(Note: I am too lazy to add italics. So if the writing suddenly goes into present tense, you'll know why.)
CHAPTER ONE— UNTOUCHABLE
The thump of footsteps on the cold ground made Émon’s head snap up. He felt a bead of sweat slide down his face, warm against the frosty air. Every muscle was ready to move. But the sound came from a fellow laborer bent under a load of bricks, his steps slow against the beat of Émon’s heart. Émon allowed himself to breathe again.
The man’s gaze turned toward him, Émon smiled. The man’s weary frown became a scowl. “Grin while you can, brown-eyes. You’ll be worm meat by sundown.” He trudged past.
Émon sighed, creating a cloud of steam. “And a good morning to you too, Master Sunbeam.” He didn’t need a reminder. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and rubbed his numb fingers together. Why didn’t an overseer just confront him and get it over with?
Back to work. He picked up another mud-and-straw brick and placed it on the load in front of him. The bricks now formed a neat cube. Émon frowned at the load for a moment, retightening his sash around his tunic. What do I care if the bricks are stacked right? Most of the other workers just piled them in a heap.
He didn’t know why he felt the need to do a good job. He tried not to care.
Émon stood and stretched his arms, hearing his back joints pop. Once again, he would hoist the huge load to his back. Once again, he would haul it from the brickyard to the storehouse. Two hundred and sixteen steps. Enough beats to sing— or chant, since he couldn’t get his throat to form a tune— seven verses of a song his mother had taught him.
A curse upon the spider-mark
The ink that creeps beneath our skin
The brand that makes us who we are:
A blight to those “untouched by sin…”
The song got more sarcastic with each verse. Émon liked it. After all, it wasn’t fair that a poorly-tattooed spider on his breastbone could make him an Untouchable. His mother said that twenty years ago the tattoo had been only an inconvenience. Now, however… His gaze strayed to the metal-spiked walls ten yards away. No, not fair at all.
“Émon—”
He spun, fists clenched, but relaxed when he saw the sun-weathered man. “Traistal, don’t do that to me.”
Traistal eased down his load of bricks and straightened, crossing his arms. “Nervous today, are we?” His tone was careless, but the look in his gray-green eyes made Émon’s hope sink.
“They know it was me, don’t they.”
“Afraid so.”
“An overseer’s coming to—?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Émon rolled his shoulders and felt the scabs wrinkle. They’ve just begun to heal, too. “It’s going to be a bad one, right?”
“They’ll lay your guts open for this one.”
“Oh.” Émon blew on his fingers to warm them. “Optimistic as usual, I see.”
“Of course.” Traistal wry smile faded. “Afraid?”
He scoffed. “Fear is for the weak, the pitiful, the higher castes. I don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“You’re terrified, aren’t you?”
Émon stared at the far wall for several seconds. “Traistal, when am I going to stop getting myself in trouble?”
“Probably when you die. Nothing like death to teach submission. But look on the cheerful side— if you keep this up, your scars are going to outnumber mine.”
Émon half-smiled. He’d seen Traistal’s back. “Not a chance.”
“We’ll see.”
Émon looked up at the pale sky to stretch his neck. “I heard the men in H-section are making another tunnel.”
Traistal shook his head. “Too disorganized. They won’t make it ten feet.”
“I was thinking I could help out anyway. I’m not bad at digging—”
“I thought you weren’t going to escape.”
Émon tucked his hands under his arms. “Mom’s getting better.”
Traistal showed his skepticism without moving a muscle. “Just concentrate on surviving today, all right?”
“I’ll try.” Émon paused, deciding it was time to change the subject. “So I had another dream last night…”
“Yes, people generally do.”
“About Eiamar.”
Even after two years of knowing Traistal, Émon couldn’t decipher his expression. “And?”
“He was standing on this fog-shrouded hill, looking up at the stars. I don’t think he saw me.”
“And what did the creepy magic voice say this time?”
Émon hugged his cold hands tighter against himself. “Nothing. I just saw the picture, that’s all.”
Traistal knelt beside his load and traced his fingers over the small white scar on his temple. “That’s all.”
“Traistal, why won’t you tell me about him?”
“I already have. That was eighteen years ago, Émon. It has no bearing on this situation.” He touched his scar again. He always did when Émon mentioned Eiamar. “I suspect— no, I’m positive— your mysterious Eiamar is different than the one I knew; that thought leads nowhere.”
Émon plopped down, cross-legged. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Traistal touched the load, preparing to lift it. “I’ll be back to gather up your remains when the overseer’s through with you.”
Émon started to rub his toes. “You’re encouraging.”
“When am I not?” Traistal smirked. “Just remember to be useful. If you’re useful, they won’t kill you.”
And if not… Well, those were the terms.
“All right, then…” Traistal heaved the load to his back. “Stay warm.” He turned and walked out of the brickyard. Émon swallowed bile and hoped he could stay alive through one more beating.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
There really isn't much to say that hasn't been said. You got some really good reviews, so I suggest you pay attention to them. Good luck with your story!
