scene from my animal fantasy thing novel, when bellin's brother dies from trying to prove himself. he was jealous. ;; SO SAD -shot'd- ...btw, its going to be a really, really logn time before i actually get back to this whole story. >>:
“Raun…Is that Raunell?” Bellin whispered in disbelief as he gazed down upon the still figure in the snow below along with the others. Sayshal shook her head quickly, as if doing so would make sure that that sparrow lying in the snow wasn’t their brother.
The birds lined every part of every branch of every tree in the clearing, silent yet deafening in their hushed whispers. Finches, swallows, woodpeckers, sparrows, even the owls observed the scene unblinkingly a ways from the crowd. The different hues of feathers blurred within each other, brushing and murmuring.
They seemed to shuffle uncomfortably as one, bob their heads as one, mourn as-
No.
Bellin dived towards the immobile figure upon the snow, amidst the cautioning cries of the others. He had to register if it was Raunell or not…had to.
Trembling feathers skimmed across stiff feathers. A cold realization creeped up his wing, but he pushed it away.
“Raunell…” He said in a small voice. Crouching down, he nudged at the immobile sparrow’s spine.
“Raunell…get a hold of yourself, would you? We’re nearly there…don’t just give up…” Desperately, Bellin continued to nudge at Raunell. He circled the body once, leaving pitiful indentations in the snow.
“Stop it, Raunell,” his voice wavered. “Stop fooling around…we’re almost there…”
“Please, Raunell…we’re almost there…” Feebly, Bellin tried to choke back a sob. He opened his beak again, but nothing could come out. A flutter of wings beside him told him that Sayshal had alighted herself beside him.
“Bellin…c’mon, we have to go now…it’s getting dark…” She said timidly at him, her own voice trembling.
“No!” He himself was surprised at the force in his voice. Staring at a very frightened Sayshal, Bellin steadied himself. “No. We have to get Raunell back too…he’ll get cold ‘n all. Can’t you help me? He’s not waking up. We have to help him. I don’t know why- he’s pro’ly just being stupid or something, but he’s not waking up. C’mon, help me wake him up…” His ramble trailed off…and then that hard realization seeped once again into his bones.
Raunell, was dead.
Dead.
The word seemed to echo around in Bellin’s mind, ricocheting off its crumbling walls and landing right before his eyes, staring blankly back at his eyes.
“Sayshal, Raunell’s dead, isn’t he? Like Turrent? Like mother?” His sister could only hiccup a reply. His words had a flat, hard quality to them, and they scared him. Now that he had said them…Raunell would truly be dead. A heavy sinking feeling came upon him, and he wondered if he should’ve held that statement until later, as to not cut off the last few strands of hope.
Raunell…
“We…we’ll have to go now, then,” he said in a much quieter tone. Funny, how just a minute ago he was refusing this.
Sayshal was the last one left. This new realization gave him an icy chill down the spine…and he stared at his sister with a new intensity. He would not let any harm come to her from now own.
He wondered if she was thinking the same thing. They were alone now, together. He resolved to treat her much more fairly from now on, just in case she did…go…so that his conscience wouldn’t weigh too heavily on him.
What?
What was he thinking? Why was he thinking such thoughts? He blinked, wondered what was coming over him, and then turned away from the lifeless body with Sayshal.
She looked back every few steps. He looked back just once.
spur of the moment thing. originally was intended to be published before the 08 beijing olympics...but i gave up on it. i got to the third chapter, i think? i might head back to it someday.
I GET IT. ITS REALLY CRAPPY OKAY?? -t
Green, yellow, red, blue taxis rolled by, silhouettes of people lounging in the backseats obvious. Trunks were stuffed with luggage and half-open, bags peeking out bounced as the taxis ran over highways. A trio stood on the edge of the sidewalk before the airport, watching each car whoosh by and vanish as quick as it came into the traffic. Each, needless to say, was occupied. Once in a while a taxi with the little sign held and lit up on the dashboard curbed, two Chinese characters highlighted on the sign saying ‘Empty Car’. People rushed to the driver like bees flocking to honey, buzzing and trying to get their own share, their own share of telling the poor driver where to go. In the end someone would win and slam the car door from inside, luggage haphazardly stuffed in the back but nevertheless in. The disappointed hopefuls would then shuffle away and look for another taxi up for grabs, the trio too.
“Mommy.”
