Summer Reading

[Fuzzie]

Siegfried woke to the sun shining brightly through a hole in the roof. How long has that been there, he wondered sleepily. His father's words were still echoing in his mind. It was as though Siegfried was a cave and his father had shouted everything into the darkest depths; he could not stop the words from reverberating through his inner chambers. It was bright, too bright, almost as though an immaculate light were shining down through his roof to greet him. But he knew it to be false, there was no god of any sort on his side, only the rules of the mundane life. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light, Siegfried began to think about what he had to do today.

I suppose I'll have to do the normal routine, but I don't have any clients. It will be a long day, he thought as he subconsciously sighed.

As the room became clear, he started to look around. It wasn't the same as it always was. The once extravagant castle with stone walls, crimson banners, and decorative armors had turned into the same boring hut that everybody had. Mud walls, no form of blocking the light whatsoever, and heaps of hay here and there were nothing to be proud of.

Walking across the hut towards the table, the jaded man readied himself for breakfast. He was severely disappointed.

Then again, I guess a pork feast every breakfast is far superior to cornmeal.

It felt like a hole had opened in the man's soul, he would never be full without the delusions.

Is today the beginning of a long, boring life? I can't stand to think that Father will finally sway me to do something normally. He doesn't know what it's like to live life as a walking mockery, he could at least let me have my fantasies! Thinking about it blurs my vision and clouds my mind.

The cornmeal tasted unappealing and bland. It is was golden than one would expect and drier than the desert. Siegfried washed down the barely edible meal with a mug of water and prepared to set out for work. As he donned what was once a shining armor (now just a butcher's apron) and lifted his hefty butcher knife, his mother woke up.

"I can't wait to hear about your adventures today, bunny boo."

The man turned and shrugged, not concealing his frown at all. Grabbing his adventurer's pack and slinging it over his shoulder, he walked out the door.

The adult looked back once more. He set his gaze towards the fire pit, trying to recall life as it really was. All he could see were his fantasies and games. His weak mind overcome by his desires, he almost shouted out:

'That's no log, that's the heart of the dragon that was slain by none other than Siegfried the Great!'

But a quick double take revealed otherwise; it was indeed just a log for building fires. His mother would be let down, for no wild tales would be told that night.

[Fuzzie]

The walk to work was fast and dreamlike. Glamorous merchants were now petty stall vendors. They displayed their wares on rotted and waterlogged wood, but one stall seems different from afar...

That's interesting, that stall has fine mahogany wood, not this common wood from our sub par logger. I think I'll see if it has anything to keep me entertained during my long work day.

Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a book stand, and a marvelous one at that. Four beams rested on four posts about as tall as a man. On the beams, a rug hangs to make a crude yet elegant roof. A smiling merchant stands behind a table built into the posts at waist height. Her smile was an infectious smile and Siegfried found himself beaming like an idiot as he approached her.

"Care to buy a book, Sir?", she inquired.

He turned his gaze from the stand to her and was awestruck.

What is such a beautiful young girl doing on the street working at this hour?

Realizing he had not said anything for a good minute, he quickly gave a failed attempt at a response.

"You're bea - I mean, your stand is beautiful. I wanted to, well I was thinking of...Em, I don't have anything in mind that I would wish to buy, but do you mind if I browse?"

The man was a boy talking to his crush, and he felt his cheeks flush as he stumbled over his words. She chuckled a bit (later he would swear it was a temptress's giggle) as she agreed to his request. As though he had forgotten all common sense on how to stand, he rocked back and forth from leg to leg as he perused her small library. As if by gravity, his being was drawn to the left of the stand, directly opposite of her. Though he felt her gaze, his desire faded quickly. It was not her he was after any more, it was a single book. It was neither in mint condition nor was it ruined, it was as average as average could be. It was bound in black leather. There was no writing on the cover or on the binding, and Siegfried was too timid to check the pages for any writing.
He inquired as to what the cost for such a book may be.


"That book? It is...em. It is 20 gold. But since you are my first customer of the day I can give you a discount. How does 15 gold sound?"

Without a second thought about ramifications of losing his wages, he began to attempt to pay. He reached out his hand and placed on the table...nothing. Flushing even more, the man realized he had never even reached for his gold. He fumbled with his pack until he found the price mentioned and put it all down on the table for her. Before she could even count the gold, he picked up the book; he was acting like a boy receiving his first training sword. He does not open it, he does not even think about what's in it, he just stares.

"..ir.....Sir....Sir? This is only 15 gold. Can you hear me?"

She looked slightly annoyed.

"Well, you are my first customer. I can make an exception. 13 gold it is."

