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Chapter 1 of a novel

KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
edited November 2010 in Off Topic
Okay, for my Creative Writing class I have to write a Chapter 1 of a novel for my final exam and for my eventual senior thesis, I am going to write a novel under faculty advisement. So, I am working on something, a sort of fantasy novel. This is the newest version of chapter 1. I'm not sure what I'm definitely going to call the novel, but it's tentatively called "Fractured". Please give my an opinion.


Fractured
By Brittanie Ricciuti

Chapter 1


Torches lined a narrow stone passageway flanked with tapestries in various stages of fade. His footsteps were drawn forward by the slow dripping of what he thought was water. With a quill in his left hand and a scroll in his right, Lothin walked almost disembodied to a splintered wooden door at the end of the passageway. A faint light peaked through the cracks in the door, playing on Lothin’s eyes. With a quivering hand, Lothin pushed open the door, scraping his quill on the wood. His vision was consumed by a sacrificial carnage, sucking the time away from him, trapping him behind the door.
The floor was covered in a film of blood. The pulsating black moss on the stone walls were highlighted by the torchlight above Lothin’s head. He could not recall the Unseen Ones entering the room to relight the torch. Though he was curious how it was staying ablaze, he was too tired to ponder on it for more than a few fleeting seconds. The light had haunted Lothin the entire time he was in this room, invading his eyelids, robbing him of any possibility of sleep.
How long he had been in this horrid room, he did not know. Lothin’s body was past the point of pain, entering the realm of pure exhaustion. He wasn’t even sure his legs would work when his chains were finally released, nor his voice. Lothin had screamed himself horse in the first day or so. Screaming for anything. Water. Food. Redemption. Forgiveness. Every one of his requests were met with laughter. He wasn’t sure if the laughter was from himself, the other inhabitant of the room, or the Unseen Ones. Lothin wasn’t even certain there was another inhabitant. His mind was nearly breaking, nearing the level of hallucination if it was not already there. His only emotion was hunger, though food seemed so far away from this forsaken room. He could not even taste that dry steak his friend would encourage him to buy, but he didn’t find it worth his coin. He could not even feel that sweet, yellow cider swimming down his throat. No, he could imagine it but he could not recall the actual feeling.
His whole situation was borderline ridiculous. Lothin had displayed the Unforgivable Quality in the tavern. He had become so angry it just unleashed itself upon everyone in the room. Lothin didn’t even know he was capable of such a terrible thing until that night. He didn’t want the Unforgivable Quality. No one did. Not after growing up with the stories his grandfather told him of what the Unseen Ones did to the unlucky ones the possessed the Unforgivable Quality. While no one really knew what went on in the Black Tower, it could not be good. No one ever returned.
*
It was a dreary day in mid-November when Brother Tobin shook the youth awake. He looked upon his charge with great scrutiny and admiration as they boy wiped the sleep from his green eyes. There was a slight look of unease in the boy’s eyes. Probably some traces of some dream that refused to fade with the waking. The boy’s pale face was framed by long, freshly washed blonde hair. The boy’s thin body was chiseled with lines, a testament of the hard labor he had endured in his first fifteen years of life. Now at sixteen, Lothin was taller than his father and older brothers. Lothin’s long callous-ridden fingers reached for the tunic he had discarded the night before when Brother Tobin had scolded him for reading too late. He pulled the tunic over his head and stood, awaiting his tutor’s instructions in tense silence.
Lothin hated his family for sending him away. He was one of seven children and his parents could not afford to feed them all, so his parents shipped Lothin away, along with his sister Marcia, and two of his younger brothers, Kalen and Kasen, all to different places so he did not even have the comfort of his family in this cold place. He hated every minute he spent at the monastery. It was nearly unbearable compared to his family’s farm. Every time he knelt in prayer in the church or at supper, Lothin became consumed with an overwhelming desire to scream. Scream at what? He did not know. The silence caused his mind to do somersaults, imagining ways to escape the hold of the monks or even to just interject anything interesting into his day. The other boys bored him and were bored by him. It seemed to Lothin that he was the only boy that hadn’t resigned to his so-called apparent fate to become a monk. No. He couldn’t accept that this was it for him.
The only thing Lothin loved about coming to the monastery was learning to read. The monks did not realize that by teaching Lothin to read that they were consequentially driving him farther from their preconceived path that had been laid out for him. Every time he cracked open a dusty volume, Lothin was whisked away to a foreign land that held him in rapture. The books filled his head with dreams of princesses and knights and the supernatural that he had only encountered in oral tales. In the year he had been at the monastery, Lothin had surpassed all the other boys in speed in which he learned to read, sometimes devouring more books than his tutor Brother Tobin.
“Boy, you really ought to learn to take proper care of your clothes. They are the Gods’ gift and we must cherish all of the Gods’ gifts.” Brother Tobin said to the boy as he started for the door, not needing to look to make sure Lothin was following him.
“Sorry, Brother. I was just so wrapped up in my reading that I neglected my simple duties. Forgive me, Brother.” Lothin tried his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The cold on his bare feet reminded him that he had been mesmerized by the first snowfall of the year in the early hours of the day, after Brother Tobin had assumed Lothin was fast asleep. He made a mental note to dig out his shoes from his pack when he was in the dormitory again.
“Make sure it does not happen again, boy. Otherwise, I may be forced to inform the abbot of your repeated neglect.” Brother Tobin would never tattle on the boy that reminded him so much of his younger self, but Lothin did not know that for sure. Every tenant at the monastery had learned to avoid the tyrannical abbot.
“Yes, Brother.”
Lothin fell back into silence as they waded their way through the chilly red-stoned hallway. Lothin tried to keep his head down like he was taught but he could not keep himself from looking toward the ledge. The white of the snow caught his eyes and held onto them. The vast whiteness reminded him of all the possibilities in the boundless world that he would most likely never have a chance to discover since he was stuck in the monastery. Lothin noted the dense tree line that seemed to extend on past his line of vision. Those same trees he had fought through following Brother Tobin to the monastery just a year ago. It had felt longer than a year. Sometimes Lothin wished that he had become lost amongst those trees. Death often seemed more interesting then being cooped up in these red walls. Death was a mystery. Death was something unavoidable, pervading everything in Lothin’s life. Lothin even supposedly prayed to the dead son of one of the Gods that supposedly was a God himself. His memory was filled with people in his childhood that no longer walked this plane of existence. Lothin felt close to death, as if death was his only friend in this solitary place. Death was the only quiet that Lothin accepted as necessary. Lothin wanted to make as much noise as possible while he was alive because once death claimed him, he would no longer be able to scream or laugh or converse.
Lothin was so deep in thought that he nearly collided with Brother Tobin. Lothin could see Brother Tobin’s annoyance plainly across his wrinkling face. They were at the doors of the abbot’s study, a place Lothin had thankfully only been in when he had first come to the monastery.
“You are probably wondering why we are outside the abbot’s study, are you not boy?” Brother Tobin’s right hand was resting on the intricately carved silver doorknob of the abbot’s study.
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Comments

