Scraps - aka. Bursts of Inspiration

[Amethyst Star]

Okay. Well, there are times, usually when I'm in bed and not quite ready to sleep, when I suddenly am inspired by something to write. It may be just a page or several and may come from a movie/show I've watched, a drawing I've seen/done, or even just how I'm feeling or how someone else is feeling. Last night was one of those nights. I would like to develop a talent for drawing characters in the anime/manga style and there are some things I know I'm starting to do that I like, but I've still a long way to go. Anyway, I was working on a picture and while the hair turned out kind of odd, I liked it and decided that I would embrace my character's unique hairstyle, as I have wished my mom would embrace mine... or at least not have my sister or sister in-law rush me into a salon to get it cut and layered.... though that only happened once. Still, I had a dream about it a month later. Translation: scarred. Moving on, I was watching a Russian film called "Nightwatch" and enjoyed it! It wasn't anything super spectacular, but it was probably about 7.25 out of 10 stars. Also, I've been toying with the idea of a new story, but I'll leave it at that in case I do decide to start *sigh* yet [i]another[i] story in addition to the ones which will probably take me another 20 years or so to finish at this rate. So, without further ado, here is tonight's scrap! It takes place in the bedroom of a boy (who's identity has not been developed, obviously). The main character, Alis (pronounced ah-leese), is a Defender and is protecting the boy. In this scene she is facing a Deviant whose ultimate goal is also not fully developed. They are facing off and Alis has a tough decision to make. -------------------------------------------------------- "My only hope is that you turn away.... If you do not, I can remain a Defender no longer and will be forced to align myself with the Warriors or the Protectors (author's note: other classes among this particular group). I am not designed to be one of them." "So this is as much for you as for him." She lowered her head, "No, not 'as much.' " She raised her eyes to stare at him. "I will not allow you to harm him and if I must I will alter my fate. I ask you, though, don't make me do that." He smiled a snide little grin. "So, the boy is not involved enough to warrant a Protector... how interesting. That means, then, that if you joined the Warriors, you would be taken away from him." She could not help but nod. He let out a hearty laugh that pierced though Alis. "Ha! That alone would be sweet enough for now. To change your predetermined path would be a wondrous thing, indeed! Then I could always return... to change his." The sleeping boy did not stir, but a great sea of emotions threatened to batter the heart of the Defender. Anger, frustration, depression, confusion, and fear swam through her. How could she leave him, especially when this man threatened to alter the course of his life? She couldn't let him do that! But then again... "How can you be so certain that you could change his fate?" By calling his bluff, she at least bought time for help to arrive. Come quicker, she cried out in her heart. The man before her raised his hand to his chin, appearing to contemplate this question. "It's really quite simple, actually, especially when you are no longer a Defender." "Well?" He laughed again. "You don't actually expect me to tell you, do you?" He looked at the determination in her face. "Oh, you did! How quaint!" "Choose! or I will," she demanded. "Sounds good to me," he replied with a malicious grin on his lips. "Enjoy the change!" He pulled out a small knife from his belt and ran towards the boy, murder in his eyes. Instinctively Alis flashed in front of him, grabbing the wrist that held the knife. She tried with all of her might to get him to drop it, but the Deviant proved more than a match for her strength. He began to apply more of his own effort and Alis felt herself falling back, losing ground. I can't let this happen! "If I join the Warriors, I will pursue you until you are brought to justice, I swear!" she said through gritted teeth. "A small price to pay for satisfaction." With great regret, Alis closed her eyes and strengthened her resolve to permit a warrior spirit to rise up within her. There would be no going back, but if it saved the life of her charge, then so be it. With power beginning to course through her, she began to push back, moving the Deviant away. Even as she did so, she felt the environment around her start to bend and twist. It was a truly discomforting feeling, knowing that any moment her course would fracture at a particular point of her reality and become aligned with a new path, one completely foreign to her. She grit her teeth against the discomfort. Goodbye, Andrew... And then the tension was abruptly gone. She opened her eyes, noticing first that she no longer grappled with the Deviant, but rather just stood there, posed as if she still did. Looking down at her hands she wondered what had happened. Had her warrior spirit risen and then fended him off? Was he gone? Or what if she was, in fact, in some new reality, altered so much by her choice? "What happened?" "Sorry I'm late, Alis." The Defender looked up. Before her stood Kaj, his powerful right arm locked about the Deviant's neck. The villain was conscious, but in his precarious position was unwilling to risk his life by moving a muscle. "Are you alright?" the Protector asked. Once she found her voice she replied softly, "Yes, thank you." "Alis?" She looked into his eyes. There was a measure of concern in them. "Yes?" "Sit down." Her body responded before her head and she flopped ungracefully onto the carpeted floor. As if waiting expectantly, a great huge sigh passed beyond her mouth. It was then that she began to cry softly. Kaj called her name once more and once he had her attention, he stated, "The boy is alright. I have to take care of the Deviant, but I will be back in a few minutes, so just wait here." She nodded, knowing that she wouldn't be going anywhere. As he left, she reached up to touch the charm at her throat.... It was still the insignia of the Defenders. Finally able to let go of the tension and with her confusion dispelled, she rolled over onto her side, clutching the charm, and wept openly, now partly from relief. "I'm still a Defender," she squeaked out with a slight smile, all she could manage. Several minutes later, a strong and gentle hand layed itself upon her shoulder. Alis knew that Kaj had returned and the tears flowed harder, a catharsis after all that had happened. Eventually Alis managed to say in a shaky voice, "Thank you, Kaj! Thank you so much!" Kaj looked beyond her as he replied. "I was almost too late, Alis. Another moment or two and you would have been lost to Andrew." A shuddering breath racked her sides. "I had to choose. I would give up everything for him to live peacefully for as long as possible!" "I know." He began to stroke her hair. "You were very brave, Alis. One day... he will know all that you have done and thank you personally." Alis was soothed by his touch and his words. The Protectors truly did work on many levels, another thing for her to be grateful for. "Kaj," she said through another round of tears." "Yes, Alis?" "I've told no one this.... I'm technically not supposed to tell..." Kaj's hand stopped, at a loss for what this Defender would say. Defenders often guarded a wide variety of secrets. "Actually, it's more of a request." "What is it, Alis?" She paused for a moment before she spoke. "Kaj... when the boy becomes a Protector, will you look out for him?" "As soon as you tell me that he has changed, I will teach him personally." By his honor, he meant it. "Thank you," came the whispered reply. -------------------------------------------------------- Some of that will probably only make sense to me, as it's a scrap from my own head, but I hope that if you read it you enjoyed it nonetheless. Also, feel free to critique and offer ideas. I don't know if I'll give this one my full attention, but right now I kind of like it. Oh, and every time I attempt to write a "short story" (ie. when I have to), it always turns out being the middle or end of what could potentially be a much longer story. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

