From the desk of my nine-year-old self...
... I bring the first complete story I ever wrote, dislodged from under piles of books in the chaos of moving houses: TWIN TALES, the tale of -- wait for it -- twins imbued with a sense of magic SO GREAT that a sinister Hispanic (?!) woman known only as Madame would do anything for the chance to teach them to control it: anything in this case meaning 'killing their mother, devastating their village home, and enslaving the villagers'. She gets her chance, and then proceeds to blow it completely by taking them on a quest to see the monster she hired to do the dirty work for no apparent reason other than that they wanted to. The monster explains matters to them, and they reject her utterly, shockingly enough, and go to complete their training with a handy local philosophermagician-king. The thrilling journey concludes five years later, when they, now accomplished sorceresses, stumble across her in a forest and demand an explanation, which she gives as follows: Your mother was dumb and would have been a total failure at raising you anyway. Once they have it, all three go off hand in hand, happily reunited sociopaths that they are.
AND NOW THE EVEN BETTER PART:
From the prologue:
Hesitantly, a young man walked over to his wife’s room, carrying a tray full of food. He opened the door, carefully watching the slim form that lay at the window.
“Ania?” he whispered with dry lips. “How are you doing? Is the storm lighter?” The young woman’s head turned, hollow eyes staring. Then, lightning struck.
BOOM!
The sound of the explosion rocked the very ground around the house. The next morning, the villagers found the couple’s twins, asleep in the middle of the smoking ruins.
That is in fact the whole prologue. I include it mostly to demonstrate my stunning grasp of situational humor at even that tender age. Admittedly, I didn't intend it to be funny when I wrote it, but hey.
From chapter one:
“Cerin! Cerinthe!” called a rattle-boned old woman. “Come help with the chores, ye lazy young pigs!”
“Yes, Aunt Stingiana!” came the startled voices of two young girls as they tripped outside.
This would have been around the age that my father was reading me Great Expectations at bedtime. I can only imagine that Dickens' nomenclature is the inspiration for 'Stingiana'.
Meanwhile, in the woods Cerin got on Cerinthe’s shoulders tangling her bare feet into Cerinthe’s raven black hair.
Basically included just for the raven black hair bit. It is also worth noting here that the twins have no distinguishable personalities and their names go as far towards illustrating this as anything else. CHARACTERIZATION IZ HARD. ;__;
Cerin soon followed, sliding/dropping down the smooth, silvery bark of the birch. She landed on the spot where a squirrel had been a few moments ago. They both laughed.
I was apparently unable to pick a verb at points and thus included both, to... maximize the reader's appreciation of my advanced vocabulary? I really don't know. Also: see earlier note about sophisticated situational humor, man. THERE BE SQUIRRELS.
“Fire! Alert! Fire!” Mrs. Primly looked out the window. Seeing nothing, she was about to go back to her sewing, when a huge beast flew down. It had the wings of an eagle, the paws of a tiger, the legs of a cheetah, the mouth and head of a black mamba, and the back of a spider. The latter part had spun out a net, which it was using to catch many villagers, who were then struck unconscious by the giant paw. The monster tore down houses. Mrs. Primly fainted.
Primly, like Stingiana, is probably to be blamed on Dickens. The, uh, interesting anatomy of the terrible beastie, on the other hand, is my Creative Reinvention of a description of a Chinese dragon I had read recently, which involved a slightly more sensible but no less eclectic assortment (goat's chin, lizard's feet, etc.). Also, this section follows the last quote with absolutely no mark of the change of scene beyond a paragraph break. And this is one of the smoother transitions in the story.
Instantly they knew, as their magic stirred and told them what had happened. Also at that moment, they knew that their mother was a witch. More important, they themselves had the supernatural powers. Lastly they must speak to the monster that tore down the houses. Finally, after a long silence, Cerinthe said, “Well, best get to work then. Our magic will need sharpening.”
I like to think that using magic as the source of exposition was an ingenius way of cutting out the middle-man, you know?
From chapter two:
“Need help?” asked an unfamiliar woman’s voice, “I’ve got plenty to give ye.”
Still scowling, Cerin demanded harshly, “What?”
