yorelm
Well-Known Member
This is a second short story I'm writing. I'm one of those types who have to work on at least two projects at the same time because I become too bored with one.
The first scene sets up the "why" of the story, but still needs tweaking. Of course, the opening is fairly vital, but instead of letting it hold me back from continuing, I kept moving. So this piece is the second scene where I begin to get in stride a little better (I hope).
Briefly, Varak's wife has left him and that put him in a numbing depression, so he's desperate enough to try a magical outlet even tho he's not crazy about it (sort of like Derwood in the old Bewitched reruns). He talks himself into giving it a try and goes to the den where he keeps his uncle's magical tome. It's a contemporary setting.
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We always kept the den dark. Those black curtains haven't been opened or changed in years. Sunlight and the Tome just weren't a good match.
Me and Emily took Uncle Morty in during his final years and he rarely left this space. Aunt Mary's homely, flower-designed couch sat in the corner next to the Tome's desk. She loved that couch, and Uncle Morty refused to get rid of it after she died. It's funny, I always tried talking Uncle Morty into letting me get him something more modern, maybe one of those pull-out bed couches since this was where he slept, and now that he's gone, I feel the same way about the ugly thing as he did.
I pulled the chain on the desk lamp and long shadows brushed across the Tome. I hesitated before waking it, shaking the same way as when I'm over-the-top angry, but rage wasn't the problem here. I glanced down at the dozen sleeping eyes spread over the Tome's front binding. They were an eerie enough sight when closed, but when they opened, they gave you this barren stare that made you cringe.
I lifted the leather cover slowly, as if to give myself enough time to change my mind. If I made it to the first page, I'd consider myself committed and go ahead and follow through. I let emptiness from just minutes ago flash back, the feeling that seemed worse than being gutted. That made it easier, so I made a quick flip to the first page.
The Tome awakened and spoke in a musical sort of language Uncle Morty taught me when I was kid, a little like Chinese. I never knew its real origin. "Well look here. So you realize I do still actually exist," it spoke aloud with the voice coming from its general position. "You have a fairly good knack for making a soul feel useless."
It was to me until now, but I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth, so I avoided the subject and explained about Emily instead.
"...so now this depression feels mesh in, stupidly overpowering. Trying to work, the very thing that brought this on, is a joke. Friends try to help, but I'm not interested in sympathy. I just want my wife back. You know I'm not crazy about all this mysticism stuff, but sometimes you get desperate enough to bend a little. I thought maybe you could suggest something?"
The Tome thickened, as though somehow it took in a deep breath. I think it disapproved of the ungratefulness toward my friends; it could be judgmental that way, but I think deeper it understood. It should. It's known me for thirty-five years.
"Let me think on that, though I don't see why I should have to spend my talents on someone who sees me as a pariah."
I didn't respond and took a seat in the rarely used, squeaky chair. It's sort of strange to say, but I think of the Tome as an extension of Uncle Morty, like family in a way. This is why I trust it despite my uneasiness. Like Auntie's couch, it wasn't going anywhere. Emily always stood by my decision.
The Tome slanted slightly to the right, its version of a thoughtful head cock. "You need something else to occupy your mind, a re-balance of disposition. If you can afford the time away, I could send you to Altere again. How do you feel about that?"
I remembered that name, but not as clearly as the Tome assumed. I visited there with my uncle when I was about five or so. I don't recall much except it was like home, but not quite. I forget the details, but I do remember that child's fascination, not so sure how I'd feel as an adult though. I stared into the Tome's wordless pages, then looked away.
My first inclination was to think of a reason I shouldn't go and try a different, more mundane route. But then again, maybe the trip wasn't too bad an idea. I do well as a graphic artist, but money and clients were falling off. Something had to change, and a major distraction just might give this sickening mood a rest. Couldn't hurt.
"I'll go, but only for a couple of days. If I don't feel any change, I can at least say I gave it a shot." Just to be willing was more positive than anything I've done in weeks.
"You were just a tyke the first time I sent you. You do recall it to be unusual, yes?"
