Post by Neon on Jul 15, 2009 16:38:56 GMT -5
... Isn't always the easiest thing to do.
(Okay. After some self-debate, I have convinced myself to go ahead and post another story here. It's quite different from my other story, though. I don't know how often I'll update it. Guess I'll see how it goes over, eh?
The characters in this story came to my head before the actual story did ... that happens a lot. I wanted to try a few different literary elements and styles, and the ultimate result is this story. I hope the response will be as positive as it has been for Angelwing Nine. Please enjoy.)
~~~~~
Chapter One
“Bowman, get up! Sleepy-head-boy, it's morning!” came the shrill voice I know well, pulling me out of my dreams quite abruptly.
“Mmmnh?” I groaned, my eyes still mostly shut. “Go ‘way. ‘M sleeping,” I mumbled before promptly turning over and pulling my thin blanket over my head.
“Bowmaaaaan!” she whined, insistently shaking my shoulder. “My mommy says breakfast is ready, though.”
I paused, trying to decide if I wanted to eat or pretend I’d fallen back asleep. I was really tired. But I was also hungry. “Fine, whatever,” I finally mumbled, turning my head to look at her out of the corner of my eyes.
My young cousin smiled at that. “Okay, Sleepy-head-boy! I’ll tell mommy you’re on the way!” she chirped (a bit too cheerful for the morning, I might add) and then turned on her heels. She was out of the room before I’d even sat up in bed. I stood from my mattress that was fashioned of leaf-vein and cloth and stuffed with cotton from one of the nearby cottonwood trees. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I glanced about the smooth tree-bark floor of the small room.
Spotting what I was looking for, I knelt to pick it up. Stifling a yawn, I pulled the leaf-green shirt over my head. I flexed my bottle green, bat-like wings after they were free of the fabric. Then I pulled on the long brown pants that had accompanied the shirt on the floor, covering my nighttime attire of breezy shorts effectively. I brushed some dust from the knees of the pants. After that I figured I was quite presentable. It's not like I'm a prince or anything like that anyway.
On my way out the door, I paused at my reflection, seen in a still bowl of water resting on a side table right next to the door. There was a small glare from a ray of sunlight peeking through the leaves I used to shade the window over the bed. But my face also peered back at me despite the glare. My incredibly bright green eyes were contrasted by my incredibly dark green hair, which was cut short, above my ears. Apparently I was descended rather distantly from a water sprite; I didn’t see it. My reflection told me I was earth sprite, through and through.
With a sigh, I ran a hand back through my wild locks of hair, hoping to tame them. They sprang back to where they’d been, as if nothing had happened. I chuckled and my reflection smirked with me, a smile accenting the narrow face and slanted jaw.
Knowing that I’d get a comment (or twenty?) about my unkempt hair, I left my room anyway. To my left was the end of the hallway, and an unshaded window with a view outside. Ignoring this, I turned right to trudge down the hall, past the other two doors. At the other end of the hall were two things: a door to the outside on the right and an archway on the left. I stepped through the archway into the kitchen/dining room.
I live with my mom’s sister’s family. Mother died shortly after my birth. My father took care of me until I was ten, and then eight years ago decided it was best that I live someplace else. I couldn’t really complain, he was depressed and most of the time as a kid I felt guilty.
Candara, my aunt, was just setting breakfast on the table as I walked in. Larxe, her mate, sat at the head of the table at the far end of the room from the door. Their six-year-old daughter, Rischa, sat at his left, waiting patiently. Candara was to sit at his right, and I usually sat across from him.
“Morning, Bowman,” Candara said with a smile as she sat down.
“Morning, aunt,” I replied as I joined them at the table. Candara was the only other person I knew anymore who had the same eye color that I did. Both Larxe and Rischa had light brownish-gold eyes. All of us had the characteristic leathery green wings on our backs, though.
Someone told me once that we (sprites, I mean) were related to dragons. He based his theory solely on our wings, which are quite dragon-like, to be truthful. But, this person also plans an expedition to the bottom of a lake in the sky somewhere (I know, weird). Once I was old enough to realize that wasn’t real, I stopped believing his crackpot theory. Everyone knows dragons are myths.
Rischa piped in her clear voice, “Bowman almost didn’t get up for breakfast this morning, mommy!” I rolled my eyes at the blatant tattle-tale. Still, I mostly ignored her as I took my own helping of the strawberry pudding Candara had made.
“Up late again, dear?” Candara asked. “And your hair’s a mess,” she added, eyeing my hair, which, indeed, was sticking up at odd angles.
Larxe chuckled, the sound resonating deep in his broad chest. “Out flying with the Perion brothers again, were you?” he asked.