“Mhm?”
“It’s hot. I want to get in a taxi.”
“So do I- but we have to wait. It’s hard to get in one. Everyone feels sweaty and sticky like us so everyone wants to be able to snag one.”
“Oh.”
And then a blue and yellow taxi pulled up, right before the trio’s frames. They hurriedly claimed it with Tyler jumping into the backseat and slamming the door in front of the crowd of different faces still futilely trying to persuade the driver to get them to address-place-street. He continuously shook his head, saying more and more robotically and louder and forced:
“No sorry.”
“Dui bu qi yi jing you ren le. (I’m sorry but I already have people in here.)”
“No sorry.”
“Dui bu qi yi jing you ren le.”
“No sorry."
As he helped Tyler’s parents clutter their suitcases into the trunk. The crowd thinned quickly, and as the driver hopped into the car, Tyler’s dad slid into the passenger seat while his mom sat with him in the back.
“You want go where?” The driver asked in earnest but sloppy Chinglish.
It was 2008, Beijing Olympic time. People from all over the world were rushing to the capital of China, which looked its best. Skyscrapers majestically skimmed the sky, and the weather was fine, the sky blue- it was to be that way for the whole of the Olympics, and it wasn’t the weathermen who had predicted that. Everyone knew about the rockets sent into the sky for artificial clear weather, and frankly, not many could protest the idea. It was a stroke of brilliance, for some. Everyday was wonderful…the weather, I mean.
There just weren’t enough cabs at the airport for the everlasting flow of foreigners coming out. This thought was in Tyler’s mom’s mind as she smoothed his shirt. Turning away from his mom, the eight-year-old boy shifted his gaze to the window, watching the busy world outside slowly roll by until…he was staring at the same scene for a while- the taxi had stopped in the midst of traffic. As the little boy observed a woman carry a white dog pass a restaurant, his father groaned. Traffic.
“Traffic. Very bad since soon Olympics,” the driver said conversationally, pressing the horn randomly with no results. Out of boredom and curiosity Tyler memorized his nameplate: Zhao Gang. Zow Gang. Z-Zaw Gang. Zhao Gang. The eight year old grasped the name difficultly, unable to pronounce Chinese.
“Yeah…so what about hotels? Shouldn’t booking be real hard right now?” Asked Gary Brown. Fortunately Tyler’s family had booked a room in a hotel several months prior to August.
“Yes hard but not impossible. Beijing has many hotel!” This Zhao Gang replied with a hint of pride. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle that had been set between the driver and passenger’s seat, taking a swig of the murky liquid inside it, little red seed-like things floating around in it. Seeing Tyler stare, he laughed, saying, “Tea, little boy. Taxi driver tea.” Tyler nodded slowly as Zhao placed the bottle back.
a sort of fantasy thing i was toying with. will definitely return to keep writing.
Welcome, welcome, our dearest friends,
To this show that just never ends,
Come, come in, ladies and gents,
To see the Silken Dagger, for only a pence
You really can’t quickly forget something that’s been the background music of your baby days-the first thing you heard when you were born, and then forced into your head since you were able to at least gargle a few syllables of the rhyme.
No, it wasn’t like you were supposed to actually stand there and memorize it over and over again, like trying to drill in yet another hole in your head to stuff in some arithmetic equations. This rhyme just…gave us a silent duty to know it. To singsong it to everyone who had at least one of the five senses to know us, and ever so gaudily dazzle all and all with our fairy dust.
~
Star sprinkled across the sky chorused down at the caravan in silence, winking. The faint music of hushed flutes and pipes and violas did the altos’ part from the distance, and then the sounds of a dog’s futile yet relentless barking. The shadow of a cat fed from the sliver of moonlight above and grew upon one side of a small, trailer-like cabin, then faded into darkness-the cat unseen.
Up on the flat, cattle-hide covered roof of that cabin lay four figures-one giggling softly, one very obviously failing at trying not to, one telling a spirited though whispered tale, and the last simply staring up at the stars, tongue between teeth, as if frustratingly trying to sort out the scattered gems overhead, strewn everywhere across their velvet background.
“And-And then…he yelled something like, ‘I want my pineapples back!’-I dunno, it sounded like something along those lines…” Here, both of the girls, giggling and not giggling, burst into uncontrollable laughter, shattering the tranquil silence with wild mirth. The speaker tried looking furious, and said in a hushed voice,
“Shhh! Hey, d’you two really wanna be caught?!” Though, soon, he himself began looking rather pleased with himself at successfully getting his friends into ‘happy mode’.
