Post by Michael on Jan 24, 2009 22:30:19 GMT -5
Yes, it is unnamed. This is also my first fantasy, so try to bear with me.
Also, if you can think of any names for the story, feel free to post it here or PM me. Preferably the latter.
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"Mother, please!"
"No. You are not a child anymore. You can not go to the Carnival and that's final." The tall woman stalked out of the room to finish with her makeup.
Meanwhile, Helen was left to stand there, feeling as if she had been physically slapped by her mothers words. Finally, she collected herself and took off her shoes.
The Carnival was her favorite place. It always had been. The festivities, the magic, the splendor, and the general atmosphere were all right down the street. And she was forbidden to go.
Normally a woman of action and protest, Helen was reduced to stamping off to her room. She couldn't believe it! Mother and Father were going to a party, Jonathan was getting ready to go courting ladies, and she was forced to stay home by herself! In her rage, Helen spun around and shot a nearby tapestry with a green bolt from her finger. It quickly burned into a small pile on the floor.
The effect was immediate. The Aura she'd given off in that spell, however small, was enough for her mother to detect.
"HELEN!!"
Finally coming to her senses, Helen glanced at the pile of ashes as she went running to her room. Oh, well. She'd never really liked it, anyways.
Moving into her room, she could hear her mother coming around the corner into the hall. Helen quick shut the door and, still gripping the knob, uttered "Värma." The green Aura from her made enough heat to weld the doorknob shut.
"Finally," thought Helen. "Some privacy."
Sighing, Helen more fell than jumped onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling. A couple minutes later, she heard her parents leave. But not long after that, she sensed her brother undo the welding on her door, and he walked into the room.
They didn't look at all related. And it wasn't the four-year age difference. The 22-year-old Jonathan had brown hair, not like her dark red, and he was a short, stocky man. They had a joke in the family: He had four years on her, and she had four inches on him.
Not that any of that mattered much. He was a man, and that was all that counted in their high rings of society.
"I'm leaving for the Carnival soon," He said, laying down next to her. Helen snorted, not sure whether he was bragging or sympathizing.
"...And I was wondering if you wanted to come along."
Everything in the Carnival was joyous. Vendors had their places on the street, and were shouting out deals on wares and treats. Street Performers both made magical displays and feats of all kinds People packed the streets, taking it all in. About ten minutes ago, before the last rays of the sun had gone, the fireworks had started, and would probably last for an hour or two.
Helen was on the edge of Market Plaza, which had been turned into a giant dance floor. She was dressed in an ankle-length red dress that matched the color of her hair perfectly. Her light-blue eyes were ringed with a little eyeshadow, and she had a dye in her hair that was made from a mixture of rose petals and honey. And yet, in all her beauty, she sat on the side tapping her feet to the folk jig that the band was playing.
A street performer was nearby, using his Aura to make small golden butterflies for the little children to chase. A vendor behind her was selling small toffees made from various flower petals, most of which she'd already bought and tried. She felt herself craving one of those Forget-me-nots, and wondered if it was some magic trick from the vendor until she remembered that Magic didn't stick to objects.
The dance floor was a mass of swirling dresses and coattails, as the dancers spun in circles around each other. The center of the plaza was taken up by the Fountain, a large, six-tiered construction that brought up groundwater and gave it enough momentum to be channeled off through small creeks to provide water for the whole city.Sitting on the lip of each tier was a section of the band that was playing, finally reaching the Conductor at the top. He was both conducting the band by mirrors on their music stands and using his Aura to distribute the music evenly amongst the entire Carnival.
And amidst all this, she was sitting on a bench at the edge of the plaza, silently enjoying the music and the smells coming from the perfume vendor nearby, and looking for slight glances of her brother and his fiancee in the thicket of spinning dancers.
It was around the time when she was about to jump up and burst over to the perfume vendor just to see what was smelling so good when a man walked up and sat down next to her. He was wearing a very formal black suit and had white, leather gloves. But it was his eyes that she noticed most. The emerald green eyes, that she was instantly addicted to. She felt herself not caring if the owner to those eyes was compassionate, or adventurous, or even if he was her age.
The song that was playing came to an end, instead replaced by a slow, romantic waltz. The man standing next to her stood up at this, and looked at her. His mouth opened, and all he said was,
"Care to dance?"
His voice was soft and melodic, and she found herself getting up and taking his arm before her mouth could make a word. They danced for the whole song, slow and calm. In no hurry to go anywhere. Their hearts went out to each other, and despite all the intellect she had and caution she was known for, she found herself madly in love with him.. When it was over, they went back to the bench, and he said,
"I'll take you home. Where is your coat?"
"On the rack at the West entrance. It has my name on a tag, attached to the collar."
