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Literature Text
The embers of the fire were being agitated into flame as we found the circle of trees that enclosed the storyteller’s quarters. Eight people were settled obtusely along the grounds as he freely threw logs onto the pit of growing flames. Nubae’s eyes glowed brightly from the reflections of the fire, and we were greeted with a comfortable silence.
Everyone looked asleep judging by their postures and lack of movement, but the air of the group was alive with anticipation, along with the breathing that came in periods similar to laughter, from the thoughtful processes of their minds.
The crickets stopped chirping when he started to speak.
“This one’s name is not important, but please retain the story that I am about to tell you.” We planned to. And apparently everyone else that had woken up. “That’s what the storyteller would have said at least. I’m actually a sub. The next town over had an emergency necessity of a story, so he left me to fill in.” We sighed. “But I’m actually not too bad. I mean, I travel with him all the time, and drink the same water as him.”
Nubae was just as excited as before. I don’t think he had come to the realization that this wasn’t the guy we came to see. It’s still entertainment though, and it’s fun being under the trees and stars by a fire. Everyone seemed just as disappointed as me though. None left.
The traveler took out his wooden flute and rested it against his leg. “One time I left my shoe under a tree after telling substituting the regular storyteller. I usually go barefoot, and I had just gotten the shoes, so I didn’t realize anything was different about rocks and dirt making their way into my flesh.” The man paused to breathe in slowly through his nose, and play a few notes on his wooden flute. “A month later we came back to the same town, by the same tree and patch of grass. I didn’t notice that it was the same place, but I saw a particularly nice flower growing from a particularly dark patch of grass. So I plucked it, and used it as a bookmark.” He stopped again to breathe and play a finale on his two-measure composition.
That was it. Nubae smiled and gave a soft applause. The others started to leave.
“Keep going,” I yelled. Apparently I was angry about something.
He smiled. “That was it.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Then finish it for me.”
“I’d rather not.” I swallowed my saliva. “You didn’t notice it was the same place, but by telling us your story, you would have had to know. And why did you come back after a month? Troubadours’ don’t make rounds that short. And that isn’t the way to end a story.”
The clouds bled. “I lied.”
“Then say so already.” My knees were shaking, and the sounds of the crickets that started to chirp again were burning holes into my skull big enough to crawl through.
Nubae touched my arm, and I fell to my knees, landing on a few sharp pebbles that dug through my skirt to my skin. “It’s just a story, Sophia.” He gave me his hand to help me up. I didn’t want it.
I really don’t like it these pompous vagabonds. They think that they can say and do whatever they like because they think that it’s entertaining to watch them prance around in their imaginary purple robes. They think that whatever they do is a gift from God, and must be accepted graciously like a slap in the face from a teacher to pupil. This storyteller put absolutely no thought into his story, pulled a few measures of notes out of his head, and deems it worthy for applause. If my soul was another color, I would push him into the fire.
Nubae helped me up and brushed the pebbles off of my skirt gently. I could feel a wave of heat cross my face under my cheeks and along my jaw to my ears. I didn’t understand why I was so driven to fury. I felt like the world was falling down in pieces of red and black, and fire pit was trying to eat my animalistic soul.
That man poured mud over the barely living fire, and Nubae pulled my hand a little towards the path, and I followed it. We walked in a terrible silence for at least five minutes before either of us made a sound.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I slipped on a leaf on the walkway to my house. Nubae goes home the opposite way, so he wasn’t there to catch me. I wish he had been. It hurt a lot.
Everyone looked asleep judging by their postures and lack of movement, but the air of the group was alive with anticipation, along with the breathing that came in periods similar to laughter, from the thoughtful processes of their minds.
The crickets stopped chirping when he started to speak.
“This one’s name is not important, but please retain the story that I am about to tell you.” We planned to. And apparently everyone else that had woken up. “That’s what the storyteller would have said at least. I’m actually a sub. The next town over had an emergency necessity of a story, so he left me to fill in.” We sighed. “But I’m actually not too bad. I mean, I travel with him all the time, and drink the same water as him.”
