Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts

13 March 2012

Prologue (Anuna's familiar)

Title: Prologue/ Anuna's familiar
Author: Minerva Wu
Writing: short story
Word Count: 2576

“Little girl, it is useless to run.”

The merrow in front of me snarled, her features distorting as she leapt out of the water and at the feathered ribbon bracelet I held in my hand. I staggered back, clutching it against my heart and distancing myself from the shapeshifting creature, still stunned from what had happened.

Her tail shrunk and her arms sprouted into wings and she flew overhead before landing, legs forming just before she landed. “I won’t hurt you, Princess” she cooed, the voice that came from her lips too beautiful for the sharp teeth and wicked growl frozen on her face. “But you must give me that.” She pointed to the bracelet with a smooth crooked finger.

“But—they’re mine.”

She stalked forward, hand still outstretched. Her milky hair cascaded around her face and dripped to her feet and I wondered how anyone could walk or swim with it. I stumbled back again, clutching the bracelet. It wouldn’t serve me to stall. We both knew her companions were coming and I needed to be back at the castle. But my wand, summoning staff, and dagger had all been sucked into the flash of light that had created this bracelet.

“You can have your belongings,” she sang as if reading my mind. “You can go help your friend. I require only the egg.”

The egg. It was large dragon egg, pitch black except for a few jagged rings the same crimson color as my hair and pink circles the color of my eyes. When I’d first seen it, I wondered if it too existed only because of a blood sacrifice. We already shared in common being the only living creatures on a planet inhabited by recalled dead and bloodthirsty merrows.

“I-It was absorbed into the flash.”

“And you can call it back.”

I was at the edge; behind me the Visola Formidine waterfall plummeted downwards into the lake the merrows lived in. I could hear the fleshy sound of their wings as a dozen of them flew up, surrounding me.

“I can summon it?” I feigned cooperation as I stepped closer to the edge, kicking a pebble down. It disintegrated from the energy radiating off the waterfall before it even hit the foam at the bottom.

“We should just destroy the entire thing,” one hissed. “She cannot summon it yet.” I turned. The new merrow had spears in their clawed feet and all wore the same devilish scowl the first did. There was no way I could defeat them all and have energy to help Loise in the Calling.

We waited like that, them unwilling to harm me should I make it alive to inform my parents, and I desperately calculating an escape that didn’t involve killing anyone; there was already enough death in my existence. Then one of the merrow broke that kind train of though:

“The egg, Princess Luna.”

“Anuna,” I snapped, anger boiling within me. “I am Anuna Erkygon, ancilla of the Lady Auiya Le’Enor. And you have no right to call me otherwise!”

I took my opening, sweeping my free hand around me, aiming vaguely for the offending merrow. Magic energy exploded around me and a jagged black stream of electricity went wild, sending off red sparks. Without looking to see if my distraction-attack was enough, I took the final step and plummeted off the edge.

Here’s a tip: don’t jump off waterfalls in a dress. Even if you have leggings and shorts underneath.

The wind whiplashed across my face, and I could feel the energy from the waterfall reaching for me, drawing off my fears and clawing at me as if I were a piece of prey. Fifteen years of life lived in the shadow of my parents and tore at my mind as pain licked my skin. The bracelet clutched tightly in my hands, I concentrated on pulling the air around me to slow my descent.

Suddenly I felt a shudder from the bracelet and a moment later it glowed and wound around my wrist, leaving in my hands the ebony and cherry egg that the merrow, now shooting down the waterfall in their aquatic forms, sought to eat. It shuddered again and as I pulled the currents of the air, unable to get a firm grasp without my wand to channel my magic. A merrow’s spear whirled out of the cascade and I dodged, plummeting faster. A crack and tiny burst from my hands alerted me to the egg again, and I realized that it was hatching, in the middle of our plunge into the Lake of Fear. A droplet of water from the Visola Formidine touched the shell and before I could wipe it away the droplet was steaming and the shell exploded away, leaving a small, slimy, black figure in my hands.

I couldn’t tend to him immediately as we were quite obviously falling, but I took delicate care not to fold or damage his wings and held him close. With my other hand I reached out at the pool of water and ignoring the screams of death echoing in my ears and the claws raking my skin I uttered a portal spell directly into the encroaching lake.

A few fast merrow were catching up and aiming to attack us. Fortunately, it seemed none had noticed the whirlpool coagulating beneath us. At the last moment I thrust my hand around to create as best a protective cushion of air against the impact as I could and curled up with the pitch-black dragon safely against me as we plunged into the waters of the Lake of Fear itself.

