Show off your Writing!

[Darklord Rooke]

EDIT: Nope, can't copy the story in Internet Explorer.

 

I copy and pasted it, and sent it to your inbox 

[sanahtlig]

Here's Memory's Burden in doc format.  It's a Google Drive link so consider it a temporary link.  This Fictionpress backup should also work.  I personally recommend the Google doc version for readability.

 

Title: Memory's Burden

 

Synopsis: Eight years after a tragic accident claimed the lives of his father and beloved sister, Brian and his mother Clare struggle to cope with the rift their lost loved ones have left behind, as well as the growing rift between each other. 

 

 

[EldritchCherub]

 

Here's Memory's Burden in doc format.  It's a Google Drive link so consider it a temporary link.  This Fictionpress backup should also work.  I personally recommend the Google doc version for readability.

 

 

 

Thanks. It'll take me about two days since it's bit longer than the usual posts on here. I'll do the usual line edits and upload it do MEGA or something else... if I can figure out how to do it.

[Darklord Rooke]

Eldritch asked if I wanted to post one of my stories. Unfortunately most of my recent samples were submitted as scenes for other people’s games (or a future one of mine.) Speaking of which, Nanoreno is coming up in March, people should take part. It’s a lot of fun. This will be my first time participating as a writer, although I helped a friend last year edit her work.

 

Because I have little recent to show, I’ll just cut and paste a scene I wrote for some friends last year on the forum. It’ll do, and this way I don’t have to dig around my computer for old writing samples 

 

‘So, Ms Sue, what seems to be the problem?’

 

I felt myself go lightheaded when Dr. Klein entered his office, my eyes following his every movement as he closed the door and walked in a slow, rolling gait, across the room. The minutes ticked slowly by as he shuffled forward, reached his desk, placed both hands upon the surface, edged himself carefully sideways, then collapsed exhausted into his chair.  Dr. Klein is a world famous diagnostician. Once the personal doctor to the Queen of England, he now travels the world as part of his reality TV show, seeking out cases that have stumped the medical world and solving them on camera. Renown for telling St Gregory “you aren’t dying, but you’ll wish you were,’ Prince Frederick’s chief eunuch “You aren’t fat. You’re a woman, and five months pregnant”, and Jacki the Stripper “You’re dead, and have been for months.” Devilishly handsome, brilliant, altruistic, single, the James Bond of the medical profession. He was perfect husband material.

 

So who the hell was this shaking, sweating, bald, fat man sitting opposite me? A quick glance around the room told me he was a learned man. Every inch of every wall was covered with qualifications. He graduated from medicine with honours, alternative medicine with honours, veterinary studies, which will prove useful if he ever needs to treat himself. Nursing, plumbing, and automotive maintenance. I raised my eyebrow toward the sweating, wheezing butterball after I saw his masters in acrobatics. The only way this man was getting in the air was by stepping out a window and letting gravity do the work.

 

I looked down at his desk and re-read his name plate. “Doktor Klein, Emmdee, As seen on teevee!” Call me cynical, but I do believe “Dr. Klein’s one and only tour of American suburbia, giving ordinary folk the chance to be treated by someone who’s had his hands inside real famous people” wasn’t on the up and up. I tried to think of an escape plan, but my brain was too busy convulsing with laughter. At my naivety.

 

I looked up at the doctor, who was still waiting patiently for my reply. He was amusing himself while he waited by staring wide-eyed at my breasts and wheezing in that creepy, sickly way of his. Rivers of sweat were pouring down his face, and his hands were shaking. I waved my hand at the Q-tip impaled through my upper ear. ‘I was cleaning my ear when my hand slipped,’ I told him, swiping a biro from his desk. ‘And if you don’t raise your head my hand will slip again, accidentally impaling something tiny yet sensitive—

 

‘Right,’ he said, jerking his head upward to meet my eyes. ‘Ms Sue, nice to meet you. What seems to be the problem?’

 

I slapped my hand on his desk and pushed myself up.

 

‘Bah!’ He performed a rapid sweep of my body with his eyes, eventually spotted the large patch of blood on the shoulder of my shirt, and followed the trail back to its source. ‘Ear troubles! Whoa, how the hell did you do that?’ He peered at my ear in fascination. ‘Doesn’t matter, easily cured, easily cured. Just wait till it stops bleeding, and say it’s a fashion statement.’

