Lost Hope [1]

The Holy Grail pub was smoky and dim.
A few hunched figures sat at small round tables, alone. Above the fireplace, a sword was hung. It rested in shadow. Behind the bar, a brooding giant stood, bulging muscles covered by a blue apron. He was washing a pint glass. The fire was small but fierce, heat pulsed through the room.
They waited.

--

I wait in the dark. Smoky lanterns light the station; skeleton tracks roll out into the distance. This pace is old. I like the dark though – with it, definition is lost – like the mist, curling around poles, teasing at reality and harkening back to another time. Sometimes, I think I can see people in it, other places and strange shapes but it’s always momentary, just a dream.
He should be here soon.
I flick a glance at my watch, stamp my feet. It’s been so long, I don’t know what to think or how to be anything other than uncertain. A train screams past, its appearance startling and sudden – the black behemoth surges through, clattering over the bones of the station, buffeting my ears. Cold wind rifles through my hair, running insensitive hands over my body as shivers cascade down my back. I close my eyes, breathe in. The train vanishes into the distance. In the vacuum left behind, I feel empty.
A raven flutters passed, alighting on a bin. “Lancelot’s late,” the raven says.
“He’ll be here,” I reply. “And when he is, you won’t be.” The raven cocks a wing, irked. It is particularly large, a ragged patch of night, savagely beaked and clawed.
“Don’t stare,” the raven says. “It’s rude.”
It’s hard not to though and even now, so long since it all began, there’s some sense of disbelief. I’m not worried about Lance, I know if anything, it’s his sense of drama that’s keeping him away. He was never one to waste a good entrance. I smile at the thought, the memories. A roar sounds in the distance, distorted by mist and time – I turn, staring, but of course see nothing and it fades, leaving only a bittersweet echo of frustration and rage.
“The Other Side grows restless,” was all the raven would say.
I simply nod. There is a metallic hiss and I whip around in surprise; distracted, I hadn’t noticed the train creep into the station. Mist billows everywhere or is it steam? At this place, at this time, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything. My eyes quickly scan the platform, through the opening doors, but I see no one. After a moment, the doors slide shut and the train rumbles away. I stare after it in confusion. I stand for a moment longer, until the nape of my neck begins to tingle and I know his eyes are on me. I glance to my right and sure enough, the raven is gone. All I have to do is turn around. And yet, that suddenly seems like an awful much.
My hands shake and I wonder why he says nothing. Maybe there’s nothing to be said. How do I face him after all these years?

-

Arthur’s steely gray gaze surveyed the chaos below. His warhorse snorted, shaking its head. All along the ridge, other knights held their horses under tight control as the beasts became increasingly nervous. It was the rising smell of blood that affected them, as much as it was the din of battle. Armies raged across the fields, the battle lines long since crossed and forgotten; standards dipped and swayed, colour-coded messages read and dismissed. His face was stone, though his heart burned within. Somewhere in that hell, one man fought with Arthur’s crown on his head. A necessary deception that Lancelot insisted on taking upon himself, no matter the risk; his eyes had burned with zeal and Arthur found he couldn’t say no. The advantages were too many. Besides, he was the only man whose prowess matched Arthur’s convincingly enough to have Mordred commit his forces.
The lines reformed as the melee became an orderly retreat. The day was overcast, but heat still beat down on the men. Ravens wheeled above, strident cries mixing in with the screams and moans of dying men. The gods were watching, Arthur knew, and no doubt glorying in the slaughter. It was sickening; his gut clenched at the thought. The lines reformed as the melee became an orderly retreat. It never failed to surprise him, seeing this civility amidst such barbarity. One simply couldn’t battle away for hours on end, beneath the weight of armour and the strain of actually wielding true steel – no matter the tales Bards sang. The dead and dying needed to be removed from underfoot as well; even as he watched, Druids and priests respectively tended to their own.
Arthur searched the ranks desperately for one man, for his standard and for a heart-stopping moment, failed to find it. Until he spotted the broad-shouldered figure, gold-encrusted helm gleaming dimly, striding through the ranks. Lancelot thrust Excalibur high into the sky and the men roared with pride; their Lord was still with them, his invincibility unquestioned. Arthur felt a veritable tug on his heart at that, as the man he loved looked up and they locked eyes for one glorious moment. It made what was to come all the harder.