The woman, who had now revealed herself as a dark Hispanic, ignored Cerin’s foul mood, and answered, “Three things. Power, information, and abilities to teach.”
Cerin answered shortly, “The last one is all we need. Food and lodgning are all my sister and I can give in return.” She stalked off. The woman followed, musing.
Madame watched the twins. It had been two months since they accepted her, and she was sure they were ready to look for the villagers. Suddenly she heard cries of delight....
I would first like to register my COMPLETE MYSTIFICATION as to why Madame is a 'dark Hispanic' and, indeed, why there are any 'dark Hispanics' wandering around in my classic mock-medieval-Europe fantasyland, and second... uh... that's a lovely little almost-zeugma you've got there, Madame. You're going to give them the abilities to teach? Awesomesauce. Thirdly, see earlier note about transitions, lack of. Because why make it easy for the reader? (As you can see, some patterns have held true throughout my writing career.)
Okay, so this being two months later, the twins have finished being taught, theoretically, and are supposed to catch their stars, which goes well:
Suddenly, she screamed “AYE-YIYIYIYIYIYIYI!!!!” The lonely clearing was suddenly overflowing with light. Slowly a net of bluish white fire burst from her hands and hurtled into the sky, putting shadow on the moon. Soon it looked like a star itself. Perhaps ten minutes later, it dived back with a tiny, beautiful point of light in its depths. The net evaporated and the star fell back into her hand. After a moment, Cerinthe did the same. The twins stalked away, leaving Madame to her thoughts.
They do a lot of things suddenly. Also, they stalk a lot. But the best part here is that these stars then proceed to serve no purpose whatsoever for the rest of the story. It's like if you hung a gun over a fireplace, and when your house was attacked you resorted to such improvised weapons involving chopsticks because god forbid you even look at the gun or in any way acknowledge its existence ever again except as a decorative aspect, that would be like sacrilege!
From chapter three:
Reluctantly, the twins started walking towards the foothills at the bottom of the mountain, highlighted just now with the red of rubies, yellow of topaz, orange of citrin, pink of tournaline, and the deep purple tanzanite by sunrise. They trudged along with a dreaminess born of little sleep. Around their necks hung their stars on fine, silver chains.
This was also written during the peak of my fascination with gemstones. It... uh... it shows. *sigh* Also, last mention of the stars ever! :D!
As they pondered, a cavern suddenly opened up before the trio. At the bottom, magma like orange neon signs stormed and swirled, threatening those to dared to try to cross.
ANACHRONISTIC SIMILES FOR THE WIN.
Obvs. they get across through the ingenuity of transforming a spider web into a rope (why they didn't bring a rope, god only knows).
From chapter four:
They used wooden blocks with handles when it became too steep to climb the long cracks.
Why no. No, I do not have any idea what that is supposed to mean or how that would work.
Suddenly, a flood of water poured down over them, threatening to wrench their grips on the rock loose. Cerin wasn’t sure how long they had been there. All she remembered was Madame crying “Loose your magic!” as she filled the air around her with essence-power. Following her lead, the twins managed to keep hold, but only just. For the rest of the climb things went smoothly, and in a little while they reached the top. But there, they saw the dragon.
Again, the ever-useful SUDDENLY makes an appearance. Also my complete inability to keep in one character's head interests me in a trainwreck kind of way. Also: yay! A dragon! There purely because every good fantasy story needs a dragon! Yessss!
“The WHAT?” Cerinthe cried, but abruptly noticed a beautiful rainbow path off the summit. With a last look at Madame, she ran off with Cerin towards the path. Just as they had reached it, the sun dropped behind the silvery waters of the distant ocean. They stepped on the path, when suddenly it began to move with them away from the peak. The last part of the journey had begun.
This is about the point in my initial rereading of the story where I gave up trying to work out the geography. As to why rainbows are a suitable method of transportation? God only knows.
From chapter five:
When Cerin woke up, she found herself on a barren hill with sand blowing in her eyes. Cerinthe awoke in a moment, and the two faced the only landmark in sight: a tall, slim, silver-edged mirror, which floated in midair. In it appeared a picture of the monster who destroyed the village. Suddenly, a stream of villagers ran out of the mirror. Ignoring them, he growled, “So at last you are here. Your questions?” Finally, after a silence, they said in unison, “Why?” It was one word, but it was enough.
