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Cuni
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 Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 5:14 pm Post subject: Clive Barker's Undying |
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I'm actually writing something else right now, but I played this game the other day (Clive Barker's Undying) and it has such a good plot that I decided to write something on it in my spare time... so this is me, spare-timing.
-____________________________________________________________________-
Clive Barker's Undying
Introduction
Western Ireland, 1923
Patrick Galloway relaxed in his chair and looked at the bright half moon above his head. The boat drifted in the river without any noise, and only crickets played the background music of the night. For all Patrick could hear, the place might as well be deserted for a thousand years.
Not that the Covenant Estate was ever a noisy, not to mention cheerful, place. The Covenants had always been a spot in the somewhat righteous English society. Yes, even for that standards the family was considered to be 'dark' and 'not people you would want mess with'. Not even their suspected fortune would force important names of London to mingle with Joseph Covenant and his 'poor dear' wife, Evaline, who, it was said, regretted marrying such a 'loony'.
It was Patrick's first time in the Estate, and he wasn't exactly liking it. Had it not been for Patrick's long time experience in what the scientists liked to call 'metaphysic anomalies', or, as Patrick himself said, 'scary stuff', he would be scared. The silence in the grounds was somehow alive. Patrick would be very much relieved to hear a human voice, instead of the whispers that he couldn't convince himself were inside his head. Jeremiah's letter was not exactly explanatory, it just said that there was a 'most urgent matter' to be deal with in the manor, and therefore he requested Galloway's help, being that he, Jeremiah Covenant, was to weak to take action.
Patrick knew the source of Jeremiah's weakness: He had cancer. Not seeing him after the Great War, and being exiled from Ireland after it finished, Patrick was somewhat anxious towards the appearance of his friend, being consumed by the disease. But Jeremiah had saved Patrick's life during the war, and it was his duty to help him.
The boat finally got to the deck, in the opposite side of the manor. Galloway said good by to the small boy who had been driving and started walking through the dirt road, which made a curve to the left and then took straight to the mansion's door. While his boots made a crashing sound in the dirt, Patrick searched his pocket for the Gel'Ziabar Stone. He had never found any factual use for it since he go it, killing the Trsanti pirate who had it, in the war. That didn't mean that the stone didn't help at all; Patrick could swear that it glowed sometimes, when he missed a detail or overlooked something important. Nothing he was able to prove, of course, but not only that, the stone also released a small shock wave when pressed. He felt this was a very proper time to keep the stone close at hand, so he hanged it by it's golden chain around his neck, letting it rest in his chest.
It was something around five minutes until Patrick reached the Covenant Manor's main gate, which was closed.
- Hello! - he yelled. - It's Patrick Galloway!
A water drop touched his neck, and Patrick looked to the sky, where the moon was now covered by a cloud, and a storm was forming rapidly. He felt the strangest sensation, as if the Estate didn't want him there.
After two or three more yells, a gardener, as evidenced by his clothes and the long scissor he was clutching in his left hand, appeared, covering his head from the rain.
- I'm sorry, mister Galloway, but we are getting short on staff, and although we heard you shouting, not many of us were available - the men explained while opening the gate with a rather large key.
The gate swung inwards, and Patrick run after the gardener, stopping only when covered by the roof by the main entrance. The gardener knocked the enormous wooden door, and they stood still, waiting for someone to open.
As they waited, Patrick looked at the front garden. It must have been beautiful long ago, but with only one gardener to look after it, it looked old, and three or more rats wandered in the main path. The entrance was similarly unkempt, but nonetheless imposing. While admiring one of the lit lamps, his Gel'Ziabar stone glowed, and the whisper that had been chasing him redoubled efforts. Were this some other time, Patrick would have ignored such omens, but he was feeling uneasier by the hour, so he gave up and used scrying, a vision furthering spell he had learned he possessed from an Orient seer, while traveling after the war and his exile. It allowed him to see in the dark, and also things invisible for the the present time. Such visions referred to the past and the future, and the ability had come in handy sometimes. What he saw gave him chills, and he stopped the spell at once. When had a men died being hung in that lamp?