 

I narrowed my eyes and made a couple of stabbing motions with his biro. Which was now mine.

 

‘Or I could remove it for you,’ he said, sighing like I was a great inconvenience.

 

'Thank you, Doctor.'

 

‘Once it’s out, you’ll need to give the wound a good scrub, and take a tonic that I’ll provide you.’

 

‘Scrub?’

 

‘Yes, a good, vigorous scrub. I've always found a stiff brush is best for the job. If you walk out of this office and turn right, you’ll find something suitable next door. Then we’ll cover your wound with something. Some people recommend gauze, but I say using your hand will do just fine. HAHA!'

 

I remembered the route I took when the nurse guided me to this room, face full of pity, which I thought odd at the time. ‘Next door’s the toilet, doctor. The only brush in there is the toilet-brush.’

 

‘Yes, that’s right. Then take a cup of this once a day, for one day. Best to take your first and only dose now. Here. In this office.’ He reached under the table and slammed a large, plastic bottle on the surface. The bottle was full of a lumpy, viscous green liquid, and every so often a large green bubble of goo would form on the surface, pop, release some steam, then sink back into the sludge. The living, demonic sludge this doctor probably spawned from.

 

‘Any side effects?’

 

‘Agonising deat— no.’

 

‘I’m sorry, doctor but I've made a mistake. Did I say my ear was impaled, what I meant to say was I have a headache.’

 

‘Just scrub your head with a brush and take a cup of this once a day for a day, and you should be fine,' he said, wiggling the bottle with a cheery smile.

 

‘It’s my right breast. I accidentally sliced it off with my tongue. It’s rolling around underneath my kitchen table, while I raced over here bleeding horribly. Help me, I’m going to die!’

 

‘Just scrub the wound with a brush—’

 

‘—and take a cup once a day for today only. You know, I’ve always wanted a really easy way of making tons of money. What’s stopping me from stabbing you to death with this biro, and taking your job?’

 

The door to the office slammed open and a tall, blonde girl wearing a cheerleader’s outfit, staggered into the room, hunched over and in obvious pain. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was waving a piece of sandpaper in front of her, well used and covered in blood.

 

‘Doctor, I don’t think this is doing anything for my gonorrhea. And it really hurts.’

 

On the one hand, nobody could possibly be that stupid. On the other, that’s some fairly damning evidence she was holding in her hand. I should probably help her before she ingests that sludge and mutates into the living embodiment of VD.

 

‘Oh my God!’ She said as she straightened and looked at me, then turned back to cousin Igor’s uglier twin behind the desk.

 

‘I’m having real problems here, real medical problems that I could die from. And while I’m doing everything I can to stay alive, you’re closeted in here with’ she waved her arm in my direction ‘some hideous creature from the deep, dishing out fashion tips! I think my case is a little bit more urgent than hers!’

 

She turned to me, hand on hip, attitude and VD exuding from every pore. I took a tiny step back. You can never be too safe.

 

‘This isn’t the Flintstones, okay, nobody’s put bones in their ears since the Inca people. So take your fashion disaster problems to Ellen and let the doctor treat people with real problems. Like me!’

 

Nup. She can suffer. ‘Well, it seems I owe you an apology, doctor. All this time I thought you were a fake, out to scam poor, rural folk out of their hard earned money. But you really areDr.Klein, the chosen diagnostician of the celebrities, because lo and behold, you are treating Sally Salisbury here right before my  eyes.’

 

I turned and walked to the door, but the cheerleader’s voice stopped me.

 

‘You’re not brave, you know, just stupid. It’s stupid to mock him.’

 

I turned back to her.

 

‘What’s he going to do? Wheeze on me?’

 

She scoffed, and looked around, as if sharing a joke with her imaginary posse of brain-dead friends.

 

‘Not him.’ She said flinging her arm back at the doctor. ‘Him? Everybody knows him?’

 

I pursed my mouth and shook my head.