Nubae was just as excited as before. I don’t think he had come to the realization that this wasn’t the guy we came to see. It’s still entertainment though, and it’s fun being under the trees and stars by a fire. Everyone seemed just as disappointed as me though. None left.
The traveler took out his wooden flute and rested it against his leg. “One time I left my shoe under a tree after telling substituting the regular storyteller. I usually go barefoot, and I had just gotten the shoes, so I didn’t realize anything was different about rocks and dirt making their way into my flesh.” The man paused to breathe in slowly through his nose, and play a few notes on his wooden flute. “A month later we came back to the same town, by the same tree and patch of grass. I didn’t notice that it was the same place, but I saw a particularly nice flower growing from a particularly dark patch of grass. So I plucked it, and used it as a bookmark.” He stopped again to breathe and play a finale on his two-measure composition.
That was it. Nubae smiled and gave a soft applause. The others started to leave.
“Keep going,” I yelled. Apparently I was angry about something.
He smiled. “That was it.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Then finish it for me.”
“I’d rather not.” I swallowed my saliva. “You didn’t notice it was the same place, but by telling us your story, you would have had to know. And why did you come back after a month? Troubadours’ don’t make rounds that short. And that isn’t the way to end a story.”
The clouds bled. “I lied.”
“Then say so already.” My knees were shaking, and the sounds of the crickets that started to chirp again were burning holes into my skull big enough to crawl through.
Nubae touched my arm, and I fell to my knees, landing on a few sharp pebbles that dug through my skirt to my skin. “It’s just a story, Sophia.” He gave me his hand to help me up. I didn’t want it.
I really don’t like it these pompous vagabonds. They think that they can say and do whatever they like because they think that it’s entertaining to watch them prance around in their imaginary purple robes. They think that whatever they do is a gift from God, and must be accepted graciously like a slap in the face from a teacher to pupil. This storyteller put absolutely no thought into his story, pulled a few measures of notes out of his head, and deems it worthy for applause. If my soul was another color, I would push him into the fire.
Nubae helped me up and brushed the pebbles off of my skirt gently. I could feel a wave of heat cross my face under my cheeks and along my jaw to my ears. I didn’t understand why I was so driven to fury. I felt like the world was falling down in pieces of red and black, and fire pit was trying to eat my animalistic soul.
That man poured mud over the barely living fire, and Nubae pulled my hand a little towards the path, and I followed it. We walked in a terrible silence for at least five minutes before either of us made a sound.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I slipped on a leaf on the walkway to my house. Nubae goes home the opposite way, so he wasn’t there to catch me. I wish he had been. It hurt a lot.
Another chapter. I hope you're all liking what I've done so far. I really like this story, I'm I'm very happy with it so far.
I think this is the first chapter that's had a specific purpose though. ^ ^;; I finally found a plot planned out in my head, so hopefully that will start to emerge soon.
Enjoy!
Ch. 2<---->Ch. 4
I think this is the first chapter that's had a specific purpose though. ^ ^;; I finally found a plot planned out in my head, so hopefully that will start to emerge soon.
Enjoy!
Ch. 2<---->Ch. 4
© 2007 - 2024 Giver
Comments9
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Yay! Another chapter!
This one builds up excitement and then trashes it. Very good.
"Nubae’s eyes glowed brightly from the reflections of the fire, and we were greeted with a comfortable silence"
This part caught me first. If this story wasn't from a first person perspective, then Nubae's eyes glowing brightly wouldn't have been as suggestive. As it is, we know from this that Sophia was paying attention to them. It works ten times better than simply saying 'I looked into his eyes' or something. Also, it isn't Nubae's eyes that are the source of the light, it's the fire. However, the sentence is set out so that Nubae's eyes glow brightly from the reflections of the fire. This makes it seem as if the fire is the secondary focus here. Which it is. I like that part.