He still was not responding. She tapped him...well, no, she shook him violently until he woke from his daze. Bewildered and embarrassed, Siegfried started off towards work without a word, at a quicker pace than before.

[Fuzzie]

The remainder of the walk was uneventful. The sun remained low in the sky; it could not have been later than 9 in the morning. The butcher was LATE and he knew it. Hopefully his purchase was worth it. He opened the book somewhere to take a look and found the book was blank.

"Why did I have to stop at that stand? WHY did I waste my wages on this book? It's nothing except a journal. I don't even know if I can write anything other than what I'm selling and how much it is. It's been so long..."

That's when Siegfried realized he was being given funny looks. Even a crazy old man with no pants and a shirt just barely long enough to cover his unmentionables was giving him the stink-eye. He would have to work on keeping his thoughts to himself unless he was conversing. The butcher did his best to refrain from thinking at all, so he wouldn't mumble to himself, and focused on the color of the road at his feet. It was brown, of course, but much more brown than it should have been. It hadn't rained last night, so the mud road could not have been THAT...well, muddy. Looking around, the butcher noticed that everything was too dark.

That woman has the blackest hair I have EVER seen! And that man, doesn't he know that he'll get heatstroke from wearing such dark colors in the hot sun? Speaking of the sun...it's awfully dim today. I remember it being so bright when I woke up.

The woman had blonde hair, and the man wasn't wearing anything; the crazy old man had removed his shirt completely and was jumping around like he was being stung by a wasp. Siegfried opened the book again, this time to the beginning. There was writing, writing in the most beautiful font he had ever seen. It read:

THE BEGINNING.

Several decades ago, a young child was born. He was frail and bald, and ugly as every newborn is, but he had an air of greatness about him.

The butcher fainted.

[Fuzzie]

The boy was given a name to match his inevitable greatness, but the name matters not. His mother was a doting idiot, and his father was a realist (who argued against the idea of greatness). The child loved his mother (quite the momma's boy) and feared his father, but family life was normal between them all. When his time spent on this earth had reached 11 years, he was sent to the finest school in the world to learn magic, Pigwarts ©, to learn under the headmaster Humblehore. Unfortunately, he lacked a weather related scar and was kicked out. Instead, he was sent to the finest (read: only) battle school in the village, where he learned quickly that the flat side of a blade will not kill one's opponent.

The fact that he was not able to learn magic left the boy feeling as though he lacked what was needed to be amazing; he began to make up stories. His mother loved the stories, asked every day for more, and eventually took them to be canon for her son's life. The father loathed the stories and wished his son would take up something more practical than swordplay. To be fair, the boy was a horrible duelist and lacked the strength to use large weapons. His technique as a defender was horrid; the shield was heavy and threw off his balance, he insisted on wearing a ridiculous helmet that blurred his vision, and for some reason he threw his spears instead of using them as stabbing weapons. Undaunted though, the boy continued to train his body and his technique in order to prove his father wrong.....


WAKE UP!

[Fuzzie]

The book girl was in distress. She hadn't realized what book she had sold to the man until it was too late. She was too preoccupied with the man himself. It was a silly thing for her to be hung up on a fat man in a blood-stained apron, but she had not been able to focus on the task of selling her wares. She even spouted out a stupid line about a discount! The only reason she had said such a cheesy line as "since you are my first customer of the day I can give you a discount" was because she hadn't paid attention to which book it was.

A glance down both ways of the street revealed nothing; the man was gone from sight.

He...he was so AVERAGE. Why was he such an object of fascination for me? His hair was only slightly different from my non-tinted brown hair. His eyes were less interesting than my own deep green eyes. He was only a hand taller than me and much wider than me. If memory serves me, he had no facial hair and was not unnaturally hairy or bare on his limbs - he was normal in every way except his weight.

She was disgusted with herself. Such a man was not one to be obsessed over, yet here she was obsessing.

"Angela, you need to find him and get that book back before it is too late," the shopkeeper told herself.

Rushing off down the street, she hoped she was going in the right direction. The sun blazed overhead by now. Many of the non-working people had retreated inside, leaving the street empty except for some odd man without a shirt sitting in a corner and petting a tree.

At this point, Angela noticed something strange. People were outside in one section of the street, not quite bunched together, but their gazes were converged on one point. She saw the butcher laid out flat on his back and broke the trend by running straight to the center of the gazes. With apprehension, she realized what would happen if he was not woken. Desperately, she called out.

"WAKE UP!"

[Fuzzie]

As a note for a few lines in...I would have used an exclamation point, but I felt the emphasis that would be given wouldn't be right. So instead I used cruise control for cool.