-____________________________________________________________________-
That's it for now. Did you like it? If so, I may continue writing... Now, off to my real novel. |
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"They are like scarecrows form a watermellon plantation. Do not fear them, for they can't do you any harm, and no good either".
Last edited by Cuni on Wed Nov 28, 2007 2:25 pm; edited 11 times in total |
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Cuni
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| Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2007 1:07 pm Post subject: Part Two |
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Ok, don't know if you liked it, but here goes part Two...
-____________________________________________________________________-
Patrick looked at the gardener, horrified at the vision he just had, but the man, obviously not being able to see what Patrick saw, stood still and rather expressionless, waiting for someone to open the door.
At last, the door opened, cracking and screeching. A maid was on the other side.
- Thank you, Fred. You can go back to your gardening. It's no use tending to the lawn with this weather, but see what you can do in the greenhouse, would you? Miss Bethany would appreciate it.
Bethany? That name rung a bell in Patrick's head. He had no time to relate it to someone, though, as the maid addressed to him.
- Mister Galloway. Follow me if you please.
The maid took him into the house, shutting the door as he entered.
- I thank the Lord for your arrival, mister Galloway. Master Jeremiah was beginning to think the letter hadn't arrived. Took your time, didn't you?
- I didn't receive it immediately. Only after six months since it arrived did I found it, while I was returning to... home.
- Oh, that explains a lot. Well, we shouldn't keep Master Jeremiah waiting anymore than he already has.
- Of course not, the letter said it was most urgent. Lead the way.
The maid started walking, and they got to a big hall, containing a huge staircase, that split into two after a handful of steps, leading to the two different wings of the house.
- I'm sorry for the dust and cobwebs. There's just not much of a staff to clean this enormous house.
Patrick was, nonetheless, impressed. If in full potential, this house would be the greatest in Ireland alone, and one of the best in the United Kingdom. But, then again, it was dirty and old, and Patrick couldn't shake off the bad feeling he'd been having ever since the boat crossed the invisible line that secluded the Covenant Estate from the rest of the world. The whispers were getting stronger, and sometimes he could catch some words. Not that they made sense at all: "Lizbeth", "Howlers" and "Standing Stones" were just a few of them. Was the house trying to talk to him?
- Here we are, Mister Galloway - said the maid, stopping at the East Wing's main entrance. - I hope you and Master Jeremiah can join forces now. This house needs a savior.
Patrick looked at her go, and he heard her whisper "This family has had so much tragedy...". Finally alone in the manor, he could feel fear fighting to take over his whole body. He fought bravely, though, and reached for the main door's handle, opening it. The East Wing wasn't in full view, the short corridor made a sharp turn right and nothing but a vintage sofa in the corner could be seen. Patrick took a deep breath and entered.
As soon as he made the turn by the sofa, all went blank. He searched for the Gel'Ziabar Stone amidst his clothes. He didn't have time to get it, though, and everything went back to normal. The only difference was that a ghost was staring at him and laughing. It was a young man, rather pale, with a bright red hair and a blue suit. He didn't laugh for long, instead flying away and disappearing at the new turn, this time to the left.
Patrick couldn't believe his eyes. Why was he seeing ghosts? He wasn't using scrye... Breathing heavily, he made the turn, only to find the ghost was still there. Everything went blank again, and when the light came back, the young man was gone. He was now an undetermined mass, as if the man had his skin ripped off. The only thing that resembled a human was the red hair, still in top of the horrid figure. Hooks dangled from it's hands, and he emitted grave mutterings. Slow, clunky, he approached Patrick. |
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"They are like scarecrows form a watermellon plantation. Do not fear them, for they can't do you any harm, and no good either".
Last edited by Cuni on Mon Aug 06, 2007 7:16 pm; edited 4 times in total |
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October Girl
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| Posted: Wed Aug 01, 2007 3:25 am Post subject: keep on writing |
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I liked it, think it was creative. I have one word and that word happenes to be "Wow". Good job. Keep it up.
-Max |
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I am a 15 mother of Ben and Bailee...
CAUTION! Broken heart up ahead |
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| Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 9:50 pm Post subject: Part Three! |
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So, here it is, part three. Hope you like it...