  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    “Yes, Brother. I am quite curious.” Lothin hoped that the abbot had not learned that it was Lothin that got the berries from the forest and dyed the pudding purple in a weak attempt at adding something different to see the shocked reactions. They did react though, by throwing out all of the pudding that the boys looked forward to so much. Lothin thought that is was quite pathetic that all the boys had to look forward to was pudding. He was not sorry to see the pudding absent from the supper table for the past week. Lothin suppressed a smile at the memory.
    “It is your curiosity that had landed you here, my young Lothin.” A cold voice came from behind him.
    Lothin turned around to face the abbot himself. Brother Gregory was a small man with no hair, barely coming up to tall Lothin’s chest. His brown eyes were tiny, sucked backwards into his shriveled face. His lips were a thin line and his nose was pointed, curving slightly to the left. Lothin had only seen the strict man smile when he was reprimanding someone, whether be it one of his fellow monks or one of the boys.
    “What do you mean, Abbot?” Lothin wanted to kick himself for whatever he did that brought him to the abbot’s attention.
    “Let us go into my study and we will discuss what we are going to do about you.” Brother Gregory nodded to Brother Tobin and they both entered the study before Lothin, leaving him in shock for a few seconds.
    Lothin quickly followed the older men into the richly decorated study and took a seat in front of the abbot’s massive desk. The only other time Lothin had entered the abbot’s study, he was blown away with the inside. It was not at all what he pictured as the main room of an supposed devout abbot. The stone walls were lined with metal: weapons, torture devices, and treasures. Mounted behind Brother Gregory’s desk was a painting of the late Lord Daniel. Lothin had learned in his lessons that it was Lord Daniel that commissioned the building of the very monastery he was sitting in. The desk made of some foreign wood was topped with a decanter of deep red wine. The abbot poured three glasses. Lothin was not sure if he was supposed to drink wine. It could be a test of faith or of obedience. Brother Gregory sensed Lothin’s hesitation.
    “Go ahead and drink, my boy. Soon, you will no longer be apart of this monastery.” A grin appeared on Brother Gregory’s lips.
    “What do you mean?” Lothin’s mind was racing. Where was he going? Where would he live? How would he eat? He must have really screwed up this time. He couldn’t go back home. His father could not feed him and he could not face his father with the shame of being dismissed from a holy office. His father would never forgive him.
    “Your services are required elsewhere.” Brother Gregory’s voice was soft, with a bittersweet edge. Lothin noticed that Brother Gregory’s fingers were tapping over and over again on the lid of the decanter.
    “Where is that? What do I have that can possibly be desired?” Lothin despised people that released information little by little. In fact, Lothin was the type that blurted out too much, a frequent source of trouble.
    The entire time Brother Tobin was silent, staring at Brother Gregory with a look of utter contempt.
    “I informed Brother Gregory of the speed in which you are able to read and write so he’s graciously arranged a position for you in Lord Dayce’s service as a court scribe. Normally I do not condone the dismissal of any of my charges but I know that you will be much happier as a scribe than a monk. Some people just are not meant to dedicate their whole lives in the service of our Lord.”
    A host of possibilities opened up in Lothin’s mind. He could travel. He could bear witness to battles, royal squabbles, maybe even betrayal. He might even find a lady for himself. Lothin’s biggest problem with being a monk was the thought that he would never feel the touch of a woman. As a child, Lothin fantasized being a mage and falling in love with a beautiful lady, and saving the fate of the province.
    “I can tell by the grin on your face that you will not be fighting us on this one, boy. Am I not correct?” Brother Gregory had leaned over his desk, fixating his brown eyes on Lothin.
    “No, Abbot. I will go willingly.”
    “Good. You will leave for Lord Dayce’s estate in the morning. Brother Tobin will be your guide. I suggest you go pack your meager belongings and enjoy the final day of solitude you will probably have. The world outside these walls is a tumultuous place and I wager you will not have another day of peace for many years. You may go.” With that, the abbot dismissed both Lothin and Brother Tobin, both glasses of wine left untouched.
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  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    *
    Lothin found himself in the monastery’s library yet again, but this time for a different reason. Normally, he crossed the threshold to occupy his mind due to his extreme boredom. This time, he entered to calm his mind, distract it from all the possibilities that arose in his brain about leaving. With muffled and slow footsteps, Lothin scanned the shelf for something other than his preference of fiction. History. That’s what he needed. After what seemed like an eternity, Lothin finally ran his fingers across a dusty volume that caught his attention. The title was peculiar. Unseen and Unforgivable: The Paradoxical Connection. There was not author. Lothin quickly withdrew the book and opened to the first page.