"Beautiful...green eyes..."

Siegfried woke to a familiar figure bent down over him. Dazed, he attempted to stand up only to fall back on his bottom.

"Do not get up so quickly. You need to sit down and let your head clear and get some water. CAN ANYBODY HELP ME GET HIM INTO THE SHADE?" The merchant seemed odd to the butcher. She spoke softly to him, as though she truly cared about him, but she yelled harshly to the crowd.

How could somebody be so kind one moment and so callous the next, he wondered.

A brave young boy stepped forwards to help, but was unable to lift the man. Seeing the spectacle, his older brother stepped out from under his resting place by a tall oak. The adolescent took the butcher's left arm and the merchant took the butcher's right. Slowly, they walked off the road and into the shade. The teenager told his younger brother to fetch some water and kept his distance. Angela folded her legs under her in a kneeling position and interrogated the butcher.

"The book," the merchant said, "where is the book?" That cold tone rose up again in her voice. "Tell me you still have the book!" The butcher detected the urgency in her voice, but it didn't register. Like the idiot he is, he made small talk.

"What's your name? Mine is Siegfried."

The merchant scowled and remained silent while she thought.

Ach, this routine again. He does not seem to be taking the hint. I need that book back, but it looks like I will have to play along for now.

"I am Angela, we met earlier at the book stand I run. Do you have the book?" Her voice was sweet once more, it made the butcher smile like a dolt and he forgot it was his turn to speak.

I hope this is a side effect of the book, otherwise this man is a complete dunce. Angela was at the height of her agitation. Any more idiocy from this fat man would make her erupt.

"Sieg, mind if I call you Sieg? I need to know where the book is. I have to...check it for something."

Siegfried, his head finally cleared up a bit, managed to look over to where he had been in the street when he fainted. The black-leather-bound book was gone. He shot up.

"My...my book. It's gone? And...my pack isn't there either. My hard earned wages have been wasted..."

The butcher managed to say this much before he fainted from standing up again so quickly.

Angela examined him more closely now. His hair was knotted, the back of it reached down the nape of his neck and his bangs hung down past his eyebrows since they were not pushed out of the way. Under his white apron was a red cloth shirt with short sleeves. He had loose, brown leather pants. His face, which she thought was clean shaven, had stubble on the cheeks where sideburns would be.

She glanced over to the street where he had been and saw the boy returning with water. The butcher's adventurer's pack, which looked like a small messenger's bag, was slung around his shoulder. Without a word, the boy set down the pail of water and the bag, and then left with his older brother.

Angela, when the boy was out of sight, dove for the bag. She opened it, turned it upside down, and shook out the contents. A large cleaver the size of her forearm fell out, along with the book. As she reached for the book, Siegfried awoke.

"You found my book? Thank you," the butcher managed. Angela grabbed the pail and handed it to him. "Drink," she commanded. He greedily gulped down water, splashing some on his apron as he did.

"I need this book back. I will refund your purchase. Please understand that it is best not to tell you why."

The look in the merchant's eyes told Siegfried to trust her, but he still could not let go of the mysterious book. He got up and reached for it, and Angela defensively clutched it closer to her chest. She would have run, but she was wearing a white skirt that dropped down below her knees that day and did not want to trip or get mud all over it. Seeing the longing in his eyes, she stood and spoke.

"If you really wish to find out, follow me."

The butcher gathered his belongings and left after her.

[Fuzzie]

Deeper into the woods they traveled, though Siegfried was not sure why. All he knew was that the shop would not be opening today. The sun loomed overhead now, but the trees provided ample shade. Patches of light filtered through the canopy, leaving spots of brightness on the foliage. As they traveled further from town, the weeds became visibly longer. What had started out as short weeds was now halfway up the butcher's shins, and though they were few and far between, he was not pleased. Tired of walking, he stopped and complained.

"Wait. Stop. No further until I know why we need to be so far away from everybody."

Angela turned to answer. "So nobody may hear what I have to say." She continued onwards, picking up the pace. To be fair to the butcher, she was going further on purpose. She wanted him to give up and leave her alone, and it looked to her like she was winning.

The man contemplated why he even cared so much.

It's a book. That's it. A mere book. It's caused me to be late, I'm pretty sure it's why I fainted, and it cost me all my wages. Wait a second...she said she'd refund me didn't she? Maybe if I...No, I want to see this through. She seems desperate, and I am too. This may be my last hope for adventure; I must follow her and find out what the fuss is about.