Hey. There's not much for me to say that hasn't already been said. Much is still uncertain as to how this will turn out, but I cannot judge off so little. Anyway it is a very good start for something that I hope is equally good! PM when there is more if you will...I'm not on yws that much to check.
-MD
This is rather an odd phrase to use, and I don’t quite get it. “Slow in comparison” to Emon’s heart, is that what you mean? My spell check won’t allow “laborer” but I’m assuming it’s a Yank spelling, with the missing u and all?
I think this would go smoother if you put an “and” in there. The man’s gaze turned toward him and Emon smiled.
“Brown eyes” seems a rather odd nickname. I assume it’s significant?
This might be better as one combined sentence. David Bowie won’t let me suggest an alternative, and it might be all right just as it is, anyway. Just something to think about, ja?
Do you need those commas?
I think the dialogue might be better in two parts. Like, “Traistal! Don’t do that to me.”
Technically you need a question mark there.
Ew-eth!
Tom, Dick or Harry?
I’m trying to picture this, and I don’t get it. Hands under his arms? Like, hands on the bottom of his arms? *did not spend several minutes trying to act this out*
Comma after “so”.
“Foggy” is more natural. I can imagine Eragon saying in all seriousness that something was fog-shrouded.
I think that instead of a semi colon, it might work better to start a new sentence.
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Very enjoyable read, Shafter! I remember reading the first chapter of this sometime ago, when it was all in the same thread. As a first chapter, this sets up the rest nicely. Introducing the Untouchables and mentioing about Eiamar. I think I vaguely remember Eiamar from my first read, but it stopped before anything significant happened.
Hello,
I think "brown-eyes" is an unlikely thing to be called out of hand, unless it is a regular nickname. Eyes that are brown don't usually draw much attention, unless he is surrounded by light eyes.
You do a great job with characterization and dialogue. I love the sarcastic play between the two boys, especially in such a serious situation. Though I don't yet have a clear sense of what's going on, my attention is hooked. I want to know about the mark on his chest and the dreams. I immediately like Emon for getting in trouble so much and want to know what it's about. Lots of loose ends here and I think you could have a bit more about at least one fo them in this section to get rid of the vagueness.
"He didn’t know why he felt the need to do a good job. He tried not to care"- is he trying not to care about why he feels the need to do a good job or does he try not to care about doing a good job?
Great job so far, I look forward to reading more.
Haha. *smug* I realize I’ve already given you my first critique on this, and you’ve probably not yet integrated it into this thread, but seeing as how you’re a tad starved for comments (and I find that reading a thing twice helps me catch more mistakes—especially with a story I enjoy as much as yours) I felt I might make a contribution. Here goes!
I’m not entirely sure if clog is right and you need to establish them all as Untouchables (I’m too familiar with the story to know), but if she is, this would be a good place to do so—just substitute “Untouchable” for “laborer.” Even if it’s not strictly necessary, it might be a good idea—try it and see what you think.
See, if you’d used “Untouchable” earlier, you could use it as a substitute for one of those “man”s. Or…I’ve just realized, you say “man’s” both times, and tis just a tad repetitive. I wouldn’t be so picky if I didn’t know you were going for publification.
Nix—tis redundant. And I’ve only just now realized that that’s probably supposed to be a thought. Still. Tis redundant.
Redundant.
I am just now realizing how whiny that sounds.
This I should just nix entirely, though I don’t feel so strongly about it as I do the first one.
If I didn’t mention it before—this is as beautiful a little bit of dialogue as ever they exchange.
By the way, props on making such a brutal situation out to be funny—it makes your characters believably human and draws your reader in faster than any amount of angst could have.
Eh. A tiny bit over-poetic. Just a little, and it’s probably a purely stylistic difference. Even so, perhaps consider something like “foggy” or “fog-covered”? Something that doesn’t sound so romantic and, like “oh, I’m having mysterious dreams!”
See, you have Traistal. This is why you can get away with phrases like “fog-shrouded.” Nothing even vaguely ‘destiny’-sounding gets past him.
That particular bit sounds as if he’s speaking to himself. If so, perhaps give some indication that that’s what he’s doing?
Heeey-a Shafter!
The little song should be in italics. If it already is then I'm sorry - this site is being weird for me right now.
I really, really like this. I'm endeared to your main character and the idea of untouchables. I might have missed out on a prologue, but I'd still like some clarification on a few things though:
The whole "brown-eyes" comment. Why is it significant that he says that? What does that mean, exactly? And is Traistal an Untoucable as well? Because he's a laborer, and it seemed that was Emon's curse, so I figured that was why he was there.
You need to clarify on those things.
Also, some more description on what Emon and Traistal look like would be nice, and the surroundings. He's handling bricks - what is the setting like? What country/land/area is he in? All the like of that.
Otherwise, I really did enjoy this and I want to see more.
Thanks for the read. C: