Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Fabled_Tales, Apr 25, 2010.

  1. Fabled_Tales

    Fabled_Tales Middle Earth Ewok

    Jul 1, 2009
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    I hope this is the write place for this, sorry if it sin't :-S I'm working on a new book, I think it would be better a graphic novel. Let me know what you think. I only have my hub as a critic and he would prolly say anything sounded good :D

    Oh, yeah, I'm not one for reading instructions or rules :-D so its a little bit more dark :) I'm sorry if its against the rules, if it is I'll edit out the parts next time, I just don't like leaving stuff out cause then they're not critisizing the true work, does that make sense?

    But I won't post anymore unless someone asks me to, I just want to know if I'm wasting my time or if its a good story


    I remember like it happened yesterday…everything was fine for a long time, it always is in the beginning. Then they discovered fire, its how it always happens. Fire, its what accelerates you to the top species, to the ruler of the world, and in the end, its what destroys your world. It happens to every realm. Someone gets too much of an emotion, greed, hate, hunger, lust, and they burn the world. The circumstances change, but in the end, all trace that there ever was life is gone. I’ve been through so many that I can no longer count, but the first one, that’s the one that hurt the most.
    It was my home. It was very similar to the planet called Earth. It had mountains that reached up into the thinnest part of the atmosphere, trees that were so tall you couldn’t see the canopy, grasslands that had deadly and silent animals. We were so close, we almost had perfected technology that would send us to the stars and beyond. We were relatively peaceful world. There were wars, but there is conflict anywhere there is an intelligent life that can communicate. Our downfall came from one of our own, a betrayal. In the end, cities burned, children died, and the world became a vast desert. In this case though, a lost tribe of brethren had been informed of our fate, and came through a magicked doorway and managed to help a mere 300 escape, 300 out of several million elves. It was a tragedy, a loss. In the end, the gods cursed me, and while the others started new lives, I was stuck in pause forever.
    The gods made sure I’d live forever, and that I could never start the next generation. I had 18 wives, but they all grew old and died, no children. You’re probably saying, ‘why after the third, or fourth, or tenth, would you keep doing it again and again?’ I guess I really don’t have an answer, or maybe, every time, I just hoped, that this time it would be different. It never was…till her. She changed everything. She gave me my soul and spirit back.
    Her name was Sirianna. I knew her mother, actually, I shared my bed with her mother. Yeah, I know, pretty screwed up right? But like I said, I couldn’t have children, Sirianna wasn’t mine, and she had a father. In the end, I went to see her more then her mother. I cared for that little girl. Her mother tricked us, we all thought she was dead, murdered. Sirria woke up every night with nightmares, so I did something that hurt, but it was best. I made her forget. She forgot me, but I was there, in her shadow, always watching out for her. Then one day I came up against a dragon, not the good kind either. I was rendered insane, and I disappeared out of her life for 8 years. When at last I found my sanity, I had forgotten her.
    I only remembered my name. So I had to start a new life, and that new life took me to the very place where she learned, the school of magic. Sirianna had taken after her mother, she was interested in the dark arts, but Sirria had a strength none of the others had, she could play with the shadows and never get tainted, never turn to evil. She didn’t remember me, and I didn’t remember her, but I was drawn to her, felt something I thought I never had before, and that something told me to protect her.
    She hated me, tried to kill me a few times, but always I was there, and I always kept her safe. In the end, I gained my memories, and Sirria disappeared out of my life again. It was blessing then, because I had begun to care for her, which was wrong because I looked after her like a father would. I had no right to have feelings like that for her. But I couldn’t stay away, I needed to be there, to make sure she was ok. I know, to some it may seem weird or wrong, but we weren’t related, and something or someone else wanted us to be together, because the harder we pushed, the more entangled we got.
    In the end, I married her, I knew she would grow old and die, I know I would be hurt again, but I needed her more then I needed water or air. It was different this time, it was more. Then one day, just short of her 40th birthday, it happened. The downfall of that world came. I tried to take her away, to another place, but she stayed. Sirria was a dark artist and she defended the world against the dark arts, and in the end, she did what I thought could not be done. She was able to defeat the darkness and save the world, the world would not fall, would not become a wasteland, but she died.
    I remember holding her in my arms, trying to save her. She was too badly wounded, I had to hold her as she slowly bled to death. But now we knew, it could be stopped. I told her I loved her more then the others, even if that made me a bastard, and that I would find her again. I mourned her for a long time, then I remembered my promise to find her again.
    My name is Ghen. I am the last immortal of the old world. I travel from world to world trying to stop the end of it. You may never know I was there, or you may call me a hero. I love Sirianna. Sometimes I leave a trail of disappointment and broken promises, sometimes I leave no trail. My name is Ghen, and I’m looking for the one thing all men search for…her.