"Wait here, I'll get it for you." He went to leave, but then stopped to ask something else. "What is your name?"
Half-laughing, half-crying, Helen replied "Helen. Helen Driscall."
"I see. Well then, Helen. I shall return with your coat." He left, strutting a quarter-of-the-way around the plaza before heading along West Market St.
Helen, meanwhile, was so dizzy with all the thoughts and feelings that all she could do was sit down. It didn't help. She felt like she was in a room filled with billions of tiny insects that only she could see, and they were all buzzing in circles around her.
It was for these reasons that she was unable to notice the dim lights behind her, nor the cheering turning slowly to screaming. She certainly didn't notice the smell of smoke in the air, with the combined perfume smell and her seeming senselessness. What she did notice, however, was the whole of the Carnival running in one direction. That brought her back, where she noticed everything else she'd previously missed.
Craning to see what was happening through the thick crowd, she recognized the man she'd danced with seconds before he crashed into her and knocked her into the ground. He never came back.
She rolled under the bench to keep from being trampled. Her arm was screaming with pain, and it was probably broken. People were running and screaming, their already thundering footsteps amplified by the stonework. Helen found herself screaming in agony from the combined pain in her arm and the deafening screams and footsteps. Finally, the latter slowed and eventually stopped, replaced with the sounds of explosions. She looked out and saw one person, dressed in a leather vest, firing blasts of Aura into the various shops and letting them burn.
Then the whistles. The shrill whistles of the Police. One made it to the Plaza, but it sounded like more were on their way.
It all happened so fast. The Marshal reached for his gun, an Aura launcher made of Platinum, but the Terrorist was faster on the draw. The gunshot sounded out across the city, and the bullet hit the Marshall square in the chest. He was thrown back a couple feet, and his gun clattered to the ground and skated its way over to Helen. More cops arrived at the scene, and all were hit by the terrorist and his revolver. With one shot left, he turned to level the gun straight at Helen. She reached and, in one fast move, picked up the gun and shot him.
The green bolt hit him right between the eyes, and disintegrated his whole body into a thick red powder. Three more Marshals arrived from the North, saw the aftermath of the shootout, and yelled,
"In the name of the Law, halt!"
Helen didn't hear it. She was too mortified by what she had done. She rolled out from under the bench and ran. She didn't know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get out of there. Still carrying the gun, she ran clear out of the city, and into the wild. There, amidst the trees and soft grasses, she collapsed on the ground.
She was asleep before she hit it.
Also, if you can think of any names for the story, feel free to post it here or PM me. Preferably the latter.
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Chapter 1
"Mother, please!"
"No. You are not a child anymore. You can not go to the Carnival and that's final." The tall woman stalked out of the room to finish with her makeup.
Meanwhile, Helen was left to stand there, feeling as if she had been physically slapped by her mothers words. Finally, she collected herself and took off her shoes.
The Carnival was her favorite place. It always had been. The festivities, the magic, the splendor, and the general atmosphere were all right down the street. And she was forbidden to go.
Normally a woman of action and protest, Helen was reduced to stamping off to her room. She couldn't believe it! Mother and Father were going to a party, Jonathan was getting ready to go courting ladies, and she was forced to stay home by herself! In her rage, Helen spun around and shot a nearby tapestry with a green bolt from her finger. It quickly burned into a small pile on the floor.
The effect was immediate. The Aura she'd given off in that spell, however small, was enough for her mother to detect.
"HELEN!!"
Finally coming to her senses, Helen glanced at the pile of ashes as she went running to her room. Oh, well. She'd never really liked it, anyways.
Moving into her room, she could hear her mother coming around the corner into the hall. Helen quick shut the door and, still gripping the knob, uttered "Värma." The green Aura from her made enough heat to weld the doorknob shut.
"Finally," thought Helen. "Some privacy."
Sighing, Helen more fell than jumped onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling. A couple minutes later, she heard her parents leave. But not long after that, she sensed her brother undo the welding on her door, and he walked into the room.
They didn't look at all related. And it wasn't the four-year age difference. The 22-year-old Jonathan had brown hair, not like her dark red, and he was a short, stocky man. They had a joke in the family: He had four years on her, and she had four inches on him.
Not that any of that mattered much. He was a man, and that was all that counted in their high rings of society.
"I'm leaving for the Carnival soon," He said, laying down next to her. Helen snorted, not sure whether he was bragging or sympathizing.
"...And I was wondering if you wanted to come along."
* * * * *
Everything in the Carnival was joyous. Vendors had their places on the street, and were shouting out deals on wares and treats. Street Performers both made magical displays and feats of all kinds People packed the streets, taking it all in. About ten minutes ago, before the last rays of the sun had gone, the fireworks had started, and would probably last for an hour or two.
