The drunk is taller and broader than him - and he has a knife. He is asking for money which Gion refuses to give. Only one will survive their chance meeting in the streets of a gypsy village - but Gion's survival brings great consequences with it... My entry for Inkwell Artisans Project 2! On the language: The language I used for the gypsies in this story is actually Rumantsch, the fourth national language of Switzerland. Vowels of gypsy words and all names should be pronounced like in German. ('a' like the u in 'mud', 'e' like in 'egg', 'i' like ee, 'u' like oo) Gion is pronounced 'Jon'. The ptarmigan (chapter 2) is an alpine bird, also known as rock grouse. December 2007: some changes made, chapter 2 is now far longer and there's lots more background detail :D
This is the best of the stright high fantasy that I've ever written. There are alot of artists out there who have drawn Johnny D for me. Perhaps someday I'll get around to building a tour for it (if there is a demand).
This is my first attempt at serious writing, currently on its third version. Thanks to all who helped fix the previous ones! It is set 250 years before the rest of the book. Even though I've edited it twice now, don't hesitate to tell me if you spot anything wrong.
Ok... so this is a poem I've started writing in June but then got too lazy to finish it :) Today, I've written about 3/5 of it and I'm completly drained: my brain is all jelly and my eyes hurt a lot for spending so much time in front of the computer. I can't understand why it takes me so much time to write something... Anyway... I still think this can improve so if you have any comments to make about that, they'll be welcome :) Oh and I was forgetting... I've used a french expression 'à la vie, à la mort' somewhere because I think there is no english way to say that and moreover, it does rhyme (well... somewhat... :) ) Ok so it means he's not going to give up, he'll fight for it 'till death
Welcome to my mind. Take a look at my depression, my sorrow, my bitterness, my pain... take a look.
Formerly re-titled: 'An Unwise Bargain' and then returned to its original title.This was written in about half an hour, while I was putting off a massive midterm due the next day. Inspired, you could say, by the story of Goethe's Faust, with a magical twist. Deliberately hectic and rather chantlike, as if written by someone frantically going mad with fear and guilt.Try reading it aloud, stringing as many lines together in one breath as you can.
Like many of my peices this is a retelling of a classic myth. The ending seems a little forced to me, any advice on how to change it?
A mixture of several ideas that turned out to be the first piece I considered publishing. How do you deal with the witch within?
In this chapter the man returns to normal only to be racked with guilt for what he has become.
I wrote this for a contest whose theme was 'What if the world were black and white'. Perhaps I took it too literally. Who knows. Hope you enjoy.
We return once again to Alranos and Garnor... Garnor begins to learn a wee bit about what it realy means to be Death...
this is my first attempt at writing a one chapter story. Review please! i wanna know how I'm doing
This is the first in the Destiny and Redemption 'series'. A little tale about twists of fate.
The two characters in the piece below, are my two most dear. They are the product of hours and hours of collaboration with a very good friend internet-related friend of mine, anyway I thought only fitting that my first piece (of what I hope will be many more) uploaded to elfwood should be about them. I do plan to continue and/or edit this, so I'm not going to give a description, please read, comment and hopefully enjoy! :)http://destrian-chronicles.blogspot.com/
Okay. This is the first REALLY serious chapter. I'd come this to the third chapter of Huckleberry Finn, but Mark Twain had a REASON for taking 6 months.
Well basically a worrior who became dazed and confused in the midst of battle. He became a coward and watched his kinsmen die. Now he is left alone with the bitter results.
I waited in the waiting room for too long. I was sick and tired of reading magazines and little kid books. All I could hear was the clock ticking. I sighed a hurtful sigh and pressed my hand to my chest. I was almost about to scream out of boredom when the door opened and the nurse called my name. I quietly got up and walked through the doorway and followed the direction the pointed me in. I walked into a sickly colored room and meditated in the cries of babies down the hall. The nurse informed me the doctor would be right in. And soon enough here he comes.