Fiction

Hi I've been writing fiction as a hobby. I thought I'd share my first finished short story with you all. Fell free to read it or not read it.

If you do, please PM me any comments you might have. I have not been doing a lot of creative writing since grade 11 so don't be shy to tell me what you think I'll take it in stride.

It is the one eyed, wicked and ancient... long lived but longer still in memory.

Now four man cubs come. They are almost men, tall but thin and tender. They are wrapped in bravado defying the wisdom of their elders coming to this place, forbidden to them.

They wair their bravado like cloaks using it to wrap around their fear and apprehension. They know that this is an evil place, a haunted wood, and yet still they come to prove their courage, to deny their innocence, to become the heroes of their young peers.

These cloaks of bravery do little to hide the sweet sweet smell of fear that issues forth from them like the smoke from a burning house.

The one eyed has seen ones such as this before, He is old. Their fear fills the great emptiness of his soul, sates the hunger of his spirit. It has been long since he has had such potent nourishment. The ones in the village are so far away, and think of him so rarely. The animals have intensity in their emotion but it is too shallow, too basic, too raw, too simple to compare with this fine fare.

Their fear of this place and of him is a delicate thing. It is a thing they have come here thinking to conquer and to break.

The one eye will not allow this. It must remind them why they are afraid of this dark and wild wood.

It is good that they have come. This gives it an opportunity to remind the people what this place is. To fill their thoughts and dreams with rage, fear, malice and anguish. These things give it substance and give it strength. If it sacrifices one of the flock of dreamers then the rest will dream with renewed vigor for many years.

The younger goblins do not know of these things. It has been long since a man child has entered the wood. The others forget with death of the body, but this one, the one eyed, does not forget. It remembers everything. So many bodies, so many seasons, it has been so long that there is no counting of these things.

The one eyed tightens it's grip on the witch blade, a witch gift, bargain made long ago. The favorite weapon, sharp and deadly on the narrow point, cruel and messy on it's darkened edge. Long has it lasted, never has it reddened or dulled. A trusty weapon at hand from a treacherous witch. Betrayal and death in body, but not in spirit. This one, the one eyed, had two eyes then, and remembered. There was vengeance and the price for the deeds. The witch blade owned for so many lives, so many bodies, always in it's grasp. A treasure this blade, in dominance over the others.

The one eyed follows them, hastens to their voices, planning an approach. A pile of stones come into view and one is taken to hand. A stone for filling a small palm, not smooth or round but sharp and angular.

Looks now one eye, at the victims four. They are pale and pink of skins, rounded faces. They have short rounded ears almost invisible under their hairy manes and small round noses barely noticeable upon their plain faces. Straight backed they stand and tall. They look like all of their race.

There is one that is the tallest and broadest. Perhaps the oldest. Almost as large as a man full grown. He is dominant. This one's presence helps the others to be brave. They look to him. With one to be culled the choice is clear. A leader's fall would fill the rest with greater agony and dread. It shall be this one to pay the blood price.

And now the one eyed plants the seed of terror. It shall give them pain's hard bite but much more that. They will know that they are watched, that they feel his presence. A vulgar deed, unsubtle and direct, but effective. The stone is hurled from the shadows. It strikes the back of the smallest one. A heavy blow in the back with a hard rock. Not meant to kill or maim, but the message unmistakable “You are not welcome here.” and another “You are helpless to fight a foe you do not see.”

They cry out in dismay and in confusion, jabbering among themselves. Soon the confusion begins to coalesce into fear and anger. It is good here. The one eyed has moved around them to the other side and now intentionally snaps a branch to draw attention back into the wood. To remind them that someone or something is out in the wood with them waiting for a chance to strike.

In response to the noise they all wheel about but the one eyed has continued circling them noiselessly and they look only to where it has previously been. The arousal and excitement have now completely given way to fear and despair. They know that the goblin is real and not just an empty tale. They know also that they have been found, but they do not know what he looks like and that unknown will blend with the tales they have been told and drive their terror onwards. The one eyed will let their imaginations wonder for a time. The one eye takes joy, satisfaction and strength in the emotions that have been brought forth. A feast is had of this lush banquet. It is good, wetting a deep appetite for what will follow.