    Chapter 1 – Same day, different world.

    The rain fell hard, trying to slowly drown the world. The sky was a dark blue and the air was cool, sending a sharp steel shiver down your spine. No one on this world would notice, or could even sense it, but there was a disturbance in the air, and electricity that didn’t come from a lightning bolt sparked and snapped in the air. In less then a blink of an eye, in less then one pulse of light, he was there. He looked around, examining the world around him. His dark glasses hid his eyes and his expression. He pulled his leather cloak around him tighter, not that it mattered, for he was already soaked. He was on a bridge just before what seemed like a major city. He looked around again, no one had seen him. He began to walk across the bridge to the large city.
    He recognized the loud machines as cars, he hated those damn things. They were so easy to lose control. Few people noticed him passing by. It was cold, dark, and dreary, and they were either trying to keep dry and warm or quickly hurrying to the place where they could. He noticed that the majority of the people here were pissed off, sad, or similar to a zombie. "Great", he mumbled, "I must have landed in another piss-hole." It didn’t help that even his skivvies were soaked to the bone. He needed to find out what the monetary system was and a place where he could dry off.
    He saw one of those men he didn’t like. There was always them, they seemed to infect every race and species, every place. They felt that the world owed them something because they were born. They hurt people to get what they wanted, and they always get what they wanted. They were usually the king of the hill, and they were usually bastards. He walked up and touched his neck and he passed out. He dragged him into the alleyway and searched him. He found a leather pouch with paper and human-made small cards. He took them both, the paper looked like it might be barter, he didn’t know what the cards were but he was wise enough to hold onto them for a while. He hoped there was enough paper to get him a dry place. He spent the next hour examining places, observing.
    He came to a place he knew to be a tavern. There were drunks outside and scantily clad women. He went inside and sat down at the bar. A few of the patrons stared at him, but for the most part everyone kept to himself. The place smelled like piss and b.o. No matter what planet you were on, that never seemed to change. The barmaid came over and smiled at him. She was skinny, too skinny, he thought, and had long blonde hair and she was covered in body art. He looked at her, stared at her with his hard eyes.
    “Welcome stranger, we don’t get too many visitors here, what’ll you have?” The stranger stayed quiet for a second, a second too long, for she became uncomfortable. "Do you have a room?" She looked at him confused, “A room, a bathroom? In the back”. The stranger shook his head, he closed his eyes, trying again, "Do you have a room to sleep in?" This seemed to really weird her out. “Look, buddy, I don’t take customers home, specially customers I don’t know”. He gripped his large hands, he was getting frustrated. He hated learning the language and customs of a new world. "I’m new in town, I need somewhere to stay." This seemed to provide a proper explanation. “Oh, why didn’t you just say so. Well, there’s a bunch of places, how much money you got?” The stranger thought about it a long time, it was best to go the cheapest until he was familiar with the place. "The least expensive please." She nodded and pointed him down the street. He laid a coin on the table, some habits never changed, and got up and left. The woman called out to him but he ignored her, and she was left looking at a silver coin she thought to be an antique.
    It took some time to negotiate and figure out the amount of paper it would take for a night. He quickly went to his room and shut the door. The place was filthy, but not the filthiest place he had been. It had a neutral smell so at least they tried to clean it. He took off his clothes and hung them up in the closet. He unstrapped his sword and many small daggers, hiding them under the mattress. He looked in the mirror at his naked form. He transitioned well. Sometimes things wouldn’t come through quite right, but this time went well. He had silver white hair, pale blue eyes, and dark pale skin that seemed to have a silver-purple hint. He was tall, 6’8”, and big, 195lbs, not an ounce of fat. He looked over his body art and scars, each one having a tale, each one having a reason. He touched the red rose over his heart. That was the greatest tale of all, and the saddest. He closed his eyes, kissed his fingers, and touched the rose tattoo. "I love you." He stretched his muscles, and he did have muscles, he kept strong for he did not know what he would face in the next realm.
    He went into what looked like the privy and bath. He shook his head, he hated worlds that put them in the same place. He saw knobs on the bath and knew what they were, he had seen several different versions of showers. It was funny, you could be across the universe yet you could find a world that was familiar. He turned it on steaming hot and stepped in.