With renewed vigor, Siegfried continued after her, almost forgetting his weariness. The poor merchant had no idea that her attempts to tire him out only made him want to follow her more. To keep his mind off of how badly his feet hurt, he focused on his surroundings, should she decide to leave him lost in the woods.

The forest was old. He could feel it in the air, it must be ancient. The trees were tall and strong, with trunks wider than three of the butcher standing in a huddle. They stretched to the skies, blocking any view of blue above. Perhaps if it had been night, stars could have been seen. The sun was too bright though, and as the butcher looked up to the open spots in the canopy all he saw was blinding light.

Strangely enough, there was no sound. The town was bustling and full of the noise of commerce. Even where they entered the forest had songbirds proudly singing. But not too long ago, all noise, even the cry of the cicadas, was silenced. The silence was uncomfortable, but the butcher was not courageous enough to break it. It took all of his effort to keep following her, for his unrest grew by the minute. Angela was too busy brooding to notice the silence.

It seems as though I will not be able to lose him. I should have been more attentive. This would not have happened if I had only made sure to not sell the book.

She glanced at the book she was nestling against her chest with both of her arms; then she took a look, and then she stared. If her gaze was the sun's, the book would have been set ablaze. She did a quick check to see if the butcher was paying attention (he wasn't) and then started to look around for a good place to sit. As upset as she was, she was curious about what was in the book. She spotted a stump placed in the middle of a clearing and tried her best to look purposeful as she walked towards it. She turned, faced the butcher, and sat on the stump as he was left to take a seat in the tall (and itchy, she hoped) grass that had been allowed to flourish where there were no trees.

Siegfried undid his apron and folded it carefully: once horizontally, once vertically, and once more horizontally. He placed it on the ground as he took his seat. The butcher sat down with his left leg out and his right bent with his foot planted flat on the ground and the knee pointing skywards. He leaned backwards, resting on both of his hands as they stretched out behind him. Intent on finding out everything, he watched the merchant, trying to keep his eyes on her person as a whole. This was hard for him, for her shirt was low cut, like a v-neck, with green short sleeves and sides, with a white center where brown leather ties were. The garb reminded Siegfried of a more casual corset, and seemed expensive. Whoever this woman was, she had money. With her knees together, she rested the book on her lap with the black cover facing her. She opened it, but the troubled look on her face told the butcher what he knew was to come.

"It is empty," Angela said.

[Fuzzie]

It was almost obvious that it would be empty. At least to Siegfried it was, for it happened to him when he first opened it. But then he noticed something... Angela had opened to the first page.

"Give me that," he commanded. She handed it to him, still open. The butcher saw no words just as the merchant had not.

"I don't understand...why can I not read it?" Angela knew the answer to her own question, but was afraid to answer it. She did not want to be associated with the butcher any more than she already was, even with the knowledge that it was too late to change her fate. The merchant stood up and started to pace; as she did so the butcher started to jump and howl.

"There are words! See? Right here! Come quickly. Look, look." Angela rushed over.

Perhaps...perhaps I am not connected. Perhaps this one interaction is where our relationship ends, and the book was just taking a while to bring forth the text. She approached to look at the book, the butcher watching her hopeful face. Her hopes were soon shattered, and her frown gave the butcher cause to look back at the book. The words were gone again.

"I don't understand. Why did they go away?" Siegfried was distraught. Angela decided it was time to explain the book to him, for she was already connected with him. She took her seat again on the stump.

"The book is an oracle, so to speak," she began. "However, the way it works is different than most oracles. Only you can read it, but you can only see the past and present."

The butcher interrupted her at this point. "Whose life does it tell?"

You really are a dense sack of... Angela could barely restrain herself from saying what she was thinking. "Yours. Do you remember when you fainted? It was drawing from your experiences and looking into the future. Now let me finish," Idiot, "so that we may be on our way. The oracle will tell your future. But not to you, and not to me. The only people that will ever be able to see your future using this book are people that are unrelated to you; only those who do not and will not know you may see what is yet to come in your life."

The butcher tried, but could not let her finish. "Why can't YOU read it? You're nothing but a merchant on the street."

Angela said, with a genuine dismay that she could not even try to mask, that "It is obviously because we are related. Have you no concept of syllogism? Only people unrelated to you can see your future. I cannot see your future. Ergo, I must be related your future! Now PLEASE allow me to finish, I am no more pleased with this than you are."

The butcher was hurt. He had no idea she thought of him so, she was so kind to him all day. Angela was mistaken though, he was very much pleased by the idea that the two were related. He stopped listening and focused on his thoughts.