The one eyed remembers the others, goblin minds naive and ignorant. They would not understand what must be done. They would not understand that only one must die, and the others must live to let the dreams of the dark woods haunt them. Alive to tell their tales. The others might rush in drawn to the smells of fear and seek to create more with wanton violence and destruction. The one eyed might not be able to stop them in time, before they spill all the blood that is there to be spilled in a mad frenzy of need. They are hungry. The man cubs must not be enjoyed for too long. Soon the one eyed must strike, kill, and drive the survivors away to feed the one eyed and all the goblins with their dreams.

The largest one shouts out into the woods now a challenge, his soul is full of fear but the one eyed does not pay attention to the words they are unimportant to him. It is clear. The desire to confront, to break the mystery, to see. The one eye does not want to go into the light where they stand in a gap of trees. Even from here the shafts of light are harsh and ugly. They all carry long staffs of hard wood in trembling hands. Best not to risk. They might try to fight rather than flee when they see that the one eyed is no larger than they and alone to their four.

The one eyed then decides a ruse. Push aside some branches, throw one branch one way throw a stone another way, to make noise. Throw a voice of laughter here and there, make it seem as though there are many hidden here watching them.

It takes little time for the manipulation to take fruit. He can sense the terror rising in them waiting for a response that will not come. They will bolt soon for their homes. Not all will reach it. The one eyed will slay one of them.

The one eyed moves close to the path they had passed, and finds a shady place far from light, well hidden and comfortable. The man cubs jabber in short bursts on the verge of panic as the one eyed carefully couches amid high ferns. The one eyed like all of the goblins blends well with the shadows under such plants.

The one eyed hopes they will flee towards him, take the same path home that they used to come here, hopes they do not regain their courage and press forward and away. The one eyed anticipates the passing of the man cubs. It will not be a blow to kill outright. It will be a cut to wound deeply, a mortal wound, but not to a fast death. The life will linger and the cut cause pain and suffering and screaming and crying. This will create more fear in the others, cries to haunt their dreams. A deep cut to the gut. A messy wound. A bloody wound. A wound that might take long to kill but which will kill certainly in time. The one eyed hopes the terror of the moment will cause the others to leave the wounded one behind. Give them shame to darken their dreams.

Then it happens... waiting for an answer looking into the shadows seeing nothing but knowing that something is there finally breaks their courage. They rush towards the one eyed, the dominant one leads the others in single file. It could not be better.

The one eyed waits until the perfect moment and then moves like a darting shadow from the ferns. The witch blade darts in a cutting arc towards the belly. The youths cry in alarm realizing much too late that their stalker is upon them. The youth has little time to react but moves an arm forward to ward the blade. The blade cuts arm flesh instead of gut. A barb on the blade catches for a moment tearing muscle and sinew, the one eyed slows to pull the blade free, and slides across their path for all to see.

The one eyed wishes it would have done a worse blow but does not wish to linger here. They can not truly kill the one eyed with their staffs. They might kill the body, but it would be rebuilt. They can not kill the spirit of the one eyed with weapons. Still the one eyed fears the pain of blows to this body. Also there is fear of lost opportunity. If they can see the one eyed lie at their feet beaten then their fear will lessen. No the one eyed can not allow them to beat and batter this body into death.

One boy steps forward and lashes out with his long wooden staff, but it is a clumsy swing, without confidence or force, and the blow glances painfully but ineffectively off the top of the goblin's shoulder. The one eyed is not seriously hurt and continues to run without a pause into the darkness of dense trees. Waiting to follow later when their attention is elsewhere. The life must end, it must be seen to with certainty and not left to chance.

The one eyed has stopped and now rejoices in the new emotions in the air. The wounded prey feels a different fear than the wary prey. It is good as long as they have hope. This pain and fear mixed is almost intoxicating. It makes the one eyed lose some focus lose some restraint.

The one eyed follows now. The quarry glance backwards but can not see in the gloom of the woods, not the one eyed. The one eyed considers moving ahead of the fleeing prey to cut them off, they are moving swiftly even the injured one had not lagged behind. if they keep running without stop the one eyed may lose the chance to strike. But there is much blood on the path, the large bleeding one can not possibly run much further. Yet the one eyed is surprised for the path goes onwards and on.

