Young Writers Society

Chapter Two

When the sun sets over Droa, it becomes the most beautiful country in the world. The red grass coverings of the towering mountains sparkle an unnatural azure. No one knows what causes it, and no one truly is able to describe it. Light dances through the Droan glass cities, creating an intricate lacework of shadows which told of the ancient birthing of the first of our kind. Few in our day can read the shadows as they dance their play in the darkened sunlight.

The story had to be watched in every city before you could fully understand it, because the play would slip away with the sun towards another city. I have never had the luxury. Droans tell me, however, that the glass is itself the first of men, and that it guards them day and night, only pausing in its duty at dusk to tell tales of itself. Those who lived long enough swear that the shadows have begun to dance differently.

It is said that if the shadows ever change, the world would darken and the skies would fill with smoke. I have sifted through hundred of parchments looking for a written copy of this prophecy, but I have never found it. The Droans fear. And I with them.

I stood outside the Dwinfer's shop, a raisin bun dancing in my hands. "So, you can't join us later? Is it because your missus tortures you?" I teased.

"No, no." Dwinfer replied with a laugh and a wring of his scrawny hands. "Your birthday, your dance. I don't want to intrude!"

"That must be it." I smilingly plucked a chunk of bread and stuff it into my mouth, my eyes glinting with mischief.

"Oh no, you are a stubborn child." He raised his hands in surrender. "But if I come, you must promise not to prank me the way you did Mrs Keith on your last birthday."

"I promise." My mouth curls in a nostalgic smile. I had placed pins inside Mrs Keith's dress so that when she did the Iggy, a dance performed at every birthday, the points sank deep into her. It was a vigorous dance, and required a large store of energy, which the dear woman ha assured everyone she had, until she ran shrieking home.

"That's it then. No pranks. I'll dance for you. I don't know how it's going to turn out though, I am not as energetic as I once was."

"It's only my ninth birthday," laughter came to my lips, "you have many more years to prepare for my sixteenth. Then I will ask you to dance properly."

I plucked another chunk. There was still a pile of cloth which I had to cut to the sizes measured out in the lined book mom kept for such purposes. I had to go home. First though, my feet took me on a detour to the outskirts of the town.

Along the main road, hidden by a thick fence of thorny bushes, was a small wooden shack. It kept watch over a man who was blind in one eye. He said he'd lost it in a war, but who ever believed minstrels telling stories of themselves? I disliked his constant companion, a small pistol which he always kept loaded in his coat pocket. I knocked at the door.

It was opened by a boy with blue eyes and hair to match. He was of a height to me. "Hey Jale!" I hollered at him, as was our custom.

"Hey Al!" He hollered back. "I thought party time was at dusk?"

"Dwinfer said he was coming!" I did a victory jig.

"Did he?" Jale's face lightened, his Droan chin bobbing up and down. "That's good! I've got it all ready!"

A hacking cough reaches the door behind Jale. "If you're going to talk all day," it rasped, "talk indoors."

"I can't stay." I protested.

"Oh," Jale's father motioned me in, "take a drink before you go. Come now child. I know your winter is cold for you folk."

Jale made a face behind me as I stepped inside. His father was from Droa, one of the few Droans who had ever gone beyond their own borders. His well-built shoulders and double-chin were both hallmarks of his people. His coughing had grown worse since the last time I was here. He rasped out. "Jale told me it's your birthday? Hmm. Ahem. We need to give you a present. He is not being courteous, this son of mine. What should I give you? Hurmm. Ah. Last time I gave you a rainbow rock. I remember that. You were a bad girl to prank the Keiths. Aha. Hem."

He patted his chest, coughing. Then he laughed. "But it was a good prank and she deserved it. Still, you need a present and a drink. Yes, yes. What should it be? Honey and mint?"

He touched his forehead lightly with his fingers, brows furrowed. Then as if remembering something, he paced to the shelf and took a jar of honey. Reaching for three mugs, his large calloused hands brought them to a small table at a corner of his home. He crushed several mint leaves into each.

Ordering us to sit, he settled a mug in front of each and added honey and water. "Well I know Jale goes to help you in your work sometimes, so I think he should tell me what you want most."

Jale stared blankly at his father. I hoped he had not understood the request. "She wants her father. That. And a pistol." He buried his head in his mug as I kicked him under the table.

Jale's father frowned. "We can't all have what we want, child, especially not that. But." He stood up, "I can give you something else, which I think is really nice to have when a thug attacks you."

The large chest at the side of the door was opened, and a small pocketknife produced. It was inlaid with ivory, a rare gift from a rare man. "A man once gave this to me. He said to give it away to the person who I think most worthy of wielding it. I don't know many of your folk well, so before I forget, this goes to you. Don't give it to Jale." He laughed.

The blade was designed in the shape of a unicorn's tail, but without the curve. I smiled my thanks and downed the rest of the minted honey. I bobbed an eyebrow at Jale, a twinkle of a smile on my lips.

He narrowed his eyes at me, as though I were a difficult text he was trying to decipher. Then he shook his head as though coming out from a daydream. "What was that for?" He asked innocently.

I stamped my feet. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming. Why wouldn’t I come to your birthday party?”

“No I didn’t mean that. I mean now. You said you’d saw that wood we found last week.”

“Yeah, why can’t I do it at the party? I could saw it while doing the Iggy.” His eyes lit up with mischief. He jumped from his chair and did a mixture of inane gestures, imitating the Iggy, and adding some sawing motions. I threw my head back and laughed.

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I couldn't find a way to fit the challenge properly, so I didn't do it. Also this is rather short, with 1222 words only. I'm sure you can tear it up real fast!~

Love all the harsh critiquers out there!