Ren, the World Builder

“Ren! Ren! You have to help me! Build me a world where I can be happy!” Ida shouted hysterically, her arms flailing futilely before her. Each breath was sucked in with urgency and expelled in a quivering spread, carrying with it tears and phlegm. It was clear that she had been running and crying, and not for a short time. Her strides came to a staggered halt and she fell to her knees, showing the tarnished soles of her shoes to the sky.

                The little Japanese man eyed her passively, taking in the complete desertion of joy heaped in the temple courtyard before him. His lips twitched inwards at the corner, genuine pity creasing his face. He sipped his tea. Ida held his gaze, pleading silently for his compassion. The stillness of Ren’s body betrayed the silent conflict within, while the shudders and twitches that escaped Ida confirmed the sincerity of her request. The silence continued for far longer than either enjoyed, but for as long as Ren knew was necessary to free logic from emotion. It was long enough, too, for Ida to stop sobbing.

                “I could,” Ren deliberated. “But what good would it do?” He let the question float away unanswered, taking his cane and climbing down from the wooden bench. “Those who run find no peace.”

                “There is no peace for me here,” Ida’s expression soured.  She hunched her back, resting her elbows on her jeans. She pulled at the underarms of her shirt, massaging her salty tears into the fabric. “He…” she coughed, her jaw straying to one side and her eyes darkening until her face seemed no more than a skull. “My father...”

                Ren threw his gaze upon her and burrowed deep inside her soul. She could feel him there, picking her apart and gathering the broken pieces. He would know her story, and she wouldn’t have to say a word. There was a fire inside of her that grew with every moment he searched; a liquid inferno swirling this way and that, washing against her insides with a pressure that threatened her balance. Ida sunk inside herself until she was there with him, battling the molten maelstrom in spite of the inevitable.

                “Ida.”

                The heat regressed and Ida found herself on all fours, tangled hair clinging to her saturated face. She began to breathe slowly and deeply, her whole body following the movement. Her throat closed involuntarily and filled with a burning liquid. Silently her body heaved, and the liquid found its way to the ground.

                “I’m sorry, Ida,” Ren breathed, his feet and cane coming together by her head. “I will do this for you. I will make you a new world. I am sorry.”

                He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Ren did not say a word as they walked, but Ida felt his fingers press and slide across her palm. She was sure he was feeling for something, but for what she had no idea. They entered Ren’s private study, and Ida was immediately struck by its oddity. She had never been allowed inside the temple before. The curved beams hung low, and the mahogany desk stood tall. Somehow Ren appeared much larger within his own domain, and Ida felt as out of place as a child. Suddenly Ren grunted.

                “This new world, Ida. Where will it be?” he said, releasing her hand and squaring up to her.

                The wonder left Ida’s face and a moment of vacancy swept over her. She rolled her lips inwards and her eyebrows crawled.

                “I don’t…” she stuttered, placing a hand on her heart.

                Ren watched her hand and nodded pensively. He leant forward into his cane and let his eyes dart freely, his attention withdrawn from the physical world. Ida withdrew her hand self-consciously and shifted her weight to the other foot.

                Ren’s thoughts were a blur, even to himself. They raced through his head with blinding speed and purpose, blocking out all his senses. He was not aware of the subtle movements he was making: rocking slightly against his cane, one hand retracing the paths of Ida’s hand. Her heart. The world needed to be old, conditioned for change and pounding with life. The land and its inhabitants would co-exist with the respect Ida had lost, and the flora and fauna would emanate the peace she needed to overcome this life of uncertainty and abuse. But at night the stars would be those of this world, so she will never forget the place she fled.

                “Faces,” he said finally, his eyes shooting up towards her and a stillness taking hold. “I can take some out, if you want me to.”