-_____________________________________________________________________-
Patrick fought against terror while searching for the Gel'Ziabar Stone. He wasn't sure the creature was a ghost anymore, and the fact that those hooks could tear his flesh apart did nothing to improve the situation. His hands were trembling badly, and without being able to concentrate on searching for it, the Stone was nowhere to be found among his clothes. His pistol, however, was.
Patrick took out he gun and pointed it at the creature. It seemed to realize the danger of the situation, for all that it did was throw a slash with one of its hooks and then disappear. Patrick was relieved for not having fired, as he knew it would scare the manor's inhabitants. He proceeded to Jeremiah's room, trying to stabilize his breathing and taking out the Gel'Ziabar Stone. He didn't want to get caught off guard by what ever creature roamed the mansion.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to Jeremiah's room. He wasn't surprised to see that it was heavily dark; a large part of the house was too, with the exception of corridors. That fact was explained by Jeremiahs greeting:
- My dear Patrick, friend. I'm sorry I can't greet you with a bit more light, but you see, we've lost energy several times this recent months, so we keep it on only where necessary. As you can see, I serve meself with light from the fireplace.
Indeed, Jeremiah was seating in a large antique chair, in front of a fireplace. He did, as Patrick feared, looked some pounds lighter and a few shades paler. He was smoking from a pipe, a habit Patrick did not know he had, and his position indicated he was resting, following a doctor's recommendation.
- Jeremiah, how very sorry I am to find you in this condition. I see my exile has kept me away from more than I thought it would.
- You know it's not your fault, Patrick. I never blamed you.
- Thank you. But let's not deviate form what brought me here, should we?
- Of course. You see, a most unsettling situation it is. And it started a quarter of a decade ago.
Jeremiah, making a great effort, raised from his chair. Patrick hurried to help him.
- Let me present you the Covenant siblings - the eldest Covenant said, pointing at a painting on the right wall. The light coming from the fire was just enough for Patrick to make out the subjects in the portrait. One he recognized immediately: Sitting in a chair very much like the one he was using a moment ago, Jeremiah was placed in the center of the picture. Around him where other four: a man and a woman to the right, an another pair to the left. Jeremiah introduced them. He pointed at the first person, from left to right, a young woman.
- Lizbeth, - Jeremiah said - the youngest. Mama died when she was born.
Patrick had seen her before, in a picture Jeremiah showed him, during the war. He had been startled by her beauty. Her long, blond hair, tied at the back, beautiful brown eyes, and a fine dress were all portrayed in the painting.
- Wasting disease took her. That - Jeremiah said, pointing to the men besides Lizbeth - is Ambrose.
That one, Patrick did not know. He had also long hair, but it was black and untied. He looked daring.
- He was sort of a black sheep in this family, or at least - Jeremiah started laughing - the blackest. He left the family to become a Trsanti pirate, the same we fought for years. Came back not long ago to claim his share of the family fortune. But, since the constables came to our door as soon as they heard he was here, he mus have felt cornered, for he jumped from a nearby cliff.
- That's me, no need mentioning, and the cause of my death will be cancer. Let's go to Bethany.
Bethany! That's were he heard the name before, but he couldn't remember. Jeremiah must have mentioned her some time during the war.
- She died recently. Liked all sorts of strange powers; she longed to be a witch. Clung into every arcane arts master she could find, only to leave them once she got what she wanted. That kind of dangerous relationships it's what took her, I'm afraid, but mister Keisinger won't give any explanations.
Keisinger! What had that men to do with the Covenants? Patrick wanted to ask for the men who stole his life, but considered it improper. He would wait.
- And that - Jeremiah finished, pointing at the last man in the painting - is Aaron, Bethany's twin.
Patrick almost jumped. That was the ghost he saw! He got everything: The red hair, the blue suit... even the pale skin was present.
- He was the family artist. Talented, but somewhat scaring paintings due to their twisted nature. The house's full of them. He's the only one who's not officially dead. He's been away for so long, though, and owed many to so many people, it's almost sure he's not among the living.