Those deep, green eyes. That silky, smooth, brown hair. Her pale complexion... She's beautiful. Despite her personality, I wouldn't mind spending my days with her.

"...so, because of the way the book feels, people related to you, like me, cannot see your past without you first telling them about it. Once given your account of an event, the book will be able to display it to them as it truly happened." Angela had just finished what was probably a long speech when the butcher departed from his train of thought.

"The book has feelings?" he asked.

He has not been paying attention... Whatever, it means nothing to me if he does not want to utilize it to its full potential. I will let him flounder about if it is what he wishes. Angela decided not to repeat herself, that it would be funny watching the idiot try to figure out the book. The merchant stood up and walked away, yet again leaving the butcher failing to keep up with her. It looked to him like the two were headed back into town.

[Fuzzie]

Angela, gripping the book, ran off into the distance and out of Siegfried's sight. He cursed himself for losing her, violently in fact, until he realized the time. The sun had already begun to set - the day was gone. The butcher began to panic.

This forest is unfamiliar to begin with, how am I to find my way with no light?

Even with the tracking skills of a blind person whose nose has been cut off, Siegfried set off in a sprint. The butcher stumbled over tree roots and weeds as he rushed blindly into the sun-tinted foliage. His pack, which hung uncomfortably low on him, thumped against his left thigh as he ran.

Being a person of low stamina, the butcher stopped to take a break, falling swiftly on his bottom. He brought himself to a reclined position, laying on his back as the sunlight continued to fade quickly.

A snap. A twig to the right had broken. Stepped on? Perhaps a branch fell? The butcher sat up. Figuring it was Angela, he walked towards the noise. What awaited him was a wolf, not more than a year of age, holding in its mouth a ball of brown fur, some patches stained red with blood. He hid behind a tree and began to run when his brain registered what the ball of fur was. A cat. By the looks of it, his cat. He could not bring himself to grieve over the loss of that waste of space, for he was too frightened for his own life at the moment. He stopped anyways and turned back because of one, single thought.

My cat was in town. The wolf has my cat. The wolf came from town.

He returned to the area where the wolf was. He watched the wolf progress right, and so he headed left. Just when he thought he was home free, he heard the growl - the low, guttural noise of a beast. He had been noticed.

Siegfried took note of the way he was headed and turned to face the wolf. He knew he could not outrun it; he could not even keep up with Angela. To avoid startling the wolf, he slowly reached into his pack with his right hand to remove his butcher knife. He was thankful he had sharpened his knife the day before while waiting for business. The wolf dropped his catch by a small oak.

The butcher clumsily took what he had remembered to be the ready stance for battle, feeling slightly ridiculous for holding the oversized knife like a two-handed sword.

At least it will be easier to take more powerful swings.

Left foot front. Right foot back and locked so it's sturdy; put all your weight on it. Right hand on the top of the handle for power, left hand on the bottom for leverage. He went over the rules as he had been taught, and waited for the wolf to draw closer. It circled him, so he had to change his stance to be facing it at any given moment.

The wolf lunged. Siegfried was not ready; he fell against its power. It pinned him down on the ground and tried to bite him, but Siegfried brought his knee up into its torso. The swift motion managed to stun it enough to allow him to roll out from under it. He took his stance again.

He decided that standing still would not work, and advanced towards the wolf this time. The wolf slowly backed away, hunched over and growling. Intentionally or not, Siegfried was backing it into a tree. The wolf noticed too late and found itself with no place to run to.

Back foot crosses over the front foot, front foot crosses back over. Approach with a side step, minimize your target area. Hold the sword towards your enemy, ready to block or strike. The butcher took a quick skip in, dropping his stance and losing his balance. His overhead swing failed because, not mindful of his footing, he tripped over a root of the very tree he was using to his advantage. He managed to swing his knife with such force that he embedded in the tree.

Siegfried tugged at the knife. The wolf approached slowly. He tugged harder, putting his weight into it. The wolf was right behind him. Using his foot as leverage against the tree, he put all of his effort into one last desperate tug, right as the wolf lunged. He fell backwards, and the wolf lunged over him. With what can only be called the luckiest happenstance in the world, Siegfried flailed his arms as he fell, cleaving halfway into the wolf's upper body. The wolf landed with a sickening thud.

I...did it?

A gash ran from the right shoulder of the wolf, through the neck and upper body where the ribs were. The butcher was astonished.

I killed a feral beast of the woods...I survived.

He would have stood over the wolf longer, but he had no time. There were howls in the distance; it's a wonder that he didn't encounter the whole pack of them. He wiped his knife on his apron, put it back in his pack, and slung the wolf over his right shoulder. Without a second thought, he turned towards town and headed out.