 

‘No? Honestly, buy a clue!’ She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands to her chest. She then started to sing a rhythmic, sing-song chant you usually only found in children’s songs. Or coming out of damaged people

 

Lock your doors

Don’t go out

None will hear your

Dying shouts

 

Hallows eve

All alone

With an ear that’s

Pierced with bone

 

Sisters we

Stained with sin

Stained with blood seeped

Into skin

 

We’ve been judged

We are low

We must fight to

Save our souls

 

He will come

Calling you

Luring, pleading

None is true

 

Stay inside

Stay alive

Go outside and

You will die

 

She ended her song with a finger thrust at me. I stared at it, wondering what she wanted me to do with it. Obviously the wrong reaction because then the finger started to dance, then wave in the air, before she thrust it repeatedly at the Q-tip impaled through my ear.

 

‘What the hell was that? I ain’t 6, this isn’t your Mum’s house, and I’m not here for a sleepover, so you can knock it off.’

 

‘It’s called the ‘Prophecy of Bone!’

 

‘It should be called ‘Prophecy of Stone – erville.’

 

‘Girls who are especially sinful are used as sacrifices to appease… him! They wake up with a piece of bone in their ear which they find themselves unable to remove. Then, on All Hallow’s Eve, they are lured out of their house never to be seen from again!’

 

I pointed at the Q-Tip. ‘This isn’t even bone, okay?’

 

‘Looks like bone.’

 

‘Well, you’re an idiot. And I ain’t stained with sin. You’re stained with sin.’ I pointed at the bloody sandpaper, ‘and blood. The song's talking about you, not me!

 

[sanahtlig]

Eldritch asked if I wanted to post one of my stories. Unfortunately most of my recent samples were submitted as scenes for other people’s games (or a future one of mine.) Speaking of which, Nanoreno is coming up in March, people should take part. It’s a lot of fun. This will be my first time participating as a writer, although I helped a friend last year edit her work.

 

Because I have little recent to show, I’ll just cut and paste a scene I wrote for some friends last year on the forum. It’ll do, and this way I don’t have to dig around my computer for old writing samples 

[Darklord Rooke]

I took a stab at reading your sample.  I never quite figured out what it was about.  I'm guessing this wasn't meant to be standalone?

 

[sanahtlig]

I tried to think of something to say, but I'm at a loss.  I'm leaving this post as acknowledgment that I read it.

[Darklord Rooke]

Try not to take it too seriously. People kept going around asking “If we do nothing about global warming, how would you tell your grandchildren you were responsible for screwing up the planet?” So I was bored one day and decided I’d take a silly stab at it…

[LinovaA]

God I swear my old lurking days are coming back to haunt me. I lurk in my own thread for crying out loud. xD Anyway:

 

I really liked your posts Rooke. Both had incredible amounts of voice to them. I definitely had a chuckle or two. hahaha

I really enjoyed your work as well sanahtlig. Since Brian is around my age, I was able to see how he felt pretty well. Actually got me thinking a bit about stuff.

 

 

I don't do the analyzing thing very often unless I am reading a book, so I'll just let you know that I enjoyed them.  Unless you want me to get in on the analyzing boat. I would prefer to just sit down and enjoy though~ 

[Darklord Rooke]

I really liked your posts Rooke. Both had incredible amounts of voice to them. I definitely had a chuckle or two. hahaha

 

 

David Farland, who writes as well as teaches, writes that one of the most common problems in people's writing is a weak or boring narrator. It's especially a problem in 1st person narration. A story-teller has to be engaging, and so it stands to reason that whoever's narrating the story to the reader be interesting and engaging as a person. 

 

Generally speaking prose is opinion, it's the description of what's going around you TAINTED by the preconceptions and judgements of the individual. That little tidbit isn't as important in 3rd person omniscient as it is in first person, but... eh.

 

Yeah, try and make your narrator interesting. ESPECIALLY if you're writing in the first person

 

I don't like my first piece very much. There's problems in the actual descriptions, but if you can't see where they are I'm not going to draw attention to them XD. It needs more revision

[sanahtlig]

I really enjoyed your work as well sanahtlig. Since Brian is around my age, I was able to see how he felt pretty well. Actually got me thinking a bit about stuff.

Care to elaborate?  What were you thinking about?

[LinovaA]

Care to elaborate?  What were you thinking about?

