The End of the Story

The following is excerpted from my current novel/writing project The Book of Ten (in VERY rough form).

 My stomach was sick and my head swam. Something was burning down deep inside of me, a volcanic fist in my sternum. I raised my drinking skin to my lips and the water tasted foul, like scales of rust on rotted metal. Father, Seemok and Boarl were all staring at me and their faces blurred and stretched.

‘After the Old Ones were destroyed, our hope, too, was destroyed,’ Father said, his voice coming from a great, liquid distance. ‘The People of the Plains Nations departed from that place and never returned. We heard that Whitemen from the eastern plains came to inhabit the ruins of Hel-Ana, but these were nothing like the Old Ones. These were iniquitous and cruel, and they quickly began the work of turning the surrounding lands to their wickedness. Even now, we are camped on the outer-most boundary of these lands.’

Something was wrong with me. I stood on shaking limbs and the ground tilted and rushed to meet my face and outstretched hands. My guts clenched and vomit exploded from my mouth and nostrils. I planted my hands and knees and pushed away from the earth. I made it part way up before Father and Seemok were at my side, gripping my shoulders, gently lowering me back to the ground. A cool hand touched my burning face and a rag swiped at my mouth.

‘The time of the Crow has passed, my son,’ Father whispered. ‘You cannot remain as you were. None of us can. You must go among the Whitemen and meet your makers.’

I struggled to sit, but was unable. Far above me, the stars ran together in a cerulean smear and my body seemed to compress itself into the earth on which I lay.

‘Before I left the citadel on your father’s orders, your mother took me aside and gave me this,’ Father said. Something cool and hard was pressed into my hands. ‘She forbade me to tell this to Lord Dumas, and said that if things went badly for her and her people, I was to come back for all her children…or any that remained…to give it back someday…and to…’ Father’s voice continued, but his words had become too faint for me to understand.

I drifted away on a feathered bed of darkness.

Thanks for tuning in–more to follow….


2 Responses to “The End of the Story”

  1. Whoa……okay you really have me now…write man write…

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