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Stories / Stories / Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls / Text 8 of 12 / Stillness of Dawn (introduction)

"Stillness of Dawn (introduction)" by Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls

SciFi/Fantasy text 8 out of 12 by Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls. ←Previous - Next→

The coldness bound her. The coldness... the utter coldness of rage.

←- The One You Can't Ignore | Stillness Chapter One -→

Stillness of Dawn
By JoSav

FEEDBACK: Feedback is what keeps me working on a story with much needed enthusiasm and devotion. Send me your comments, good or bad and let me know what you think. You can either comment through the guestbook or send me an email to asashey@yahoo.com. Thank you.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story has originally been written in Dutch, my native tongue. This might mean there are some really awful mix-ups and mistakes but then again, maybe not. All I'm saying is that I can't assure you this tale will be a flawless one. If you can find them, point out the mistakes I made. I can only learn from them...

–Introduction–

Amidst the stillness of dawn
I catch a drop of dew
And recall a long lost voice
Telling me things will be just fine

Within the stillness of dawn
I see the brightness of a faded smile
I marvel on an extenuating sigh of memories
And know that everything'll be okay

For those who died
Will forever stay amongst us
Those who lost their lives
Will never be left behind

Like a leaf falling from a tree
Withered and faded from our thoughts
They return in full glory when the purest of warmth unfolds
They become part of the cycle
And will never be forgotten
Once you've found the stillness of dawn
Somewhere hidden within your heart

***

In the darkness of shade, hidden within a cover of bush and tree, she fed on rotten apples that had fallen from the shell of weald above her. Satisfactory and pleased she could silence the screaming hunger inside of her, such diversion filled her senses with bliss.
An imminent rain hung in the air, filling it up with an enthralling calm before the storm.
Whispering of raindrops that tenderly trickled down evergreen and autumn coloured leaves spread the scent of meadow, earth and damp, the scent of the meeting between open field and forest. They spread the scent of danger.

Her pale ginger hair had fallen into her dirt-covered face. Her darkened features revealed great distress as her head snapped from left to right in a haze of panic and resistance.
Apart from the bounds and manacles that strapped her to the bed of felt, hide and dried grass on which she was put, she was utterly naked, and her lank body was covered with scars and bruises of a magnitude considered even rarity on a warrior's lifeless corpse.
Her mire hands shook, palms sweaty, fingers twitching and clenching convulsively. The struggling woman breathed in rasps, and heaved afar from control in a hiss that seemed endless. She pulled on the leashes that bound her and screamed, a sound that sent shivers of trepidation through the barely lit felt tent, drawing fright from those present.
        She lowered her head as far as the thick leather straps let her, and showing the pallor of her gums, teeth bared, she produced a reverberating howl that was far from any sound a human being could ever emit.
Upon finally opening her dark eyes she suddenly released a loud roar and addressed her eyes to the bearded man standing by her feet whose stare met hers without hesitation.

The coldness bound her. The coldness... the utter coldness of rage.

With an even greater force than before, the woman pulled on the restraints and let out a shriek of frustration and bile as the leather bounds still refused to give away the least.
        "Let her rest. She is feverish and her mind needs to clear away from the devilish thoughts that haunt her," the man by her foot spoke, "Give her another dose of Syrith to calm her."

The swift beating of her heart united in tone with the thrusts and pacing of bare feet dashing rapidly over the dun soil of the steppe. Dashing, forever dashing, chased by an enemy that did not exist.

Veiled by shadows one of the women who sat by the edge of the tent's entrance nodded and bowed before her master. She was a concubine, though highest in her kind, her dark hair revealing a nomad's heritage. The tattoo on her left cheek that ran all the way up over her left eye to her temple showed her status: she was the one her master had chosen as most precious. Despite the fact her rank was almost as high as that of a free woman, she wasn't allowed to speak in presence of others, only if a superior charged her to, only if a man told her to.
        The other two women, both ash-blondes, both significantly taller and by far less stout than the dark haired one, knelt behind the first woman and plainly kept their arched backs upright to show submission towards the man. They remained where they were until after he'd left, leaving only a scent of sweat and musk that always seemed to drift wherever he'd been.