- Indeed, he's not - replied Patrick - for I saw his ghost outside your room, Jeremiah.
The man got back to his chair.
- Yeah, I expected you to have some sort of encounter before meeting me. Would you look out the window, Patrick?
The two phrases did not made sense put together. But, then again, not much did, so Patrick walked towards the window and opened the curtains, just a s a lighting stroke, so the room was briefly filled with light. He took a brief look at the Estate, and then turned to Jeremiah.
- What is it that you want me to see?
- Look at the island.
Indeed, there was an island. Hard to spot, but there it was. Patrick thought he saw something. Something which very much resembled four fingers coming out of the ground.
- What's intriguing you are the Standing Stones. They were buried since God knows when, and they were only unearthed by my father when he reopened this house, in 1880. They are responsible for the horror that's taken over the house.
Patrick's silence was a clear enough sign that he didn't know where to start asking, so Jeremiah continued.
- When we were young, my brothers and I, we performed a ritual there. It was just a child's game, I found a book in our library that said how to do it, and so we did. We got so scared after we finished the enchantment... the elements seemed enraged. The water boiled, the wind howled, but that stopped soon enough, minutes after. I'm afraid the long lasting consequences of our mistake are present until today, and I think the curse we've unleashed upon this house won't stop until it takes us all. And I'm the only one left. It seems my siblings haven't remained dead after all.
- But what proof... how can you confirm this?
- Confirm? Patrick, you said yourself you saw the ghost of my brother! This is somewhat of a new thing, though, for the staff claims is Lizbeth...
He was interrupted. Someone, a woman, screamed downstairs, and this sound was followed by some growls. Patrick drew his gun out.
- Lock the door behind me. It seems someone's in trouble. |
_________________
"They are like scarecrows form a watermellon plantation. Do not fear them, for they can't do you any harm, and no good either".
Last edited by Cuni on Mon Aug 06, 2007 7:18 pm; edited 2 times in total |
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| Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 6:10 pm Post subject: WRITE!!!!!!! |
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WHAT?!!!!!!! You're just going to leave me hanging?!!!!! What are you freaking waiting for?!!! Write man, write!!!!!!!! There has to be more..... c'mon hurry up! I'm not going to wait all day!
-Max |
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Cuni
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| Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 2:48 am Post subject: Part Four... |
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Ok,since you're so caught up, here it goes, part four... get ready.
-_____________________________________________________________________-
Patrick took one step at a time, his pistol drawn and his heart racing. The stairs were huge, and he felt that if he didn't hurry, chances were nothing was left of the screamer by the time he arrived.
Most doors in the main hall were locked, but one, very conveniently, was not only accessible, but open, as if inviting Patrick in. He sighed. What choice did he have?
He got to a small corridor. The only unlocked door led him to a sitting room. And then, harder than ever, the whispers started. Staring at one of the walls, he saw a painting of Lizbeth and Ambrose. He cast scrye, and saw them horribly deformed: Ambrose head was skull-like, and Lizbeth had grown, blood-filled fangs.
The situation got disturbing by the minute. Daring to continue forward, Patrick found a small table, and above it , his own face looked back in a mirror. At first, only his brown eyes and curly neck-sized maroon hair, as the rest of his face and body, appeared in the mirror. Seconds later, Aaron's ghost was standing behind him, laughing. He turned immediately, only to find himself alone int he room. Nothing seemed right. He felt he was being prepared for horrors to come.
Horrors that were, in fact, as close as a room away. Once Patrick entered a small, internal garden, he saw Lizbeth smiling and sending him a kiss, right next to maid's corpse. Patrick shot Lizbeth, who seemed to laugh at his efforts, and jumped out of sight. To take her place, an infernal beat appeared. It looked like a monkey in the body structure, but much more like a reptile in appearance. Walking on all fours, it had very long, sharp claws, and just as Lizbeth, scary fangs. It jumped towards Patrick, who had the good sense of putting a bullet in it's head. The creature, although dead, did not stop it's attack, for more of them appeared, attracted by the noise. Patrick fought his way out of the garden and into a small hall, which had a long, circular staircase.