[Merlock]

Amazing, awesomely written. The same thing happens to me, hahah, even though I don't write much anymore, when I did, my imagination leapt ahead of me and I could never write something small -- kept making plans for something huge.

[Amethyst Star]

Thanks, Merlock! So, I pulled put a bunch of old notebooks, mainly ones that people have given to me and I've written most of it up, but never filled. I actually have a notebook that fits perfectly in my purse which is perfect to carry around in case I get a burst of inspiration when I'm out of the house... or to write down a grocery list. Anyway, I've just about filled up on (one or two more pages), mainly with one story (a fan-fic... more or less), and another one with many pages filled up with another story (also a sort of fan-fic, but most of the elements are mine). Anyway, without further ado, here's another scrap I entitled Zzhar. Essentially a longer story would include a particular group of people known as the "Innocents" and could turn into an epic series if I ever actually wanted to put effort into it, and with the base I have, it would take a lot of effort! Anyway, here it is. ------------------------------------------------- Zzhar The boy looked on as the woman approached the child and his mother. He watched as she smiled and nodded politely at the mother, a slight bow of respect, and then stepped up to the boy. She knelt down so that her face was even with his and looked straight into his eyes, still smiling her honest and innocent smile. Slowly and gently she reached forward and placed both hands under the boy's chin. Rubbing his jaw with her thumbs she remarked, "You are too precious t obe crying, my young sir. What makes you weep?" "I... don't have any friends. Nobody likes me," the child replied, rubbing his eyes with one sleeve. Then the woman did something worthy of remark. She drew the boy's hands away from his face and watched as another tear began to fall. Reaching out with one finger she touched the tear and it somehow vanished from the boy's face. It then appeared on the woman's own face and began to run down her cheek. Her smile grew larger still. With her voice gentle and empathetic, she stated, "These tears here are mine now. You'll have others in the future, but not these." "What do you mean?" "There was once a time when I felt all alone, as if no one cared for me. I always waited for someone to come along and be my friend, but I ended up waiting a long time. But one day, I stepped up to someone and spoke with them and I didn't feel so alone. I continued to step up to people and eventually found several very good friends. "I cried a lot of tears waiting for people; so many, in fact, that I ran out before I made my friends. Now, I have taken your tears to make up for the ones that I used up. I hope you don't mind." The boy smiled and let out a small laugh, shaking his head in response. "Well, thenk you, my young sir. I'd rather cry for someone as worthwhile as you than let you cry." Then she stood up and took one step back. Looking down she said, "Just remember this: Whenever you feel lonely, remember that those tears are mine, so you can't use them. Instead, remember that you're not alone. A part of me will always be with you." She looked briefly at the mother and nodded again before turning away. As she turned, her eyes locked on the other boy who was watching the whole scene with curiosity and wonder. His eyes locked with her stunning blue gaze for a brief moment before she went away. But in that single look was conveyed a message that stuck with him as long as he lived. The look she gave him shifted slightly from the one she had given the child and now seemed to say, "You know what happened here. Never forget it and your future will be bright." *** Zzhar had never before seen an Innocent. Oh, he had heard of them and of the purity of their minds and bodies and spirits, but he had never seen one in action. On one other occasion he had seen a different Innocent, but the visitor was gone before much could be said or done. He marveled at not only the power that the Innocent possessed, but the inherent benevolence with which it was used. If only all pwer was inspired under such a banner of kindness, he mused as he made his way down the street towards his home. She made me feel the desire to be a better person. He finished his walk home in an awestruck state, his mind whirring. Once he walked through the door he greeted his parents and set about informing them of this day's occurrences and then he proceeded to question them over what they knew of the Innocents. "Well, son, I don't know a whole lot about them, but I do know that they start out as children donated