————>><<————

Colors swam before my eyes and air swept out of my lungs as I and my new dragon hurtled through space. I gasped for breath and finally the whirling stopped. The world still spun with dizziness around me but I could feel solid ground below me again and the thumping of another little heart by my side.

"Princess Anuna!" I looked up and saw Dr. Markyus and my father rush into the courtyard I had appeared in. “The Calling has started,” the good doctor said, waving his hand over me. My breathing eased immediately. “It’s not going well though.”

Not going well was an understatement: Cristae’s movements were sunk in weariness and Loise choked the words of the ritual out between gasps of air. The rune that surrounded the area were the standard symbols to call people to the Land of Dreams, the pool that the Calling had to be done with was laced with the proper ingredients, and plump packets of herbs surrounding the circle radiated the needed auras . What was going wrong?

“What is—?” Father asked suddenly, a mix between horror and confusion in his voice. I followed his gaze to the little dragon that was floundering about, drying himself, and touched his black little snout. He looked up at me, making a gurgling sound.

“A dragon…” Dr. Markyus said, the awe apparent in his voice. The expression I saw though, was more than awe: it was greed, power-thirsty desire. I shuddered and took a small vial out of my pocket and poured it into a rock for the newborn.

“Doctor, the Calling,” Father reminded him urgently. The High King glanced over his two old friends and gritted his teeth in determination. “Dr. Markyus has a spell, but we have no power to use it,” Father said, turning to me. “It requires the power of an ancilla,”

I snapped my fingers and he handed it to me; I skimmed the words and procedure. It was remarkably simple for a Calling-spell that demanded the power of one of Auiya’s own. “It is harder than it seems, milady,” the doctor and my mentor said, and pointed to certain marks on the scroll where he had jotted notes. “Your mother was unavailable due to a conflict with the merrow-folk, but I trust you can preform it well.”

“Go. I will watch this…organism,” Father encourage with obvious distaste.

I nodded in thanks at their confidence. Raw determination flooded through me; this was my friend and lifelong servant who was at stake. Abruptly I realized I had no wand to amplify my power and grasped the feather and ribbon bracelet my wand had been absorbed into, hoping it had gained the powers of a wand. My finger grazed the pearl in the feather-and-ribbon bracelet and I envisioned my wand--more for security and reassurance; nonetheless, the ribbon and feathers suddenly shrunk and twisted until they reformed into my wand, exactly as it was before the absorption. I was surprised, but Loise and Cristae were in danger and without pausing, I flourished the wand and held it high as I read the Ellhnikan script.

“Pneyma toy Auiya oti proedros mesa olos Kawl , katharos eht empdisa energeia apo aytoi psyxh. katharisths aytoys temper aytoys , kai anagennwmai eht swma , psyxh kai pneyma. metaferw aytoi poiothta sto Kalesa. sa diko toys psyxh oxyrwnw eht Kalesa. aporrofw diko toys pneyma otni eht Kalesa. Aether.”

At first it seemed to be working. A wave of light emitted from my friends as used energy instantly renewed itself in a river of magic. I relaxed and collapsed next to my dragon. Father wrapped an arm around me and I let his soothing light magic purify my own energy and rejuvenate me. Dr. Markyus smiled at it and sat next to me with a quiet, "Congratulations. You managed that spell very well.”

I only nodded, accepting the compliment and returned to watching the scene: the pink healing light was still there, dancing over their skin as they finished the ritual's task. The storm of energy around them swept upwards, spinning around the courtyard once before streaming downwards. The herbs danced inwards before everything synthesized and solidified into two shapes over the pool. Light from the pool shone over the two figures, bathing one in orange light and the other in golden. The pink glow around Loise and Cristae faded, signaling the apparent end of the Calling of new souls to the planet.

"Two children," Dr. Markyus seemed mildly surprised as we rose to welcome the newcomers to our planet. "How sweet."

Apparently though, the ritual decided it wasn’t over. A dark scarlet glow suddenly enveloped the crystals of the children, and the adults abruptly dissolved into fine particles that streamed into the orange and yellow crystals. I screamed in horror, rushing forward too late to grasp Loise's disintegrating hand. Her soul and body already turning to powder, she turned towards me, a last word I couldn’t catch on her lips.

I watched through blurry eyes as the particles that remained of Loise faded into the crystals of her son and daughter. The carmine glow dissipated and the crystals melted around them and two bodies fell to the ground.

Out of nowhere a knife was hurtled at us, and I reacted just in time to block the boy from receiving a splendid welcoming present. Blood laced around my fingers as I touched the wound. "Who dares--" my voice spoke for me as rage poured into the hollowed soul. Loise and Cristae's death had been enough and this new injury sent pain skewering through my body, but a murder attempt on a newly called soul was an affront to Auiya Herself!