“Silver, why’d you want to go and steal from his shop, anyway? You would have been better of just getting something from…Ares’s, or Printsces’s.” Kakko’s voice suddenly broke in from being silent so long.
Scowling, the boy called Silver instead changed topics.
“Kakko, why-you has just spoken two sentences!” His eyes widened in teasing astonishment, and he got up from his resting position, throwing his arms into the air. Still in a hushed voice, he continued, voice in mock wonder, “You know, this day is a day of miracles. Kakko actually says something more than a grunt (this earned a glowering from Kakko), and I thieved unscathed from the dark cavern of doom, San-
“Exactly. Everyone knows that it’s impossible to steal anything from there without getting their hands minced up.”
“Kakko…” Silver cut in, through gritted teeth and under his breath. Of course, the story he had told was made-up, for his friend was right in saying that it was impossible to get away with taking anything from Sannen’s store. That really didn’t have to stop me from giving the girls a laugh, Silver darkly thought to himself. Trust Kakko to spoil everything.
“You never say anything when you have to, and say stuff when you aren’t supposed to,” he continued to him, accenting the last three words heatedly. This earned him a grin from Kakko. Passing his hand over his already tousled brown hair, Kakko announced loudly (but not loud enough to let anyone know the four were up here), getting up,
“’Kay then. Whatever you say-let’s hope those pineapples taste good, then.” He then, without waiting for a reply, climbed down the rusted ladder and disappeared from view.
“I…didn’t say it was pineapples that I stole,” Silver called after him feebly, faltering and feeling rather red.
“Yeah, he said he’d stolen the key chain things from the shelf two shelves over the picture of the town on the bridge to the right, four of ‘em,” Jordan said, beaming at her good memory. Silver grimaced.
“You see, uh, well, I did go to his shop, but, um, he told me to”-
“ ‘Get your little thieving hands off my things’, right?” She grinned.
Silver reddened. “Look, I DID get stuff from Sannen’s, stop ASSUMING things will you all, I’ll SHOW you”-
“Who’s awake past the candle ‘stinguishin’, eh?” A throaty voice sounded from above. Before Silver could react, the two girls immediately disappeared from view, leaping deftly into the cabin, one pulled in by the other. Peering nervously over the edge, he could faintly make out the squat figure of a night-guard- Prattles. Prattles…well. Silver was lucky to have been caught by him, the dullest of all the night-guards that were put on watch each night.
“Oh, Prattles, will you come and help me? I got my foot stuck in between two of the roof’s supportin’ bars”- here Silver deftly brought his foot through the weak spot in the cattle hide covering, in between two wooden bars that were a couple of the several that crisscrossed over the cabin, forming the roof of it. These two bars were spaced farther apart than the other by just a bit, just so that Silver could snugly fit his foot into the crevice between them. “I’ve been stuck ‘ere for hours, Prattles, calling for help, thank God you came, now will you-?” He donned a convincing expression of despair, clenching his teeth together as he pretended to try to pull his foot out.
“Oh, well,” the night-guard muttered, annoyance crossing his face. However, Silver was satisfied, for Prattles seemed to have swallowed his lie. The short figure hauled himself up to the top, grunting as he climbed the ladder.
He focused on Silver for a moment as he got to the roof, before saying, “Now where”- The boy gave a well-aimed kick at Prattles’s right knee, so that his clumsy frame buckled and toppled off the cabin. Silver withdrew his foot from the crack, swung himself into the side of the cabin, and pulled the flap of calfskin over the opening as he dived into it.
Inside, he heard Prattles groaning as he stood, swearing as he glared at the cabin, and finally stomping off, no doubt to tell the others about his experience, and alerting the head of the caravan about this box with the ‘infernal brat of the Devil’.
Of course, Miss Ghani would let it slide, for Silver was one of the best performers of this gypsy circus.
The heavy breathing behind him reminded him of his traitorous friends. Whirling around, Silver prepared to pounce on them.
He blinked. They were lying still on three of the four slim mattresses covering the majority of the floor, and the heavy breathing indicated that they were asleep. As if seconding this, Jordan gave a snore, rolled to her side, and resumed sleep, eyes closed like the others.