The beginning of a story
I started writing this story a few years ago and lost it on my hard drive, only to find it again today when I was looking for something to use as a writing sample. I fixed it up a little so it didn't look so much as something written by 17 year old (at least that's how old I think I was at the time).
I hope whoever reads it likes it, and I would love to hear what people think about my writing.
Unnamed Story (A.K.A Null's fic)
Unnamed Chapter 1The South side of Port Remmit was in uproar. The Baker’s daughter was pregnant and the rumor was that it was the Observer who had gotten her into this state. No one really knew what to do with this knowledge, but they all knew that it was something important. Some people, mostly the women, congregated in and around the bakery, trying to offer their help and opinions of the Observer, while others, mostly the men congregated outside the Observery, yelling obscenities and some even waving weapons of various sorts.
Michael Rolland was looking at the whole scene from his second floor bedroom window. He wasn’t sure how to take all this. He and Niale did indeed have a closer relationship than advisable for an Observer and a local, but as close as they were, their relationship was completely platonic. Not that anyone believed them, of course. No one in Southside could be seen with someone of the opposite gender and not be gossiped about, even if it was nonsense. Nevertheless, this was a situation Mike had not been trained or prepared for. He had to ask for help. He turned to the console screen and contacted the Director.
“It was not him!” Niale all but yelled for what seemed like the thousandth time. “It was not Observer Rolland. Why is it that you all think it is him? He and I are simply friends, and besides, we all know the legend of Roger and Sivana. Observers and humans cannot bear children.”
“Then who was it?” asked the Blacksmith’s wife, a kindly old lady and the source of many a rumor in Southside.
“Who could it be but that wretched Observer?” came the shrill voice of the Thatcher’s mother, the old Thatcher’s wife. “I always knew nothing good would come of this supposed ‘friendship!”
“I-I... I cannot tell you!” This time she actually yelled, pulling the covers over her head. “It is none of your business, and I would like you all to leave me in peace!” She curled up under her blanket and listened to the sound of footsteps leaving her room and heading down the stairs to the shop front she usually tended. One of her father’s apprentices was probably there instead of her. The other apprentices had also most likely been left alone, Niale thought. He also didn’t like the close relationship she had with the Observer, and even though he knew the legends, he also didn’t know who else it could have been, so he was probably outside the Observery along with the other men, trying to knock the poor man’s door down.
Antoli ran.
He ran until he thought he was far enough away from Port Remmit to stop and look back. He could see all of Southside from where he was standing. He could recognize almost all the buildings. He could see butchery with the smoke coming out of the smokehouse next door. He could see the smithy, which was where he was being apprenticed, or had been apprenticed by his father, up until that morning. He could see the bakery, with its twisting chimney puffing out white smoke.
Niale usually ran the shop front. He missed her so much, but there was no way he could stay. Not after what he had done. Of course he hadn’t meant it to turn out like this. In fact, it hadn’t been planned at all. The two had been seeing each other without their parent’s knowledge for quite a long time. The custom in Port Remmit was that men could not marry until they had finished their apprenticeship, which was why no one could know about their courtship.
Tony knew he was being a coward, abandoning Niale at the time when she probably needed him most, but he didn’t know what would happen if he stayed. He didn’t know if he would be welcome anywhere in Southside, or in Port Remmit at all. As far as he could see, there was no choice but to find somewhere else.
“But Professor, I swear I didn’t do it. I never even slept with her, and even if I had, there’s no way I could have gotten her pregnant!” Michael protested.
“I am sure of that, Mr. Rolland,” said Professor Burns, “but there’s nothing that we can do. I would’ve been able to overlook the fact that you broke a rule by getting too close, but you also betrayed their trust, and there’s no way we can keep you there. I’ll see what I can do about keeping you in the program, maybe we can send you somewhere else, but you can’t stay there. You’ll be replaced tomorrow. I suggest you go see the Duke to let him know.”
“Broke the-? What?! Since when is not making friends with the locals a rule? And how the hell was I supposed to know that the little Smith brat had knocked her up?-“
“You shall speak to me with respect, Mr. Rolland; I will be going out of my way to help you get out of the mess you got yourself in. End of discussion,” he added when Michael had opened his mouth to protest. “We’ll do the exchange tomorrow. We will send the new Observer in and you will go through the portal he or she will have created to return home. Good day, Mr. Rolland.”