    He sat under the hot water a long time. Hot water could bring anyone back from the brink, it was the most soothing essence in the multiverse. His mind drifted to the story behind the red rose…{she laid back against him, they were in the bath together. Her golden pale skin was soft as silk. He kissed her neck and made her moan his name softly. He took in her scent. She wore the heavy perfumes that drew a man in, and he pulled her close and held her tight. He wasn’t letting her go tonight, she was his prisoner and he’d make her beg…}he opened his eyes and cleaned his body. Every time he used a magick like that it made him sentimental, made him remember. He guessed that it was a punishment, a way of reminding him every time he failed. He had failed so many times, and each time, he wondered, if he had lost his chance…
    He turned the water on hotter, stinging his skin. He let out a growl that sounded like a tiger who was backed into a corner by a larger and hungrier animal. He turned the cold water on and it stung his burning skin. He shut off the water and grabbed the towel, standing there, naked, wet, and miserable, closing his eyes and calming his mind. Traveling between worlds using your own body and mind set one off kilter, no, more then that, it really ****ed with you.
    He dried off and sat on the bed, for the next few weeks he would have to get used to his new home. He had to learn the language, the people, the laws, everything. He couldn’t go around stealing. No matter what world you were in, things went smoother when you obeyed the law of the land and kept to yourself. So, for three weeks he blended in, he watched, and listened.
    For three days he watched what they called the TV. It was like an encyclopedia of the world. He saw the really screwed up side, he small the beautiful side, and everything in-between. From what it seemed, every day, things were becoming more and more ****ed up. There was a new disease out they couldn’t find a cure for, there was genocide started in what they called a backwards country, and they had developed the next generation of weapons. He shook his head, perhaps this was another failure, because the end could come from any direction.
    The rest he spent outside. He listened to people, he read the billboards, bought a newspaper. He tried a computer but he couldn’t figure the damn thing out. He’d dealt with technology far more complex, but this thing they called computer was confusing. He noted he would have to have someone teach him as it seemed to be a mainstay in their lives. Some of the women smiled at him, he knew those smiles. ‘Hi handsome, would you like to take me to your bed and I’ll try to fix you’. There was only one woman for his bed. None of them were her, he knew, he knew he’d know her when he saw her, because when he looked at you, he didn’t just see those big brown eyes.
    He remembered the close call. It was on a planet similar to this one, they called it Earth. She had long brown hair that reminded him of the elder trees of his home. She had eyes that sparkled like clear, cool water. She would laugh at his strangeties. When he was grumpy and do something that would make other people run, she would give him that look and say ‘Stop being such a grumpy teddy bear’. It was statements like that, that made him want to grab her and kiss her like no man has before and take her to her bed and make her weak. But it wasn’t her, it didn’t feel like her. He stayed though, he stood by her as she got married and had children, and he was there when she grew old and moved on to the next life. She could have been the one. Some days he cursed himself, he should have taken her for himself, forgotten this relentless quest, given up in her arms. But he knew when he saw her new boyfriend, and the way he made her eyes sparkle, she was not meant for him. She was even sad for him. She had set him up with countless blind dates, she wanted her best friend to be happy and have a family.
    The night before she died he told her the truth. She wasn’t angry he hadn’t told her. She just smiled and said ‘So that’s why you never even tried to make an effort with all those blind dates, and why you’ve aged so well.’ He told her he wanted to remember her. She touched his abdomen and she said, ‘Here. Those exotic tattoos like the henna the girls from India get’. He looked at her, "why my abdomen?" She smiled. She was old, he hadn’t aged a day. ‘Because sometimes indigestion is mistaken for heart-attacks’. He gripped his jaw, that statement made him want to cry. He leaned down and kissed her, "I love you," she smiled, ‘I hope you find her’. She died early the next morning. He left the world the morning after her funeral, and here he was now. He could have sworn she was her, but maybe, maybe it had been too long. Maybe he couldn’t recognize her even if he saw her, maybe…maybe he’d never find her again…
    Last edited: Apr 25, 2010