[Fuzzie]

Dusk had fallen. Siegfried was not yet home. He had gone back; for whatever reason it felt wrong to leave the mauled body of his cat behind.

Whatever pack that wolf was with will be there. I will die. Why do I want to go?

But there was this feeling the butcher had, as though he were forgetting that something guaranteed his survival. Thanks to the trail of blood left behind from the wolf corpse, he was able to find his way back to the scene of the battle easily.

A quick check reassured Siegfried that the wolves were not there. He set down the wolf and took off his apron. He found the cat right where the wolf had died; the small oak tree had the knife mark in it, clearly visible even in the small amount of moonlight filtering through the leaves. He wrapped the cat in his apron and attempted to put it in his pack, but to no avail. After a minute of struggling, he managed to put the cat in the pack enough so that it wouldn't fall out but the pack still wouldn't close. Satisfied, he slung his pack back over his shoulder, took the wolf back up, and walked back towards town feeling even more victorious.

The butcher strained his eyes. The woods were thick and light was scarce. Wandering blindly to where he hoped town was, he reflected.

Angela...something's off about her, but I can't quite get what it is. She took that book with her when she left too. According to her though, we're related in enough of a way that she won't be able to see what's in the book. I should seek her out tomorrow.

He still was not realizing what told him he would be safe, what told him he would make it to town without being attacked. It came to him in small, elusive flashes: flashes like those of a firefly. It was getting lighter; the forest was thinning. The smell of smoke was in the air. Siegfried started to power walk. He could see candle light through windows in the distance. The butcher began to jog. He made it to town. The streets were deserted, not like in the morning on the market street.

In all reality, it was a good thing the streets were deserted. Here was a man with a dead cat in a bag and a wolf over his shoulder, covered in blood that was dripping from the wolf. Siegfried did not realize how out of place he looked, most likely because there was nobody there to make him feel uncomfortable. Approaching his home, he began to debate how to explain everything to his father; his mother was no reason for him to worry.

I might leave out the part about Angela...but then he'd question why I was in the woods. I'm not mentioning the book. I'll tell him I was robbed and ran into the woods to seek safety and got lost; he'll probably believe me. No. Better to say nothing at all.

He opened the door to his house, and was answered with a call from his mom, who was laying down in her bedding with his father.

"Where have you been all day, boogly-bear?" She asked him.

"Out." He responded without offering any sort of explanation.

"Your damn cat ran away," his father began, "Up and left a bit after noon."

"I know." Siegfried said. They still couldn't see him. He walked towards the small, walled off room to meet them. He dropped the wolf and the cat at their feet.

"I'm sleeping in the storage area tonight," he stated. Leaving no room for argument or questions, he left the hut and headed out behind to a makeshift wooden shed. He cleared out an area in the center for him to sleep, laid down a cloth tarp to sleep on.

He tossed, he turned, he did not fall asleep. He rolled onto one side, then onto the other. He stared at the ceiling with holes in it and looked towards the stars, which were slightly obscured by trees on one side of the shed. As the branches swayed in the light breeze that had risen, a lone star gazed at him. The branch moved; it opened its eye. It moved back; the eye closed. The flashing of the star sparked his memory, inspiring an epiphany. He knew why he was not afraid to go back into the woods to get his cat. The book.

The book...it was thick. The chapters that were written only took up the first pages of the book. That book chronicles my whole life, and there is so much that is not yet written.

The butcher sat up. He was not afraid because he knew his story could not end yet. He got out a woodcutting axe. He went outside towards a tree that had fallen down and took to a section of it with his axe. His woodworking skills were less than subpar, but he tried his best anyways to carve his section of tree down to a post. After two hours of hard work, he was left with a 4 foot tall, one foot thick rectangular piece of wood with two sticks on opposite sides of the wood to simulate arms. Siegfried leaned the post against the shed; he would put hay on it tomorrow to create padding.

He returned to the inside of the shed and began to search vigorously. It was as though he was searching to save his life. Then he found it, what he was looking for was buried under many piles of long since forgotten items. He pulled out a poorly crafted sword. It was his training sword from his adventurer school. When he was young, it was big enough for him to wield with two hands. Now, however, it was small enough for one hand.

The sword was an iron training sword, dull on one side purposely and dull on the other from years of not being used. It was about two feet in length and two inches in width, with a leather bound hilt and standard, iron guard. The hilt fit both his hands and more when he was 12, but now could fit about a hand and a half at most. He held it clumsily, thinking back to his days at school, his days of failure. He sat with his legs crossed, holding the hilt of the sword in one hand and resting the tip in the other, and stared at the blade. He then reclined onto his back, and clutched the sword to his chest without fear of being cut by the dull blade. The eye in the sky was wide open, and it stared through him.