“But-,” Michael started, but the screen had already gone blank.
The Beginning of Unnamed Chapter 2 “Cris get up already!” came the voice of Victoria Clemente for the third time that morning. “You’re gonna be late again!”
“I’m awake!” yelled Christine Tomlinson. “You can come look. I’m standing up and everything!” She quickly got out of bed and stood up so Vicky could see.
“Yeah, yeah. Just get up already, your coffee’s getting cold.”
Cris sighed and started rummaging through the mess that was her floor for clothes that matched and didn’t smell so bad. Having found what she needed, she made her way to the shower, saying hi to Vicky on her way.
“Oh look at that, she’s not dead. I told you she wasn’t dead,” Vicky laughed.
“Yeah, well it’s hard to tell with how long it takes to get her up in the morning,” said Brad, sipping his coffee and looking through the newspaper.
“Just shut up,” yelled Cris from down the hall. “I don’t have time for this.”
Somehow she managed to shower, get dressed, grab a cup of coffee on the way out the door and just manage to catch the bus as it rolled out of the stop. She even managed to get the last empty seat, right in the back, her favorite place to sit, where she could see everyone.
Cris loved watching people. Especially trying to figure out what kind of Consoles they carried. It says a lot about a person, the kind of console they carry.
Most kept the ones they were issued as children, a small rectangular device with a touch screen in the front. It was simple, hard to break, easily replaceable and what everyone was used to.
Some people, mostly rich businessmen or spoiled teenagers trying to make a statement, carried a console that fit over their eyes with two transparent lenses, a little like the glasses people with vision impairments used to wear before the retinal implant became common enough for them to become obsolete.
Even rarer than that was the ocular implant. A chip implanted right in the vision center of the brain. This implanted console was officially still in testing, and Cris had only seen people with the tell tale red LED light behind their ear once or twice.
So..... What do you think? Should I keep going? Should I just stop writing all together?
On another note, as of tomorrow, I will be the proud owner of an Amazon Kindle! Yay for me and thanks to my mom!
I hope whoever reads it likes it, and I would love to hear what people think about my writing.
Unnamed Story (A.K.A Null's fic)
Unnamed Chapter 1The South side of Port Remmit was in uproar. The Baker’s daughter was pregnant and the rumor was that it was the Observer who had gotten her into this state. No one really knew what to do with this knowledge, but they all knew that it was something important. Some people, mostly the women, congregated in and around the bakery, trying to offer their help and opinions of the Observer, while others, mostly the men congregated outside the Observery, yelling obscenities and some even waving weapons of various sorts.
Michael Rolland was looking at the whole scene from his second floor bedroom window. He wasn’t sure how to take all this. He and Niale did indeed have a closer relationship than advisable for an Observer and a local, but as close as they were, their relationship was completely platonic. Not that anyone believed them, of course. No one in Southside could be seen with someone of the opposite gender and not be gossiped about, even if it was nonsense. Nevertheless, this was a situation Mike had not been trained or prepared for. He had to ask for help. He turned to the console screen and contacted the Director.
“It was not him!” Niale all but yelled for what seemed like the thousandth time. “It was not Observer Rolland. Why is it that you all think it is him? He and I are simply friends, and besides, we all know the legend of Roger and Sivana. Observers and humans cannot bear children.”
“Then who was it?” asked the Blacksmith’s wife, a kindly old lady and the source of many a rumor in Southside.
“Who could it be but that wretched Observer?” came the shrill voice of the Thatcher’s mother, the old Thatcher’s wife. “I always knew nothing good would come of this supposed ‘friendship!”
“I-I... I cannot tell you!” This time she actually yelled, pulling the covers over her head. “It is none of your business, and I would like you all to leave me in peace!” She curled up under her blanket and listened to the sound of footsteps leaving her room and heading down the stairs to the shop front she usually tended. One of her father’s apprentices was probably there instead of her. The other apprentices had also most likely been left alone, Niale thought. He also didn’t like the close relationship she had with the Observer, and even though he knew the legends, he also didn’t know who else it could have been, so he was probably outside the Observery along with the other men, trying to knock the poor man’s door down.