And still she ran. As fast as her feet could carry her, as swift as the wind would let her. She ran, in a race that never seemed to end.

The dark haired concubine pulled herself up and gestured the others to do the same.
       "Aniegah," she addressed the youngest of the two, "take a water sack, and fill the pot you see by the fire until it is half full. Put two flat cooking stones in the fire and wait until I give you further instructions…" The words were pronounced slowly and uttered in a clear voice, as if she was addressing one of slow wit or outland origin.
        The flaxen girl she had addressed nodded and swiftly made her way to the centre of the tent near the fire, where she did what she had been told to do. She looked up and gazed at the cleft in the tent that allowed smoke arising from the fire to escape. The girl sighed almost languorously before returning to her chores.
        The dark haired woman sat down by the struggling female on the felt cover, which seemed to be some sort of crib.
        "Denanna, you get my herbs and bring them to me. They are in the hazel brown pack by my sleeping hides."
        Denanna, the other blonde, mutely walked over to the hub of the massive tent that was supported by tall stems of juvenile birches at each junction of cloth and took a small beaver hide, in which undoubtedly the herbs were kept, from the folded pack. She glanced at Aniegah who sat close to her sleeping hide by the fire, before making her way back. Absentmindedly as she walked back to her superior, she tried to find the dark haired woman's eyes, futilely, for the other woman's stare was fixed solely onto the defiant female in front of her. Nevertheless, the older woman did notice Denanna's gaze and responded. "Denanna, you can ask your question. You can speak freely now Lrégode Akum has left."
        Denanna kneeled by the dark haired woman and handed the stitched beaver hide. She looked troubled, uncertain of how she should word her question properly.
        "Mamoa, is it true?" she asked eventually.
        Mamoa, as the dark haired woman was called, showed a half smile without looking at the blonde.
        "What is true, Denanna?"
        The interior of the tent was sober and obviously meant to be this way. The plain connections the felt cloth of the tent made with the supporting stems of wood revealed this was merely a temporary shelter. Its magnitude however, showed great skill and advanced technology.

The voices, the voices… what do they want? Why can't I see them?

The ash blond woman seemed to search for the right words, her strange and unnatural accent revealing the language they spoke was not her native. "Is she the Woman of the Wild? The Earth Mother's Daughter?"
        Mamoa showed her worn down teeth in a cheerful smile. "Silly child," she said semi-mockingly, "There is no such thing. None could ever survive the harshness of wilderness without a clan for support. There wouldn't be enough resources, warmth, let alone protection."

There was no avoidance, and she clapped her teeth against each other offensively, digging one paw into the cold earth. They would have to kill her this time. She would stand her ground, even if it would cost her her life.

Though startled by the sounds that still wrapped the room in anxiety, Aniegah, obviously youngest of the three, mingled into the conversation by means of seeing her questions answered.
        "But Mamoa," she protested petulantly, "what is she if she's not the Woman of the Wild?"
        Mamoa squinted with her eyes as she looked upon the violent girl who was still struggling to be released from her bounds. "She must be a run away serf or concubine."

Run… run… run, you fool!

Until nightfall, the women remained silent, watching the ginger haired female belligerently searching for freedom until Aniegah and Denanna fell asleep in their hides close to the fire and noticed no more of the battle that forever continued.
Mamoa on the other hand still watched the resisting girl who didn't even seem to respond to the Syrith she had been given earlier.

No I will not. I will fight you this time. I will fight you. I will fight you… I will fight you… I will…

Without any faltering or resignation, the redhead continued shaking and fighting the boundaries she had been given, her fingers never seized twitching in protest to the thick leather straps that held down her limbs. Screaming and emanating bestial cries, she kept her eyes shut, captive to her dreams, captive to a world she had lived in since forever.

Why won't you fight me?

Struggling unconsciously to pull herself loose, she had her back arched and attempted to run. It was a dance that kept repeating itself before Mamoa's eyes.
And the old woman could not determine why she did not fear this possessed creature, this juvenile girl. For some reason, one she could not depict, she knew the girl portrayed fear rather than fury. Nandone Keshna, Woman of the Wild, was what they called her. But as Mamoa watched her, she did not seem as illiterate and barbaric as the name would implement.
        The will Nandone Keshna seemed to hold for liberation, however futile, did not stop her from fending for lack in restriction. For the ties that bound her boded for nothing in the likes of deliverance and never gave away the slightest intrusion of captivity. Young as the redhead seemed to be, and measuring to her scars, Mamoa wondered where she came from.