"All I really remember is dullish, tacky colors, different-looking buildings and people, not much else."
"I want to be sure, in your present emotional state, that you're not caught too much by surprise." The Tome was always the concerned type, every bit as much as faultfinding. "I will send you for forty-eight hours. You can stay longer if you'd like, but it has to be at least the full two days. Turn to page 146."
I did, and a silver ring appeared in the page fold. I picked it up.
"Place it on, and go stand by the couch."
I did so, and a yellow plate-sized disc formed in mid air near the window. It floated upright, about a foot above my height, and rotated at a lazy but constant speed, similar to a spinning coin except in mid air. It made me drowsy, like one of those hypnotist pendulums, but it quickly passed. Gradually, the outline of a large, faded oval took shape below the disc, and the fuzzy backdrop of a rocky tunnel formed inside. The room filled with a humming that grew louder as the tunnel's image solidified.
The noise softened, and the Tome instructed, "Walk through, and go about four yards towards the light at the other end. You will step into Altere."
Now that this was happening, I wavered. I knew I wanted to try for my sanity's sake, but I've never been comfortable with the unexpected. Emily always teasingly said I was boring that way, but deeper I knew she was serious.
"Where in Altere?" I asked. "Suppose it's on an ocean or somewhere otherwise dangerous?"
"You've been there before, so you always appear at the last visited place when you return. It is consistent, and no, you cannot appear inside a wall; it doesn't work that way. Still, I do realize some years have passed, and things may have changed. So if there is any danger, that will be your only chance to return before the two days are up. Just twist the ring counterclockwise and you will reappear back here, safe to ignore me again. If I receive no immediate notice, I will assume you are fine. You'll be on your own from that point. You will automatically return when the time is up, but I will send you back if you decide to stay longer."
"On my own to do what exactly?"
"Altereans are generally friendly. Strike up a conversation; ask about the sights, arts, recreation. Turn to page 543 and take the Alterean cash there. It should be enough for a room and any other activities."
I pocketed the money and made short strides through the rocky tunnel, taking a breath with every step.
The first scene sets up the "why" of the story, but still needs tweaking. Of course, the opening is fairly vital, but instead of letting it hold me back from continuing, I kept moving. So this piece is the second scene where I begin to get in stride a little better (I hope).
Briefly, Varak's wife has left him and that put him in a numbing depression, so he's desperate enough to try a magical outlet even tho he's not crazy about it (sort of like Derwood in the old Bewitched reruns). He talks himself into giving it a try and goes to the den where he keeps his uncle's magical tome. It's a contemporary setting.
------------------------------------------------
We always kept the den dark. Those black curtains haven't been opened or changed in years. Sunlight and the Tome just weren't a good match.
Me and Emily took Uncle Morty in during his final years and he rarely left this space. Aunt Mary's homely, flower-designed couch sat in the corner next to the Tome's desk. She loved that couch, and Uncle Morty refused to get rid of it after she died. It's funny, I always tried talking Uncle Morty into letting me get him something more modern, maybe one of those pull-out bed couches since this was where he slept, and now that he's gone, I feel the same way about the ugly thing as he did.
I pulled the chain on the desk lamp and long shadows brushed across the Tome. I hesitated before waking it, shaking the same way as when I'm over-the-top angry, but rage wasn't the problem here. I glanced down at the dozen sleeping eyes spread over the Tome's front binding. They were an eerie enough sight when closed, but when they opened, they gave you this barren stare that made you cringe.
I lifted the leather cover slowly, as if to give myself enough time to change my mind. If I made it to the first page, I'd consider myself committed and go ahead and follow through. I let emptiness from just minutes ago flash back, the feeling that seemed worse than being gutted. That made it easier, so I made a quick flip to the first page.
The Tome awakened and spoke in a musical sort of language Uncle Morty taught me when I was kid, a little like Chinese. I never knew its real origin. "Well look here. So you realize I do still actually exist," it spoke aloud with the voice coming from its general position. "You have a fairly good knack for making a soul feel useless."
