Young Writers Society

'Aloo thar, and welcome to my uh, post. Story. Thing.

Anyway! This wall of text here tries hard to be the first part of the first chapter of my novel-to-be. There will be cookies if you make it to the end. Enjoy!

By the way, I like weird words.

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Theron winced and staggered backwards, a blow that hit him directly in the jaw sending him reeling further into the dark alley tucked between two squat wooden houses so very common in the village he called home. His eyes narrowed with anger as he swiped the red off his lip, and, regaining his composure, stood upright, facing the group of sneering local teens that he knew all too well.

“What’s up, flowerboy? Come on, gimme your best shot. Go on, eh? Or have you spent so much time with your momma that you’ve forgotten that you’re a man, with a reputation to uphold?” mocked the one who had delivered the punch. His entourage of four neighborhood youngsters laughed insultingly. Theron’s lip curled with rage, and he could feel his ears turning a shade of red.

“You weren’t looking so tough a couple months ago, ‘Lil-Torey. In fact, I think it was this ‘flowerboy’ and his ‘momma’ who came up with the medicine to cure your case of pneumonia... It would seem that the concept of gratitude is beyond your tiny brain – Assuming you have one, that is.” Theron grinned slightly as he saw Tor’s taunting expression twitch. He hated when people called him ‘Lil-Torey, something his mother and many of the older men in the village at times did.

He was anything but little though, nearly seven feet tall and of a broad build; it was only his habit of trying to act older than his age of seventeen years would permit – Pleading for the leading hunters to let him join whatever great event happened to be upcoming, from the great midsummer hunt or the various games included in the feast to honor the gods in midwinter, even though he wasn’t considered an adult (and complaining rather loudly each time after they firmly refused) - that had earned him the title. When he wasn’t pestering the elders or chasing girls (both groups mostly ignored him as a loud drunkard), he and his little gang spent their time making trouble. Theron was a favored target. Slim, not exactly bulky and barely reaching five and-a-half feet, he was easy pickings in a community where it was brawn, not brains, what got you far.

He spat in his feet, derisive to the bitter end as always. He might not have muscle, but his tongue was sharp enough to chop wood, if he wished to.

“A waste of good herbs.”

“So that was yer best shot huh? Let me show you mine then, something from a man who isn’t all long words and plants!” Tor said and aimed a punch at Theron’s stomach. He took a few quick steps back, avoiding the blow. Tor halted, and the crowd behind him snickered.

“You’re a wimp, Theron. Backing down from every fight, running like a girl. Hit me! I’ll give you a free shot…” Theron smirked at him mockingly, regaining his haughty pose. He knew that Tor’s buddies would join in the second it would seem that he showed any signs of fighting back.

“I don’t have the heart, seeing that your best shot was a miss, and you had to bring four pals with you for support, Torey... You’re such a tough guy, a real man…”

“I know I am. See, my buddies just go where I go. I thought I’d just come and say hi, but you were so damn impolite that I just had to teach you some manners.” Theron rolled his eyes, knowing all too well that Tor just enjoyed making his life harder. He and his gang was a big part of the reason why he spent so much time in the wild. That was where he was headed this early morning. It would be midsummer soon, and many rare herbs would blossom only for a few days before they withered and died. The specimens he was after were tricky, useful only in certain hours of the day; some closed their petals to shield the sensitive pistils from the sun, while others would dig into the earth as night fell. Tor couldn’t have found him at a worse time.

“But if you want a fair fight, why don’t you bring a few friends next time and- Ah, but I forget… You don’t have any friends. Nobody likes you, Theron, except maybe that herb-witch you call mother; or I don’t know, it’s probably just pity. You know, we’d be much happier if you just decided not to return from the forests one day. You never brought back anything worth mentioning anyway. Not that you could, that is.” Theron clenched his fists, bitter rage swelling in his stomach.

He did not just go there…

He had to force himself to refrain from shouting; his words came out as a scornful hiss instead.

“What would you know about manners, filth? Being born was damn impolite of you, Tor. Such an insult to the ogres that spawned you, not to mention Mother Nature and everyone who has the misfortune to lay their eyes on you. I’ll be sure to slip something venomous into the potion they feed for the sick next time you’re deathly ill – It’s nothing worth mentioning anyway… Hey, just like you. I won’t waste time with you and your collection of morons any longer.”

With that, Theron turned on his heels and started walking, knowing that he’d end up doing something he’d regret before long. Tor’s expression as he digested what he’d just said lingered in his mind, spreading a slight grin of satisfaction on his lips and dimming some of the rage he felt. He didn’t get too far before pain exploded in his back, robbing him of breath and making him fall on all fours. Dazed, he gasped for air as a steady stream of broken curses wheezed from his lips. He could hear a chorus of laughter coming from behind him; Tor’s friends were applauding his sound hit.

That’s it.

Theron slowly got up, grasping a handful of mud in his hand as he did, and turned to face them, his feet stained up to his knees with dirt.

“How brave, Tor, how very brave… Backstabbing bastard. You speak a lot of courage, honor and a man’s reputation, all the while going around, pestering those who you deem easy targets with a handful of buddies, just to make sure you don’t get hurt. You’re pathetic.” Theron subtly fingered the pouches lined up on his belt as he spoke, thinking of the powdered plants within. Tor and the boys behind him cracked their knuckles, smug and confident.

“I’ve got a little cure for your big mouth here I’d like to try, have a taste!” Theron growled as he threw the mud in his face and spread the contents of one of his purses in the air. He then quickly turned tail and ran, the coughs and screams erupting behind him a sweet melody in his ears. Thorntail was a generally useless plant, barbed and mildly poisonous with no remedying qualities; but it was common, much to the nuisance of travelers in the northern woods, and when powdered and properly prepared, it would make an effective weapon when one doesn’t want to inflict any serious injury.

Theron grinned to himself as he ran through the quiet village. Tor would be red-eyed and sore-throated for a while, he knew. He glanced at the slowly dawning night sky. He’d have to be quick to outrun the sun today.

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