Climbing up, he heard Jeremiah screaming. When he opened the main door in the upper floor, he realized he was in the East Wing again, and Jeremiah's room was meters away. He also saw one of the creatures scratching the door, trying to open it by force. Patrick's gun, though, did not give it the chance. What bothered Patrick the most was that the creature's body didn't seem to stay in his world once killed, for all of them vanished. That would make determining what exactly were they a lot harder.
He opened the door to Jeremiah's room and entered, finding him covered behind his chair.
- Are they gone? I could hear them trying to reach me.
- I killed them, Jeremiah. Would you care to explain exactly what are they?
- Oh, I call them Howlers. They are Lizbeth's minions, the little demonic beasts. She was so fond of dogs while she lived, I suppose she carried the passion to the grave... and beyond. They have killed much of my staff. I'm quite sure that if this house was closer to any town, the servants would leave at once.
- I saw your brother's ghost. And your sister.
- Lizbeth's becoming sort of a regular guest at the manor. I don't really know why her, maybe because she died first. Or because... I suppose you saw a painting of her and Ambrose?
- As a matter of fact, yes I did.
- Well, they share a bond, such us the one Bethany and Aaron shared for being twins. She caused my mother's death, and Ambrose, I'm quite certain, caused my father's. I don't know, but I have a feeling it has to do with that.
- What ever it is, you should move, Jeremiah. I hate to admit it, but this place is not safe anymore.
A strange glitter took over Jeremiah's eyes.
- You wouldn't understand, Patrick. It's family... it's my family. I can't run. I must fight and pay for my mistakes. Or, well, send the ones who can do it for me.
- I appreciate your trust. May I leave now? I really need some rest now.
- But of course. I shall call a maid. You'll sleep nearby.
- Thank you.
Patrick walked to the door.
- Oh, and Patrick...
- Yes?
- Send them all back to hell. |
_________________
"They are like scarecrows form a watermellon plantation. Do not fear them, for they can't do you any harm, and no good either".
Last edited by Cuni on Mon Aug 06, 2007 7:21 pm; edited 2 times in total |
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Cuni
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| Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 11:46 pm Post subject: Part Five |
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So, this is it. Part five, and the end of the Introduction. Enjoy!
-_____________________________________________________________________-
Patrick finished writing in his diary and closed it, fastening the small leather belt that secured the book, keeping it from opening in the heat of battle, as Patrick always took his dairy with him, wherever he went. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the chair he had been using while writing, keeping only his shirt on. In his bedside table, he put the diary, and, daring to take it off, he hung the Gel'Ziabar stone in one of the bed's pillars.
As he laid down, he stopped and remembered the latest encounter with monsters; taking a second guess, he pulled the pistol out of its container and put it under the bed's pillow. He wouldn't be surprised by any otherworldly creature that night.
He turned of the oil lamp in the small table besides him and laid down facing the ceiling, his eyes wide open, getting used to the darkness. The faint light that came through the window produced strange shadows in the wall. He wasn't scared; rather, he amused himself guessing what object they were reproducing. As he fell asleep, the shadows started to grow, the shapes becoming more and more disturbing. Jeremiah's voice rung in his head, repeating "Send them all back to hell".
He found himself walking through Ireland's streets, back from the war. Citizens busy in their day-by-day activities didn't bother looking at him. Only the Covenant siblings, seated in bar table, glared at him with anger, even Jeremiah seemed hostile. Paying them no attention, he continued towards his house, sure to meet again with Gwendolyn and resume the happy life he'd left for the war. But, as he walked, the sky turned gray, and people started disappearing, leaving only the Covenants to fill the scenario. His house, which had been a few blocks away, was now in front of him. And at the door, no one else than Otto Keisinger, laughing at him with despise. Gwendolyn's screams came form inside the house, and Patrick's heart shrunk: Not again! The siblings had raised from the table and were approaching, Lizbeth now leading a pack of Howlers. There seemed to be no way out. And as a Howler jumped at him, jaw open and claws ready, Patrick awoke. Someone was knocking at the door.
His hand slipping beneath the pillow, Patrick said, half shouting:
- Who's there?