I reached for the bracelet but a dark energy wrapped itself around me, constraining me. I tensed, focusing my energy to break the spell, but relaxed, recognizing my mother’s aura in the magic. Instead, I turned my head as Father and Dr. Markyus did and bowed my head as the Anicilla Suprema materialized in the room. “Are two deaths not enough?” her voice cut through the air, sending cold through my veins. She walked past Father and me and the energy constraining us vanished, setting us lightly on the ground. Father tended to me immediately, tugging the criminal knife out as gently as he could. He didn’t even bother with a healing spell; the moment blood touched the injury, the gash sealed. I didn’t even look; I was born of blood sacrifice and this phenomenon had followed it.

"Good doctor...why did you do it?"

The old man stared at Mother for a long moment before bursting into laugher, "You know very well why I tricked our little princess into it." He laughed again, and wheezed halfway through, scaring me. Only then did I notice indeed how old the family’s servant was. "Cristae's had his run on this world; it's his time to go and I needed an ancilla's power for the casting." Another wheeze-laugh. "Cheer up people! The children survived and have the strength of two souls each!"

"What do you say about the knife?"

Markyus squinted at the offending object that had a moment ago been lodged in my side. "An unfortunate accident. If one had died…”—he managed an unconvincing shrug— “who knows. Maybe we would have had four souls worth of power within a single body."

"They are not weapons," my voice hissed.

The High Queen ignored me, but seemed to agree: “You will pay dearly for murder, attempted murder and… treason,” she spat and he dissolved away, presumedly to some dungeon. “Lyciar. Take the children to Loise and Cristae's rooms and wait for them to wake. We must see the effects of the rite."

Father nodded but first turned to me, pity written in his expression. “You couldn't have known his schemes. You are not at fault.”

But it was. “I-I cast it. I said the words. If I had known better…”

"Luna--"

“Anuna.” I could feel both of them tense. I sobbed. “But Luna’s just as good, isn’t it? It doesn’t change anything.” Another sob escaped me and I searched the stone for a trace of dust that might have remained of my friend. “I’m just an agglomeration of destruction. I’m no more alive than any of you.”

“No.” Mother’s voice was stern. “You are different.”

“I’m a murderer.”

Father patted my back again. “You couldn’t have known. You are fallible. That is part of life and living. Of being alive. You don’t have to be perfect just because you are actually alive on a planet of people that have died. We aren’t even perfect and we’ve had an entire life’s worth of experience.”

“And I’ve had nine!”

“You have the blood of nine, not nine lives.” Mother took the black blob from Father’s hands and held him in front of me. “You saved him from eternal sleep, didn’t you?”

“He might have been better off asleep than with me,” I said, but looked up. The black dragon stared at me with unblinking innocence, turning his head in curiosity.

“He needs a name,” Mother said, setting him in my arms as she thought of a name for him. “Azimuthal,” she decided, staring at the odd wings.

I stared at angled head, and the small jagged red marks that ran down his back and wings and devised a name for more common use. “Akai.”

My parents nodded in agreement and smiled sadly, before vanishing away to their respective tasks. I was left alone in the courtyard surrounded by crumpled gray brick with only a ray of fading light gleaming off a translucent pool. I stared down at Azimuthal, to be known as Akai, and watched my hopes and dreams flicker through his pink-ringed irises.


Artist's Note: HIIIIIIII No post in FOREVER, I know >< Terribly sorry about it.

This was actually written quite a while back, around late October 2011 to early November 2011. I edited it sometime in November or December but never got around to posting it online until now. It was actually originally written so I could submit it to the Creative Writing Club (SORRY!!) but obviously I neglected to submit it then. I don't quite like it as much as I did a few months ago, but I figure I might as well post it and get it over with since I'm not going to be writing the accompanying story (my failed NaNoWriMo 2011 attempt). This part of Anuna's story should remain the same though.

In other news, Anuna may come up as a minor character in other, future stories. She isn't part of my "main cast" of characters dubbed The Sixteen, but she'd probably be considered the Seventeenth. Haha. More on the Sixteen sometime later on my own bloggie: The River Windrose. (I'll update the links sidebar soon, promise!)

Until the next post, whenever that happens to be! Lewis, I miss your writing too! D: ! :D I miss posting every week and will make a better effort to post stuff next quarter.....maybe. Let's both!