I shrugged and smiled faintly. “There were a few more with us this time.”
Rischa suddenly asked, “Where do you go when you go flying, Bowman?”
I smiled again, though this time it had a distinct teasing air to it. “Oh, all over the place. We’ve gone miles and miles away from the village.” Her eyes grew wide at that.
Candara clucked her tongue. “And one of these days they’re going to wind up eaten by a wolf.”
“Wolves can’t fly, aunt,” I countered confidently.
“That’s the spirit,” Larxe commented. “I used to outsmart the brutes all the time.”
Candara rolled her eyes. “Until you realized there were better things to do with your time, right dear?”
“Of course, love; though I do miss the chase ...” Larxe finished thoughtfully. He grinned when Candara gave him the evil eye, though.
“I think it’d be too scary,” Rischa interjected haughtily, as if that was that.
I smirked at that. “Well, you’re just a nestling, cousin. Just wait until your wings get a bit stronger.” At that, she eyed her left wing, fluttering it lightly. Hers were only at a wingspan just less than her own height. Mine and the adults’ wings, when spread, would reach a span of a little more than twice our own heights—the healthy wingspan for the average fully developed sprite (Not to brag, but my wings are a bit bigger than average).
Candara turned her evil eye on me, then. “She’ll not go out flying without direction when she’s older. Rischa’s going to be a sensible young lady, aren’t you dear?” She turned her head to her daughter and at the same time softened her expression. Rischa nodded cheerfully, smiling smugly.
“Hey, I’m sensible,” I defended. “I almost never land on the ground outside the village. And that’s really the only rule you need to know to survive out there.”
Larxe laughed. “Well, not the only rule, but you seem to have good control, boy.” I grinned at him. Candara sighed and shook her head. I think I may have heard her mutter something about “men!”, but maybe it was my imagination.
~~~~~
(c) Neon
I don't write a lot in first person. I need to practice.
Bowman is a sprite, not to be confused with a fairy/fae/what-have-you. I also hope no one is thinking something along the lines of "No, sprites are supposed to be this way ..." (Yes, someone has essentially told me before that a MYTHICAL creature had to be the same in any fiction-verse. It's not true, I say!)
I can't think of much more commentary on this first chapter, other than it's a beginning ... not too special, really. The first encounter with humans will appear in ... chapter five.
(Pronunciations:
Candara- KAND-rah
Larxe- LAR-za
Rischa- RISH-ka)
(Okay. After some self-debate, I have convinced myself to go ahead and post another story here. It's quite different from my other story, though. I don't know how often I'll update it. Guess I'll see how it goes over, eh?
The characters in this story came to my head before the actual story did ... that happens a lot. I wanted to try a few different literary elements and styles, and the ultimate result is this story. I hope the response will be as positive as it has been for Angelwing Nine. Please enjoy.)
~~~~~
Chapter One
“Bowman, get up! Sleepy-head-boy, it's morning!” came the shrill voice I know well, pulling me out of my dreams quite abruptly.
“Mmmnh?” I groaned, my eyes still mostly shut. “Go ‘way. ‘M sleeping,” I mumbled before promptly turning over and pulling my thin blanket over my head.
“Bowmaaaaan!” she whined, insistently shaking my shoulder. “My mommy says breakfast is ready, though.”
I paused, trying to decide if I wanted to eat or pretend I’d fallen back asleep. I was really tired. But I was also hungry. “Fine, whatever,” I finally mumbled, turning my head to look at her out of the corner of my eyes.
My young cousin smiled at that. “Okay, Sleepy-head-boy! I’ll tell mommy you’re on the way!” she chirped (a bit too cheerful for the morning, I might add) and then turned on her heels. She was out of the room before I’d even sat up in bed. I stood from my mattress that was fashioned of leaf-vein and cloth and stuffed with cotton from one of the nearby cottonwood trees. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I glanced about the smooth tree-bark floor of the small room.
Spotting what I was looking for, I knelt to pick it up. Stifling a yawn, I pulled the leaf-green shirt over my head. I flexed my bottle green, bat-like wings after they were free of the fabric. Then I pulled on the long brown pants that had accompanied the shirt on the floor, covering my nighttime attire of breezy shorts effectively. I brushed some dust from the knees of the pants. After that I figured I was quite presentable. It's not like I'm a prince or anything like that anyway.
On my way out the door, I paused at my reflection, seen in a still bowl of water resting on a side table right next to the door. There was a small glare from a ray of sunlight peeking through the leaves I used to shade the window over the bed. But my face also peered back at me despite the glare. My incredibly bright green eyes were contrasted by my incredibly dark green hair, which was cut short, above my ears. Apparently I was descended rather distantly from a water sprite; I didn’t see it. My reflection told me I was earth sprite, through and through.
