This is one of the ones I was writing with someone else.
I also have a blog that has this story on it.
I really liked this and I had notes for a war scene later on near the end of the story.
This wasn't the start of the world of Tambulai that has consumed a lot of my recent writing, but the story that was still has hope for itself being written as I got the idea in a VERY vivid dream and will not let that dream pass me by.
I just included Tambulai into this.
Anyhow, I wish we'd taken this further but the emails had to be stopped unfortunetly.
http://www.therubyrebellion.blogspot.com/
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Siren
Chi
It’s dark.
It’s cold.
It’s lonely.
They died a while ago. My family died a while ago. And now the hut is empty and I am alone. The owls screech outside and it echoes through my ears like a cymbal. The tinny tone like a death call to me who is separated from the rest. I’m not sure. But I can hear it. But is it really what I truly think? That little voice that spins and dances around the back of my mind, calling to me and enticing me.
I wish it did summon my death…
I don’t know if it’s true. But this is barely a life anyway. The cold, grey stones of my hut grind against each other as the wind whips at them and the hay that acts as my roof rattles and is pulled viciously off in the harsh weather. It blows through the slit that are my windows and the huge cavernous hole that is my door, catching my long crimson hair and throwing it around my pale body, just a temporary form to keep me warmer in the cold night. There is no food in the cupboards and a lack of water in the metal bucket. The floor is muddy and wet and my feet are frozen. My stomach growls viciously and I whine lightly to myself.
This is not living. This is just surviving.
Adelaide
I slump on the elaborately carved throne.
I glance at Emeline. She’s trying to catch the eyes of the new lord. He smiles at her slyly, seductively. Emeline squirms in her seat and fiddles with her pendant. I frown. How could she? We were supposed to be poised and innocent young women, and there she was, courting!
Father Stands.
“Rise my subjects!” He calls. His voice echoes around the room like a great drum’s beat. I stand and ignore the stares of the young knights.
“Would Arthur Edward Brinwood please stand before me?” He commands.
The little courter walks up, proud as a lion, to my father. Father grasps his sword and touches the knights shoulder lightly. The room erupts into cascades of applause
“Congratulations, courageous one!” My father smiles approvingly. It suddenly all becomes to much. I whisper in the ear of Mariana, my servant, and grab my violet cloak from her. I wrap it round my shoulders and sprint out of the hall, into the night. I look up at the sky, with it’s velvety darkness. The only place I can be free. I run as though I will never stop.
Chi
My hut is located near the edge of the clan walls. The border that protects the clan village from the shadows of the forest. I can hear them growling and turning in their unsettling slumber. It rings in my ear drums and causes me to whine like a pup. If the shadows were to escape and devour the village, then we who act as the border would be the first to be destroyed. And no one would remember us. We are scum. Just filth under the foot of the ‘Might Monarch.’