[sanahtlig]

I'm glad one of the main themes of the story had an impact on you.  As for Brian, I imagine turbulent times ahead of him.  With Brian away at school, Clare is overcome with loneliness.  She starts dating again, and when Brian comes home he finds the person who for so long had been his and his alone is doting on someone else.  Brian's interests evolve, and he becomes engrossed in eroge.  He initially plays the games seeking escape and release, but becomes disgusted with his own fetishes, warped by his life experiences.  He meets a middle school girl that reminds him of Kana, and despicable feelings well up in him.

 

How will things turn out?  That tale has yet to be written...

[Zalor]

David Farland, who writes as well as teaches, writes that one of the most common problems in people's writing is a weak or boring narrator. It's especially a problem in 1st person narration. A story-teller has to be engaging, and so it stands to reason that whoever's narrating the story to the reader be interesting and engaging as a person. 

 

[LinovaA]

I'm glad one of the main themes of the story had an impact on you.  As for Brian, I imagine turbulent times ahead of him.  With Brian away at school, Clare is overcome with loneliness.  She starts dating again, and when Brian comes home he finds the person who for so long had been his and his alone is doting on someone else.  Brian's interests evolve, and he becomes engrossed in eroge.  He initially plays the games seeking escape and release, but becomes disgusted with his own fetishes, warped by his life experiences.  He meets a middle school girl that reminds him of Kana, and despicable feelings well up in him.

 

How will things turn out?  That tale has yet to be written...

 

I would read that. In fact, I need to read that.

 

Congratulations. You have hooked me. xD

[sanahtlig]

I'll think about it.  The scope of such a tale would be approaching a mini-novel.  If I broke it into bite-sized chunks it could be doable, but it'd be breaking new territory for me.  Writing that synopsis did get me thinking of a basic scenario.

 

It's actually been a long time since I've written fiction.  The vast majority of fiction I have written are roleplays, where I've written together with others in a highly spontaneous manner.  Memory's Burden is unique in that it is both original and independently written.

[Darklord Rooke]

Rooke, how often would you say that VN's have this problem? Considering how most VNs are told in first person, personally I've run into a lot of boring protagonists, (the protagonist from Rewrite had me drop the game). Also, what good example's of interesting narrator's have you seen in VNs? 

 

 

Oh… let’s see. Fairly often I’d say, but it’s been a while since I’ve played tl’d VNs and so I’m having trouble thinking of specifics. I think the narrator from Kira Kira was pretty boring, Key suffers from some boring narration… basically I’ve found the VNs with romance at the core are more likely to suffer from a boring main character than ones with a plot. The same is true for harem animes, the main character is usually forgettable but that’s just my opinion.

 

On the other hand I dropped Sharin no Kuni because I hated the main character. I tend to think if the protagonist produced emotions like that, then he was fairly well developed. Demonbane had a “voice” which was unique to VNs. A voice of a mature man with a history, as opposed to the weak schoolboy narration most of them contain. I was really pleasantly surprised. I haven’t played Cartagra but I’d guess it’d also have an interesting narration (guessing here.)

 

For those that classify Phoenix Wright as a VN, it has a pretty interesting protagonist.

 

… I’m actually looking through my VN collection, which is not very big, and not many of them are leaping out at me. But like I said, it's been a while since I've been able to play them.

[sanahtlig]

"Protagonist with a voice" and "protagonist you can insert into" are basically antagonistic.  People play VNs for different reasons.  For those seeking a dating sim where they can enjoy romance with a girl of their choice, the latter is often preferable.  As for harem plots, they basically rely on a passive protagonist as a pivot point for the strong heroine personalities (who are often in a tug-of-war relationship).  A harem with a decisive protagonist wouldn't make much sense in a monogamous society.

[Darklord Rooke]

"Protagonist with a voice" and "protagonist you can insert into" are basically antagonistic.  People play VNs for different reasons.  For those seeking a dating sim where they can enjoy romance with a girl of their choice, the latter is often preferable.  As for harem plots, they basically rely on a passive protagonist as a pivot point for the strong heroine personalities (who are often in a tug-of-war relationship).  A harem with a decisive protagonist wouldn't make much sense in a monogamous society.

