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June 24th, 2007, 12:55 AM
So the last story I tried to write with casual mind bloated itself out of proportions again (I'm at 14000 words with no way out), and I'm now trying a lighter story that won't require too much thinking from me (and you, har-har).
Just from writing the portion below I get the feeling this is one story I can finish. I really hope I'm write (right?).

Alright, enough ranting. Hope you enjoy!

Ah, the clear, spotless autumn sky. It looks as bored as I am. The sun is at its height, and everything beneath it seems still, like a picture painted by the nature itself. Everything has that pictorial quality here, in this remote countryside of Lassanor. Another peaceful, uneventful day. Oh, I just can’t bear it anymore.
Knock, knock, there comes my lunch. Like clockwork, always. “Young master, it is Melissa. Your lunch…” I groan, and Mellissa the maid enters the room with a plate. Cold cut chicken with raisin bread… a leftover lunch.
Melissa avoids looking at me directly as she sets down the plate and cutlery. It’s understandable, and I do not chastise her. She is scared of me because I attacked her couple of weeks ago. Knocked her out with the hilt of my blade, actually. I still feel a little sorry about it, but it’s her luck. At least I tried all non-violent methods I could think of beforehand, you know. When one’s charms and gold coins are defeated against loyal servitude, one’s got no choice but the use of force. And, honestly, it’s my father’s tyrannical behavior that ultimately forced my hand toward violence. Think about it. If your father locked you in a remote, countryside tower just to bend your will and have you follow the life path he ‘prearranged’ even before your conception, how would you feel? Yeah. You see now, poor Melissa—oh, Yesh’la bless her innocent heart—was an obstacle, albeit non-witting, in my pathway to freedom. After three months of imprisonment (and sheer boredom), I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way, not even a pretty young girl. I had to escape.
Of course, I’m still here, thanks to that damn magic seal on the tower’s main door. How the hell could I have known? It was the first time I ever got out of my quarters since father threw me in here and left. And those traps that sprung when I tried to force the door… Oh, I think I now understand that patricidal bunch in the books. Fathers beware: excessive fatherly love expressed in autocratic fashion will result in a terrible tragedy.
Anyways, that’s how it was. I’m still locked up here, now with a ball of iron trailing my steps, and the only other human being in this godforsaken tower mortally afraid of me. It’s a sticky situation, and I just don’t see a way out. If I bend my will to father’s, I give up my dream and hence my future. Yet if I remain resolute in my decision, I will either rot here or go insane… Bah, maybe I should just throw myself out the window and call it a life?
“Young master…” Melissa timidly calls out my name, drawing me out of my morose contemplation. “I have a letter from Lord Nashtor.” I take a rolled up piece of paper from her. A rose with half-closed eyes upon its manifold leaves, watching a carefree bluebird impaled by its thorn. The crest of my house; my father’s seal. I break it and unroll the paper. On it, my father’s handwriting brutally states his business, as ever. Oh father, father, father…
“Young master?” Melissa looks at me with a mixture of fear and concern. I know. I’m seething, grinding my teeth. My face must be burgundy red—that's in our blood. I toss the letter to her, trying to control my anger.
“Father’s on his way to see me. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
And Yesh’la save me, he’s got a marriage proposal with him.

James Carmack
June 24th, 2007, 09:20 AM
14K and Yahn's story's got you all Chicken Little? Add another zero and I'd understand you fretting about no end in sight. Well, whatever...

This new one seems promising, but so have your previous works. It's all a matter of whether you can follow through or not.

Poor Melissa... It's not easy being born with a bullseye on your forehead.

I ain't got a lot this time, but here are the quibbles...

Rather than "cold cut chicken", don't you mean "chicken cold cuts"?

"unwitting", not "not-witting"

When not preceded by a possessive, you capitalize "father". Same for dang near all other forms of familial address.

June 29th, 2007, 11:18 PM
Thanks James. I've actually written a whole lot more than 14000 words, but that's just how much I've ended up with series of rewriting. I actually have even less now, unfortunately. Such a pain to write, but I just can't quite give up. So Sword and Lyre is pretty much just a break.

Anyhow, I've decided to restrain from posting until I've "followed through." I'll come back when I have. ;)

Have a nice one!

James Carmack
July 1st, 2007, 06:03 AM
You gotta do what you gotta do, Elphy. I reckon I'll still be here when you're ready to put your baby back on the block. Until then...