    I write of the connection between the Unseen Ones that rule the lives of every breathing blood bag from afar and those that possess the Unforgivable Quality. I write of this not without immense caution and immeasurable fear.
    The Unseen Ones and the people with the Unforgivable Quality are the same.
    As I pen those words, I can feel the treason bleeding into my temples. We are forbidden to speak of such things, but I must. I have seen too much to live out my life in guilty silence.
    I cannot say exactly when magic was banned and the mages faded into obscurity. Time was not recorded by dates, but with events. I know it happened sometime after the Great War. Mages were at the front of nearly every battle, cutting down anything that dared to challenge them. They were thirsty for blood, power, and worship. Once the now forgotten enemy was defeated and wiped out of our history books, the mages turned on each other. A split formed. Off of the main body of mages, a fracture furiously demanded worship. They wanted the be Gods. Gods that they were not. Most mages just wanted to continue on as they had before the Great War, as mages in desire and occasionally for hire. The fanatics gathered together and systematically hunted down those that would not join them in conquering the common folk.
    This is the secret if the Unseen Ones. They use fear and ignorance to control the common folk to weed out those that exhibit magic, or the Unforgivable Quality. Those that decide not join the overarching cause are killed.
    None escape.
    I will not tell you my name. I will tell you that I am an Unseen One.