by willing parents. They are raised in an environment away from fear or pain or sadness. In time they are then taught about the darker side of life, though it is done in such a way that while they are ware of such things, they are not affected by them or subject to them." That was Zzhar's father. Then his mother continued commenting on what else astounded her about these people. "While they serve the same purpose and work towards the same goal, and are raised in an identical fashion, they all still remain strikingly individualistic. They all have their strengths and weaknesses, their gifts and talents. It's extraordinary to see them work!" "Have you seen them?" Zzhar asked. "Yes, a few times. Once or twice it was only in passing, but mainly when they're about they have a job to do." "And they aren't out for very long at a time. Their... oh, what's an appropriate word?... employers bring them back to wherever they live soon after the job is done. Until society improves, too much time in the open could cause them to lose their innocence. It's a miracle that they don't even before they leave their home." Zzhar took in this information with a smile on his face. He imagined the woman he saw earlier and pictured himself in the place that the child had been in earlier that day. He visualized her reaching out her hand to touch his cheek gently with her pure hands. But in the midst of this pleasant daydream an unpleasant thought entered his head. He decided to ask his parents. Tentatively he asked, "Has anyone ever hurt an Innocent?" They froze. Then in a quiet voice, picking his words carefully, the father replied, "Yes, yes there have been innocents who have been hurt or..." He chose not to say what he had in mind. "It's a terrible thing to do and I don't know why anyone would do such a thing." "It's like harming an angel." Zzhar's face lowered at the thought of an angel being harmed. "What happens to them?" "Well, it varies. It's hard to say for sure." His mother decided that she didn't really care for this line of thought and changed the subject. "So, Zzhar, what did you do at school today? ------------------------------------- End of the Zzhar scrap.

[Merlock]

Awesomely written as always, though rather saddening. Both due to the nature of the content and because it's not part of a huge epic book series! You should start making plans for publishing something, not nearly as many people will get to enjoy such great writing online!

[Amethyst Star]

I already am working (slowly) on a few more epic pieces. I'll try to post a sample here at some point in time.

[Amethyst Star]

Another scrap. This isn't anything special, but it's (I think...) a tiny bit from a dream I had some time ago. The image has kind of stuck in my head and while I don't really do it justice and have justa dded a few small details, this is basically it. I just felt like writing something while listening to this orchestral piece I found in a minor key. I'll do something with it some day, I feel. -------------------------- She watched helplessly from the other boat, wanting desperately to help the man who had helped her. He clung to the side of the small wooden craft, a cannon ball strapped to one foot, as the pirate captain loomed over him, smiling his crooked smile, triumph written on his face. The man before him was at his mercy. In the water, Darian was well aware that his energy was spent and he could no longer put up a fight. "Please don't do this," he begged, hoping that there was some small shred of decency in the captain's heart. "Don't..." Sarai could only watch, herself captive to two other ruthless men. ~Darian,~ she screamed in her head as she saw the captain raise a boot and smash it down on one of his hands. Darian gritted his teeth against the pain of it, willing himself to hang on a little longer, needing to stay alive for Sarai. She took a step forward, only to be held back by the strong hands of the sailors. She'd never felt more helpless. Yellowed teeth showing through a scraggly black beard, the grin widdened still on the captain's face as one of Darian's hands slipped from the boat. There was no kindness left in his heart, made apparent when he placed his boot on Darian's other hand until he felt the man release his grip. Laughing, he let up so that his victim would merely slip off into the depths of the water. Powerless to stop himself, Darian's fingers came free from the boat and he sank below the water. The expression on his face was one of defeat and great, great sadness for having been unable to save her. It should have been so simple, but he had failed. Looking up, he saw the distorted picture of the captain's leer slowly grow further and further away.