--

I don’t move. Time bends and stretches around us. After a moment, I hear a strangled sound, a half-released gasp and I turn slightly. A boy around my age is kneeling on the cold concrete, head bowed. Silky black hair hangs down to frame his face, not unlike my own, fairer coloured hair. His slim shoulders shake and I realise he is sobbing. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes locking with my own. I don’t know what it is he sees, but something in him flinches back from it and with a visible effort, he snaps into focus. Wipes the tears away.
I glance around the station; it is reassuringly empty. After a moment, he extends his hand and I give him mine. He brings it to his lips. His mouth forms soundless words and he presses the back of my hand to his head. In all our incarnations, this has been our most formal greeting yet – a thousand years passed and counting – to be reduced to this.
“Sire,” he says and I shush him.
“Don’t.”
I roughly grab him and bring him up, wrapping my arms around him. His back stiffens, but I just hold him tighter and gradually, he melts into the embrace. Between us, the link - a string taut with the timeline of our past, collapses and we are just two friends, reunited once more. I pull back, stare at him for a moment.
“Come on, let’s go home.”

--

“You’re being very obvious,” the raven said.
“If only I had your skills at subterfuge, eh, Merlin?” Arthur replied, without taking his gaze from the battle. “Stick to your incantations, old man. Leave the warfare to me.” The raven shrieked its rage and flew away. Arthur spared it a glance. Merlin hadn’t been the same since his transformation. His attention was whisked away as, with a roar, the battle was rejoined. In truth, he was being obvious, with his line of horsemen atop the hill, clearly uncommitted but Mordred was no fool. He had his own cavalry in waiting behind the opposite hill – this natural basin they fought in clearly leant itself to the strategy. Or so he thought. Only one line remained with Arthur, his strongest and bravest knights – the rest had gone round to see to their enemies.
Below, the lines held still. Arthur’s gold and white standard whipped about, getting ever closer to Mordred’s own black and red, emblazoned with a heathen cross. Across from him, Gawain shifted nervously. “Uncle –“
“Not yet.”
The wind picked up, stirring the stench of death and loosened bowels. The shield walls seemed to pulse, bending around one another. The breaking point was nearing. Arthur’s hands twitched around his hilt – a plain broadsword only, for the first time in decades. He unsheathed it and raised it above his head. In silence, his men did the same.
“Now,” he said, and kicked his horse into a gallop.
Above, ravens wheeled and gods laughed madly.

--

“It’s not much,” I say of my modest one-room apartment. Lance drops his bags on the floor. He took in the couch, small TV and battered laptop.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“Well, make yourself comfortable,” I say and walk into the kitchen. Anything to get away from those eyes. I hear him begin to unpack and settle in, and breathe a sigh of relief. There’s nothing to be done here, so I walk out onto the balcony. This is my favourite part of this place and the only reason I live here. There are just hills and trees spread out before me and above them, somewhere in the distance, the glimmer of water. I sit on the creaky, plastic chair and let the cool night air wash over me. It’s not long before he joins me.
“Used to be, that on this night, the country was lit from end to end with fires,” he says.
“A lot of things used to be, that are no longer,” I say. “That is the least of them.”
He pauses, looks at me in surprise.
“Do you really think so? This country weeps, Arthur. It weeps and we do nothing.”
“You think you know her better than I?”
“…You are King.”
“I am nothing but a distant memory.”
It’s the first time I’ve articulated it and suddenly, I realise how tired I really am. He subsides, leaning against the balcony wall.
“So, what now then?”
I shrug. “We resume our search.”

Hey Jiggy!