***

←- The One You Can't Ignore | Stillness Chapter One -→

Date	Name	Comment
17 Jan 2003	Anneke Hut	Loading... I would also like to read on. You know how to reach your audience. I love the poem, you are just great in subscribing the atmosphere! I am very impressed by your writings, actually I am a bit speechless (very unusual for me, as you know!). Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "And here I am, sitting stressed out people won't like it. Simple reason is, this is not actually the start of the story, the start will soon be posted on my homepage. So if you'd like to compare.... hehe. I'm blushing like an idiot when you say you're speechless. Heehee"
22 Jan 2003	Emily Grist	Loading... I liked how you started the story out and I really like the end!!!! I'd also like to see the end of this story come.... Lol, very good. I was a little... :\| just wonderful. Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "I'm not sure if I'll post much more of this story in here. It's rather... morbid? Dark? that's the word... it's actually not the start. The actual beginning of the story is different but it wasn't suited for EW (I think...) It'll be posted on my homepage at the next update (I promised some peeps I wouldn't be lazy this time) hehe"
25 Jan 2003	E. Hanna	Loading... Exquisitely told. You capture the reader's attention early with powerful images and feelings. Then you illustrate the society and the setting with wonderfully subtle characterization. The regular shifts to the 'Wild Woman's perspective keep the momentum of the story. This is truly a great beginning. Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "Wow. Thank you. And it isn't even the beginning I officially wanted to use on the story. Heh, perhaps I should revise it then.... what a marvellous complement. ^_____________^"
18 Apr 2003	That one other author guy you talk to	Loading... Whispering of raindrops that tenderly trickled down evergreen and autumn coloured leaves spread the smell of meadow, earth and damp, the smell of the meeting between open field and forest. You write with such vivid description. I love it. the emotion and the level of detal. More please!!! Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "As you wish..."
13 Sep 2003	Jesus Freak	Loading... Rather nice. Rather nice indeed!! I must say if I were a publisher(and you didn't cuss in your stories, which you don't seem to)I'd publish your stuff!!! Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "Well, I must warn you though, there are graphic massacre scenes in it. But if that's okay with you... "
27 Dec 2003	Chris A Jackson	Loading... This is very intriguing, and your command of English is certainly very good (I have difficulty enough with one language). Good descriptions, though you seem to be fixed on hair color(two blondes, one redhead and a brunette) as a major descriptive point. Try mixing it up a little. Definitely a powerful beginning! Well done! Here are a few language things I found: >of a magnitude considered even rarity on a warriorDenanna kneeled by the dark haired womanUntil nightfall, the women remained silent, watching the ginger haired female belligerently searching for freedom until Aniegah and Denanna fell asleep in their hides close to the fire and noticed no more of the battle that forever continued.For some reason, one she could not depict, she knewdid not seem as illiterate and barbaric as the name would implement.< Implement... Maybe imply. My only complaint on story line is that I wanted to know why they captured her... Well, that gets me to read the next chapter, I guess. Jorieke 'JoSav' Savelkouls replies: "You're absolutely, positively right about most of it. I'll take it into account as I'll repost this. "
27 Dec 2003	Midge	Loading... Wow. Again. That's pretty much all I can come up with when reading your writing. In Midgenglish it's the equivalant of speechless. Great writing (I know it's not the beginning; I read Chapter 1 as well). Very impressive, especially for a translation (I found very few errors at all in it). I love your writing. Please keep posting more.
27 Dec 2003	D Joelle Duran	Loading... Incredible description in this, and you obviously put thought into the culture you depict. Good work--all the more impressive that it's a translation!
31 Dec 2003	Estantia	Loading... Oh wow... Like it a lot, i know what you mean by morbid/dark/haunting though if that helps,it's in His Dark Materials at the end isn't it? I'm more of a writer than an artist but I just tell stories in any medium... anyway writing is painting pictures with words, which is exactly what you do, now, onto chapter 1...