After what seems a very long time they do finally stop, the accursed man cubs... they stop in the worst possible place. In a large open grove, bright sunlight shining down on them in agonizing intensity. The one eyed forces a painful gaze through the blinding light upon the prey. A good sign, the large one falls to knees and collapses. The others are filled with stronger fear now seeing the blood, seeing the fall. The one eyed can not take joy in this now the light is too painful for elation.

They argue amongst themselves. They are not moving. Maybe they think they will be safe in the grove. Maybe they know the goblin folk do not like the light. And yet the light will not last forever, if they stay here much longer they will all certainly perish. Once the other goblins come they will not go away until the blood of the man cubs is spilled. They would wait for the youths to leave or else until the sun to set. The one eyed does not wish this, one sacrifice, three others to carry the tale. The three must not stay any longer.

The one eyed takes a breath, it knows what it must do, but it will bring pain and it brings fear for there is great risk. The one eyed is vulnerable in the light. If they attack, the one eyed would be vulnerable in the light half blind. Yet the one eyed doubts they will have the courage to fight. Their will is in tatters their pride and bravado forgotten. The uninjured will all surely flee if the one eyed comes for them. When they do, they will leave the injured one behind. They will not think much on it now, but later in their village, they will feel shame at leaving one behind for the one eyed goblin. They will not be able to deny their fear. The fear that caused them to leave a friend to certain and painful death at the hands of a monster. They will hear screams as they flee, the one eyed will make sure it is not fast or painless. These screams will haunt them. It will be good for the one eyed and for all the goblin folk.

The glare burns it's eye. Tears pour forth. The one eyed forces it's single eye to stay open. It will not inspire fear if it looks blind or stumbles clumsily before them. The one eyed holds the witch blade in a pose intentionally meant to convey a desire to stab... to kill. They know what the witch blade can do. They see the wound even now. The one eyed moves slowly to give them time to see and to react. There is hope it will give them time to flee.

First one turns and then immediately another turns to flee. The third seems to waiver but holds his ground for the moment. The two others dash wordlessly away. They will not stop. The fear is pure and hot in them like fire. The one eyed takes pleasure in the intensity of this even amid the glaring sun. The third is the danger. The hinge upon which all may either succeed of fail. If the third flees then all is well. If the third fights, it might go either way. Victory for the one eyed leaves two to carry the tale. Defeat of the one eyed changes the tale, ruins the tale.

In the dark amid the wood and shadow one to one the youth would stand no chance. Here in the glaring sun armed with a long staff, the one eyed does not know. It can sense the fear that weakens the resolve of the youth that would make the man cub hesitate and perhaps the one eyed would overcome him.

The one eyed advances slowly for the quarry is close now. The one eyed growls and licks his jagged teeth savagely. The one eyed can feel the effect this has on the youth. The human is terrified, it's heart quakes it's hands shiver. And yet rather than give ground it steps forward protecting his fallen comrade. It poises the staff high as if to strike down. The one eyed hisses in anger. The boy has begun to channel the fear into desperation. The fight has been chosen over flight.

The hand is forced, there can be no more waiting. If it rushes now before the youth gains more confidence, the boy may be overcome in hesitation, too slow to react, so the one eyed hopes. Either way it will be a fast and savage encounter, one that could go either way depending on the swing of the staff. The one eyed will not linger or toy with this one.

The one eyed bounds forward screaming in the air hoping to overwhelm the senses of this one, the wicked blade is poised to thrust deep into the heart of this creature. The one eyed bounds slightly left and then slightly right making itself a harder target the other arm is raised to ward blows to the head. The youth's arms begin to move and the tip of the staff blurs into motion.

There is a crash of chaotic sensation light, pain, falling, pressure, weakness... the one eyed falls to the ground stunned. The one eyed knows that the youth could easily kill right now, end it's life. It resigns itself to death and rebirth in that moment expecting another blow like the last, the one eyed helpless on the ground, the skull would be shattered a body would be utterly broken. It waits a moment longer.

The youth does not strike. The one eye realizes it's body has been granted further life. It takes a moment to take new stock in it's situation. It know now that it can not kill this boy, not with it's body broken, it's senses are reeling, there is pain in the head and it's forearm shattered. Also it can not face this one with the fear broken, for the fear is gone. The one eyed thinks about other ways.