Helen was on the edge of Market Plaza, which had been turned into a giant dance floor. She was dressed in an ankle-length red dress that matched the color of her hair perfectly. Her light-blue eyes were ringed with a little eyeshadow, and she had a dye in her hair that was made from a mixture of rose petals and honey. And yet, in all her beauty, she sat on the side tapping her feet to the folk jig that the band was playing.
A street performer was nearby, using his Aura to make small golden butterflies for the little children to chase. A vendor behind her was selling small toffees made from various flower petals, most of which she'd already bought and tried. She felt herself craving one of those Forget-me-nots, and wondered if it was some magic trick from the vendor until she remembered that Magic didn't stick to objects.
The dance floor was a mass of swirling dresses and coattails, as the dancers spun in circles around each other. The center of the plaza was taken up by the Fountain, a large, six-tiered construction that brought up groundwater and gave it enough momentum to be channeled off through small creeks to provide water for the whole city.Sitting on the lip of each tier was a section of the band that was playing, finally reaching the Conductor at the top. He was both conducting the band by mirrors on their music stands and using his Aura to distribute the music evenly amongst the entire Carnival.
And amidst all this, she was sitting on a bench at the edge of the plaza, silently enjoying the music and the smells coming from the perfume vendor nearby, and looking for slight glances of her brother and his fiancee in the thicket of spinning dancers.
It was around the time when she was about to jump up and burst over to the perfume vendor just to see what was smelling so good when a man walked up and sat down next to her. He was wearing a very formal black suit and had white, leather gloves. But it was his eyes that she noticed most. The emerald green eyes, that she was instantly addicted to. She felt herself not caring if the owner to those eyes was compassionate, or adventurous, or even if he was her age.
The song that was playing came to an end, instead replaced by a slow, romantic waltz. The man standing next to her stood up at this, and looked at her. His mouth opened, and all he said was,
"Care to dance?"
His voice was soft and melodic, and she found herself getting up and taking his arm before her mouth could make a word. They danced for the whole song, slow and calm. In no hurry to go anywhere. Their hearts went out to each other, and despite all the intellect she had and caution she was known for, she found herself madly in love with him.. When it was over, they went back to the bench, and he said,
"I'll take you home. Where is your coat?"
"On the rack at the West entrance. It has my name on a tag, attached to the collar."
"Wait here, I'll get it for you." He went to leave, but then stopped to ask something else. "What is your name?"
Half-laughing, half-crying, Helen replied "Helen. Helen Driscall."
"I see. Well then, Helen. I shall return with your coat." He left, strutting a quarter-of-the-way around the plaza before heading along West Market St.
Helen, meanwhile, was so dizzy with all the thoughts and feelings that all she could do was sit down. It didn't help. She felt like she was in a room filled with billions of tiny insects that only she could see, and they were all buzzing in circles around her.
It was for these reasons that she was unable to notice the dim lights behind her, nor the cheering turning slowly to screaming. She certainly didn't notice the smell of smoke in the air, with the combined perfume smell and her seeming senselessness. What she did notice, however, was the whole of the Carnival running in one direction. That brought her back, where she noticed everything else she'd previously missed.
Craning to see what was happening through the thick crowd, she recognized the man she'd danced with seconds before he crashed into her and knocked her into the ground. He never came back.
She rolled under the bench to keep from being trampled. Her arm was screaming with pain, and it was probably broken. People were running and screaming, their already thundering footsteps amplified by the stonework. Helen found herself screaming in agony from the combined pain in her arm and the deafening screams and footsteps. Finally, the latter slowed and eventually stopped, replaced with the sounds of explosions. She looked out and saw one person, dressed in a leather vest, firing blasts of Aura into the various shops and letting them burn.
Then the whistles. The shrill whistles of the Police. One made it to the Plaza, but it sounded like more were on their way.
It all happened so fast. The Marshal reached for his gun, an Aura launcher made of Platinum, but the Terrorist was faster on the draw. The gunshot sounded out across the city, and the bullet hit the Marshall square in the chest. He was thrown back a couple feet, and his gun clattered to the ground and skated its way over to Helen. More cops arrived at the scene, and all were hit by the terrorist and his revolver. With one shot left, he turned to level the gun straight at Helen. She reached and, in one fast move, picked up the gun and shot him.
The green bolt hit him right between the eyes, and disintegrated his whole body into a thick red powder. Three more Marshals arrived from the North, saw the aftermath of the shootout, and yelled,
"In the name of the Law, halt!"
Helen didn't hear it. She was too mortified by what she had done. She rolled out from under the bench and ran. She didn't know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get out of there. Still carrying the gun, she ran clear out of the city, and into the wild. There, amidst the trees and soft grasses, she collapsed on the ground.
She was asleep before she hit it.