Thoughtfully, he rumbled, “Madame ordered me to enslave the villagers. Yet our very magical presence forbids denial of your wishes.”
“Madame--,” gasped the twins.
“Yes,” he laughed/roared, “and she sent the storm that night long ago that killed your parents.” His image disappeared, replaced by Madame. They gave her image one look. Then they walked away from the barren hill, their magic guiding them to a distant king who “happened” to teach magic. He agreed to teach them.
I'm including the whole chapter for much the same reason I included the whole prologue. Of particular interest is the recurring thing with two verbs I couldn't decide between, and the Very Helpful Magic (that couldn't have guided them to a teacher before they fell into Madame's clutches because... er... it was taking a quick break out back for a smoke?) This is obviously where I gave up trying to make the plot plausible and just ran with it. Unless that was the first word. Depends on your point of view, I suppose.
Suddenly, an old but still magic Madame cried, “Cerin! Cerinthe! You’re here!” from the trees. Cerinthe looked cold, but Cerin thought, “she did it say in the mirror that she did it because she loved us…” Suddenly she had an idea. If Madame gave up her magic, they and the king could trust her. She said so.
This is interesting because it did not, in fact, say in the mirror that Madame did it because she loved them. Also, high concentration of SUDDENLIES, for great lulz on my part.
Cerinthe said, “All right. But first she must give me an explanation.
Cerin agreed, “Yes I would too, MADAME!”
Try to work that one out. Go on. Try. I dare you.
Madame gulped, “You see, your mother was not as powerful a witch as you. She could not have trained you. I begged to train you when you were ready but she grew frightened (I was a total stranger). She swore never to let me while she lived. In rage, I killed her with a storm. Once sane, I fled in fear of myself. I got the villagers out of the way after trapping the monster, until at last there were no more obstacles. You know the rest.”
Cerin smiled, “So at last we know. Now let’s go back to the palace!” “And no more storms!” she added, grinning. Then, hand in hand, they walked off.
I wasn't kidding about the sociopaths. Not even a little.
THE END YAAAAY
This was not written nearly long enough ago for my tastes. I console myself that -- er, well -- my grammar was quite good, particularly in regards to dialogue, with a few exceptions? Haha? And I had a steep learning curve?
It's even better with illustrations. I'll have to see about uploading them sometime.
Yes.
(Thus ends my excursion into existence. I'm writing an epically long blog post about Australia and another about the writing camp shit and another about SCHOOL HAVING STARTED ARGH, but, really, I wanted to share this with you all. That's how much I like you!)
AND NOW THE EVEN BETTER PART:
From the prologue:
Hesitantly, a young man walked over to his wife’s room, carrying a tray full of food. He opened the door, carefully watching the slim form that lay at the window.
“Ania?” he whispered with dry lips. “How are you doing? Is the storm lighter?” The young woman’s head turned, hollow eyes staring. Then, lightning struck.
BOOM!
The sound of the explosion rocked the very ground around the house. The next morning, the villagers found the couple’s twins, asleep in the middle of the smoking ruins.
That is in fact the whole prologue. I include it mostly to demonstrate my stunning grasp of situational humor at even that tender age. Admittedly, I didn't intend it to be funny when I wrote it, but hey.
From chapter one:
“Cerin! Cerinthe!” called a rattle-boned old woman. “Come help with the chores, ye lazy young pigs!”
“Yes, Aunt Stingiana!” came the startled voices of two young girls as they tripped outside.
This would have been around the age that my father was reading me Great Expectations at bedtime. I can only imagine that Dickens' nomenclature is the inspiration for 'Stingiana'.
Meanwhile, in the woods Cerin got on Cerinthe’s shoulders tangling her bare feet into Cerinthe’s raven black hair.
Basically included just for the raven black hair bit. It is also worth noting here that the twins have no distinguishable personalities and their names go as far towards illustrating this as anything else. CHARACTERIZATION IZ HARD. ;__;
Cerin soon followed, sliding/dropping down the smooth, silvery bark of the birch. She landed on the spot where a squirrel had been a few moments ago. They both laughed.