Avoiding death would be desirable. Ending the life of this youth would be even more desirable. The fear of the one eyed has been smashed in this one. If it lives to tell it's people how it defeated the horror of the wood the fear will be lessened in all. The one eyed can not kill this one but the others are coming. If the one eye can delay the youth here for a time the others will make sure no tales of victory escape the lips of this youth. That may be more valuable than the blade.

The one eyed hopes to draw the youth after it, show it's weakness, draw back, let the youth sense the weakness and hopefully it will follow thinking to kill the one eyed.

The one eyed pushes itself with it's legs along the ground through the dirt away from the youth... the arm still grips the witch blade and holds the blade ready to defend itself if the youth attacks again. The one eyed hopes it will begin to follow but lack the courage to attack again.

The youth does not follow. It backs away. The one eyed closes it's eyes tightly in frustration. The light of the sun hurts exposed as it is to the bright sky on the open meadow. Tears of pain and anger slide down it's face from it's only eye. It lays limp for a moment as it hears the youth fumbling with the other, lifting it, and then together shuffling away...

The one eyed writhes in anguish and defeat for a moment but as they leave the one eyed rises to it's knees and then feet. It begins to painfully shuffle towards the inviting darkness of the wood and consoles itself with it's victories.

The one eyed still has the witch blade. The one eyed has feasted on the fear of the youths better than it has in many many seasons. The one eye may have let one overcome his fear, but the others will carry fresh tales in their hearts of the wickedness of these woods. Two abandoned their comrades in their fear and they will know that for all their lives. And one has felt the pain of the witch blade firsthand. He will know that he came within a hearts breath of death and he will involuntarily pass this fear onto his descendants.

This is not the first time a goblin has failed to make it's kill. It is not the first time a goblin lay defeated by a child of man, but never has the fear of this wild place ever died entirely. If tales of one's victory here come to the ears of others then it will only tempt more youths here into the forest. The one eyed will be ready again by then.

The one eyed has changed it's heart. This experience has been good, successful despite the pain. It can not help but admire the courage of it's adversary, the one that stood. It is good to have an adversary one can respect. The one eyed often thinks of mortals as weak and cowardly. They do not come back to walk the earth again after death. Death for them is true. Still this one gambled it's life, the one eyed wonders why this one would do so. Could it tell that the one eyed was vulnerable in the sun? Was it fighting for a purpose greater than it's own survival?

The one eyed now is in the merciful shade, it falls to it's knees to begin the slow process of rebuilding it's broken body.

After a short time of silence it hears the approach of the others. They come gathered in a large group, too insecure in their own abilities to range ahead alone. The one eyed feels some contempt for these ones right now. They want to know where the man children have gone, blind and confused as they are, they do not know, can not feel them with precision.

They ask the one eyed for direction... unknown to them their quarry have just left, moving slowly. They could easily be overtaken, and butchered. The one eyed had wished that the two last to leave not escape the wood. Yet now, not knowing why, the one eyed directs them astray. Towards the river

The one eyed wonders, as the others dart quickly away, why it chose to mislead them, but it can not be easily explained. Perhaps the one eyed wishes to be the one to face the strong willed one again. These mortals when they die do not return, their deaths are final. If the one eyed let them be caught they would never return again. The one eyed wishes for this one to live at least a little longer. A worthy adversary for the future perhaps.

The mortal could have struck the body of the one eyed dead. It wonders why he did not kill the one eyed, what stayed it's hand, not fear... but what?

Very interspective for fantastic fiction, I must say it took me half the story to understand the styal of your writeing.

Not easy to comprehend, but much deeper and rewarding experience once i understood the flow.

Very cool Peter

My four-eyes like what they read!

thanks for the feedback guys. Thaqt inclused thos who have replied privately as well. I've had a lot of positive feedback AND some interesting suggestions.... :-)

ok, so i guess I'm done the one about Conall's first battle! Again!

After some people suggested that it wasn't infact finished I added the battle scene on. It's not exactly what I wanted to write but it was a little funner than what i had intended (which had been a little less actiony and even more serious, but I still think it's decent AND probably more entertaining.

I'll email it diectly to those who've PMed me that they thought the story should be continued, (at least those i remmebr liek Xathor and Gibault) and I'll PM anyone else that asks for it and dude too because I edited a scene a littel for his benifit! :-)

Anyway if I havn't emailed you and you'd liek to see it please PM me and I'll send it!

Peter