It was to me until now, but I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth, so I avoided the subject and explained about Emily instead.
"...so now this depression feels mesh in, stupidly overpowering. Trying to work, the very thing that brought this on, is a joke. Friends try to help, but I'm not interested in sympathy. I just want my wife back. You know I'm not crazy about all this mysticism stuff, but sometimes you get desperate enough to bend a little. I thought maybe you could suggest something?"
The Tome thickened, as though somehow it took in a deep breath. I think it disapproved of the ungratefulness toward my friends; it could be judgmental that way, but I think deeper it understood. It should. It's known me for thirty-five years.
"Let me think on that, though I don't see why I should have to spend my talents on someone who sees me as a pariah."
I didn't respond and took a seat in the rarely used, squeaky chair. It's sort of strange to say, but I think of the Tome as an extension of Uncle Morty, like family in a way. This is why I trust it despite my uneasiness. Like Auntie's couch, it wasn't going anywhere. Emily always stood by my decision.
The Tome slanted slightly to the right, its version of a thoughtful head cock. "You need something else to occupy your mind, a re-balance of disposition. If you can afford the time away, I could send you to Altere again. How do you feel about that?"
I remembered that name, but not as clearly as the Tome assumed. I visited there with my uncle when I was about five or so. I don't recall much except it was like home, but not quite. I forget the details, but I do remember that child's fascination, not so sure how I'd feel as an adult though. I stared into the Tome's wordless pages, then looked away.
My first inclination was to think of a reason I shouldn't go and try a different, more mundane route. But then again, maybe the trip wasn't too bad an idea. I do well as a graphic artist, but money and clients were falling off. Something had to change, and a major distraction just might give this sickening mood a rest. Couldn't hurt.
"I'll go, but only for a couple of days. If I don't feel any change, I can at least say I gave it a shot." Just to be willing was more positive than anything I've done in weeks.
"You were just a tyke the first time I sent you. You do recall it to be unusual, yes?"
"All I really remember is dullish, tacky colors, different-looking buildings and people, not much else."
"I want to be sure, in your present emotional state, that you're not caught too much by surprise." The Tome was always the concerned type, every bit as much as faultfinding. "I will send you for forty-eight hours. You can stay longer if you'd like, but it has to be at least the full two days. Turn to page 146."
I did, and a silver ring appeared in the page fold. I picked it up.
"Place it on, and go stand by the couch."
I did so, and a yellow plate-sized disc formed in mid air near the window. It floated upright, about a foot above my height, and rotated at a lazy but constant speed, similar to a spinning coin except in mid air. It made me drowsy, like one of those hypnotist pendulums, but it quickly passed. Gradually, the outline of a large, faded oval took shape below the disc, and the fuzzy backdrop of a rocky tunnel formed inside. The room filled with a humming that grew louder as the tunnel's image solidified.
The noise softened, and the Tome instructed, "Walk through, and go about four yards towards the light at the other end. You will step into Altere."
Now that this was happening, I wavered. I knew I wanted to try for my sanity's sake, but I've never been comfortable with the unexpected. Emily always teasingly said I was boring that way, but deeper I knew she was serious.
"Where in Altere?" I asked. "Suppose it's on an ocean or somewhere otherwise dangerous?"
"You've been there before, so you always appear at the last visited place when you return. It is consistent, and no, you cannot appear inside a wall; it doesn't work that way. Still, I do realize some years have passed, and things may have changed. So if there is any danger, that will be your only chance to return before the two days are up. Just twist the ring counterclockwise and you will reappear back here, safe to ignore me again. If I receive no immediate notice, I will assume you are fine. You'll be on your own from that point. You will automatically return when the time is up, but I will send you back if you decide to stay longer."
"On my own to do what exactly?"
"Altereans are generally friendly. Strike up a conversation; ask about the sights, arts, recreation. Turn to page 543 and take the Alterean cash there. It should be enough for a room and any other activities."
I pocketed the money and made short strides through the rocky tunnel, taking a breath with every step.
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