I was apparently unable to pick a verb at points and thus included both, to... maximize the reader's appreciation of my advanced vocabulary? I really don't know. Also: see earlier note about sophisticated situational humor, man. THERE BE SQUIRRELS.
“Fire! Alert! Fire!” Mrs. Primly looked out the window. Seeing nothing, she was about to go back to her sewing, when a huge beast flew down. It had the wings of an eagle, the paws of a tiger, the legs of a cheetah, the mouth and head of a black mamba, and the back of a spider. The latter part had spun out a net, which it was using to catch many villagers, who were then struck unconscious by the giant paw. The monster tore down houses. Mrs. Primly fainted.
Primly, like Stingiana, is probably to be blamed on Dickens. The, uh, interesting anatomy of the terrible beastie, on the other hand, is my Creative Reinvention of a description of a Chinese dragon I had read recently, which involved a slightly more sensible but no less eclectic assortment (goat's chin, lizard's feet, etc.). Also, this section follows the last quote with absolutely no mark of the change of scene beyond a paragraph break. And this is one of the smoother transitions in the story.
Instantly they knew, as their magic stirred and told them what had happened. Also at that moment, they knew that their mother was a witch. More important, they themselves had the supernatural powers. Lastly they must speak to the monster that tore down the houses. Finally, after a long silence, Cerinthe said, “Well, best get to work then. Our magic will need sharpening.”
I like to think that using magic as the source of exposition was an ingenius way of cutting out the middle-man, you know?
From chapter two:
“Need help?” asked an unfamiliar woman’s voice, “I’ve got plenty to give ye.”
Still scowling, Cerin demanded harshly, “What?”
The woman, who had now revealed herself as a dark Hispanic, ignored Cerin’s foul mood, and answered, “Three things. Power, information, and abilities to teach.”
Cerin answered shortly, “The last one is all we need. Food and lodgning are all my sister and I can give in return.” She stalked off. The woman followed, musing.
Madame watched the twins. It had been two months since they accepted her, and she was sure they were ready to look for the villagers. Suddenly she heard cries of delight....
I would first like to register my COMPLETE MYSTIFICATION as to why Madame is a 'dark Hispanic' and, indeed, why there are any 'dark Hispanics' wandering around in my classic mock-medieval-Europe fantasyland, and second... uh... that's a lovely little almost-zeugma you've got there, Madame. You're going to give them the abilities to teach? Awesomesauce. Thirdly, see earlier note about transitions, lack of. Because why make it easy for the reader? (As you can see, some patterns have held true throughout my writing career.)
Okay, so this being two months later, the twins have finished being taught, theoretically, and are supposed to catch their stars, which goes well:
Suddenly, she screamed “AYE-YIYIYIYIYIYIYI!!!!” The lonely clearing was suddenly overflowing with light. Slowly a net of bluish white fire burst from her hands and hurtled into the sky, putting shadow on the moon. Soon it looked like a star itself. Perhaps ten minutes later, it dived back with a tiny, beautiful point of light in its depths. The net evaporated and the star fell back into her hand. After a moment, Cerinthe did the same. The twins stalked away, leaving Madame to her thoughts.
They do a lot of things suddenly. Also, they stalk a lot. But the best part here is that these stars then proceed to serve no purpose whatsoever for the rest of the story. It's like if you hung a gun over a fireplace, and when your house was attacked you resorted to such improvised weapons involving chopsticks because god forbid you even look at the gun or in any way acknowledge its existence ever again except as a decorative aspect, that would be like sacrilege!
From chapter three:
Reluctantly, the twins started walking towards the foothills at the bottom of the mountain, highlighted just now with the red of rubies, yellow of topaz, orange of citrin, pink of tournaline, and the deep purple tanzanite by sunrise. They trudged along with a dreaminess born of little sleep. Around their necks hung their stars on fine, silver chains.
This was also written during the peak of my fascination with gemstones. It... uh... it shows. *sigh* Also, last mention of the stars ever! :D!
As they pondered, a cavern suddenly opened up before the trio. At the bottom, magma like orange neon signs stormed and swirled, threatening those to dared to try to cross.
ANACHRONISTIC SIMILES FOR THE WIN.
Obvs. they get across through the ingenuity of transforming a spider web into a rope (why they didn't bring a rope, god only knows).
