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| Acmlm's Board - I3 Archive - Writing - (One-shot) The Tragedy of the Witch |
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Clockworkz Birdon                  Since: 11-18-05 Last post: 5907 days Last view: 5907 days |
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| An older story, but I still feel as though it deserves a spot here.
Enjoy~ The orange glow from the cigarette clenched between her thin lips illuminated her face as she leaned over the guardrail on the empty causeway that overlooked a small river. The moon was shrouded behind a veil of clouds, and the only unnatural light on the bridge came from the few streetlights that dotted the side of the roadway and the random car or two that would seldom drive past her. It was a usual scene for her, one that she’d revisit more often that she’d like. Her past shrouded in ambiguity, and her future uncertain, this lowly street urchin only wiles away her time doing odd jobs for a little bit of money to buy the things she needs: food and cigarettes. As she waited on the bridge for something, for anything, as she did every night, she stared out onto the open water, and as usual, thought about the bizarre events that transpired over the course of the twenty-two years of her life. * * * There was a small island off the east coast of Canada, near the northern tip of Maine. Roughly seventy nameless, strange people lived on the heavily forested area, and she was amongst them, all hunters and gatherers. Her life was hard, living in nature day in and day out, but still, she was happy, for she was with her parents and friends. But there was something odd about these people, something strange or amiss. She asked about it, about why the people seemed so odd to her, even though she just couldn’t put her thumb on it. Her parents never answered her, and she decided to put it behind her. The happiness wouldn’t last though. After sixteen years of a peaceful life, it was all snatched away and torn in half. Late into the night, on one unusually warm evening while everyone was asleep, an unknown group of people raided the small village and razed it to the ground, killing almost everyone. She was fortunate enough to escape into the forest and elude the people who stole her life away. It was uncertain whether or not these people came from the mainland or within the village itself, but all she knew was that she needed to run. The mainland was not far from the Island; in fact, on a clear day it was visible, and many boats normally dotted the piers upon the rocky shores of the north coast, which was closest to the mainland. She managed to make her way to one of them and leave the godforsaken place and start a new life on a shoreline community in northern Maine, and since stayed there, homeless for the past six years. * * * It wasn’t easy for her to get a job. She was a very emotional person, and whenever tears would well up in her soft brown eyes, something would always happen. An appliance would break, or the power would go out, or something along the lines of an electrical mishap. She knew what it was, but turned a blind eye to it until one morning washing dishes in Cheddars, a local restaurant. She was seventeen at the time, and dropped a plate. It broke, and being the overly emotional person that she was, started to get flustered. As she quickly tried to clean up the pieces of china that scattered across the floor, a strange, faint glow emitted from her hands, and before she knew it, an arching discharge of electrical energy flowed between her hands erratically, startling her enough to jolt her back onto the floor. It just so happened that the manager had walked in on her as the phenomenon had occurred, scaring him enough to fire her. It had happened before… * * * A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder as she tried to escape, running towards the North shore of the tiny besieged island, and she whirled around to meet her attacker, her eyes wide as she stared into the burly man’s huge scruffy face. He grinned, and she gasped. Was she going to die? She couldn’t even scream. Her voice left her, and no words came from her mouth. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere, little girl. Now, die!” She winced, and as the man prepared to slit her throat with a knife in his left hand. What came next was unexpected, to say the least. Her entire body shuddered, and with a sudden jolt of energy flowing through her subconsciously, a stream of electrical energy burst from her kneeling form and connected with the chest of her attacker, and flung him into a nearby tree. The angle that his head hit the sturdy trunk twisted his neck in such a way, that he could never have survived. She had killed him. She fell to her knees, shuddering, gasping for air, witnessing the carnage she helped cause. She felt sick, like something hideous was welling from within her, and she began to feel like something so inhuman. * * * Word of the oddity in the restaurant quickly spread throughout the town, and pretty soon, she couldn’t walk anywhere without being stared at. She couldn’t even stay at a hotel without being shot looks of hatred and fear, and no one would talk to her when she’d stop into the local country store to pick up a pack of smokes. So now, all she does is wait. She waits on the bridge by the river, waiting for something to pick her up and save her. What is this strange power she possesses? Is it some kind of sorcery or witchcraft? As she took a long drag from her cigarette, she stuck her left hand into the front pocket of her olive drab hoodie, and extended her right hand foolishly, waving about the air, seeing if she was correct in her initial preconceptions of this electrical “power”. She flung her hand about like a fool, but she didn’t care. No one bothered to look at her anymore anyway, so what did she care? Eventually, she gave up, and gave her hand a rest. “Ah, screw it. I don’t care.” “You should care. You’re trying to force it. It should come from deep down inside. Once you use it consciously for the first time, you’ll never forget.” It was a male voice from behind her; mellow and kind, but altogether unexpected. She whirled around