Post by pokerandice on Apr 27, 2007 23:08:54 GMT -5
Ok. To get the whole posting of personal writing up ball rolling, I'm going to post up one of my short stories. It's not long at all, easy reading etc. Hope you enjoy.
The Black Window
The lightning flashed threateningly and the thunder boomed deeply outside the black window of Amy’s bedchamber. During the good days the window offered commanding views of the great valley beneath, but now it was hidden by the dark clouds of the storm raging.
“Are you alright, m’lady?” Amy’s handmaid asked politely.
“My neck is itching again. Nothing to worry about.” Amy said as she scratched the rash. It did nothing to stop the itching. It never did.
“Shall I get you some more ointment?”
“Thank you, Mia.”
The fire in the heart was casting shadows. Dancing eerily, the shadows jumped and jolted around the room. Never remaining still. Teasing her. Mocking her.
Something made a scratching noise. Amy looked towards the window but there was nothing there save for the black clouds of the storm raging.
Was it merely the rain lashing against the glass or could Amy hear a tapping, hidden beneath the rain lashing, the wind howling and the thunder booming?
In a sudden blast of glass fragments, the black window exploded open. Amy covered her face to protect it from the flying glass. When she removed it she was not alone in the room.
A figure dressed entirely in black walked proudly up to Amy’s bed. His skin was as pale as curdled milk and his hair as black as the storm raging outside. His eyes were large and they shone yellow. The shadows jumped along his features, making them appear gaunt and frightening. In his right hand he held a long crossbow, already loaded with a dangerous bolt. He smiled evilly, showing a row of teeth shining red in the light of the dancing fire.
“My lady Amy,” he said. His voice was cold and quiet, almost a whisper, but it was treacherous. He advanced upon her. He seemed to grow taller and thinner as he stepped closed. He bowed smoothly. “You may call me the Assassin.”
The door to Amy’s bedchamber opened silently, but the Assassin was somehow aware of it.
Mia had no chance of knowing what awaited her.
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Amy screamed. The ointment dropped out of Mia’s limp hand as she fell to the floor. The crossbow bolt stuck quivering from where it was embedded within her skull.
Mia’s mouth moved soundlessly, but she was already dead.
Amy sat stock still in her bed, looking at Mia’s body and the pool of blood growing around it. The fire’s light danced along the blood, illuminating it and setting it ablaze in orange, yellow and red.
The Assassin ran towards Amy, but in a sudden burst of energy that Amy didn’t know she possessed she leapt out of her bed and ran to the hearth.
Above the heart Amy kept an ornamental sword.
She was not about to use it as an ornament.
Amy spun around, but the Assassin was still standing beside her bed.
“What you are planning is useless,” he said in his cold, treacherous voice.
“Why are you here?” Amy asked. She could feel the tears running down her face and burning her eyes.
“I like to call it ending a tale.”
In a rush of speed, the Assassin ran up to Amy.
Amy swung the sword as hard as she could, but the Assassin had drawn a knife from his black clothes. With it he drew a massive cut down Amy’s wrist and she dropped the sword.
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The sword clanged on the ground. Amy knelt on the ground next to Mia’s body as the blood gushed from the cut down along her arm and mixed with the puddle already on the ground.
The Assassin grabbed Amy’s hair and pulled her screaming to the broken window.
“My lady Amy,” the Assassin said. “This is where the tale ends.”
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Amy screamed as the ground rushed up to meet her.
Poker and Ice
The Black Window
The lightning flashed threateningly and the thunder boomed deeply outside the black window of Amy’s bedchamber. During the good days the window offered commanding views of the great valley beneath, but now it was hidden by the dark clouds of the storm raging.
“Are you alright, m’lady?” Amy’s handmaid asked politely.
“My neck is itching again. Nothing to worry about.” Amy said as she scratched the rash. It did nothing to stop the itching. It never did.
“Shall I get you some more ointment?”
“Thank you, Mia.”
The fire in the heart was casting shadows. Dancing eerily, the shadows jumped and jolted around the room. Never remaining still. Teasing her. Mocking her.
Something made a scratching noise. Amy looked towards the window but there was nothing there save for the black clouds of the storm raging.
Was it merely the rain lashing against the glass or could Amy hear a tapping, hidden beneath the rain lashing, the wind howling and the thunder booming?
In a sudden blast of glass fragments, the black window exploded open. Amy covered her face to protect it from the flying glass. When she removed it she was not alone in the room.
A figure dressed entirely in black walked proudly up to Amy’s bed. His skin was as pale as curdled milk and his hair as black as the storm raging outside. His eyes were large and they shone yellow. The shadows jumped along his features, making them appear gaunt and frightening. In his right hand he held a long crossbow, already loaded with a dangerous bolt. He smiled evilly, showing a row of teeth shining red in the light of the dancing fire.
“My lady Amy,” he said. His voice was cold and quiet, almost a whisper, but it was treacherous. He advanced upon her. He seemed to grow taller and thinner as he stepped closed. He bowed smoothly. “You may call me the Assassin.”
The door to Amy’s bedchamber opened silently, but the Assassin was somehow aware of it.
Mia had no chance of knowing what awaited her.
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Amy screamed. The ointment dropped out of Mia’s limp hand as she fell to the floor. The crossbow bolt stuck quivering from where it was embedded within her skull.
Mia’s mouth moved soundlessly, but she was already dead.
Amy sat stock still in her bed, looking at Mia’s body and the pool of blood growing around it. The fire’s light danced along the blood, illuminating it and setting it ablaze in orange, yellow and red.
The Assassin ran towards Amy, but in a sudden burst of energy that Amy didn’t know she possessed she leapt out of her bed and ran to the hearth.
Above the heart Amy kept an ornamental sword.
She was not about to use it as an ornament.
Amy spun around, but the Assassin was still standing beside her bed.
“What you are planning is useless,” he said in his cold, treacherous voice.
“Why are you here?” Amy asked. She could feel the tears running down her face and burning her eyes.
“I like to call it ending a tale.”
In a rush of speed, the Assassin ran up to Amy.
Amy swung the sword as hard as she could, but the Assassin had drawn a knife from his black clothes. With it he drew a massive cut down Amy’s wrist and she dropped the sword.
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The sword clanged on the ground. Amy knelt on the ground next to Mia’s body as the blood gushed from the cut down along her arm and mixed with the puddle already on the ground.
The Assassin grabbed Amy’s hair and pulled her screaming to the broken window.
“My lady Amy,” the Assassin said. “This is where the tale ends.”
Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Amy screamed as the ground rushed up to meet her.
Poker and Ice
I actually like the way you kept that out. It gave me a reason to wonder. It sent chills down my back. 