    Lothin unwilling pulled his eyes away from the page when some noise make him jump. Lothin knew that it was probably dangerous to read such a novel, but the level of dust told him it was not being used. Looking around him, he stuffed the book in the front of his pants and covered it with his tunic and walked briskly out of the library for the last time.
    *
    Lothin lay on top of the window sill on the fourth floor, gazing at the stars. In the morning, he would be leaving the place he had reluctantly called home for the past year. He would be diving into the thick forest and besmirching the snow with the footprints of his horse. It had taken a great deal of persuading on Brother Tobin’s part to convince Brother Gregory to part with two horses for the somewhat harsh journey. It will take Lothin and Brother Tobin a week to conquer the forest and another six weeks to cover the ground between the edge of the forest and Lord Dayce’s home. They will cross rivers, brave a tunnel through the mountains, and if all goes well, arrive just before the celebration of the Night-Goddess. Lothin had always wanted to witness the celebration of the Night-Goddess. Tales of the debauchery reached the farm that Lothin grew up at. It was common knowledge that mages chose apprentices only at the celebration. The feast was said to last for three days straight. When Lothin mentioned his desire to attend the celebration to Brother Tobin, he saw for the first time the rage that was pent up in Brother Tobin.
    “I will not attend such heresy. While I cannot stop you from attending, I strongly advise you to avoid such heathen attractions. They will only corrupt your already questionable soul.”
    Lothin had not seen Brother Tobin since he snapped at Lothin during dinner. Yet, Lothin knew that Brother Tobin was right. He could not stop Lothin from attending the celebration.
    Snow began to fall softly. Within minutes, Lothin’s face was wet and numb from the snowflakes. With a shine in his eyes, Lothin slowly fell asleep on the ledge and slipped into what would seem to him a prophetic dream.
    *
    The noon air was thick under that canopy as Lothin waded his way through the thick bushes, crunching leaves under his boots, something shiny in a nearby bush caught his eye.
    Lothin knew he should not go any closer, but his curiosity had always outweighed his common sense.
    Lothin parted the thorny bush and found a silver chain lying on the ground, covered in blood. Connected to the end of the chain was a trapdoor, leaves askew in a poor attempt to hide its existence. A chill ran up Lothin’s spine as he touched the splintering wood of the trapdoor. He wrenched it open and was engulfed by a peculiar scent—a mixture of decay and roses. He felt a ladder in the darkness of the hole.
    Lothin's boots caused the old wood of the ladder to creak. It was pitch black. Lothin conjured a ball of light and set it hovering in front of him to light the way.
    It was a dirt tunnel, held up by spider web-crested wooden beams. Lothinn had to crouch a little to avoid hitting his head. The farther down the tunnel they went, the stronger the smell of decay and roses because. He eventually found an opening and slowly entered after duplicating the balls of light.
    The square chamber was made of entirely stone. Deep blue cloth trimmed in silver lined the walls, Lothin guessed, for heat. The far side of the room was occupied by a small fireplace devoid of wood and two bookcases on each side stuffed to capacity with thick, dust covered volumes.
    Lothin’s stare fixated on the middle of the floor. A stone altar rose from the ground, stopping at Lothin's waist. It was covered with a thick red tablecloth of some sort. Under the cloth was a lump. A lump the size of a body.
    He was trying to remain calm and mask his excitement from himself as he waded toward the altar. His hands were quaking violently as he lifted the cloth, which stuck in the middle, making a sick, wet slurping sound. Lothin pulled harder. The cloth finally fell to the floor at his feet.
    It was a body. A body of a girl around Lothin's age. She had been attractive in life, but now death's blue paleness had claimed her. She was naked, drenched in what Lothin guessed was her own blood. Her white-blonde hair obscured part of her young face, which was fixed in a serene, creepy smile. A section of her hair was cut off, lying in a small pool of blood at the top of the altar. The girl's left arm was bent above her head while her right arm rested on her abdomen, her manicured fingernails crusted in blood. Her right hand held a single yellow rose.
    Lothin forgot to breathe when his gaze fell just below her blood-caked breasts. Carved into her chest was the inscription:
    For our Father--
    May He accept
    our Sinful token
    Lothin had to clasp his own mouth to stifle a scream.
    *
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    A rough hand held the boy as he was shaken awake so he would not topple off the ledge to his death. Brother Tobin was surprised to see Lothin’s usually mischievous green eyes filled with terror and pain. The boy seemed more pale than normal.
    “What is the matter?” Concern dripped from Brother Tobin’s words.
    When the shock wore off of Lothin, he stood up and brushed the layer of snow that had settled upon his clothes as he slept.
    “Nothing, Brother. Just a dream.” Lothin smiled weakly. He did not want to think of the dream or give it any significance. He had been plagued with strange nightmares since childhood. Voicing his dream might put a scary merit to his journey into his nightmare and to do so would scare both Lothin and Brother Tobin. He could not pass up this opportunity to leave. He was to be a scribe, regardless of a silly childhood nightmare. “So, are we leaving now?”
    Brother Tobin eyed the boy with disbelief and sighed.
    “As soon as we get a package of food from the kitchen and fit the horses with our belongings, we will depart. Of course, unless you wish to say goodbye to anyone.”
    “No, Brother. I don’t think anyone will miss me here. There is no need for any empty worded goodbyes.” It was the truth. None of the other boys would miss Lothin. In fact, they would probably be happy that Lothin is leaving, so that they would never have to doubt if there would be pudding at dinner.
    “Very well. We will leave within the hour. I have a few things I need to see to and make sure are taken care of in my absence.” With that, Brother Tobin left Lothin standing alone in the drafty corridor.
    Lothin looked back at this thinking-ledge with apprehension, his nightmare trying to pull his courage away from him. He put his hands into the soft snow, relishing in the coldness, jolting him farther into an alert state.
    “Well, I guess there is no way out of this even if I wanted one.”
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • XenoXeno Posts: 21,003 master of ceremonies
    The dialogue sounds like a robot.
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    edited November 2010
    Yeah, I was told by my prof to work on the dialogue, though I was going for a medieval feel.
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • XenoXeno Posts: 21,003 master of ceremonies
    Yeah dialogue is my main problem too. Good luck.
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    I'm going to work on that throughout the week when I have a paper copy.
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • Ace_Deputy_CheezeAce_Deputy_Cheeze Posts: 14,736 jayfacer
    *interested*
    I liked it but there's just a few things that seemed kinda "off" (prolly not the best word to describe it)