[Fuzzie]

For spoils, I would like the following:
Permission to use the book as a storytelling/plot device in future posts.
The below average iron training sword.
The pelt from the wolf in the form of either a small cloak/a belt as a memento or a better adventurer's pack (one that doesn't have holes).

[Taskmienster]

Summer Reading:: Hey there, I’ll be taking this off of Sei/Rev’s hands for you. If you have any questions feel free to PM me and I’ll help with whatever I can!



Continuity 5

:: She sold a book she didn’t mean to sell, but she didn’t know what it was either? How can she have meant to not sell it, or its importance, if she didn’t know what it was? The story’s flow, what you are writing and how you go about continuing through to the end, is very important. If you aren’t careful the details of the story can become muddled and confusing.

Setting 4


“Deeper into the woods they traveled,” :: I put this here because, well… it didn’t make sense to me in context as the beginning of the next post. You weren’t in the woods before, and hadn’t mentioned going to the woods, so going “deeper into” them to open a post makes the reader suddenly be like… wait, what? Where’d the woods come from?

:: There are quite a few points where you had an opportunity to incorporate more setting into the posts so make the setting more vivid and livelier. I’m not scolding, just noting and suggesting for this. In the 10th post you went outside to practice with the sword, but you had a chance to really explain the setting a bit more in-depth. Stars, the moon, clouds, things like those are just little things you can off-handedly notice and comment on. The types of weeds you traversed through in the woods, the trees, the knots of roots, stuff like that would have given more life to the setting. Even little things like a particularly sharp bush, or a vine with barbs on it grabbing your clothes as you passed through it… that makes the setting not only more easily visualized by the reader, but also helps with the interaction of the character with the setting. Interaction helps with how the reader see’s what your character is seeing. Remember two things when writing; 1) Setting is not just a background when necessary, but an in-depth look at the world and a way for the reader to visualize the surroundings as well as know that your character is not standing apart from the world but part of it; and 2) setting isn’t just what you see, but what you smell, taste, feel, and hear, and incorporation of those into your writing will give a reader a feeling of all their senses that they can then, in turn, create the world for themselves to feel what the character is feeling or sensing.

Pacing 4

:: Be careful of writing too many short paragraphs. If you write too many it slows the pacing of the thread down considerably and makes it a little difficult, as a reader, to get interesting in what the idea is about when it ends so abruptly. Once in a while is fine, but back to back and multiple times in a single post makes keeping my thoughts in line and being interested become disjointed and difficult.

Dialogue 5


“Then again, I guess a pork feast every breakfast is far superior to cornmeal.” :: At first, I was just going to ignore this as you were expecting something better than a pork feast for breakfast… but later you write that you indeed had cornmeal. Which made me come back to this inner dialogue and ask the question; How did this make sense?


“Is today the beginning of a long, boring life? I can't stand to think that Father will finally sway me to do something normally. He doesn't know what it's like to live life as a walking mockery, he could at least let me have my fantasies! Thinking about it blurs my vision and clouds my mind.” :: Noting this because it’s a bit unclear. His father’s will to make him do something is boring? Or what he’s already doing if his father doesn’t make him do something is boring? Also, without sufficient background, it makes it difficult to really understand what fantasies he has and why it would “blur vision” and “cloud his mind”.

:: You don’t have to make spoken word stand out anymore than by putting it in the proper parenthesis, as you did. Just saying that the underlined part of it isn’t necessary.

Action 4.5


“Angela, gripping the book, ran off into the distance and out of Siegfried's sight. He cursed himself for losing her, violently in fact, until he realized the time. The sun had already begun to set - the day was gone. The butcher began to panic.” :: To this point, things were making relative sense. That is, until I read the opening to post 9. As far as I could tell, she tried to ditch him by walking a long time into the woods. That did not work, so she gave up and explained the book to him and their “connection”. So, in my mind, as a reader, the logical progression is that she has taken it, in general, as a loss to retrieve the book from him and has given in to helping him… you even said she wouldn’t explain the use again to him because she thought she would just let him flounder about trying to figure it out. Then, out of nowhere, a small girl who sells books somehow wrestled it free or took it some other way (unexplained) and darted off into the woods? What confuses me as a reader the most is the giving up and conceding that she sort of did before she explained it’s use and afterwards, quickly followed by her suddenly darting off with the book and leaving him. The action of the character made little sense, and it also turned the pacing into a 180 and started going a completely different direction.

