Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

United States of America

14 years old.
Name of the Wind/Ranger's Apprentice/Dawn of Wonder/Legend/The Alchemist


Ed Sheeran.
Gaelic Storm.


Join Date: September 12, 2018

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Of Ash and Elm

May 29, 2019


Windswept plains and towering mountains stood over and around the rushing rivers, the stoic trees, the stretching flowers, and the singing birds.
In time came villages, towering cities, with flourishing colors found in dresses and tunics and cloaks and leathers.
But it had been a long time since I had come.
I awoke to the sound of... nothing. Not surprising exactly.
Grasping around, I felt cold earth and a pressing weight. 
When I opened my eyes—which was a relief; it would have been hard to go without them for a few days— there was nothing, or what a simpler man would call nothing.
Darkness spoke in silent yet overpowering whispers, but I wasn't overly worried.
When I tried to move, not much happened, so I applied more strength until the earth above me shifted.
I slowly dug myself out, relishing the feeling of movement; after all, being trapped underground for a hundred years isn't exactly pleasant.
Finally, a hand struck air, and the other began helping ravenously, and soon, my head broke out. 
    I looked up into the sky and found... It was night time. I looked back to the grave and saw black stained dirt and small crumbled pieces. I smirked like I was god himself—close enough. "Why would they think burning me would work?" My voice was like a fire poker being dragged across a cobblestones. "Demonic superstition reaches farther than I thought." There was no one to hear me, but it felt right to talk. The sound of my voice was hoarse, and sounded somewhat like a cow. The thought made me laugh, and the laugh turned into hysterical noise, which only made me laugh harder. It was good to be back.
If anyone had heard the noise, they would have thought me positively mad, but who was I to care? I took a moment to look around, noticing there was a beautiful sheen cast over the forest—for I was in a forest, now that I realized it. A badger tucked its head into its den, and small squirrel scampered over the grass up a good sized elm tree with beautiful branches.
    So peaceful... time to change that, back to my mischief. I took a deep breath, flexing my will and imagining my hometown; time to drop by. I became slightly nauseous, and frowned; I had got rusty during my lapse. I concentrated harder, until the world snapped, and I disappeared.
"Yer right bloody mad, Jacob! Comin' inta town, and causin a racket like this 'un? What deh yah mean, demons? Right silly superstition that is," Said Jameson, the town's tanner. Jacob, the smith's son, a lad of 14, while running into the town at breakneck pace a quarter hour earlier and sweating something fierce, screamed "Demon! Demon in the woods!". Of course, no one believed, but the tanner was the first to voice his "concerns".
    "Calm down." This was Cassandra, Jameson's wife; a kind enough women with a good grasp on mathematics. Then, turning to Jacob, she said, in her most soothing voice, "Now what'dya see, hon?"    
    "It's only a few m-mile outt'a town, near the elm, t-t'won't take yeh long," Jacob stuttered. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost, all pale and the like.
    Jameson huffed. "Why shud we'havta go hunting for bedtime stories." His voice dragged out his "E"s to make it sound like he thought everything you said was false.
    "Give the boy a chance, Jameson. It's probably no demon, but we could'ave something else as nasty and just as real." This time, it was Ander, an innkeeper with a stout build, a kind smile, and a man who was no stranger to the hard work of life.
    By now, Jacob had pulled to the back of the crowd wide eyed, and was being comforted by his mother. The fact that he was so shaken was a testament to the legitimacy of the threat, whatever it happened to be. The boy rarely showed more emotion than a smile, unless he was with Andrea, Ander's daughter; the two of them were closer than friends.
    "Who wants to go an' take a look?" Inquired Taldin, one of the few in the village who knew which way to hold a sword.
    A few raised hands, including Ander.
    "Alright, that's settled then, we leave in half a sundial mark from now."
So the motley group of villagers plodded through the forest, some with spears, other with hunting bows, and some with only scythes and pitchforks. 
They all knew their way to the old elm: along the paved path, up the ridge with the deer path, around the fish pond, then down to the thick part of the forest with the mound, the elm and t-...
    Ander, with horror on his face, poked at a burning piece of bark with his foot. The trees around were ridden with cracks and smoldering wood. The group of men were silent as they looked upon a massive crater the size of three inns put together. The area looked as though hell had decided to pay a visit. There were only ashy stumps and debris left. Everything living in the area had been blasted by such force it was simply blasted out of existence. In some places there were still flames licking greedily at the last speck of life.
    "It is a right demon!" said Jameson quietly.
    "Or it was one that caused this," added Taldin.
    "That's not a demon," said Anderson. He'd used to be a peddler before he settled down, and he'd seen things no other men knew of, and he continued with dead certainty,
    "It's something much worse."
This was awesome to write. First real writing piece after not for a while, so I hope you like it.


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  • May 29, 2019 - 6:39pm (Now Viewing)

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