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Young Writers Society



Remake of Troy??? Beginning

by Crispy


Pillaging the Journey

After ten years in a hot overcrowded army camp no one was sorry to leave. The different sectors of the Greek army said their goodbyes, wished each other swift and successful voyages and cast off from Trojan soil for one last time. In my fleet of twelve ships my Ithacan followers and I set our course for home. We were exultant. Instead of the stifling heat on the dusty plains, we had a fresh sea breeze on our cheeks and the salt spray tasted of long forgotten treasures, making us ache with joy. Our crimson ships were filled with the riches of Troy and we were glad that we would have so much to show for our long absence. Behind us Troy laid smoking in ruins. Perhaps it was sheer superstition, but not one of us looked back. No, we all looked forward towards Ithaca, towards our home.

The wind however had a different change of mind we were driven northwards to the land of the Cyclones. No doubt still flushed by our success at Troy, we disembarked and swept through the town of London, seizing whatever took our fancy and killing whoever was in our way. It was sheer piracy an orgy of looting, but my men wanted to carry as much wealth as possible. Besides after four days at sea it was probably sensible to replenish our diminishing stores of food and wine.

As soon as we had pillaged the town I ordered our getaway. Unfortunately my men had already grown complacent, fat on their success. They laughed at me and told me to relax and enjoy myself, because that is what they were going to do. We spent the evening in the shores of London in drunken celebration, roasting whole oxen and sheep and drinking vast quantities of strong red wine

Just as I had feared, the Kikokian Army had headed inland in search of reinforcements to drive away their unwelcome visitors. They attacked our camp at dawn. You can imagine our condition. Our famous army was overwhelmed and driven back to the beach where our ships were moored. We were sincerely lucky to get away without losing about six men from each ship.

We were glad to have escaped lightly, but we were saddened by the loss of our comrades. It seemed an unnecessary waste, and indeed it was. Besides it now dawned on us that we were still a long way from home and if the gods were against us, that we might never get there. The exuberant mood in which we sailed away from the coast of Troy had gone for good.

As if to confirm our new sense of foreboding, a violent storm blew up. We managed to lower our sails and row into shore before any damage was done. There followed two anxious days in which we watched the tempest churn up the sea. On the third day we were able to cast off once more and we made rapid progress south. Within a week we reached Malaga the southern cape of the Peloponnesians, and our confidence began to return. But as we rounded the cape, ready for the last leg of our journey northwards towards Ithaca, a gale force wind blew up from the east and drove us off course, past Catena and miles to the west.

By Christopher Pegg


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Thu Sep 10, 2020 5:28 pm
KateHardy wrote a review...



Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Knight Hardy here on a mission to ensure that all works on YWS has at least two reviews. You will probably never see this but....Imma do this anyway.

First Impression: So this was a nice and pretty simple little short that you've got here. It seemed almost like a nice little prologue rather than a fleshed out short story. It did have a pretty decent voice to it even though there didn't appear to be any sort of proper main character in here.

Anyway let's get right to it,

After ten years in a hot overcrowded army camp no one was sorry to leave. The different sectors of the Greek army said their goodbyes, wished each other swift and successful voyages and cast off from Trojan soil for one last time. In my fleet of twelve ships my Ithacan followers and I set our course for home. We were exultant. Instead of the stifling heat on the dusty plains, we had a fresh sea breeze on our cheeks and the salt spray tasted of long forgotten treasures, making us ache with joy. Our crimson ships were filled with the riches of Troy and we were glad that we would have so much to show for our long absence. Behind us Troy laid smoking in ruins. Perhaps it was sheer superstition, but not one of us looked back. No, we all looked forward towards Ithaca, towards our home.


Oooh this is a pretty interesting scene that you've set up here. It definitely does a pretty decent job of showcasing that these folks have been through hard times and our headed out. The emotion is not that high but for something that is the first paragraph this is pretty good.

The wind however had a different change of mind we were driven northwards to the land of the Cyclones. No doubt still flushed by our success at Troy, we disembarked and swept through the town of London, seizing whatever took our fancy and killing whoever was in our way. It was sheer piracy an orgy of looting, but my men wanted to carry as much wealth as possible. Besides after four days at sea it was probably sensible to replenish our diminishing stores of food and wine.



Usually four days for such a voyage is barely anything but that's excusable and this seems like typical things that can happen sometimes after the aftermath of a battle. That much is fairly accurate.

As soon as we had pillaged the town I ordered our getaway. Unfortunately my men had already grown complacent, fat on their success. They laughed at me and told me to relax and enjoy myself, because that is what they were going to do. We spent the evening in the shores of London in drunken celebration, roasting whole oxen and sheep and drinking vast quantities of strong red wine


Well they certainly had a party that's for sure.

Just as I had feared, the Kikokian Army had headed inland in search of reinforcements to drive away their unwelcome visitors. They attacked our camp at dawn. You can imagine our condition. Our famous army was overwhelmed and driven back to the beach where our ships were moored. We were sincerely lucky to get away without losing about six men from each ship.


That kind of felt a little anticlimactic because you just glossed over an entire and possible awesome battle scene with like a paragraph but I suppose there is no other choice with a short story.

As if to confirm our new sense of foreboding, a violent storm blew up. We managed to lower our sails and row into shore before any damage was done. There followed two anxious days in which we watched the tempest churn up the sea. On the third day we were able to cast off once more and we made rapid progress south. Within a week we reached Malaga the southern cape of the Peloponnesians, and our confidence began to return. But as we rounded the cape, ready for the last leg of our journey northwards towards Ithaca, a gale force wind blew up from the east and drove us off course, past Catena and miles to the west.


Well that kind of ended really abruptly. I mean cliffhangers are cool but this feels like the last part just got deleted. It doesn't seem to have anything happening in it. A little weird place to end there.

Aaaaand that's it for this one.

Overall: Overall it was a pretty fun little story. The one issue I had with it was that ending which just did not feel like an ending at all. Other than that it had some pretty nice depictions of the aftermath of such a battle. And I'm hoping that maybe this has a part two explaining what happened after that.

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry




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Fri Mar 21, 2008 12:12 am
Memento Mori says...



It was easy to read, but I'd love to see more characterization there.

It's a good start to any story.

I'd just change the title, if I were you.

Just my opinion of course, so it's not really a must to change the title.




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Sun Mar 09, 2008 8:53 pm
Crispy says...



More comments would be appreciated




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Sat Mar 08, 2008 1:40 pm
Hagwall says...



Brilliant from start to finish if you made it longer you could make a book. very very good you have a tallent





If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.
— Peter Handke