    "He looked upon his charge with great scrutiny and admiration as they boy wiped the sleep from his green eyes. There was a slight look of unease in the boy’s eyes."

    Maybe this can be worded different? To me, the 2nd sentence doesnt seem to fit in with the way it ends.
    I felt that "the monastery" was a bit overused in the 2nd part of the 1st post.
    N what Xenocide said.
    Other than that, keep up the good work, Britt.
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  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer


    "He looked upon his charge with great scrutiny and admiration as they boy wiped the sleep from his green eyes. There was a slight look of unease in the boy’s eyes."
    Okay, the second sentence was a recent add. I'll work on that.
    I felt that "the monastery" was a bit overused in the 2nd part of the 1st post.
    What do you mean by this?


    And thanks. I'll keep updating on here when I have more material that fits in the storyline. I have roughly 30pgs more of material, but I don't know how to bring it in yet.
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  • Ace_Deputy_CheezeAce_Deputy_Cheeze Posts: 14,736 jayfacer
    edited November 2010
    Actually, scratch that part.
    i thought i read it more times than i did, my bad.
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  • BrianBrian Posts: 17,611 destroyer of motherfuckers
    What you could do with that second sentence is maybe change it to something along the lines of:

    He looked upon his charge with great scrutiny and admiration as the boy wiped the sleep from his green eyes. There was a somewhat distraught look upon his face.
    nike Pictures, Images and PhotosTUPAC IS DEAD/THE LEGEND IS GONE/THEY SAYIN TUPAC'S BACK?/DEM NIGGAS WRONG
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    Okay then. hah.
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    What you could do with that second sentence is maybe change it to something along the lines of:

    He looked upon his charge with great scrutiny and admiration as the boy wiped the sleep from his green eyes. There was a somewhat distraught look upon his face.
    Brilliant!
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
  • BrianBrian Posts: 17,611 destroyer of motherfuckers
    Aw shucks... :">
    nike Pictures, Images and PhotosTUPAC IS DEAD/THE LEGEND IS GONE/THEY SAYIN TUPAC'S BACK?/DEM NIGGAS WRONG
  • TravisTravis Posts: 4,971 balls deep
    tl;dr
































    sorry, couldn't help it.....
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    Bump for George.

    There is another, better version on my computer, but I'm one my phone, so I'll post the new material and edited material in a few weeks.
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  • streetsstreets Posts: 3,351 just the tip
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    B-)
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  • HOODSHOODS Posts: 41,866 destroyer of motherfuckers
    cool, i have to run out for about an hr, i'll read when I get back \m/
  • KridesBrideBrittKridesBrideBritt Posts: 25,781 jayfacer
    Alrighty. :)
    kristianPhotobucketPhotobucket Trephination-Tuesday Nights/Wednesday Mornings...11pm-1am- http://wrsu.rutgers.edu/listen.html
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