No one answered. The gun, he could feel, was fully loaded.
- Who is it?
Again, there was no answer. Only a faint cry came out the door.
- Answer, God damn it! Who's out there?
This violent request seemed to make the knocker react.
- I'm so sorry, mister Galloway. It's a maid. Could I come in?
- It's locked. I'll open it for you.
Patrick stood up, going the chair, the gun still in hand. He grabbed his pants and put them on, cursing the maid. Why would she bother him in the middle of the night? When he finished dressing, he unlocked the door and peered outside. Indeed, a maid was standing still, crying softly and trembling.
- What is it?
- Please, mister Galloway, can I come in?
Patrick was suspicious. What could the maid want? He decided to find out, but determined to be firm if the situation got improper. That wasn't the reason he'd come this way.
- Of course - he said, opening the door and standing aside.
She stepped in, looking at the room she surely had cleaned more times that she could count. She sat in the chair, hands on her knees, and not daring to look up.
- What is it? What's wrong?
- Oh, the usual. Lizbeth's been terrifying the lot of us servants. I was more sensitive this time, I suppose. You saw a maid was killed today, didn't you? And you killed those horrible beasts... I guessed I would be safer here.
Patrick was intrigued. How could the people in this house live with such a curse? Especially if they were being killed by it?
- Is that normal? I mean, do you often see this ghosts?
- They are no ghosts, sir. They are quite real. And yes, we see them all right. More than we'd want to.
- And how long has this been happening?
- Well, I'm somewhat of a new maid. I've worked here for a year, started before we were secluded in such a horrible way. My aunt is the old one, she's been here since master Jeremiah was born. She's known the Covenants, been like a mother to them. 'Suppose that relationship got stronger when poor Evaline died. And she says that although there was a time ghosts didn't roam the Estate, the family's been cursed eversince they came here, way back in the family tree.
- Cursed? Cursed how, exactly?
- I don't know... those terrible Stones seem to bring misfortune to the place. The Covenant's father, Joseph, was obsessed with them..
- Really? That's something I hadn't heard. Tell me more.
- Well, this is all strictly gossip, but my aunt says he neglected his husband duties to Evaline to spend hours in the library, looking for a book his ancestors may have leaved, something to explain the Stones he himself unearthed when he reopened the Estate. His obsession came to be his doom, it seems, for when Evaline died, he was consumed by them. Only his children, specially Lizbeth, who was a constant reminder of the wife he'd lost and uncared, could get him out of the twisted world he'd put himself into.
- And how he died?
- Again, just gossip, but the staff says that although Ambrose claimed to have found the body collapsed in the pool table, the blow that the corpse had in it's forehead suggested a blow, most probably with a pool club. Ambrose, says my aunt, was so violent... he even killed a men when at a carnival. And he was just a child.
- I see. And after killing Joseph, he left? To join the Trsanti?
- Yes, he did. Seemed to fit him; he only came back months ago.
- And committed suicide, I know. What can you tell me about the incantation performed at the Standing Stones island?
- I know nothing of an incantation. Why do you ask?
Patrick decided not to comment on it. He would keep Jeremiah's secrets to himself.
- Never mind. Are you still scared?
- No, sir. I guess all this talking has calmed me down.
Patrick couldn't see how, as the subject had been most macabre. Maybe the maid, being used to it, found it common.
- Well, then, go back to you quarters.
The maid raised. As she was stepping out the door, she cast a look on Patrick, and gave a timid smile. Patrick closed the door, paying no mind. Maids... how low could one go?
Fortunately, nightmares didn't bother him again. Maybe, just maybe, the curse was giving him a rest, for what was coming would most surely beat Patrick up.
-_____________________________________________________________________-
Ok, that's it. End of the Introduction. From tomorrow, I'll start with Lizbeth, another five chapter. Leave a review! |
_________________
"They are like scarecrows form a watermellon plantation. Do not fear them, for they can't do you any harm, and no good either".