It rested in shadow.

I think this should be "It rested in the shadow(s)."

The fire was small but fierce, heat pulsed through the room.

Ah, I like the concept of this sentence but it seems like it's missing something. Or maybe it's the fact that basically these are two independent clauses brought together by a comma. Hehe, I do not remember anything from my English class but I think that's why I don't like this. So my suggestion would be to eliminate some words and merge the two sentences together.

Try: The fire emitted a heat that pulsed through the room.

I wait in the dark.

I don't like the way you began this next section. I think you could do fine without this sentence.

This pace is old.

This place is old.

Arthur felt a veritable tug on his heart at that, as the man he loved looked up and they locked eyes for one glorious moment. It made what was to come all the harder.

Whoa, that was shocking. Seriously, I had to read that again to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me.

Silky black hair hangs down to frame his face, not unlike my own, fairer coloured hair.

I see that you trying to describe what he looks like but sometimes description of anyone or anything is not important. I just want to get the gist of the story and could care less about trivial information like this. For me, it messed up the flow of things. But that might just be me.

“Used to be, that on this night, the country was lit from end to end with fires,” he says.
“A lot of things used to be, that are no longer,” I say. “That is the least of them.”
He pauses, looks at me in surprise.
“Do you really think so? This country weeps, Arthur. It weeps and we do nothing.”
“You think you know her better than I?”
“…You are King.”
“I am nothing but a distant memory.”

I love this chunk of dialogue here. I think dialogue is one of the things that you're truly good at.

Awe, it ends here? Surely it doesn't and you do have another part to this and if that other part that I speak of exist, please PM me when you post it.

I rather enjoyed reading this and now I'm curious as to what's going to happen next.
Your description though at times a little too much in places, was great and believable seeing the time period.

Keep writing and good luck with the contests,

~Angel

I just happened to stumble upon this piece and I am so glad I did. It is FANTASTIC. However, I do have several suggestions.

The Holy Grail pub was smoky and dim.

A few hunched figures sat at small round tables, alone. Above the fireplace, a sword was hung. It rested in shadow. Behind the bar, a brooding giant stood, bulging muscles covered by a blue apron. He was washing a pint glass. The fire was small but fierce, heat pulsed through the room.

They waited.

What exactly does all of this have to do with the rest of the story? It doesn't osund like it is connected to any of the characters, and it certainly doesn't add to the plot (at least not yet). Of course if it is important in the grand scheme of things then definitely keep it. But if not, then I'd strike it out. Especially since the flow seems a bit choppy here.

I like the dark though – with it, definition is lost – like the mist, curling around poles, teasing at reality and harkening back to another time.

I love this description, it paints such a vivid picture in my mind!

He should be here soon.

Because this sounds like a thought I believe it should be italicized.

I don’t know what to think or how to be anything other than uncertain. A train screams past, its appearance startling and sudden – the black behemoth surges through, clattering over the bones of the station, buffeting my ears. Cold wind rifles through my hair, running insensitive hands over my body as shivers cascade down my back. I close my eyes, breathe in. The train vanishes into the distance. In the vacuum left behind, I feel empty.

GAH!!! I love it! Your use of words is magnificient. You convey what your character is feeling in such a way that it immediately connects with your audience and the way you describe the setting is transporting, as if I am standing in that train station.

The raven cocks a wing, irked. It is particularly large, a ragged patch of night, savagely beaked and clawed.

Again, I must commend you on your descriptions, not to sound redundant but the imagery is so powerful and you avoid being cliched which I really admire.

A roar sounds in the distance, distorted by mist and time – I turn, staring, but of course see nothing and it fades, leaving only a bittersweet echo of frustration and rage.

Okay, so I know it is really nitpicky, but one of my biggest pet peeves is redundancies, and this is the second time in this scene that you use mist. You can replace it with a plethora of synonyms like haze, fog, vapor, smog, steam, spray, or film.

Mist billows everywhere or is it steam?