[sanahtlig]

It's also a question of appeal.  As you hinted at, the more developed a protagonist is, the more likely he/she is to trigger a response of antipathy in readers.  That's no good if you're trying to reach the broadest audience / market possible.  Mosts VNs feature multiple heroines for this reason...but multiple "choosable" protagonists doesn't make much sense from a design standpoint.  As an aside, I find the romance in most titles with more than 1 or 2 heroines to be pretty shallow--seeking the broadest audience inevitably comes with tradeoffs.

[sanahtlig]

Tainting Memories

 

Preface

 

What is the self?  A mixture of disposition and experiences.  Nature and nurture.  Genetics and environmental exposures, for the scientifically inclined. 

 

"Experiences"?  What does that even mean?  Two people can witness the same event and experience it differently.  Experience is subjective.

 

One can forget experiences: memory is selective and faulty.  Memory is the record of our experiences.  That record we carry with us steers our actions.

 

But memory is not simply a collection of moments of our lives.  Some moments are more prominent, more important than others.  All records are not created equal.

 

Memory is dynamic.  The records ebb and flow with time, like water in a river.  We dwell on some records; they ride the river's surf.  Others fade with time; they get washed away.  Old memories give way to new memories.  This is how we move forward, downstream the river of time.

 

What happens when the memories collect?  They block the river; the river slows.  We become stuck in the past, unable to move forward.  Memory's Burden.  Memories burden us.

 

What happens when the blockage persists?  The river overflows its shores.  The channel for our memories, the self, becomes changed.  Remove the blockage and the water may drain, but the landscape is changed for years to come.  Strong memories change us forever.  Negative memories scar us, taint us forever.  Tainting Memories.

 

Time heals some wounds and causes others to widen and fester.  This is a tale of their wounds.  Brian's. Clare's.  And those of another they'll soon encounter.

[sanahtlig]

Chapter 1: Tainting Memories

Brian stood before the front door of the average but spacious 2-story house where he'd lived 18 years of his life.  A cool breeze brushed his neck on this pleasantly warm Sunday evening in the first week of May.  He was returning home from his first year at university, which had just entered summer break.

 

Tall and gaunt with unkempt dark brown hair and clear blue eyes, he had the build and complexion of a boy who spent all of his day indoors.  He knocked quietly at the door, squinting to shield his eyes against the glare of the sun off the white door frame and surrounding cement.  He looked decidedly out of his element.

The door opened promptly.

 

"Brian, it's so good to have you back again!"  His mother Clare stepped out and hugged him tight.  In her late thirties, she was only a few inches shorter than her son.  She was well proportioned and attractive, with long dark brown hair which Brian soon found his face buried in.  Brian embarrassedly endured the hug until finally released.

 

The two of them carried the luggage from his car to his room.

 

"So you'll be out until the end of August?"

 

"Yeah, summer break for semester universities is pretty long.  It starts a month earlier and ends a week later than city schools," Brian replied as he began to unpack.

 

"Wow, 4 months huh?  I wish I got a 4 month break."

 

His mother was a self-employed nutritionist who ran her own clinic downtown.  It paid well enough to support herself and Brian's dorm expenses.  Tuition would have been a problem, but fortunately Brian's solid academic record landed him a scholarship at the state university a few hours away.  Because of this, Brian had been able to attend university without taking out any loans or working jobs during the school year.

 

"Yeah, I wish I did too," Brian replied sarcastically.  While he got out of work during the school year, his mother insisted he wouldn't be spending the entire summer in his room playing games.  She found him a volunteer position as an afterschool teacher's aide at the local middle school until it let out in June.  Why middle school?  He didn't want to deal with children, and he didn't want to deal with people who might've known him at high school.  Plus high schoolers who are kept afterschool are usually incorrigible losers.  In his opinion, at least.  It was simple process of elimination.  The goal (his mother's goal, not his) was to land him a paying position as a teacher's aide for summer school in June and July.  Well, not that he couldn't use some pocket money (to buy more games of course).

 

"You'll still have plenty of free time, I assure you."

 

"Hmph."  While his mother finished unpacking his clothes, he started setting up his computer.  "So you said you were going out with someone?"  He tried to bring it up casually, but couldn't conceal his unease.

 

"Mm.  I decided I can't stand still forever.  With you off to school, I didn't know what to do with myself.  Don't worry, it's nothing heavy.  We only see each other a few times a week.  He's very sincere and fun to talk to.  You'd like him."

 

"..."

 

He continued setting up his computer in silence.

