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 Post subject: Feanor's short stories... drabbles... etc.
PostPosted: February 20th, 2013, 5:44 pm 
Ringwraith
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Some short stories/random nonsense I wrote. All original... no fanfics.

Trapped

The sun rises in the distance, the first rays of light piercing the dark beyond the mountains. I stand upon a silver tower, gazing across the land. Ice and snow cover the ground, and leafless trees sway in the chill morning breeze.
Shivering, I wrap my fur cloak around me, as the wind flows through my hair.
The land stretches out as far as I can see, beautiful desolation. Frozen wilderness, my home.
I can travel anywhere in the realm, but I'm trapped. Frozen in time, as the white rivers have stopped, unmoving.
All my life I've longed for more. More than constant war, more than my mother's revenge. A peaceful life, and someone to love.
Instead I am locked in this world, the world of hatred and bitterness.
Raised to be a warrior, my skill with the blade is equalled only by that of my father's. I know a hundred ways to take a life.
Yet I would leave the sword in the armoury, if I were able. There is nothing I desire more than to be free of this cold emptiness that is revenge.
Long have we fought, grasping in vain at what cannot be achieved. We have given everything, and everything we have lost.
I flinch as a hand touches my shoulder. Glancing back, I see it is my mother. Her black hair flows freely in the breeze, and a sword is at her side. She looks to the north, her determination and fearlessness blazing in her ice-blue eyes.
"We will find him." she says quietly.
"I know." but I only know this: we will fail. We are trapped, wanderers in a harsh land. Locked in a dungeon of unending hatred, and the keys have been lost, we can not escape. In this cave of ice we will remain, until we meet our end at the hands of our enemies. On that day, the ones we despise will be the ones who set us free at last.




Part of an unnamed horror story (It's somewhat based on actual events... only... much, much more dramatic. :P) (if you don't like scary stuff, don't read. Not that I actually did a good job of terrifying people, but just to be on the safe side...)

Someone was watching her. No... something. Morgan whirled around, and saw a flash of black streak across the room.
"Sophia? Is that you?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Footsteps sounded behind her, getting louder and faster every second. She rushed to the door, her heart pounding. If only she could turn on the lights, she would be safe.
She reached up with a shaking hand and flipped the switch. The room remained dark. A shiver ran up her spine, and she dared to glance back over her shoulder.

A man stood there, a shadow, blacker than midnight. Pain shot up her back as she remembered her father wasn't home. "Mom! Sophie!" She called. The shadow rushed toward her. She fumbled for the door handle, and rushed out of the room. Her heart froze as she stepped into the hallway, and she stopped. A head fell from the ceiling and rolled toward her, stopping at her feet, and staring up at her. One of the woman's eyes was gouged out, and her flesh was torn and covered in blood. Morgan screamed as she realized it was her mother. I have to get out of here! She thought, her heart racing as she fled down the hallway.

A scream pierced the air, a terrible, ghastly scream. "Sophie!?" she shouted, afraid her sister had been murdered as well. But she continued charging at the door. She heard the footsteps behind her again and ran faster. Only a few feet more and she would be free. She reached the door and slammed against it, breaking the latch. The door flung open and she tripped, falling down the steps and landing in the mud below. She looked around, but it was pitch black. The moon was gone, and the sky was covered in storm-clouds. Lightning flashed, and fear paralyzed her. Standing in front of her was the man, the shadow, with an axe in his hand. He raised the axe, and she shrieked as the sky went dark.



Fall of the North

“Look out!” an archer shouted as a flaming ball hit one of Elye’s silver towers. People screamed and frantically rushed out of the way as it collapsed. I was knocked to the ground in the fray.
I screamed as the tower came closer. I’m going to die.
Someone grabbed my arm and helped me up. We fled as the tower crashed to the ground behind us. A cloud of dust rose as stones flew through the air.
I looked at my rescuer. A tall elf-woman in a blue cloak, her black hair streaming behind her, and a gleaming sword in her hand. The queen of the North. My mother.
“The battle is lost. The city is fallen.” she said. “We must find your father and flee.”
“Aelhaern!” Sonrel called, but her voice couldn’t be heard over the battle. We hid behind an arch as I scanned the city for father. I saw only swords clanging, spears flying through the air.
Then I spotted him, surrounded by dozens of Cearo’s men. His golden hair flying in the wind, he deflected blow after blow. His fury seemed to give him strength, but there was no way he could make it out alive. Sonrel started toward him.
“No!” I grabbed her arm. “Mother, if you go in there you will both die.”
“I will not stand by and watch those traitors slay him. If we die, we die together.” she broke away and charged at the soldiers from behind, felling several of them.
Glancing around, I saw so many of our people dead. The ground was littered with their bodies, but not many of Cearo’s soldiers had been slain.
The city is fallen. I remembered what Sonrel had said. But father will not surrender. Nor will I.
I grabbed a spear from a fallen warrior and ran after her. With a cry, I hurled it at one of father’s attackers. He moaned in pain and fell to the ground. Hearing someone approach from behind, I drew my sword and wildly spun around. A red-haired elf blocked my sword, and I saw it was Alacorya. “Ay, my lady! Let us kill Cearo’s men and not each other.” he gave a grim smile. With that we attacked the warriors surrounding the king.
He was tiring, though he fought on even harder, letting out a fierce battle cry. Drops of blood fell from Sonrel’s sword as she viciously attacked the enemy.
I made my way toward father, knowing he could not keep fighting much longer. He thrust his sword into his attacker’s chest, and ducked as an axe swung at his head. He faced his new enemy and sliced his neck.
"Aelhaern!” Sonrel cried as a spear flew toward him. Father looked toward her, then the spear pierced his chest. He struggled to breathe, but managed to kill another warrior. He fell to his knees. Sonrel screamed in rage, her magic blasting through the courtyard. The soldiers around her fell to the ground, and she rushed to father’s side.
“Father...” I whispered, suddenly exhausted. I dropped my sword, which now seemed unbearably heavy. My vision started to go black, and I almost fainted. Alacorya caught me. “Elori!” he gently shook me. “We must leave!”
Sonrel slaughtered all who surrounded her in fury, and it seemed as though she thought she could kill the whole army single-handedly. But her strength was failing.
“Sonrel! Revenge is of no use if you perish! Call the retreat!” he shouted, rushing toward her.
“I will not let the city fall into Cearo’s hands.” she spat.
“The city is already fallen, destroyed. Not many of your people yet live. Please, my lady. We must leave.”
She glanced around, noticing the ruin of her beloved city, and the bodies of her subjects littering the ground. “Retreat!” She shouted, and Alacorya echoed the order.
All who remained alive fled the city, Sonrel and I trailing behind. Father... he's dead. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I didn't care what anyone thought of me. Looking back, I saw with blurred vision Cearo standing atop one of the few towers that had not been destroyed. His lips curved into a slight grin as he watched the queen flee.
The North had fallen, and no one could defeat him now.


