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The Miracle Watcher Ch: 1-2.

by Rincewind

The wind blew madly. The horizon had dimmed and taken on a shade of grey so terribly threatening that one would feel the very sky was at war with the earth. The wind howled and crashed into buildings, whipping rain and debris in every direction. The frigid air stole the breath and chilled the bone.

In a nursery a baby lay asleep, unaware of the imminent destruction brewing only miles away. He was named Joshua and he was a radiant baby boy. He stirred in his sleep as the wind picked up outside his window, hurling fence-matter and any other random bits of things it could get its eddies on. Joshua woke up peacefully and glanced with infantile curiosity at the mobile spinning above him. It had cows and moons and stars and spun gently as it played "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Joshua intently gaped at his mobile as, just on the other side of his wall, a cyclone was ripping and roaring his little town apart.

In the same nursery a man stood calmly with a determined air about him. He was wearing dress clothes but no jacket. He leaned on the doorframe and watched Joshua watch the mobile - both with keen interest. The man knew well that there was a storm going on, but his interests were firmly situated on the baby. Really, his interests invovled both the baby and the storm but, for now, baby Joshua was the most important thing in the world. As the storm outside gave a particularily suggestive crash of noise, the man averted his attention outside. What he saw sent tremours through his blood.

The cyclone had picked up considerable momentum and bore down towards the small white house. It was a lonely white house on a long twisty road, and there were no cars in the driveway. The cars that WERE in the driveway were now strewn randomly across the country farmland. The drivers and passengers were all deceased. The funnel shrieked aggresively and seemed to pinpoint its next target.

Joshua's eyes shot open wide as the roof of his rooms was torn from the walls, taking the mobile, and stick-on star system with it. To the little baby the noise was nothing but pure deafening chaos. It hurt him badly and he began to wail so loudly it competed with the storm.

This was the moment the man had been waiting for. He shileded his eyes as the roof flew away and all the windows smashed with supersonic power. He stumbled and grabbed a dresser to get his bearings as the wind licked at the walls of the room, and menaced the furniture within. He fell to the floor as Joshua's bed rose from the ground, tipping, blankets flying everywhere. The momentum of the gale and force of the wind sent the crib flying across the room, growing ever faster as it shot towards the now-broken window.

The crib shot out of the room like a bullet, taking most of the wall along with it. It drifted tens of meters through the air before skidding, broken and mangled along the road. There was nothing left of it but two legs, a base and a few of the verticle bars. There was nothing inside. A torn piece of blanket drifted up, got caught for an instant on a splinter of wood, and danced off solemly into the damp grey atmosphere.

Tens of meters away, beneath the window, in the middle of a garden, on soft muddy soil, lay baby Joshua. He was wrapped in a blanket, or rather, cacooned in a blanket. It was wrapped around him in an unnatural way, so that only his face was exposed. He resembled a great big baby blue butterfly-to-be. He was crying.

The man had stood at the window and watched Joshua fly from the bed only seconds before it spun out of control and eventually crashed into smitherines. He watched as the blanket seemed to hurriedly wrap the baby up, spinning him like a spider. And finally he watched as Joshua fell onto a bush, and bounced off, narrowly missing shrapnel all the while, landing in a patch of soft muddy soil.

The man picked up the baby, whispered something pleasantly in his ear, and held him to his chest. The baby calmed immediately. From far above The man and baby all that could be seen on the ground was wreckage. Vehicles tossed here and there, entire buildings obliterated, Livestock mangled. The wreckage stretched even farther still, on a trail of destruction, to the closest village. It was entirely wiped out.

In the center of all the wreckage, amidst the unspeakable tragedy a man began walking down a long and twisty road. He had a baby in his arms...

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127 Reviews

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Reviews: 127

Thu Oct 27, 2005 5:43 pm
Rincewind says...

I edited it. I don't know what joojed means, but I left out the last line. I never was completely happy with it. But I do want people to know the guys name at the end. Anyway, next bit.

A dreary grey apartment complex lay situated amongst an endless sea of similar buildings. Similar but not the same. This particular apartment complex housed, along with many others, a lonely middle-aged man named Tobias Drake.

Tobias' apartment would have, in comparison to the exterior of the buliding, frusterated the logical eye. It was the epitamy of modern decoration. There was such an abundance of curves, glass, and steel that you would have thought it to be from fifty years in the future. Egg-chairs, vinyl furniture, lights in the floor, lamps with a dozen seperate heads and bulbs, all these things were placed around the apartment implying that they were built just for that spot.

Tobias sat with his head in his hands having a very quiet conversation with seemingly no one.