Last edited by Cuni on Mon Aug 06, 2007 7:24 pm; edited 1 time in total |
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Leja
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| Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2007 2:15 pm Post subject: |
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First off, you should try to put a space in between paragraphs; it makes it much easier to read. Yes, it might require some extra work, but it's defineately worth it ^_^
| Part One wrote: |
It was something around five minutes until Patrick reached the Covenant Manor's main gate, which was closed.
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Watch out for sentences like these. You can say something like "the Covenant Manor's closed main gate" and it will be simpler and read easier.
Additionally, format wise, I think the way you designate quotes -with people speaking like this- is a little confusing because I've only ever seen that in Spanish documents before <<actually, they quote like this, so a little different>> but maybe that's how you were taught. Just warning you that "quoting/dialogue like this" is more common
| Part Five wrote: |
| Patrick was intrigued. How could the people in this house live with such a curse? Especially if they were being killed by it? |
I don't like these streams of thought. It takes you out of the action to explain why things are happening when the reader should be able to infer it from the surrounding story.
Right now, I can't make it through the whole thing; it's very long. But I'll come back another day to finish ^.^ |
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Cuni
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| Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2007 4:24 pm Post subject: About the corrections... |
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Amelia, thanks! Let me clear somethings out...
About the spaces: I actually don't like those spaces, I would like to leave a space between the start of the line and the first letter, but this posting system ignores them everytime. So I guess my only choice is to space the paragraphs just like you said. I'll try.
About the quotes: In Spanish, people dont quote like that (<<>>), they use the '' things. But they use the - for dialogue. In english, just the '' for both. I actually like the Spanish system, and I suppose it doesn't make the text hard to read, does it?
And with the "streams of thought", I found them necessary to hint somethings that will shock the reader much further in. They are rare, though, so don't worry! 
Again, thanks for your correction. Stay tuned! And, oh, you didn't say if you liked the story... |
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Leja
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| Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2007 4:33 pm Post subject: |
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Sorry, I use quote/dialogue as synnonyms, which I probably shouldn't. :shrug:
Honestly, I couldn't get through very much of it. Because of the lack of spacing, my eyes wandered on the page and as hard as I tried, I couldn't read enough to distinguish what was happening. |
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Cuni
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| Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2007 7:11 pm Post subject: |
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Don't be sorry, we all have our different ways of writing.. hehe.
I'll begin spacing, then, if it makes the text hard to read... Don't forget to check it once it's done. |
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| Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2007 1:04 am Post subject: Lizbeth, Part One |
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So, here I start the Lizbeth part of Patrick's journey through the Covenant world. Hope you like it.
-_____________________________________________________________________-
Lizbeth, the fairest of them all
"In her birth, there was also death" - From the journal of Jeremiah Covenant, 2 February 1919
Evaline pushed harder and harder everytime, but her daughter didn't seem to desire getting out of her mother's body. Evaline felt weak, as it had been almost two hours of labor by then that she had endured. She was used to the process, as she'd given birth to four children already, and two at the same time, Bethany and Aaron. But this child was proving much more difficult.
It was the beginning of February, the forth day to be exact, and the sun was high in the sky. Not that Evaline or any of the people present in the room could catch a glimpse of it. It wasn't because of the blindfolds, which were wide open, or because of dirty windows: The sun just didn't shine in the Covenant Estate. Never had, said Joseph, who had been told so by his father, all the way to the first Covenant to inhabit the place, in 1691. The only time she got to see the sun was when it died, at dusk, casting rose-colored rays on the gardens and inside her beloved greenhouse. And, she thought, it seemed fitting that clouds allways covered the light that the star emitted, for his husband's house was such a dreary place.
She had moved almost immediately after she married Joseph. Her parents were so hurt seeing her "sparrow", as they liked to call her, leave with a man so, so unpromising. She had calmed them, though, by telling them "I'm sure I'll be happy". For it was her happiness, she knew, that worried them the most. Such prediction slowly turned into a faint hope, only replaced, at the time Ambrose was born, by a sad acceptation of her fate: To be a loon's wife. Her beloved ones, and even the overheard society, to whom she'd never listened, were proven right. Her husband, so loving and caring on the first months, had found a mistress she could not compete with, not even on the marital bed. Eversince he unearthed them, the Standing Stones had taken her husband from her and didn't allowed him to return. She missed him, but she knew she could not have him back, so she retreated to her greenhouse, where her adored plants retributted the love she gave them. It was so pathetic.