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 Post subject: Re: Feanor's short stories... drabbles... etc.
PostPosted: March 28th, 2013, 5:30 pm 
Ringwraith
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A random idea I had after seeing a drawing of the grim reaper and a little girl. I wasn't going to bother with it but my brain was like "YOU MUST WRITE THIS NOOOWWWW!!" and stuff. So yeah.

Uh, it could be considered gory... ish.... sort of... and it's about death after all... so just to warn you. It's not scary or anything, but it might be kind of disturbing so if you have a younger sibling reading over your shoulder (hi! *waves*) don't read this until they leave. :P

___________


Their cries never cease. Always they haunt him, the screaming, the pleas for mercy.
He fingers the long blade, shining silver dripping with scarlet. No emotion shows on that pale, ageless face, nor in his piercing grey eyes.

So many lives he has taken. The blood of thousands is on his hands. But he doesn’t care, feeling no remorse for what he has done, cutting them down like weeds. And why should I? He wonders, leaning against a gnarled oak tree, watching the silver moon effortlessly slice through the clouds, much like his own blade which carries its reflection. A cool breeze swirls around the branches above, loosing the dead leaves and escorting them to the ground. All things pass away in time, like the brown leaves on a tree, destined to fall at the appointed moment.

Sighing, he rests his instrument of death on his shoulder, and drifts through the crunching leaves in the direction of the small farmhouse on the hill. He sees the future in his mind: a young girl will be playing there, outside in the grass, up past her bedtime. A rabid wolf will attack her and tear her small body to shreds. But all it will eat is her right leg.

As he silently approaches the house, he pauses as the girl rises from her place in the doorway. She gently sets her doll on the floor, and skips through the long grass toward the woods, gazing up in wonder at the night sky, as the moon emerges from a dark cloud in victory. She smiles at the moon, her golden hair gently blowing across her face. So young... so innocent and trusting. She doesn’t know she is going to die, nor could she imagine the pain that will soon take hold.
A pang of sorrow penetrates his blackened heart, but he shoves it away. I have always been there to claim them, it is my duty. And I will never cease harvesting their souls, until the end of eternity.

He stares intently at the girl, his expression stern and unyielding. She lays down in the grass, closing her eyes and inhaling the cold night air.
He and the wolf creep closer as one, both unseen by the eyes of the living. Only the tips of the wolf’s ears are visible through the grass, but he knows its exact position, its intent, its every movement.

The wolf growls, leaping toward the girl, froth covering its lips. The girl screams, only now realizing her peril. She flees toward the house, but it is too far. The wind picks up, deafening all ears to her cries. The wolf catches up to her and clamps down on her leg, tearing the flesh apart, savoring the taste of fresh blood.
She shrieks in fear and agony, and her eyes shine with pure terror as she calls for her mother.

The dark figure lowers his scythe as the wolf rips at her stomach. He slashes the blade through her chest, leaving no mark, but painfully cutting her soul from her body. The wolf tears apart her dead body, then runs off into the woods. Its time ends in only a few hours.

The girl turns toward him, her new form as full of light as his is filled with darkness. He expects her to hate him, to cry, to demand he explain why her life has been stolen from her.
But she simply whispers, “Thank you.”.
Reaching out with a pure white hand, she gently touches his cold, sunken cheek. As she gazes into his deathly eyes, a single, shining tear cascades down her face. “I am so, so sorry.” she says, her voice soft and knowing. Panicking, he hurriedly guides her spirit to the long road in the sky. No one had looked into his mind before, and no one had ever dared to touch him.

He walks toward the woods, and stops before entering. Grasping his blade with both hands, he snaps it in two, and throws the broken pieces to the ground.
As his lingering form fades into dust, his pale lips form a slight smile. His time may be ending, but he doesn’t care.

For the little girl had shown him something he had never known in his entire existence- what it’s like to be loved.


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 Post subject: Re: Feanor's short stories... drabbles... etc.
PostPosted: March 28th, 2013, 6:39 pm 
Ringwraith
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I like Trapped. Well written, and way better than I could have done. Keep writing!

_________________
call me Fin, Ara, Aralas, Tulisse, or Tuli.
~A mahta tenna qualme! Auta i lome, aure entuluva!~
was known as aralas_29.


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 Post subject: Re: Feanor's short stories... drabbles... etc.
PostPosted: April 2nd, 2013, 11:51 am 
Ringwraith
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Thank you. :)


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