                A dark emptiness crept over Ida; a feeling like everything below her tongue had slipped out of her ribs. Her eyes were turned inwards and swept over inverted memories of her childhood, twisted and marred until all that was left was a blur of bruises, shrieks and the stench of nicotine. A blizzard of broken glass, whiskey and her father’s spit. 

                “Whatever,” she muttered to the floor, convulsing sobs threatening again. “Take it out. I don’t want it anyway.”

                Ren rounded his desk and mounted the tall chair. He clamped a pair of armless lenses to the end of his nose and peered through them at the scattered papers, all covered with his zealous scrawl. He shuffled through the mess with an expert’s dexterity and uninterrupted focus. Ida shifted uncomfortably in the centre of the room, unsure of what she was meant to do now that Ren’s work had begun. She glanced around at the walls of the dim room and all the maps and charts that hung there. Each represented another world; created worlds, for the desperate. She approached one and traced the coast of a large continent with a delicate finger and wondered if it was what it was meant to be.

                Several hours passed and Ida visited each of Ren’s worlds in her own imagination. The time spent had left her ever more reluctant to spend more time than was necessary confined to this one. But before too long fascination turned to boredom, and with boredom came a drowsiness that she could not endure. She sat in the corner beside the door and for a time she watched Ren work, spewing information from his mind to his pen with a fluidity and consistency that was more machine than human, more reflex than conscious effort.

Ida was not exactly sure when she fell asleep, but upon waking she quickly became aware that her location had changed. The room she now found herself in had the same low beams and roughly the same dimensions as Ren’s study, though the desk was absent. Instead there were several rows of wooden benches facing a solid stone dais and wall opposite the doorway. If it wasn’t for the almost unsettling absence of any religious paraphernalia, Ida would have thought herself in a church. On the dais was a large circular stand, the curving metal arms of which clasped a globe of the world. Unlike anything else in the room, no dust had settled on the surface of the globe. Ida raised herself off the bench and crossed to the arched door. She was reaching for the handle when the hinges creaked and the door swung away, Ren’s small frame appearing behind it. Ida backed away sheepishly, causing Ren’s mouth to twitch and an eyebrow to climb higher.

“You can still change your mind, Ida,” he reassured, entering the room.

It took a moment for Ida to shake the drowsiness from her head, but when she did her brain churned with despair. She sunk back onto the bench and grasped her hair close to the scalp.

“No, Ren, I won’t,” Ida declared. “How much longer? He’ll know I came here.”

Ren handed her a folded grey blanket. He wore a pained, sorrowful smile and locked his eyes on her as he backed out of the room.

“Not long, Ida. You are almost free.”

He paused for a moment, then closed the door. Ida’s breathing grew heavy and silent tears began to line her eyes again, magnifying the congested blood vessels. She leaped to her feet and violently threw the blanket to the ground, stomping down the main aisle.

“I hate you!” she shouted as she mounted the dais. Her foot thundered into the hollow globe, and the entire stand rocked. Screaming, she clutched the metal arms and, with all her strength, tipped the globe. It plummeted from the dais, catching the edge and splintering across the floor. The metal frame skidded into the first row of benches, and the sound of grating wood joined the cacophony. Ida stood panting above the ruined globe, her jaw jutting forwards defiantly. Through her tear-blurred eyes she observed the shattered globe, the bent and ruined arms of the stand, and the displaced benches. Her body raging, she dropped from the dais and sent a large shard of the globe scurrying across the floor. Propelled by anger, she hurtled back down the main aisle and threw her whole weight against the door. It swung open more readily than she expected, and she fell forward into the snow.

 The sudden chill burned Ida’s skin and she scrambled to her feet, her rage suddenly frozen into the shape of bewilderment. She backed fearfully against the frozen stone of the building and felt her way back inside. Her eyes were transfixed by the glittering whiteout that had replaced Ren’s temple, and her stumbling feet found the blanket he had given her. Shivers began to claw across her back as she hastily threw the blanket around herself, each breath hovering before her, reluctant to surrender its warmth. Cold and disorientated, Ida examined the inside of the room. It was exactly as before, except a complete globe stood in an undamaged stand on the dais. She approached it cautiously, climbing the dais one step at a time and gently touching the surface. It was not the world she knew, and it made her smile.