A

Two things bugged me here. Number one you use mist once again. Number two steam is a synonym for mist as I pointed out above.

All along the ridge, other knights held their horses under tight control as the beasts became increasingly nervous.

I read this and I instantly wanted you to change horses to mounts. It not only gets rid of a redundancy but I also feel like it works with the language of the time period.

It was the rising smell of blood that affected them, as much as it was the din of battle. Armies raged across the fields, the battle lines long since crossed and forgotten;

You used battle twice here and I just thought you could replace one of them with a different word. Here are similair words you could use: skirmish, combat, conflict, fracas, fray, and war. I know I'm being extremely finicky here, but please bear with me.

The lines reformed as the melee became an orderly retreat. The day was overcast, but heat still beat down on the men. Ravens wheeled above, strident cries mixing in with the screams and moans of dying men. The gods were watching, Arthur knew, and no doubt glorying in the slaughter. It was sickening; his gut clenched at the thought. The lines reformed as the melee became an orderly retreat.

Okay, so there are several things that irked me in this paragraph. For instance you repeat a sentence twice, and I'm not sure if that was intentional or not. Considering it is such a powerful sentence I would only say it once. Furthermore, you have ravens circling the sky and there was a raven in the train station. I'd rather have vultures circling the sky of the battlefield, but maybe thats a bit cliched. Finally, maybe I'm the only one who thinks so, but I would peg Arthur as the sort who didn't believe in multiple Gods like the Greeks and Romans, but one God like many of the English (Catholic) Kings did. Of course, since Arthur is a fictional character, his religious beliefs are entirely up to you.

Lancelot thrust Excalibur high into the sky and the men roared with pride; their Lord was still with them, his invincibility unquestioned.

I love this, it is like the equivalent of a medevial halftime pep talk. The movie that played out in my mind as I read this was compelling.

Silky black hair hangs down to frame his face, not unlike my own, fairer coloured hair. His slim shoulders shake and I realise he is sobbing. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes locking with my own.

I felt like the description of the hair was...weak. I don't like how you compare his hair to Arthur's. What is similair? The length? The style? Do they use the same kind of shampoo? Since the color is different, it felt like you should have been contrasting the hair instead of comparing the two. I do however, love the description of his eyes. And I disagree with Angel, I think the physical description of a character is as important as the plot.

The wind picked up, stirring the stench of death and loosened bowels. The shield walls seemed to pulse, bending around one another.

I like that you use the sense of smell to describe the scene. Its a little graphic, but I like the bluntness of it. Also the shields is another good imagery.

Above, ravens wheeled and gods laughed madly.

Even if you do decide to go with mulitple Gods instead of just one I think Gods should be capitalized.

“It’s not much,” I say of my modest one-room apartment.

Is it a one-bedroom apartment or a one room apartment? If the kitchen and living room and bedroom have no defining walls that would be considered a studio apartment.

I say and walk into the kitchen. Anything to get away from those eyes. I hear him begin to unpack and settle in, and breathe a sigh of relief. There’s nothing to be done here, so I walk out onto the balcony.

If there is nothing to be done in the kitchen then do not go into the kitchen. You can have Arthur escape to the balcony without wasting time.

Characters: I don't have much to comment here, I think you do a good job of describing the characters without overloading us with information. You definitely show their personalities well so that we can connect with them, but you do it subtly. Good job.

Setting: I think you did a good job during the battle scenes describing the setting. The train station seemed to get redundant, using the same descriptions over again (Refering to the train tracks in a skeletal manner). I think you could work on that, but again I am being rather nitpicky with that. The apartment was okay, I was just confused on whether it was a one-bedroom or a studio, and I enjoyed the description about the balcony. I've always had an affection for balconies.

Dialouge: The dialouge was great. It flowed well and felt natural. Some parts were a little vauge, as if the only ones who knew what was going on was the two people talking and perhaps you, but as long as you clarify what was being said I don't think that is an issue. I definitely enjoyed reading the dialouge because it was very relaxed and exposed the personalities of your characters.