The comfortable silence is something that most people have encountered before as well. There's a definite difference between that and an awkward silence, although we can't always tell why. A good way of describing the atmosphere. Also, it's beginning the build up of excitement.
"Everyone looked asleep judging by their postures and lack of movement, but the air of the group was alive with anticipation, along with the breathing that came in periods similar to laughter, from the thoughtful processes of their minds."
The sleep and lack of movement in this paragraph contrast well with the "alive with anticipation" bit. This is really extending the idea of unspoken understanding. The feeling of the atmosphere. Sophia imagines the rushing excitement inside their heads, and it heightens her excitement.
"The crickets stopped chirping when he started to speak."
I suppose this is Sophia's imagination to a certain extent, but it continues to build up the excitement of the group. Also, saying they stopped without saying they started is a good description of the feeling of not noticing the background noise until it's gone. Perhaps not appreciating it fully until you no longer have it (maybe like the original storyteller). Crickets chirping is a kind of excited sound, and I bet before they stopped, it was serving to increase Sophia's excitement, and introduce the thoughts of people's thought processes etc.
"“But I’m actually not too bad. I mean, I travel with him all the time, and drink the same water as him.”"
Here's another good bit. The substitute storyteller apparently thinks that being a good storyteller has something to do with who you are, the type of people you hang out with and what type water of you drink. This fits in perfectly with Sophia's idea that they expect anyone to listen to anything they say just because of who or what they are. It gets you ready for the type of person he will turn out to be.
His story turns out to be pretty pathetic, and Sophia doesn't bother to go into much detail about the tune he was playing, either. She's not impressed. Here again, we see an instance of Sophia challenging something that other people accept or leave alone. Nubae's character is different. He will accept things as they are as long as there's not too much fuss made. Although I suspect here it may have been more about not spoiling it for Sophia.
"“Keep going,” I yelled. Apparently I was angry about something."
I like the bit about not really being sure where the anger comes from. It feels very natural. Often a few things can combine to make a very trivial thing much more annoying that it might have been. In this case, it's also something she was looking forward to, although I don't remember her thinking too much about the storyteller beforehand.
"The clouds bled. “I lied.”"
Actually, the first time I read this, I read it as:
The clouds bled. I lied about them not bleeding.
The title is a lie from this line, so the "I lied" bit has a sort of double meaning.
The next couple of paragraphs were really fun to read. There is a wealth of metaphors in this chapter, but it is also more fast paced and to the point. I think the whole thing illustrates Sophia's mood perfectly.
"That man poured mud over the barely living fire, and Nubae pulled my hand a little towards the path, and I followed it. We walked in a terrible silence for at least five minutes before either of us made a sound."
</fire>
</silence>
The fire being put out has a sort of finality. The night is ruined and there's nothing left but to go home. The idea of the terrible silence is enhanced by the fact that the two of them are usually comfortable talking together. It's another HTML tag as well. I suppose it encloses the whole night with it's ups and downs. It also encloses the whole time they are there, and as soon as it is closed off they are walking home. Something like that.
"“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”"
I like how we easily know who's talking here, even though there's no indication of who has said what, initially. Also, leaving the speech on it's own like that kind of surrounds it in silence. The words seem more bare, and flat. Not quite sure how to put it.
"I slipped on a leaf on the walkway to my house. Nubae goes home the opposite way, so he wasn’t there to catch me. I wish he had been. It hurt a lot."
A nasty end to the evening. I like how Nubae is fitting more into that figure. Someone to catch her.
Interesting development. I really feel like we've been launched into a story here, so from here on it looks like it may become a lot more eventful.
Nice one! Keep it up!
This one builds up excitement and then trashes it. Very good.
