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Young Writers Society


The Martyr



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Gender: Female
Points: 1319
Reviews: 4
Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:52 pm
alyssatan says...



So my friend wanted me to write something for them off the top of my head, and this is the prompt they gave me: "You're a person in a world were there are monsters.. and your job is to catch and train them to be the best trainer of all!"
*cough* Pokemon *cough*
Anyway, I think I actually failed at that prompt, but what I wrote is inspired by it. I haven't taken much time to revise and I don't know if it will ever become something, but I always want to know how well my writing fares. So opinions and advice are greatly appreciated. Thank you! ^^

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A rustle in the trees. The crossbow poised against my shoulder, all of my senses reverted to full attention. I take a deep breath and hold it, knowing that if the monster spotted me first, it may be my last.

Another disturbance. The tip of my arrow slices through the air, tracing the origin of the noise. It's closer. I step cautiously through the grass, my eyes darting from sky to ground and back, in case it's in flight.

There's a flash of the frighteningly gorgeous emerald blue scales of legend. If I hadn't vigorously prepared my conscious mind for the sight beforehand, I might have choked in surprise and given myself - and life - away. But that wasn't an option here. I had trained for this moment, physically and mentally, until I thought I could tame every other monster in the breadth of the world without batting an eyelash, and possibly this one. Another flash of cobalt. It's time.

I can't see it, but I sense where it is. Every leaf that loosens itself and drifts into the open, every slight shadow and rush of wind that passes by the treetops, every occurrence in the surrounding wilderness is a subtle indication. I know where to shoot. I aim, make a small prayer in my mind, and let loose. The deep, horrendous cry more of shock than of pain that vibrates the air around me is the signal of my accuracy. I hit it. The first metal edge ever to breach the Martyr's glimmering skin.

They call it the Martyr because it's alone. Left behind, sacrificed by the rest of its species in a passing migration, because the townspeople fired at the pack. They had been entranced, inspired by greed to capture the grandiose, obscure creatures that soared peacefully through the air above them. The Martyr had been chosen to break apart and distract their flaming arrows. When the assault had finally been deemed futile, the pack was already long into the night. The Martyr made a home in the forest and has been the village storyteller's prime legend to tell ever since.

And now I endeavor to capture the beast of legend.

The being, in rage, leaps into the clearing with another deafening roar, revealing itself entirely to me. It is even more beautiful and terrible than I had imagined. Its long, graceful body is the ocean, rippling with tension; and its huge eyes the magnificent pearls found in the bottom depths. Its claws are fluorescent ebony, chiseled and polished into four nightmarish scabbards on each hand and foot. And its shimmering translucent wings are the essence of heaven, impossibly broad and fragile and unbreakable all at once.

I fire again, without thinking, for if I think I threaten to doom myself. If I think I will doubt, or become entranced just as my ancestors did so long ago. Instead I refuse to think; I act, I allow my muscle memory to rule me as I assault the shrieking monster.

It's charging, it knows where I am now. But I can't think. I can't plan. I can only hold my breath and shoot arrow after arrow into the monster's seemingly diamond-hard coat as it bears ever closer to me.

About five yards. Four. Two...

And the Martyr is mere inches from me, its jaws gaping wide to swallow my body all at once. The red teeth are dripping with gossamer saliva that would surely decompose me in seconds if it made contact with my skin. My arrow is aimed directly into its throat. It's all or nothing. My one, final chance.

The beast screams in tremulous excitement to devour me. I feel an acidic burning on the surface of my arms and one thigh, forcing me to let the arrow loose. One second passes like a lifetime. There's another roar, but it's all around me, and the burn is agonizing.

Another second. I open my eyes. Am I wedged unharmed within the majestic beast's cavernous maw, or am I in heaven?
  








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