Overall: I really like this story. The plot sounds interesting. You transitioned smoothly. The only time I felt the flow was really affected was at the very beginning. You are a master wordsmith and I really enjoyed reading this. The mystery that you wove throughout the whole piece makes me want to read more. I hope there is more to come and when you do post it I would really appreciate it if you would PM me. Hopefully my commentary was helpful!

Hey hey, y'all.

Firstly, thanks for the comments. I always appreciate them. So, two issues you mentioned Moriah - firstly, ravens: an important motif for the story, given they are symbolic of the Norse god Odin, Merlin's and Arthur's patron deity (at least here, anyway) - also, Merlin is present in both the beginning and the flashbacks in his guise as a raven, so for continuity's sake if nothing else, it's necessary, despite the redundancy. Secondly, on the religion note - there has been a lot of contention regarding Arthur's supposed faith, mostly, I believe it was pagan in origin but over time, Christianity seems to have tried to redefine the Arthurian legend. Here, I've combined the two and posited them against one another - you can see this in the comment about druids and priests gathering their respective dead.

On the pub - yes, it is necessary, at least I think so, in the grander scheme of things.

On word choice - It's good to have variation but too much too soon can be confusing for the reader and what's more, repetition (on a small scale) isn't such a bad thing; reinforces important imagery, but I take your point. Nice spot of the repeated sentence by the way, that wasn't intentional and on the bedroom-apartment mix up too. Overall, your commentary was helpful, so cheers for that and thanks for your input as well Angel.

Cheers
~J~

I really loved this piece I thought that it was great. I loved all of the imagery and description that you used on here. Also, you are really good at dialoge.

Quote:
I don’t know what to think or how to be anything other than uncertain. A train screams past, its appearance startling and sudden – the black behemoth surges through, clattering over the bones of the station, buffeting my ears. Cold wind rifles through my hair, running insensitive hands over my body as shivers cascade down my back. I close my eyes, breathe in. The train vanishes into the distance. In the vacuum left behind, I feel empty.

I loved this I thought that I was acually there watching and feeling this. The description is really good on that paragraph.

Quote:
He should be here soon.

Shouldn't this be italicized because it sounds like a thought?

Quote:
I like the dark though – with it, definition is lost – like the mist, curling around poles, teasing at reality and harkening back to another time.

I love this description a lot.

Wow, I really, really loved this! But I guess that's nothing new, since I love almost all your stuff, Jig. I loved the back and forth between past and present; it really tied together the two characters and made them much more three-dimensional.

A few line-by-line edits - things that I noticed that needed some tweaking.

It’s hard not to though and even now, so long since it all began, there’s some sense of disbelief.

This is a little awkward. How about, 'It's hard not to, though. Even now, so long since it all began, there's still some disbelief.'

Mist billows everywhere or is it steam?

'Mist billows everywhere. Or is it steam?'

And yet, that suddenly seems like an awful much.

Again, this is a little awkward and hard to read.

Silky black hair hangs down to frame his face, not unlike my own, fairer coloured hair.

If Lance has black hair and Arthur has blond, how are they similar?


Again, I really, really loved this. Let me know when you post more!

"I like the dark though – with it, definition is lost – like the mist"

This was my favorite description, although your imagery, in general, is amazing. I definitely got lost in the words, your choreography of them. I want to read more of your stuff.

Hey Jiggs!
Because your writing is just pure awesomness and I am lazy on my own part, I am not going to organize my review in any particular way.
Well lets begin!

First off Jiggity, you never cease to amaze me, your writing and word choice is brilliant, your imagery works well, and your description of things are almost flawless. This indeed is an intriguing story, and right away you sucked in the reader, making the reader wanting to read more. Absolutely brilliant.

The beginning is a bit confusing in itself because of The Holy Grail pub. That is basically you reveal nothing about the pub later on in the piece. But I do see the connection, and I do think there is a reason for it. Wasn't there stories about King Arthur looking for the Holy Grail with his stalwart knights? I think that is pretty awesome of you to connect this all together.

