also but not panic –his father wouldn’t allow panic. [i:zvj3i0wq]Courage! Laugh at fear. That is the gift of manhood.[/i:zvj3i0wq] The voice was only an echo but still ice. His body felt oddly heavy, weighted down, but yet somehow suspended; he realized his eyes were open because he only now registered the liquid-like light, stained reddish-gold, which was strangely translucent one moment and harsh the next. [i:zvj3i0wq]Am I dreaming?[/i:zvj3i0wq] he wondered again. A sharp seizure of pain rippled through his body moving from shoulders to feet and back convinced him he was very much awake. [i:zvj3i0wq]Salt?[/i:zvj3i0wq] His mouth, also open he realized, tasted strongly of the bitter stuff. Another wave of pain surged from his chest to crash at his feet and then recede. The push-pull of the pain coincided with the flickering light and a strange intermittent rushing sound. Now panic flooded in no matter what his father thought, dead as he was. His thoughts were clear but parts were still missing: his name, how he came here, and where in Hél and Thor’s hammer was he, or was this Hél? Push. Pull. The left side of his chest clenched in a searing spasm that threatened to rip him back to unconsciousness, but it also cleared his head allowing memory to seep back in…a momentary rush of air as he fell from the prow of his long-ship. [i:zvj3i0wq]I’m lying under water![/i:zvj3i0wq] The realization was sudden and thrilling. He could feel the waves push him against the rocky shore, the undertow threaten to pull him out to sea as the water surged over his face and receded. And then, he remembered himself. view post

posted 14 Aug 2004, 04:08 by steve, Peralogue

Whoa, it's strange(in a good way). Good writing, I always wanted to write a story, but can never get very far before giving up. view post

posted 16 Aug 2004, 18:08 by Alric, Auditor

Thank you. It is meant to be strange in a way, a certain sense of dislocation and oddity. Writing is a challenge for me as well. I enjoy it, but I so very rarely give it the time necessary to truly craft something. I just have to keep picking myself up from the couch, plop down at the computer and work away. Sometimes, I even get some place. view post


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