to see this man under a streetlight, which highlighted his features acutely. He noticed her and smiled. He took a step forward, and as he approached her, the chains and metallic paraphernalia on his oversized black cargo pants jingled against each other, and his black Slayer tee-shirt waved in the air as a breeze passed by, which barely startled his long black hair for some odd reason. His kind, sad eyes looked up to her, and he smiled a smile that made his gothic apparel and scraggily goatee seem less intimidating. “Been a while, Nicole. Thought you were dead.” She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was the solitude finally getting to her, and insanity taking over, or was it all a dream? Surely it couldn’t be reality. That voice; it was unmistakable. “Danny? No way… Danny! Is that you!?” He walked toward her, and smiled even wider upon realizing that the girl had recognized him, even after six years. The cigarette fell out of her mouth as she ran towards him and hugged him as tight as she could. Her friend since childhood was alive and well in this miserable little town, and that alone made her stay there worthwhile. “You big jackass; I worried about you! How’re you doing!?” He met her hug with an equivalent embrace, and apologized. “As well as a homeless man can. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you lived. But on the same token, I also thought that if you did live, you would have realized your powers by now.” She looked at him quizzically as she ended the hug, but soon understood him. “What is it? This… power?” Ever since her discovery of it, she had always been startled, frightened and puzzled by it. Now, it finally seemed as though she’d get some answers. His looked turned serious as he answered her quandary. “This’ll be a lot for you to take in, but bear with me. You are a witch. A witch just like me and everyone else on that island.” She was taken aback, and gasped at Danny’s declaration. She didn’t want to believe him, but she’d known him for such a long time, why would he have any reason to lie about something like this, especially now in the condition they were in? “You and me were the only survivors it seems. But it looks like you don’t believe me yet.” The look on her face said it all. She was still skeptical of him, and she had every right in the world to be. “Take out a cigarette. Lemme see one.” She complied, and reached into the pocket of her faded, torn up jeans, and pulled out the box of Marlboro Lights and handed one to her friend, who took it into his mouth. “Now, then. Watch this,” he announced as he snapped his fingers about a foot from his face. With the snap of a few sparks and the ignition of the oxygen surrounding it, the tip of the cigarette blazed forth as he took a hit from it, then blew smoke into the night. She stared, wide eyed, as he worked his magic, and turned to her, smirking. She was won over, and finally came to believe what Danny had said to her. “Danny, that was awesome! You gotta teach me how to do shit like this! “I got them. Two of ‘em. To think they were here, right under my nose for the past six years. Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. Fine.” He slammed his cell phone shut, and put it back in his tan pants pocket. He glared out the windshield of his black Chrysler as he observed the two witches on the bridge together, laughing and catching up. The car was parked cattycorner in an ally near the bridge. Agent Harrison had the perfect vantage point from which to spy on them. After several minutes of observation, he took out the rosary kept around his neck, and kissed it. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I am a weapon of God, and I will deliver His wrath upon the wretches that plague this world. Amen.” With that, he drew a pistol from his inside trench coat pocket, and kept it at his side as he opened the door of his car and appeared in the darkness. Walking out, several snowflakes began to fall, and Harrison could see his breath outside. He drew near, and readied his piece, ready to carry out the wishes of his agency. They were interrupted. The laughing and talking of times past was over, as they were cut off from the nostalgia and reminiscing by a loud, curt voice of an older man with slicked back silver hair. “Sinners! You have been judged guilty in the eyes of God! Prepare yourselves for an eternity of damnation!” Danny had little time to react, but he did manage to get his and Nicole’s head down as Harrison fired a shot towards them, missing them completely. A warning shot, in all probability. “Hey! Just who the hell are you? What are you doing here!?” shouted a befuddled and now frightened Danny. How could this man know what they were? “Although my name is useless to a pair of dead witches, I’ll let you know as your last dying wish. I am Jacob Harrison, a member of the Wrath of God, a Catholic organization of the Vatican, dedicated to the destruction of garbage like you.” Nicole clutched onto Danny, quivering with fear. Her magic lessons weren’t finished, and she barely learned how to tap into her abilities, so she was, for all intents and purposes, basically useless if a fight ensued. Danny was genuinely pissed now. “You shouldn’t have come here, Catholic. I’ll salt the earth with your corpse!” With that, Danny rushed towards him, a mystical fire glowing within his hands. Harrison fired, and at the same moment the trigger was pulled, Danny unleashed a powerful sphere of pyrokinetic energy at the hapless agent, destroying the bullet in the process. It exploded near Harrison’s feet and he was sent reeling. Danny readied himself, as he knew a counterattack was imminent. A flurry of emotions overtook Nicole, and her fear lead to anger, which in turn lead to hate. As she boiled inside, a massive flow of energy gathered within her. Harrison got to his feet and aimed his gun yet again. She wouldn’t allow it to happen. Stomping towards him with a strong sense of justice, she lunged forward and unleashed a bolt of electricity at her attacker. It was apparently emotion that tied the bonds between her and her energy, and she figured it would serve as useful knowledge. As Harrison was launched back with a stream of lightning, his muscles