From chapter four:
They used wooden blocks with handles when it became too steep to climb the long cracks.
Why no. No, I do not have any idea what that is supposed to mean or how that would work.
Suddenly, a flood of water poured down over them, threatening to wrench their grips on the rock loose. Cerin wasn’t sure how long they had been there. All she remembered was Madame crying “Loose your magic!” as she filled the air around her with essence-power. Following her lead, the twins managed to keep hold, but only just. For the rest of the climb things went smoothly, and in a little while they reached the top. But there, they saw the dragon.
Again, the ever-useful SUDDENLY makes an appearance. Also my complete inability to keep in one character's head interests me in a trainwreck kind of way. Also: yay! A dragon! There purely because every good fantasy story needs a dragon! Yessss!
“The WHAT?” Cerinthe cried, but abruptly noticed a beautiful rainbow path off the summit. With a last look at Madame, she ran off with Cerin towards the path. Just as they had reached it, the sun dropped behind the silvery waters of the distant ocean. They stepped on the path, when suddenly it began to move with them away from the peak. The last part of the journey had begun.
This is about the point in my initial rereading of the story where I gave up trying to work out the geography. As to why rainbows are a suitable method of transportation? God only knows.
From chapter five:
When Cerin woke up, she found herself on a barren hill with sand blowing in her eyes. Cerinthe awoke in a moment, and the two faced the only landmark in sight: a tall, slim, silver-edged mirror, which floated in midair. In it appeared a picture of the monster who destroyed the village. Suddenly, a stream of villagers ran out of the mirror. Ignoring them, he growled, “So at last you are here. Your questions?” Finally, after a silence, they said in unison, “Why?” It was one word, but it was enough.
Thoughtfully, he rumbled, “Madame ordered me to enslave the villagers. Yet our very magical presence forbids denial of your wishes.”
“Madame--,” gasped the twins.
“Yes,” he laughed/roared, “and she sent the storm that night long ago that killed your parents.” His image disappeared, replaced by Madame. They gave her image one look. Then they walked away from the barren hill, their magic guiding them to a distant king who “happened” to teach magic. He agreed to teach them.
I'm including the whole chapter for much the same reason I included the whole prologue. Of particular interest is the recurring thing with two verbs I couldn't decide between, and the Very Helpful Magic (that couldn't have guided them to a teacher before they fell into Madame's clutches because... er... it was taking a quick break out back for a smoke?) This is obviously where I gave up trying to make the plot plausible and just ran with it. Unless that was the first word. Depends on your point of view, I suppose.
Suddenly, an old but still magic Madame cried, “Cerin! Cerinthe! You’re here!” from the trees. Cerinthe looked cold, but Cerin thought, “she did it say in the mirror that she did it because she loved us…” Suddenly she had an idea. If Madame gave up her magic, they and the king could trust her. She said so.
This is interesting because it did not, in fact, say in the mirror that Madame did it because she loved them. Also, high concentration of SUDDENLIES, for great lulz on my part.
Cerinthe said, “All right. But first she must give me an explanation.
Cerin agreed, “Yes I would too, MADAME!”
Try to work that one out. Go on. Try. I dare you.
Madame gulped, “You see, your mother was not as powerful a witch as you. She could not have trained you. I begged to train you when you were ready but she grew frightened (I was a total stranger). She swore never to let me while she lived. In rage, I killed her with a storm. Once sane, I fled in fear of myself. I got the villagers out of the way after trapping the monster, until at last there were no more obstacles. You know the rest.”
Cerin smiled, “So at last we know. Now let’s go back to the palace!” “And no more storms!” she added, grinning. Then, hand in hand, they walked off.
I wasn't kidding about the sociopaths. Not even a little.
THE END YAAAAY
This was not written nearly long enough ago for my tastes. I console myself that -- er, well -- my grammar was quite good, particularly in regards to dialogue, with a few exceptions? Haha? And I had a steep learning curve?
It's even better with illustrations. I'll have to see about uploading them sometime.
Yes.
(Thus ends my excursion into existence. I'm writing an epically long blog post about Australia and another about the writing camp shit and another about SCHOOL HAVING STARTED ARGH, but, really, I wanted to share this with you all. That's how much I like you!)