~Minerva Wu


30 December 2010

Returning Home

Title: Returning Home
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story (Excerpt?)/ to-be-continued?
Word Count: 849



Alina Zephyr was still. Despite the time, her room had remained untouched. Her parents hadn’t altered anything after she’d been banished from Bryka Fields and made an Object of Holena. Five years ago. It seemed so long now, but it was only five years. Two since the Ferrezin tournament and the last time she’d been on the planet of Idyllen. 
One by one she pulled the covers off, unveiling her old desk, her old bed, her old dresser-closet, and her old doll rack. A moment of silence enveloped the house as she stared at her bunny-doll collection. 
"I know," she said quietly, so softly it might have been nonexistent. "I am sorry too. But we are leaving now....I do not know....yes. Come on." she raised her hands, and pushed them together, gathering all the rabbits in one sweep and shrinking them into little charms that she attached to a chain she created. This charm necklace she slipped away into the black pack on her thigh. "We are going back to Edihn after this," she answered an unheard question as she began to pack up the other items in the room into the black energy spheres. 
"Yes, I am sure Lady Holena will allow me to keep you in my room." She giggled and for a moment all signs of the 18-year-old energy pool melted away and she was an innocent 13-year-old child again. Only the moving tattoo on her face betrayed the power within her.
She continued to each room cheerfully, picking the things she wanted to keep and leaving the rest untouched. "It is large too....of course we all get rooms of our own....it really is a sort of paradise up there. Aside from fighting the Pains, of course, but it is eden besides that. All the food we can eat, all the luxuries, entertainment. It is not quite as bad as people here portray." 
She finished scouring the second floor and unlocked the trapdoor to the attic. The small attic had used to be her little escape whenever he mother yelled at her. She remembered the boxes of baby clothes and baby books up there, and the little hammock she had made. She floated up into it now, with no need for the frayed rope ladder. 
"Fighting Pains is harder than fighting here," she replied ominously. "Brutal all-out murder. Anything to survive another day," she continued, ducking her head and entrapping the boxes in black energy spheres before lowering them to the ground  below safely. 
"Anything to defend yourself from the Pains. Because they will do anything they want. Rape. Slaughter. Mutilation. Every day, the same routine. Go out there and beat the life out of everything that moves, then return to Holena's Haven to rest and enjoy yourself."
Everything was now away and she swept the dusty rug to the ground as well, deciding it might as well be moved to her room on Edihn. She gave everything a cursory  glance before zeroing in on the false panel that had been underneath the rug. "Never knew this was here," she noted, reflecting on the many hours she had spent cooped up in this little room. With a thin ribbon of pure energy she unlocked the panel and looked inside. 
There was a picture of a little girl, around five, with dark brown hair, slightly curled and very silky. The girl's hazel eyes were wide, open in innocence and delight. Alina stroked her own blonde--almost white--hair and tried to impose her small blue eyes over the picture. It clashed. 
"Who is this? Was there another child?....No? Who is this then?" she asked. She stroked the silver necklace and charm the girl in the picture wore and examined the cute frilly dress. Nothing was familiar.
"Strange," she murmured and set the picture aside and dug up the second and last object in the secret vault: a rectangular rosewood case with an ornate clasp. She opened it to find a bloody dagger resting on a satin cover. Looped around the dagger was the silver necklace the girl in the picture wore, and on the inside cover was a collection of small clippings and photos. They showed the same little girl from the picture, only dead, mutilated and murdered by a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Almost just like Alina. 
“But I have only killed Pains…and I do not mutilate my victims….” She skimmed through various photos of the murder scene and finally arrived at a short newspaper clipping from 13 years ago.
"Youth mutilated and murdered by escaped convict," read the headline. Alina balked at this and turned to the charms hanging out her bag. “I have never been arrested though; how was I a convict? ” she snapped her fingers and created a small ball of light energy that hovered close to the newspaper as she scrutinized the story for answers.
"Five year old Alina Zephyr was mutilated and killed by escaped national convict 19 Delin Al Era in the temple sanctum...."

Artist's Note: So I was looking at the archive on DiW and thought I was missing a few posts, so I found something from a few weeks ago to post...consider it an Angelmas present? >.<

I refer you to "Lucidity" by Lewis. :D. This post refers to that incident >:)

And I have transferred the picture's link to this post: 
 Picture of her on TegakiE . Mini-preview here!: AddaEllis on Tegaki EYap! Comment on both please :D

What else...I will be continuing to write about the Chosen Three in January. Haha. 

So yea! Happy New Year's EVE! And HAPPY NEW YEAR!
~SilverInk

29 May 2010

Hollow Heart

Title: Hollow Heart
Author: Silver Ink
Writing: Horror
Wort Count: 866
Warning: Murder, excessive blood.



There was something about killing that makes it hurt.