 

He felt warm arms envelop him from behind.  "I won't let it change anything between us.  I won't even bring him home, if it bothers you.  I'll go out, you'll play your games, and it'll be as if it never even happened."

 

Brian nodded.  His mother grabbed for another box to unpack.  Brian panicked.  "He-hey, let me get that."  He hurriedly grabbed the box from her and stuffed it into the back of the closet.

 

"Hmm..."  His mother looked like she was about to say something, but refrained.

 

***

[sanahtlig]

Chapter 1: Tainting Memories (cont)

 

***

 

They finished unpacking and Brian left to take a shower.  As Clare got out the vacuum to clean the room, her eyes fell on the still-open closet.  She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself.  Brian was keeping secrets from her, and as a mother it was her duty to uncover them.  And what mother could resist after seeing that reaction?

 

Nodding at her justifications, Clare crept to the closet and grabbed the box in the back.  Opening it up, she gazed at its contents.

 

"Huh?"  Her brows furrowed.  This...wasn't exactly what she was expecting.  She expected Playboy and porn magazines, maybe even some sex toys or movies.  Instead she found colorful DVD cases and intricate collector's boxes with wide-eyed cartoon girls all over them.  Some weren't even in English.  Many of them looked fairly tame at first glance, though the girls often wore...impractical...outfits and were standing in suggestive poses.

 

She picked up one box labeled "Yosuga no Sora".  Two cute little girls were framed lying on a sky background.  One was in a lovely gothic style dress carrying a teddy bear.  She turned the box over.  The same girl was pictured naked, clutching the air as her body spasmed in a mix of pain and pleasure.

 

"Oh wow," Clare muttered.  She read the English description on the back.  The story was about the twins Haruka (boy) and Sora (girl) returning to a rural village after the death of their parents.  The various images and captions hinted at a developing relationship between the two.  Sora appeared to be the girl in the Gothic dress.

 

"So this is the type of stuff he likes."  It surprised her on multiple levels.  First, he was into cartoon porn.  Second, the games seemed to be more than just...collections of scenes for masturbation.  There was clearly story to the games, and many of the pictures weren't erotic at all.  They seemed like romance novels.  Third, he was into playing games with...such young-looking girls.  This one even seemed to have a "little sister" incest focus.  She wondered if he actually looked at little girls...like that.  Did he think of his departed sister like that?  A chill ran through her spine.

 

The sound of water in the shower room stopped.  Clare quickly put the games back in the box and stuffed it back into the back of the closet.  Feelings of guilt welled up in her.  She'd opened Pandora's box, and now she had to live with the uncomfortable result.  She had no one to blame but herself.

 

She turned on the vacuum and began cleaning the room in earnest.

 

***

[sanahtlig]

I decided to go ahead and branch off my narrative into its own thread to keep from derailing this one.  I wanted to wait until I had demonstrated some progress before doing so.

[sanahtlig]

Excerpt: 

 

The ground crackled beneath his heavy boot. Alex did his best to keep the noise he created down to a minimum, but to no avail. It was beginning to become clearer and clearer to him with each passing step; He was not cut out for any of this like his brothers were. Not that he had any blood brothers to speak of, of course, but his comrades back home were brothers nonetheless.

 

He lumbered through the woodwork, lowering himself to avoid being swiped by the forest's mass collection of hanging branches from above, seemingly trying to snag the critters of the forest as they made their merry way. The oak trees stood tall above him, almost as if in defiance to his staggered defiling of the forest's calm nature. Gallus wished for him to try everything at least once, saying in the process that 'it would be a good learning experience' for him. He laughed at that now, bringing down a branch threatening to scrape his face as he went.

 

The sun beamed down through the dense foliage upon Alex's head, and despite his light apparel, he felt like he was in an oven. Strange he thought, considering it was the beginning of the autumn fall. His feet found very few balance points with each movement, turning every moment of this task before him into a seemingly endless puzzle. Alex wiped the sweat from his brow, sweeping his messy brown hair out of his eyes. It had only been just under an hour since he had split up from the rest of the squad, being told that they had to meet back at the rendezvous in two hours.