tensed up all over, and his finger still on the trigger, it was depressed unintentionally, and the bullet from his .45 APC sped towards the male witch and struck him in the stomach, just as the agent was slammed into a building, and fell unconscious. Danny only stood there, with a look of shock on his face, and his hand over his stomach as the blood flowed out of the wound. Nicole screamed as she saw what happened, and ran to his side as he fell to his knees, and then his side. There was a thin coating of snow on the ground now as the precipitation began to pick up and fall steadily faster. She bent down to him, and tears flowed out of her eyes, as she spoke in sobbing words to him. “No.. Danny, don’t do this. Don’t leave me all alone! Don’t die, goddammit! Please!” He opened his eyes to look at her, and smiled a bit. He talked to her with weak, unstable words, and looked into her weeping face. “You know, I always knew I’d die in defense of my people, but I’d rather die for a beautiful woman instead; wouldn’t you know it. I was right. The only thing I never got around to, though, was asking you what you thought about me, not that it makes any difference any more…” With that, the last light of his body was snuffed out, and his cold, glassed eyes stared up into the sky as Nicole held his hand to her face and wept for him. The snow was falling hard now, and she was cold, but didn’t care. She just wanted to be with him. He got to his feet, his head bleeding, and Harrison turned around silently to see the back of the witch he was meant to kill knelt over her late friend’s body as the blood began to pool beneath them. Harrison saw his opportunity, and drew a pocket knife out from his trench coat pocket. She had no time to react as he ran headlong for her, with no regard for his own life. With a quick and jabbing pain in her back, her eyes went wide as the knife dug deeper into her back. As it was pulled out, she fell over top of Danny’s body, and lay still. With a smirk, Harrison responded to Danny’s pondering that he overheard. “There’s nothing to stop you from telling her now.” He was tired, and his legs hurt as he meandered back to his car, wearily. It had been a long night, and the only thing he wanted now was a nice drink to perk himself back up. His car drove off, leaving the bodies of the two behind The residents of the town wouldn’t care; they’d be happy to be rid of them finally. Fin. |
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Hiryuu Sword Maiden Retired Admin    Since: 11-17-05 From: Nerima District - Tokyo, Japan Last post: 5908 days Last view: 5908 days |
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| That was more or less a roller coaster to 'bad end'. It was a nice short story ride, though, and could have definitely been expanded on. There were a few areas that I read where you had really good detail, especially when describing people but when it came to actual emotion you had some difficulty really writing it out; the ideas felt compressed.
Perhaps it had something to do with the overall tone of the story, which was really dismal and dark in the whole span of it. Actually, it just screams irony. But I think there were certain areas that could have been expanded on farther than they were as though this could have been a long story instead of just a twenty minute read through. Sides, that would have been one heck of a doozy end if that would have been the end of a long story that followed the trend up like you had written it, using that as an outline. That would have left plenty with a 'what the hell?!' at the end. Though, I'm generally not used to 'bad endings' either. |
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Silvershield   580  Since: 11-19-05 From: Emerson, New Jersey Last post: 5920 days Last view: 5907 days |
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| First of all, thank you for knowing what paragraph breaks are. In my experience, the biggest turn off when reviewing someone's writing is the absolute lack of any visual separation, and it usually leads me to just ignore the piece altogether; it's nice to see someone actually be aware of that sort of thing, because it's so often forgotten.
I appreciate that you choose a sort of unhappy ending in favor of one where everything turns out a-ok. It gives me the sense that this short story is just a piece of a larger universe - our main hero and heroine die, but this organization that unjustly hunts them is still very much alive, and so I am led to believe that, beyond the scope of this story, there is a larger battle going on. Which, of course, could be fodder for a later story (or stories), which would be nice. If I have to offer a criticism, it's the somewhat cliche idea of the protagonist discovering a previously unapparent power or ability, and then some sort of mentor or sage-like character appearing to guide the protagonist in the use of that ability. Like I said, it's something of a cliche, and it could be dangerous if overused or used improperly. That's not to say that you've overused it or used it improperly, but is instead just a caution against such a mistake should you write more on this in the future. Another cliche that I think might actually have hurt your story, instead of just having the potential to hurt it, is Harrison's exposition prior to attacking. Originally posted by ClockworkzI fully understand that his name and his background are vital for the reader to know, but you've written it in more of a "super villain speaking to the hero just before killing him" kind of way. Which is what the situation is, of course, but that makes it cliche, somewhat unwieldy, and very unnatural-sounding. If you could introduce Harrison's name, his background, and his motives more naturally and organically, it would help that part a lot. That said, I really don't have any larger problems with it. The tone is dark, as Hiryuu said, and I think it lends itself to an image of a greater universe in which this struggle is widespread. It could be really, really good. (Of course, I don't know if you've already written more about it, but I'm going on this assumption that this is a stand-alone piece.) |
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