Antoli ran.
He ran until he thought he was far enough away from Port Remmit to stop and look back. He could see all of Southside from where he was standing. He could recognize almost all the buildings. He could see butchery with the smoke coming out of the smokehouse next door. He could see the smithy, which was where he was being apprenticed, or had been apprenticed by his father, up until that morning. He could see the bakery, with its twisting chimney puffing out white smoke.
Niale usually ran the shop front. He missed her so much, but there was no way he could stay. Not after what he had done. Of course he hadn’t meant it to turn out like this. In fact, it hadn’t been planned at all. The two had been seeing each other without their parent’s knowledge for quite a long time. The custom in Port Remmit was that men could not marry until they had finished their apprenticeship, which was why no one could know about their courtship.
Tony knew he was being a coward, abandoning Niale at the time when she probably needed him most, but he didn’t know what would happen if he stayed. He didn’t know if he would be welcome anywhere in Southside, or in Port Remmit at all. As far as he could see, there was no choice but to find somewhere else.
“But Professor, I swear I didn’t do it. I never even slept with her, and even if I had, there’s no way I could have gotten her pregnant!” Michael protested.
“I am sure of that, Mr. Rolland,” said Professor Burns, “but there’s nothing that we can do. I would’ve been able to overlook the fact that you broke a rule by getting too close, but you also betrayed their trust, and there’s no way we can keep you there. I’ll see what I can do about keeping you in the program, maybe we can send you somewhere else, but you can’t stay there. You’ll be replaced tomorrow. I suggest you go see the Duke to let him know.”
“Broke the-? What?! Since when is not making friends with the locals a rule? And how the hell was I supposed to know that the little Smith brat had knocked her up?-“
“You shall speak to me with respect, Mr. Rolland; I will be going out of my way to help you get out of the mess you got yourself in. End of discussion,” he added when Michael had opened his mouth to protest. “We’ll do the exchange tomorrow. We will send the new Observer in and you will go through the portal he or she will have created to return home. Good day, Mr. Rolland.”
“But-,” Michael started, but the screen had already gone blank.
The Beginning of Unnamed Chapter 2 “Cris get up already!” came the voice of Victoria Clemente for the third time that morning. “You’re gonna be late again!”
“I’m awake!” yelled Christine Tomlinson. “You can come look. I’m standing up and everything!” She quickly got out of bed and stood up so Vicky could see.
“Yeah, yeah. Just get up already, your coffee’s getting cold.”
Cris sighed and started rummaging through the mess that was her floor for clothes that matched and didn’t smell so bad. Having found what she needed, she made her way to the shower, saying hi to Vicky on her way.
“Oh look at that, she’s not dead. I told you she wasn’t dead,” Vicky laughed.
“Yeah, well it’s hard to tell with how long it takes to get her up in the morning,” said Brad, sipping his coffee and looking through the newspaper.
“Just shut up,” yelled Cris from down the hall. “I don’t have time for this.”
Somehow she managed to shower, get dressed, grab a cup of coffee on the way out the door and just manage to catch the bus as it rolled out of the stop. She even managed to get the last empty seat, right in the back, her favorite place to sit, where she could see everyone.
Cris loved watching people. Especially trying to figure out what kind of Consoles they carried. It says a lot about a person, the kind of console they carry.
Most kept the ones they were issued as children, a small rectangular device with a touch screen in the front. It was simple, hard to break, easily replaceable and what everyone was used to.
Some people, mostly rich businessmen or spoiled teenagers trying to make a statement, carried a console that fit over their eyes with two transparent lenses, a little like the glasses people with vision impairments used to wear before the retinal implant became common enough for them to become obsolete.
Even rarer than that was the ocular implant. A chip implanted right in the vision center of the brain. This implanted console was officially still in testing, and Cris had only seen people with the tell tale red LED light behind their ear once or twice.
So..... What do you think? Should I keep going? Should I just stop writing all together?
On another note, as of tomorrow, I will be the proud owner of an Amazon Kindle! Yay for me and thanks to my mom!