                Ida found it hard to see once outside. There seemed to be no boundary between land and sky, giving Ida the impression that she was walking on a cloud. A numbing euphoria had taken hold, and despite the biting chill of the snow she was certain that this was heaven. She drove forward towards the only visible thing: a dark, tall pine tree. As her hands clasped it, feeling for the first time something real and living in this new world, a steep decent became visible beneath the impenetrable cloud. On a flat just beyond, a small settlement of temporary housing sat invitingly around the flickering mouth of a deep mine. A trolley full of some dark metal sat on the tip of a tongue-like track, running from the farthest reaches of the mine.

Hurriedly Ida navigated the treacherous decent and wandered into the small village. She could see many faces, not at all different from what she was used to, sitting and joking around a large fire or dancing to unheard tunes. Her euphoria receded into a vague cautiousness and her pace slowed, the sight of the fire bringing feeling back to her body. She began to shiver uncontrollably and tucked the blanket tighter around herself, shuffling into the dancing dome of light.

 

Author's Note

I wrote this quite a while ago, but I really enjoyed writing it. I want to know:
-are the descriptions clear enough, or congested?
-Is the setting clear the whole way through?
-is more of a backstory needed?
-do I need to expand on the relationship between Ida and Ren?

Reviews

[Elizabeth M.]

going down , descending is spelled descend

You do very well in building and maintaining suspense--at the beginning making the reader wonder what has happened to make Ida want a new life and at the end, making the reader want to know where she is now and what will happen to her here.

As for clear descriptions - Ida shouted hysterically, her arms flailing futilely before her. --I'd consider deleting hysterically and futilely from this sentence. Her words and behavior SHOW her hysteria, so there's no need to TELL us she is hysterical.

Her strides came to a staggered halt and she fell to her knees, showing the tarnished soles of her shoes to the sky. Consider --She staggered to a halt and fell to her knees, exposing the tarnished soles of her shoes.

Setting - little Japanese man and temple courtyard paint a very vivid picture of the setting for me.

Hope these examples help - Elizabeth M.

[KeeD]

Everyone knows I barely read stories and books, I always feel bad that I hardly ever commit to peoples read requests when they want their stories to be read but I enjoy your writing and sometimes I just have to read something written by a person as talented as yourself.
The first paragraph of a story for me is crucial.. it helps me decide if the story is worth reading and hence with that decision I either continue or close it. Let me tell you I loved the way you introduced this story.. It didn't give away anything but it had a descriptiveness that got me hooked and wanting to know these characters and why her sudden urgency on having a happier world built for her.

Now reading on i'm struck inspired by the authors words in building up a pretty motivational character, still clueless how the story will pan out i'm looking forward and enjoy the tale. “Those who run find no peace.” brilliance!

“Ida.”

[Spoon]

I, who prefer to write stories rather than poems, also suffer from this same lack of willingness to read a longer piece. Quite hypocritical I know, but I am trying to force myself! So thank you for taking the time for this, it is not easy to get pieces this long read and reviewed. But when someone like you does, it makes it all worth it! Thank you for your wonderful review!
(I owe you a dozen in return now :P)

[KeeD]

omg my review got cut into half :O

i'm going to continue it now here i apologize about that

The paragraph before "Ida" Wow it sent jolts through my body.. the build up and anticipation as he peered inside her soul seeking out her story.. like lava churning against molten rock.. that was amazing.. AMAZING!!!!

oh my God! the descriptiveness and direction this leads hence forth was amazing, what a journey.. excellent writing my friend.

[Dark Rider]

Everything was great! I loved every minute I was reading it. You have a great way with details and descriptions. I wish I could do that. Awesome job! :)