Persona 4.5

:: A lot of what I have to say for persona is expressed through what I said about dialogue as well as actions and the clarity section. Work on those, and you’ll be set for the general persona. There are a few things that stood out a lot, such as the lack of a true and proper background for the reader to understand the personality and in turn the general actions of the character later on. No worries though, you have a lot of time and the more experience you get the farther you’ll be in regards to persona.

Technique 5

:: Careful about word usage. Sometimes the advanced technique that you use is there because of an adjective you chose, however, those adjectives are also at times out of place or so it seems.


” he could not stop the words from reverberating through his inner chambers.” :: I noted this because of the “inner chambers” that you added. Instead of chambers, you could have used a better word such as “reverberating through his mind” (or head) that way it’s not as vague as well as fits much better.


“he thought as he subconsciously sighed.” :: Was the sigh truly subconscious? Or was it more that it was a sigh that you expressed only through thought? Those are two different things, one is something you do without even knowing your doing it… the other is better for expressing that your thoughts gave you pause and might have caused you to think of the task for the day as being exasperating or dull.

Mechanics 6


“It is was golden than one would expect and drier than the desert.” :: Outside of the mechanical issue of “it was” being one after the other, I put this here because you seem to be missing a word. “It was [more] golden than one…” makes more sense. Something akin to that, more or less added before golden would have clarified it.


“He does not open it, he does not even think about what's in it, he just stares.” :: “does” should be “did” to keep it in past tense.


“it could not have been later than 9 in the morning.” :: 9 should be spelt out, as its proper for more formal writing.


“What had started out as short weeds was now halfway up the butcher's shins” :: was should be were, since you’re writing in third person.


Clarity 5


“The once extravagant castle with stone walls, crimson banners, and decorative armors had turned into the same boring hut that everybody had.” :: How does a castle turn into a hut? Hah.


“As he donned what was once a shining armor (now just a butcher's apron) and lifted his hefty butcher knife, his mother woke up.” :: I understand what you were trying to do for this passage as well as the one before it. You are trying to make it something of a compare/contrast type metaphor for what you once had and expected (or maybe even this goes back to the fantasies that you referred to earlier) and what you have now. However, the way it’s phrased, makes it read that your shining armor somehow turned into a butchers apron.


“The butcher was hurt. He had no idea she thought of him so, she was so kind to him all day. Angela was mistaken though, he was very much pleased by the idea that the two were related. He stopped listening and focused on his thoughts.” :: This passage doesn’t make sense to me. I read it over a few times, and kept coming to the same question. He was hurt in the beginning, and yet when you switched to the way that Angela was seeing it she was confused and he was actually happy about the prospect of being with her in the future. Now, as far as I can tell, either you meant to say that Angela “thought” that he was hurt, but she was wrong. Or you meant that it appeared to Angela that he was hurt, but he wasn’t. Whatever the case, the way it’s laid out for the reader makes it confusing.

:: In post 9 you have a little bit about the wolf that ate a cat. Your cat didn’t wander into the woods, I would assume, but you clarify a little about the wolf coming into town to get your cat… as if it had some sort of vendetta against it. It’s confusing, first and foremost, because the entire idea that YOUR cat would be the critter a wolf caught in the middle of the woods doesn’t make sense. Furthermore, the fact that your character turned around to go back and see if it was his cat, and that he thought the wolf could come into town somehow without being noticed and killed/scared off to get the cat is confusing. Plus, why would he turn back? It’s a cat, no matter the emotional attachment that may or may not have been there, I don’t know anyone that would go bother a wolf to see if what he had was his pet. Why wouldn’t he have just left it, and checked if his cat was at home when he got back? Also, why would he go back, only to see which way it was going, and then turn the other way to leave it alone? Another note, as I continued to read, wolves would prefer to leave humans alone and unless on the edge of death because of starvation, one turning on a human is improbable and unrealistic… This is a bit of persona/action that I put in the clarity section because of how and why I was confused.

Wild Card 6

:: The 4th Post, of which I’m referring to the Harry Potter mockery, is somewhat funny just be careful not to do that too often. Humor is good, and I have a deep loathing for that entire series, but if you have something akin to that too often in writing you run the risk of possibly sullying your own, unique writing style… since the majority of the thread isn’t like that. Lol. It’s just a note, nothing bad but felt like pointing it out.

Score: 49!

Rewards:

Fuzzie :: 450 exp | 100 gold
((Spoils rewards are :: pelt for backpack, basic sword skill and blunt iron sword, and the book))

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!