At last, she felt the baby between her legs. It was coming out. The midwife's screams of joy filled the room, and, behind the door, she could feel Bethany's jumping up and down, saying "She's coming, she's coming" Daddy" Listen, she's coming". Joseph, in one of his rare moments of being a father, laughed. Evaline drew air to her lungs and pushed one last time, making a tremendous effort that got the girl out and into the world. Her cries were music to Evaline. The rest of the Covenants invaded the room, all screaming and hugging, int turns, a pale breathless Evaline who tried her best to smile. When the blood-cleaned baby was delivered to her arms, she christened her: "Lizbeth", she said, in what would be her final word. The sun, at last, shone bright, coming through the windows and taking Evaline away from a life she neither desired or deserved. And, as suddenly as it had cleared, the sky closed again in an thick mist which would never open again. Evaline was gone.
* * *
Patrick woke, dizzy. He wasn't sure exactly were he was, he just knew he wanted to leave. As he put his clothes on, he looked outside the window, now mysteriously open, probably by the room's butler. The field outside was filled with grass, no stones or trees. What a peculiar side of the Estate that must have been, he thought, not looking like a hundred years old.
Breakfast, which he had with Jeremiah, was most quiet. None of them talked a lot, for they felt everything was said. Not even the prospective of remembering old war time stories pushed towards conversation. They were not happy memories. When he finished, Patrick said:
- I will be in the library, Jeremiah. Don't hesitate to look for me if you need me.
- But...
- Will I proceed in my investigation? Yes. And that's what I'll be doing in the library.
- Good. Well, then, off you go.
The time spent in the library was, indeed, very productive for Patrick. He learned that, inside his body, an energy called Mana. That was, in fact, what allowed him to scrye. Focusing that mana, he could produce spells. He learned a new one: The ectoplasm spell, which allowed to throw balls of energy which could cause some damage on whatever, or whoever, got hit by it. After throwing a book of two out of their bookcase, he was convinced of the spell's power. Before he proceeding to more objective matters, such as information on the Covenants, he was interrupted. By the same maid, actually, who had woken him last night.
- Mister Galloway? Am I interrupting something?
The strong desire to say "Yes" and throw an ectoplasm ball at her proved no match to Patrick's will.
- No. What is it?
- There's something I... well, all of us think you should see.
Patrick didn't ask "What?" because, actually, he feared the answer. He just followed the maid up to a room in the West Wing. Everything was turned or ripped, as if it had been robbed. Savaged, though, was probably closer to the truth.
- After I left your quarters yesterday - she couldn't help blushing when she said that - it seems some disturbance was heard in this area. My aunt, over there, wants to talk to you.
The girl's aunt proved to be much more likable than her niece. Her name was Gulianne, and she was a plump, old lady.
- You see, mister Galloway, the reason we called you here is because we couldn't draw many conclusions out from this scene.
After a small round around the quarters, he found it obvious: This was the work of Howlers. Why would they rip Lizbeth's room up escaped him, though. Maybe knowing her better...
- Gulianne, who's the last person to see Lizbeth.
- Fred, the gardener. He's the one who sees her most often. He claims to know where her lair is... A bit twisted, if you ask me, to say such things.
"Off to find Fred, then", thought Patrick. It just seemed right. The Gel'Ziabar Stone shining in his chest seemed to indicate he was on the right track. But, as he left the room, the motives for the stone's glow were questioned: In a second, when none looked at it, a big painting of Lizbeth, surrounded by her hounds, was transformed: A fierce corpse commanded a horde of Howlers. |
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| Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 8:03 pm Post subject: I'm so sorry |
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I'm very sorry to announce this fanfic is going to be put on hold. Indefinitely. I'm very busy with mi novel right now, four chapters away from the end, and can't really spare more time. I haven't got time to play the game, and being so, I can't write a consistent story. I don't mean to say I'll never continue, but not right now. If anything changes, I'll post it immediately.
Sorry. |
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