What you have to be careful is not letting your writing get choppy. The beginning is a perfect example.

The Holy Grail pub was smoky and dim.
A few hunched figures sat at small round tables, alone. Above the fireplace, a sword was hung. It rested in shadow. Behind the bar, a brooding giant stood, bulging muscles covered by a blue apron. He was washing a pint glass. The fire was small but fierce, heat pulsed through the room.
They waited.

When I read this, it does indeed sound choppy to me. I think that is because your sentences are really short in this part. I would vary the lengths of the sentences, and how much you use the commas or else the reader won't want to read much more because it seems almost stop and go-ish. I also feel that with that part you didn't put a lot of effort into describing it just a few different lines about each thing, then it is done. I think that if you described it a bit more, use your awesome ability for imagery and it would be a lot more appealing to the reader.

There is only one problem with how you formatted this story for me, and I think it is more over a personal preference. You have multiple sections but they are all very short and the reader doesn't get the satisfaction they want after they finished a section. It is almost as if they are being thrown away to a new part before they could get into it. You did it well, and I understand the sections are necessary in this part of the story because after all you are revealing information in a unique way.

But I do think that you could actually lengthen it a bit of parts, just so that the reader gets even more into it and more connected. You did well with ending the sections, most of them having that interesting ending and I do commend you for that. You don't have to lengthen them because this is only one readers opinion.

Now, I want to talk about your characters here. For me, it is very difficult to picture what Arthur and Lancelot look like, and it is hard for me to pick out Arthur's characteristics. I'm pretty sure I don't need to rant to you about making your characters dimensional with their characteristics, but I just want to say characters are indeed what the readers connect to the most, and which make the story or not. How they make it through the conflict. I see you got Lancelot's personality down, because I can imagine it, but with Arthur, I am not as sure.

What you can do is just describe his actions a bit more because a human's actions reflect who they are. When it is in the second person, it is hard for you to actually get the thoughts in, so you really have to choose the right adjectives to describe them. You did have some goo items that reveal characteristics like:

I flick a glance at my watch, stamp my feet.

That sentence in itself makes it seem like Arthur is of a the nervous sort, and there is also more evidence with how he sees figures in the mist. But what else is there too him? Those parts are incredibly significant because that way you can get a hold of the character. Are the characters arrogant? Or are they timid? You did well enough, but I think you could get in a bit more to it, that you could make the personalities even more imposable.

Now I would also like you to describe the characters a bit more. I have no idea what Arthur looks like. It is hard to figure out what people look like in first person, but in second person you could have added a few details here and there. Lancelot I could imagine clearly in the past with the beautiful armour. But you need to make a little effort in getting those details in there. Just every once and a while pop in simple adjectives that helps you get a better mental image. For example;

Incognito's own invention wrote: He looked down at me arrogantly with those intoxicating blue eyes, his golden hair framing his face like a wrongly placed halo. He reached out from below his cloak, revealing the gentle embroidery on his blue velvet sleeve trimmed with white lace, and a hand which was almost whiter. He grabbed the crystal glass and brought the wine to his pallid lips, the wine that looked exactly like blood.

That was a random description of Lestat from The Vampire Chronicles by Ann Rice. I tried to get some random details in there without over doing it, but I think I may have. But you get the point? Blend the descriptions with the actions to prevent telling, but get enough in there to get a better picture. You got some ideals into it like hair color but that was near the end and it was hard to imagine them since then. You had some of the descriptions there, but I think what I am trying to say is that you should have subtle insights to their appearance through the whole thing.

Your writing is just brilliant for sure. I always find enjoyment in reading your piece Jiggs, and I really do want to read more of this piece for certain. I feel like I have fallen in love with your writing. xD
In your way I shall put it; 'Cheers, to fantastic writing!'.

I can't wait to read more of your work.
~Incognito