My hand was still around the dagger when the blood began to flow. At first it was just a trickle, a faint perception that the figure was not yet deceased Soon though, the crimson stain oozed its way through the gaps between my fingers and poured out it mineral-rich cherry waters.

So the warm liquid engulfed my hand in sanguine color. It moved over my hand quicker, implying there was still something quit alive with the corpse. Then as the skin’s color turned cadaverous and as the head from the body transferred into the crisp air, as the vivacious color stained my murderous hand., the life of my victim seemed to return. And though devoid of any vital signs, the figure was now very much alive—possibly more so than when the body had breathed and the now-pierced heart bled—because the cruel victim had taken up residence in my mind, my personal reality, and was now, dead, more alive than it had ever been; now that this dead haunted my every thought and ghosted along with my every move, it was a greater threat than it had ever been alive.

Of course, what does one do about threats? Eliminate them of course. Except there was no plausible way to injure this threat without putting me or my welfare in great peril.
---

It was many years after that first murder before I picked up the assassin’s role again. The first time it had been for revenge. The guy had killed an ex-crush and a good friend of mine.

The second time though, it was for the money; my wife was about to give birth, and I was nearly broke. A rich nobleman wanted his adversary killed off and offered a wealthy sum for it. With no other choice, I accepted, planning to kill the guy from a distance; maybe then I could avoid the brutal bloodiness and horrid haunting that followed.

Following the target was an easy matter. Setting up a trap was simple as well. The intended day, I set up myself in the upper loft of an abandoned barn and loaded my rifle, thinking about getting this done with quickly, collecting my payment, and returning home to my wife. I didn’t let bad thoughts overcome me, nor did I let the ghost of my first victim haunt me. I had long learned to block out that voice and wasn’t about to let it bother me. This would be done quickly, easily. Nothing to it.

As if on cue, the target strolled into the barn and dealt with the necessities of the trap. As he was about to leave, I shot him, a clear, clean shot to the head. To be sure, I crept to the other side and delivered a second shot to the chest before he was completely down.

He died.

There was something surreal to his death. Something strange. Unexplainable. To me, he just fell. I never knew if he uttered a sound that last moment, or said any last words. Probably not. It was instant. Instant death. Just a muffled bang and a fall. Fall. A final gasp of breath. And then thud. Fall.

It could have even been the wind.

I packed up my equipment. I went home. I was glad there was no haunting sensation. There would be no moths of recovery after this. I could concentrate on my kid. The client examined the scene. He paid his bill. He even gave me a tip for being swift about it. He gave me another tip for making it clean. It was, at the time. By the time the police arrived, a puddle of scarlet formed, but the client was gone and I was gone. I left. I walked home. Still there was no haunting. 

But the moment I inserted the key to the door, a ghostly sensation crept upon me. Two of them. They swirled around me in a strange ghostly dance, gray dust fogging up my sight. I brushed it away. The dust didn’t cool. The pair of ghosts continued their dance, weaving a tornado of gray around me. I tried to ignore it and opened the door.

It was a mistake. The moment I stepped in, the ghosts whisked away from me. They whirled to the master bedroom and hovered over my wife.

Then I saw the first streaks of red. Crimson splatters shooting through the gray storm.
---

When the dust cleared, I saw my wife kneeled by the bed, blood pouring out of her. A bloody, lifeless little corpse was lying on the ground next to her. As I passed it, a glop of thick ruby spilled out of it and spit a few droplets onto my feet. I paid no attention to it, such was my concern for my wife.

She clenched the bed with one hand, and her chest with the other. She looked me in the eyes and her face paled slightly. A soft sound escaped her, the sound of a warm breath of air on autumn morning and she collapsed against me.

Around her, the pool of cherry water grew deeper.  

Artist's Note: So I found an excerpt in my random-stuff notebook from a few months ago (paragraphs 2 and 3) and got the inspiration to elaborate. And this is what came out of it. 

In case it's unclear: The wife of the narrator (I don't dare call him a protagonist) had a miscarriage and died of blood loss. I'm sorry if it's cliche >_< 

I haven't throughly edited and revised, it, but as I was writing it, I was conscious of the elements I put into it. THIS, is why AP English Language was so wonderful. If I had written this a year before, it would have been pretty very pathetic.

More about the writing itself: Um... As a whole I think I was influenced by Sandra Cisnero's manipulation of syntax in House on Mango Street and Margaret Atwood's blunt, graphic descriptions in  The Handmaid's Tale. Both are wonderful books and I recommend them to anyone who hasn't read them ;)

So, thank you for reading and please comment! And don't forget to express your opinion on the character mini-poll if you haven't already done so! <3
~SilverInk