"Nubae’s eyes glowed brightly from the reflections of the fire, and we were greeted with a comfortable silence"
This part caught me first. If this story wasn't from a first person perspective, then Nubae's eyes glowing brightly wouldn't have been as suggestive. As it is, we know from this that Sophia was paying attention to them. It works ten times better than simply saying 'I looked into his eyes' or something. Also, it isn't Nubae's eyes that are the source of the light, it's the fire. However, the sentence is set out so that Nubae's eyes glow brightly from the reflections of the fire. This makes it seem as if the fire is the secondary focus here. Which it is. I like that part.
The comfortable silence is something that most people have encountered before as well. There's a definite difference between that and an awkward silence, although we can't always tell why. A good way of describing the atmosphere. Also, it's beginning the build up of excitement.
"Everyone looked asleep judging by their postures and lack of movement, but the air of the group was alive with anticipation, along with the breathing that came in periods similar to laughter, from the thoughtful processes of their minds."
The sleep and lack of movement in this paragraph contrast well with the "alive with anticipation" bit. This is really extending the idea of unspoken understanding. The feeling of the atmosphere. Sophia imagines the rushing excitement inside their heads, and it heightens her excitement.
"The crickets stopped chirping when he started to speak."
I suppose this is Sophia's imagination to a certain extent, but it continues to build up the excitement of the group. Also, saying they stopped without saying they started is a good description of the feeling of not noticing the background noise until it's gone. Perhaps not appreciating it fully until you no longer have it (maybe like the original storyteller). Crickets chirping is a kind of excited sound, and I bet before they stopped, it was serving to increase Sophia's excitement, and introduce the thoughts of people's thought processes etc.
"“But I’m actually not too bad. I mean, I travel with him all the time, and drink the same water as him.”"
Here's another good bit. The substitute storyteller apparently thinks that being a good storyteller has something to do with who you are, the type of people you hang out with and what type water of you drink. This fits in perfectly with Sophia's idea that they expect anyone to listen to anything they say just because of who or what they are. It gets you ready for the type of person he will turn out to be.
His story turns out to be pretty pathetic, and Sophia doesn't bother to go into much detail about the tune he was playing, either. She's not impressed. Here again, we see an instance of Sophia challenging something that other people accept or leave alone. Nubae's character is different. He will accept things as they are as long as there's not too much fuss made. Although I suspect here it may have been more about not spoiling it for Sophia.
"“Keep going,” I yelled. Apparently I was angry about something."
I like the bit about not really being sure where the anger comes from. It feels very natural. Often a few things can combine to make a very trivial thing much more annoying that it might have been. In this case, it's also something she was looking forward to, although I don't remember her thinking too much about the storyteller beforehand.
"The clouds bled. “I lied.”"
Actually, the first time I read this, I read it as:
The clouds bled. I lied about them not bleeding.
The title is a lie from this line, so the "I lied" bit has a sort of double meaning.
The next couple of paragraphs were really fun to read. There is a wealth of metaphors in this chapter, but it is also more fast paced and to the point. I think the whole thing illustrates Sophia's mood perfectly.
"That man poured mud over the barely living fire, and Nubae pulled my hand a little towards the path, and I followed it. We walked in a terrible silence for at least five minutes before either of us made a sound."
</fire>
</silence>
The fire being put out has a sort of finality. The night is ruined and there's nothing left but to go home. The idea of the terrible silence is enhanced by the fact that the two of them are usually comfortable talking together. It's another HTML tag as well. I suppose it encloses the whole night with it's ups and downs. It also encloses the whole time they are there, and as soon as it is closed off they are walking home. Something like that.
"“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”"
I like how we easily know who's talking here, even though there's no indication of who has said what, initially. Also, leaving the speech on it's own like that kind of surrounds it in silence. The words seem more bare, and flat. Not quite sure how to put it.
"I slipped on a leaf on the walkway to my house. Nubae goes home the opposite way, so he wasn’t there to catch me. I wish he had been. It hurt a lot."
A nasty end to the evening. I like how Nubae is fitting more into that figure. Someone to catch her.
Interesting development. I really feel like we've been launched into a story here, so from here on it looks like it may become a lot more eventful.
Nice one! Keep it up!