Tsuyu
is wearing Queen's lace panties.
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2006
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The Orphan's Gemstone.
This is pretty much a rough cut of my story, sort of an introduction to the main character and trying to create the general feel of the different social aspects of Bowerstone. I will write alot more, and I will probably change alot in this introduction... but anyway, here we go! As I suck as a writer (ask my Swedish teacher..) any feedback is most welcome.
She has never had a name. Nor has she never been a “someone”. Just like a stray dog she was a pitiful and undesired part of society that nobody bothered with, everyone just… accepted it. That’s how it has been during the 12 past years that made up her life so far. Like a natural part of the scenery. It wasn’t so bad, she thought. She didn’t mind being alone. But while the adults left her alone, the children could be a lot crueler. Her messy and tangled red hair made the other girls consider her a fair target for their cruel games. The boys usually beat her up; pulling her hair and the like. She preferred the treatment she got from the boys over that of the girls…
The rugged, crudely patched together crate behind Mr Brown’s shop was her home. It was cold, damp and when it was raining it didn’t provide much more shelter than if she were to stand in the street. But it was something, it was her home. The planks were full of burn marks from the time some of the school children put them on fire. Mr Brown replaced the planks that were hit the worst by the fire. While she escaped the flames, her shirt was badly burnt. Mr Brown had also given her a new shirt a couple of days later. It was a nice shirt, and while it was clearly one of his old shirts, and more than a little too big for her, it was obvious that someone had made a clumsy attempt at modifying it to her size. She liked Mr Brown, while he never spoke to her, or gave her anything on a regular basis; he was the closest thing she had to a family.
One time, he came out late one evening carrying some left-over pieces of his dinner. Slowly he made his way across the dimly lit street from the front door of his house to his store; the two buildings were on the opposite side of the street. He stopped before approaching the gate to the yard were he kept the crates and turned his head to each side, carefully looking if someone would be walking down the street . When he was satisfied that nobody was looking, he smiled at her, his old wrinkled face brightened up with his frizzy moustache looking like some fuzzy butterfly larva in contrast to his bald head. He reached for the handle to the gate, turned the squeaking, rusty old handle and opened it. Just as she was to take the plate from his outstretched arms, the voices of two men and a woman were heard from up the street. They were chatting loudly and laughing in the care free manner people from the north of Bowerstone often did. It was the mayor and two of her guards, and they startled Mr Brown who dropped the plate and made his way back across the street, opening the door to his house and slamming it behind him as quickly as he could. The mayor, who was clearly a lot sober than her male companions turned her head towards the door as it slammed shut, then quickly turned her head towards the girl, giving her a cold stare that chilled the little girl to the bones as they walked past her. Meanwhile, the potatoes and the slice of ham had fallen into a puddle of mud on the ground. To anyone else they would’ve looked like food not even good enough to feed one's pigs. But she didn’t care. The cold, wet potatoes and ham were the tastiest food she had ever eaten…
Contiued in a post a bit further down
This is pretty much a rough cut of my story, sort of an introduction to the main character and trying to create the general feel of the different social aspects of Bowerstone. I will write alot more, and I will probably change alot in this introduction... but anyway, here we go! As I suck as a writer (ask my Swedish teacher..) any feedback is most welcome.
The Orphan’s Gemstone
She has never had a name. Nor has she never been a “someone”. Just like a stray dog she was a pitiful and undesired part of society that nobody bothered with, everyone just… accepted it. That’s how it has been during the 12 past years that made up her life so far. Like a natural part of the scenery. It wasn’t so bad, she thought. She didn’t mind being alone. But while the adults left her alone, the children could be a lot crueler. Her messy and tangled red hair made the other girls consider her a fair target for their cruel games. The boys usually beat her up; pulling her hair and the like. She preferred the treatment she got from the boys over that of the girls…
The rugged, crudely patched together crate behind Mr Brown’s shop was her home. It was cold, damp and when it was raining it didn’t provide much more shelter than if she were to stand in the street. But it was something, it was her home. The planks were full of burn marks from the time some of the school children put them on fire. Mr Brown replaced the planks that were hit the worst by the fire. While she escaped the flames, her shirt was badly burnt. Mr Brown had also given her a new shirt a couple of days later. It was a nice shirt, and while it was clearly one of his old shirts, and more than a little too big for her, it was obvious that someone had made a clumsy attempt at modifying it to her size. She liked Mr Brown, while he never spoke to her, or gave her anything on a regular basis; he was the closest thing she had to a family.
One time, he came out late one evening carrying some left-over pieces of his dinner. Slowly he made his way across the dimly lit street from the front door of his house to his store; the two buildings were on the opposite side of the street. He stopped before approaching the gate to the yard were he kept the crates and turned his head to each side, carefully looking if someone would be walking down the street . When he was satisfied that nobody was looking, he smiled at her, his old wrinkled face brightened up with his frizzy moustache looking like some fuzzy butterfly larva in contrast to his bald head. He reached for the handle to the gate, turned the squeaking, rusty old handle and opened it. Just as she was to take the plate from his outstretched arms, the voices of two men and a woman were heard from up the street. They were chatting loudly and laughing in the care free manner people from the north of Bowerstone often did. It was the mayor and two of her guards, and they startled Mr Brown who dropped the plate and made his way back across the street, opening the door to his house and slamming it behind him as quickly as he could. The mayor, who was clearly a lot sober than her male companions turned her head towards the door as it slammed shut, then quickly turned her head towards the girl, giving her a cold stare that chilled the little girl to the bones as they walked past her. Meanwhile, the potatoes and the slice of ham had fallen into a puddle of mud on the ground. To anyone else they would’ve looked like food not even good enough to feed one's pigs. But she didn’t care. The cold, wet potatoes and ham were the tastiest food she had ever eaten…
Contiued in a post a bit further down
Yeah she is pretty much the ..uh.. heroine(not the drug...).
