This is part 4, and yeah, it starts off with a piece of a backstory. I tricked you into clicking here. This story comes with extra baggage. Baggage like parts 1-3.
You should really at least read part 3, or parts 2 AND 3. Or read a part of this, decide you like the writing, and then go back and read the other parts. If you want to stick with the story, it's better to like, not be super confused about it. The second part is called 'over the bridge', and can probably be found on the sidebar here--------->
HERE GOES
Naz’s family died a bit before I met him. I’m not sure how many of them there were, exactly. There was a Mam, a Pa, a Jes, and an Ely, for sure. These last two were his sister and brother, I think. She was seven years old and he was thirteen, the age Naz is now. These are the regulars. There are other names he mentions, but he provides almost no context for them, sometimes mentions them only once and never again.
From what I know, they all got sick at around the same time. Within a few days. And then they were gone. The father went first. The sister went last. That’s about what I know about it.
He was eleven years old then, and in a worse condition than he is now. There’s only so far you can get in a fishing village. Everybody’s just too friendly. Too open. They needed offensive hunting techniques to catch their food, never had to fight for it. They saw no point in varying their diet. But the truth is that plants and fish aren’t good enough alone. These sources of energy wear off soon, and don’t give the body much strength to grow. That’s why everyone that lived in that village was short and skinny, and weak.
Because it was a peaceful community that kept to itself, there wasn’t a problem until disease hit. Nobody was expecting it. They should’ve, but they didn’t. That’s what peace and quiet brings, huh.
Lowered guards.
More shit.
So I was walking through this little Patch by the river at the time, and it was quiet. It was so quiet there. All you could hear was that river flowing over the pebbles and the sand and through the wooden posts of the decks built along it. And...there was a... wind that seemed to get in every crack and wheeze into it.
It was near the end of the day, and the sun was reddening on the other side of the river.
In those days, I packed heavy so I could set up comfortably out in the open. There was a lot of space in the areas through which I was traveling. No shelter for the homeless. So I would choose a spot on the ground. Make a fire. Lay out my blanket. Button my coat.
Looking around and seeing nothing. No people.
It was a good day. I could sleep on one of the decks. Where the cold didn’t run through like electricity and creep into my body. As long as I woke up before someone kicked me off.
And it was a red sky night. It would be clear, and the stars would be out in time.
I picked the longest one- the longest deck- for later.
Now, I needed to find food. But there...was nothing, here. The only thing there was dirt and bare bushes, and water. Some tall, thin trees around the edges. And the little huts.
I hated begging, but it comes to that some days. That’s one of the demeaning aspects of being on the road, and one of the worst for me. When there aren’t enough resources out in the open, I have to go directly up to the dwellings and ask for food. Usually, I’m slammed out.
The door I went up to wasn’t a door. There was wooden doorframe and a too-short piece of canvas hanging above it, and it blows dust in and out of the hut. No point in it being there, I thought, if it can’t serve its purpose.
Anyone that can’t afford a door usually can’t share food... I looked back at the other prospects, but...every house on that block, of sorts, looked exactly the same as the first.
Might as well try.
I turned back to the doorframe and knocked beside it. It was made of mud and straw together, and didn’t make a sound.
I remember that I wondered where that straw came from. Nothing useful grew here, it seemed…
When no one answered my knock, I peeked my head in.
It was one small dim room, bare, save for the large grey candle in the middle, gone out, and a row of rolled-up sleeping mats against the wall, extra candles and three fishing beside them, already. No one home.
I glanced out the opening quickly, checking to see if anyone was watching me. No one. Place remained a ghost town.
Fishing rods. The fishing rods. I could use one of those. And, if no one was needing it… I reached out shakily towards it. And my hand closed around the handle. Just as…
“You could ask, you know.”
I gasped, and dropped the rod. Turned around slowly. Can’t go upsetting someone that you’ve stolen from. You know, it’s their right to kill you, if they catch you.
The voice was soft and steady, and it sounded like it knew what it was doing, but it’s owner didn’t match it.
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“Are we good to go?”
“I think. Yeah. Where are we off to today?”
“Home.”
“Eh. Can we not?”
“Naz. We can not not. We are going home. It’s only a day trip from here, I think. We just have to go...” I take out my compass from the pocket on my jacket. “… Almost due east. We’re lucky we ended up so close to it. We’re running out of supplies. And money.”
Naz picked up a stone from the platform and threw it into the creek.
“I guess… Maybe we’ll miraculously find the end of the city by backtracking, Ben. Who knows. Anything could happen.”
“That’s the spirit. Come on, Etan and Si are waiting. And Kira.”
“Better than your sorry ass.”
I grin.“They sure are. Come on, do you want to see them or not?” I break into a run.
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Canary word: Present
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,836 Reviews
Hey,
This has been an interesting story so far, I think adding this aspect was a nice touch. I've enjoyed watching this story come to life. Now, onto my small list of nitpicks!
I bring up this line because it's and its get commonly confused. In this line it should be its.
I feel like this line should be revised, it sounds kinda clunky and I had to re-read it to understand what you meant.
While this makes sense I feel like it could be improved if you used a comma after knows and make Anything lowercase.
There should be a space between . and "
I point out this line because you used "I" quite a bit in here and it takes away from the aspect of the story. I'm sorry I just feel its a little overused in this sentence.
Aside from all of that this was a really great story! I enjoyed spending 5th period reviewing it! Keep writing!
Sincerely,
Collideascope
I've read the third part to this but nothing else, so I'm glad for the backstory, premature though it may be. Sometimes you need to write a novel and skip around with parts, and that's perfectly alright! I like the story and environment that you're developing.
One thing I don't really like is how short and choppy your sentences feel. Of course, they don't have to all be super long-winded, but it feels like a lot of them are just too broken. It interrupts the flow of the story and makes it less interesting to read when you just describe action after action instead of giving real description to it. I want more details; what was the sickness they caught like? How did they die? What was it like for Ben to beg when he was on the street? What was life really like for him? Details are important in a story!
One thing I do like is how your characters interact with each other like real people. It can be hard for authors to make their characters believable, but you do it well. I can almost imagine them being real and going through all of this in real life, save for the parts that are obviously fantasy.
I did notice that sometimes you don't space after quotations, like this;
There should be a space between the period and the quotation.
Other than that, I'm enjoying this and I'm eager to see what this becomes when it's all put into one story. Keep on writing!
Thanks for taking the time to review this!
The broken sentences can be a bit much sometimes. I want to create a certain atmosphere, and the style of the sentences help with that, but i admit i went too far sometimes.
You ask for details, but...even though i'm not a planner, i can see where parts of the story fit, vaguely. The details will be granted over a longer-than expected time. I even cut off a backstory-in later installments, the backstory will pick up where it left off and you'll learn what sickness it is. remember that in the 3rd part, Naz had a sort of aversion getting blood stained on his shoes. that plays a part in the illness/backstory, and why I cut to the backstory at that part.
I'm going to prolong this, and i'm going to try to do it as well as i can without creating plot holes. If I don't explain the things you mentioned in later parts, please tell me and I will thank you profusely, and rewrite things.