 

Their objective was simply to scout for any enemy threat. Although Gallus had made it very clear that danger could lurk in any corner, he could not think of any possible enemies that the Linovain Detachment would ever have to worry about; apart from the small time bandits, but their attacks were few and far between. He had nothing against nature and walking around in it, it was just the fact that he was being forced to trudge through it against his own volition that really got to him. As if to respond to his feelings, the wind picked up, blowing some of the low hanging branches into Alex's face. Alex began backing up, only to find himself tripping backwards over a root snag. His back made contact with the ground first and instantly began to smart upon impact. He sat there for a moment, cursing his ill luck.

 

Alex stood up and looked into the sky. The sun was beginning to set, signalling to him that his time in this gods forsaken forest was coming to a rapid end. Retracing his steps, he began making his way back the way he came, being careful to dodge each and every one of the forest's secret pitfall traps it seemed to have in store for him, and that he had fallen for not an hour past. He could clearly see where his original path had been, simply looking for the staggered footsteps seemed to suffice. Leaves littered the ground in variously sized piles, signalling the coming of autumn. Soon enough he would find himself locked up within the castle garrison once more, with only droning lectures and sermons of the Three to keep him company.

 

The sea of trees began to open, revealing a clearing with a few scattered trees beside a riverbank, the tree branches stretching out across the river from the other side. The water itself was not deep, seemingly only knee deep in most places. The river raced by rapidly, taking with it the fallen foliage of autumn. Down the river, the trees and water began to take on a red hue, showing the beginnings of Redwood proper. Alex walked over to the edge of the river and sat down next to one of the smaller trees, unhooking his long sword and setting it next to him. Looking around the clearing, he quickly realized that he had not come to this place before on his way in.

 

Leaning his head back, he rested it against the trunk of the tree, letting out a large sigh, and with it, all of his pent up frustrations of the day. Alex closed his eyes. He didn't know where he could have went wrong on his path. The path he had laid behind him was quite distinct, and he was sure he had been following it the entire time. Perhaps it had been an older hunter's trail that could still be seen. That would be the only logical answer, he thought to himself. But even that did not make sense in his mind, as it was way too close to a military outpost, and the current regime and the populace of the dominion did not see eye to eye on most topics, including hunting grounds. It could have just been a particularly bold one, not quite caring for the law or who it was who upheld it. That had to be it. This knowledge however, did not change the one simple fact. He had gotten himself lost.

 

The sounds of the forest slowly began to disappear one by one. Bird song was absent at this time of year as most had already began the great migration towards the warmer lands of Ayatam and Vika. Rustling could be heard all around him, the local wildlife scurrying from place to place in an almost maddening search for food. The river continued its rush by, driving its sound of running water into the choir of natural ambiance. If it had not been for the orders, and that he was lost, he would wish to stay here a lot longer. The area seemed almost serene in some ways, untouched by the moving world, which came to him as an odd thought.

 

The sun sank more than was comfortable for Alex, forcing him to stand up and move from his position. He didn't have much time left, and it wouldn't be long now until the original group got themselves back together and noticed that he had not returned. Reaching down, he got a grip on his long sword and picked it up, hooking it back on his belt.

 

As he brought himself back up into a straighter position, something flew by his face from the wood on his side of the river, opposite of where he had walked in. It cut through the air with a whir and the arrow struck the tree beside him.

 

An excerpt from the story I am currently writing. It hasn't even left the first draft stage, so it is pretty rough (emphasis on pretty). Also, you can kinda see where my name comes from if you pay attention. huehue.

 

Regardless, I open the floor with this. 

Looking back through the topic, I finally spotted this.  Didn't see it at the end of the post before.

 

This excerpt is about a soldier scouting an unfamiliar forest for enemies.  The except ends with the soldier under attack by 1 or more assailants with a bow.

 

I found this excerpt rather disorienting.  Is it the opening to a larger work?  It seemed like thoughts were all over the place, even in the same paragraph.  I lost track of what the soldier was even there for, and had to reread to write my summary.  Sometimes the word choice seemed off (lumbered through the woodwork?).  While you might have been trying to make a pun, doing so in the opening description where the readers have no idea what's going on yet is probably not the place.  You might want to think about how you can shorten sentences, trimming unnecessary information and words to convey your ideas more clearly.

 

You have a very descriptive writing style.  If you can focus that you could end up with very vivid scenes that draw the reader into your world.