'I don't know what to do. I'm lost.'

Baby Joshua gurgled and giggled.

'I mean, why me? Why do I have to be the one to find you? There's billions of people in the world.' Tobias wiped a tear from his cheek. 'God, why me. First it was the plane crash, then the cucumber, now this. I can't sleep, I can't eat, how am I supposed to take care of a kid? I mean, no offense Josh."

Tobias picked up Joshua and held him up in front of him. He had loosened the blanket off and wrapped it around him more loosely and gently. Joshua threw up in Tobias' face.

'Oh that's lovely.'

Tobias carried the baby over to the kitchen sink and washed both of their faces off. He then put Joshua down in an egg-chair and went to the telephone. He dialed several numbers without looking and put the reciever to his ear. He looked nervously around the room and twisted the cord as the phone rang on the other end.

'Hello?' Came the recipient of the call.
'Hey, Marco. It's me.'
'You sound agitated, Tobias. What's the matter?'
'It happened again last night.'
'Aw, shit. What this time?'
'This time it was a tornado. I've got this kid.'
'This what?'
'A baby, Marco.'
'Aw, shit-...'
'I don't know what to do!' Tobias cut in quickly.
'Listen Tobias, you know I have no answers. I don't even know whats going on really. I'll tell you the same thing I told you three weeks ago when you called all hysterical saying a plane crashed right in front of your car, and that is: You need to get some rest, and maybe call your doctor. It's all just a coincedence, there is a reasonable explanation for it all.'

Tobias rolled his eyes. 'What about the cucumber?'
'Oh no, not this again, Tobias, come on.'
'Explain to me how I could be walking in the subway, see a woman get mugged, and as she falls a cucumber flies out of her bag and lands on the track next to her, all the while the 7:15 from Westhavenbrook is speeding towards her, and you know what stops the train? Not the brakes Marco-'
'We've been over this, I know-.'
'-Not the brakes Marco, the cucumber!' Tobias lost it here and dropped the phone. He did not hear Marco say that he was on his way over.

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1258 Reviews

Points: 6090
Reviews: 1258

Wed Oct 26, 2005 9:11 pm
Sam says...

Ah, yeah, get what you're saying. Can't wait for the next chapter!

User avatar
127 Reviews

Points: 890
Reviews: 127

Wed Oct 26, 2005 3:00 am
Rincewind says...

I see what you mean about the dark stormy night cliche. What I'm really trying to stress is the fact that there is a tornado going on, and inside the nursery its tranquli and quiet. It's quite a nasty storm.
Also, I can't use italics for some reason, believe me, I'd love to. It just doesn't work for me. Nor do smilies. I;ve tried everything, dont worry.

Other than that I am appreciating your input. More is to come. Next chapter will be more about the nature of Tobias and why/how he's witnesing miracles.

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1258 Reviews

Points: 6090
Reviews: 1258

Wed Oct 26, 2005 2:40 am
Sam wrote a review...

Okay, this story is very good, but this is a horrifying intro:

'The horizon had dimmed and taken on a shade of grey so terribly threatening that one would feel the very sky was at war with the earth. The wind howled and crashed into buildings, whipping rain and debris in every direction. The frigid air stole the breath and chilled the bone. Mother Nature was angry.'

It's very clich├Ęd. I'm pretty sure you've heard those 'It was a dark and stormy' night stories, right? They're definitely not like this story, so I don't know why you'd really want your introduction to imply that.

It's not that horrible, it's just the 'Mother Nature was angry' line that really makes your writing, I guess. So, at the very least, get rid of that line. You don't need to recap stuff that we could gather from the past paragraph.

'The cars that WERE in the driveway were now strewn randomly across the country farmland.'

This is a cool line, but it's just a technical nitpick: for more formal English, you'll want to use italics instead of capital letters. It makes you look a lot less amateur-ish.

'The man picked up the baby and cooed to him pleasant things. '

Pleasant...things...please elaborate! Pretend I'm stupid and I don't know what pleasant is. I need at least two examples of what pleasant cooing is.

'His name was Tobias Drake and he liked to watch miracles happen.'

If you ask me, I think he's part of miracles. That's a cool line, but it needs to be joojed a bit.

I thought this story was pretty cool, and I liked the way you narrated. (I'm horrible at third person, so I admire anyone who can pull it off). Nice job!

In the winter months, gale storms in Svalbard can reach wind speeds of 130 km/h. Accompanied by or following snowfall, such storms can reduce visibility dramatically, more so in the winter months of the polar night. During these storms, travel is not advised.
— The Documentarian