With a sigh, I ran a hand back through my wild locks of hair, hoping to tame them. They sprang back to where they’d been, as if nothing had happened. I chuckled and my reflection smirked with me, a smile accenting the narrow face and slanted jaw.
Knowing that I’d get a comment (or twenty?) about my unkempt hair, I left my room anyway. To my left was the end of the hallway, and an unshaded window with a view outside. Ignoring this, I turned right to trudge down the hall, past the other two doors. At the other end of the hall were two things: a door to the outside on the right and an archway on the left. I stepped through the archway into the kitchen/dining room.
I live with my mom’s sister’s family. Mother died shortly after my birth. My father took care of me until I was ten, and then eight years ago decided it was best that I live someplace else. I couldn’t really complain, he was depressed and most of the time as a kid I felt guilty.
Candara, my aunt, was just setting breakfast on the table as I walked in. Larxe, her mate, sat at the head of the table at the far end of the room from the door. Their six-year-old daughter, Rischa, sat at his left, waiting patiently. Candara was to sit at his right, and I usually sat across from him.
“Morning, Bowman,” Candara said with a smile as she sat down.
“Morning, aunt,” I replied as I joined them at the table. Candara was the only other person I knew anymore who had the same eye color that I did. Both Larxe and Rischa had light brownish-gold eyes. All of us had the characteristic leathery green wings on our backs, though.
Someone told me once that we (sprites, I mean) were related to dragons. He based his theory solely on our wings, which are quite dragon-like, to be truthful. But, this person also plans an expedition to the bottom of a lake in the sky somewhere (I know, weird). Once I was old enough to realize that wasn’t real, I stopped believing his crackpot theory. Everyone knows dragons are myths.
Rischa piped in her clear voice, “Bowman almost didn’t get up for breakfast this morning, mommy!” I rolled my eyes at the blatant tattle-tale. Still, I mostly ignored her as I took my own helping of the strawberry pudding Candara had made.
“Up late again, dear?” Candara asked. “And your hair’s a mess,” she added, eyeing my hair, which, indeed, was sticking up at odd angles.
Larxe chuckled, the sound resonating deep in his broad chest. “Out flying with the Perion brothers again, were you?” he asked.
I shrugged and smiled faintly. “There were a few more with us this time.”
Rischa suddenly asked, “Where do you go when you go flying, Bowman?”
I smiled again, though this time it had a distinct teasing air to it. “Oh, all over the place. We’ve gone miles and miles away from the village.” Her eyes grew wide at that.
Candara clucked her tongue. “And one of these days they’re going to wind up eaten by a wolf.”
“Wolves can’t fly, aunt,” I countered confidently.
“That’s the spirit,” Larxe commented. “I used to outsmart the brutes all the time.”
Candara rolled her eyes. “Until you realized there were better things to do with your time, right dear?”
“Of course, love; though I do miss the chase ...” Larxe finished thoughtfully. He grinned when Candara gave him the evil eye, though.
“I think it’d be too scary,” Rischa interjected haughtily, as if that was that.
I smirked at that. “Well, you’re just a nestling, cousin. Just wait until your wings get a bit stronger.” At that, she eyed her left wing, fluttering it lightly. Hers were only at a wingspan just less than her own height. Mine and the adults’ wings, when spread, would reach a span of a little more than twice our own heights—the healthy wingspan for the average fully developed sprite (Not to brag, but my wings are a bit bigger than average).
Candara turned her evil eye on me, then. “She’ll not go out flying without direction when she’s older. Rischa’s going to be a sensible young lady, aren’t you dear?” She turned her head to her daughter and at the same time softened her expression. Rischa nodded cheerfully, smiling smugly.
“Hey, I’m sensible,” I defended. “I almost never land on the ground outside the village. And that’s really the only rule you need to know to survive out there.”
Larxe laughed. “Well, not the only rule, but you seem to have good control, boy.” I grinned at him. Candara sighed and shook her head. I think I may have heard her mutter something about “men!”, but maybe it was my imagination.
~~~~~
(c) Neon
I don't write a lot in first person. I need to practice.
Bowman is a sprite, not to be confused with a fairy/fae/what-have-you. I also hope no one is thinking something along the lines of "No, sprites are supposed to be this way ..." (Yes, someone has essentially told me before that a MYTHICAL creature had to be the same in any fiction-verse. It's not true, I say!)
I can't think of much more commentary on this first chapter, other than it's a beginning ... not too special, really. The first encounter with humans will appear in ... chapter five.
(Pronunciations:
Candara- KAND-rah
Larxe- LAR-za
Rischa- RISH-ka)