11

A Chapter by marie

the screams of the tortured souls who had been bound to that table seemed to echo in the room. her father head been killed there and by law, no one could speak of him. lillian walked up to the table and looked at the stains that painted the table. she saw the remnants of a finger belonging to a small child nailed to the center of the table, her finger. she looked down at her right hand, its pinkie finger gone long ago.

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© 2013 marie

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Nina Mack

I like this story so far. You need a transition between the trunk and the stables, it was too sudden. But here (it's not perfect but I tried to help lol):

Chapter 1
Lilian stood transfixed by the moonlight. They said that deep into the past it actually was like a light and not a shadow that you could only tell it was there by a sense deep in your soul. A wolf howled off in the distance sending chills up her spine, it was so sad in its song of the ages but it had a comforting sense around it that no one but her seemed to feel. Her mother never understood why she stood out in the dark, for she herself was too terrified of the dark moon above. Everyone was now. They never even looked at it and when they saw her gazing longingly up into the sky they simply muttered to themselves remembering that is was Lilian, the one the elders had named as the cursed one, the one who would be a danger to all eternity.

"I wonder why they are so scared of the things they do not understand. They tell stories of it but never really look any further…" Lillian pulled her long sleeves up to her elbows, fingering the pale pink scars that littered her snow white skin. They were meant as reminders from the elders telling her who she was, the cursed one. The elders had told her when she was around three years old they tried to rid her of her curse, but she knew better that they feared her, feared what she would become.

The only reason they had ever proclaimed her "cursed” was because she had dared to ask why they killed all those who entered their small village without permission, why when there was a food shortage they killed the slaves children that had not yet seen ten summers? The elders feared she would open the eyes of the people and invoke a rebellion. She probably wouldn't have but after the first time they whipped her and shoved hot coals upon her back she had made a plan.

At first it was a very rudimentary plan, the fantasies of a tortured little girl, but now it was more and they needed to pay. She didn't care what they did to anyone so long as they suffered for the pain they had inflicted upon her. It was mad, she knew it, still it had to be done.

Lillian turned around slowly and walked toward the house. Her snow white hair flowed freely behind her. Her mother stood in the kitchen cooking the mush that they would call dinner tonight. It was a warm tasteless mess that seemed to linger in her throat.

"You really shouldn’t linger outside, the people already think the worst of you,” she said with her back to her daughter, still cooking the mush.

"Then why should I care?” Lillian replied, her voice holding a slight rasp but still allowing the air to whisper it through the home. Her mother Anira turned around, her lifeless grey eyes seeing more of Lillian than any person with normal sight could.

“Because they are wrong. You are just like the rest of them simply more outspoken. You are Inlakar.”

The ancient word for “spoken” flowed from her mother’s lips like water, catching Lillian off guard.

“I don’t know, Mother, I just don’t understand why they are all so blind and if they are not, then they are cowards.”

Anira’s back bent over as if a heavy weight had been placed upon her. She shook her head and ladled out some of the thick mush into a wooden bowl.

“It’s late and I have no wish to argue with you. Here is your dinner. Take it and go.”

Lillian numbly took the bowl from her mother and watched her walk out of the room neglecting to serve herself some food. She lightly set down the bowl and walked over to the pantry, barely noticing she even moved. She opened the door as if her life depended upon it.

The scent of rich spices and preserved meat wafted out towards her. She pushed past the tantalizing aromas and walked into the small pantry and moved a container full of potatoes out of the way, revealing her father’s old trunk. Its wood told tales of long years upon the road. It had been a gift from her grandfather to her father, as it had been for many generations passing on from generation to generation, each owner placing a piece of themselves inside. She eased open the old trunk, its hinges squeaking the way all things full of age did.

Lillain ran outside to her neighbors home and into their stables where there were two mares, one brown with a single white hook and one completely black. She ran her hands along the brown ones flank.

"I have a job for you, do you think you are up for it?” she whispered into the mare’s ear. She grabbed a saddle blanket and some horse bags, quietly filling up the bags with hay and wood, anything she knew was flammable. She silently placed it over the horse’s back and hoisted herself up onto the horse with a practiced grace.

“Now off to the elders’ circle,” she murmured to herself dictating her every move not giving herself the chance to back out of her plan.

Now you have to move the horse, she told herself, her movements becoming more and more like a well-trained dog. She spurred the mare into the heart of the city while keeping to the back roads and avoiding as many people’s stares as she could.

Inside the town was a large building. It had a thatched roof and cracked walls. This was the only building that dated back since before the time of the Edrians. The humans came first, but they were brutes that killed the forest of any green healthy thing.

The Edrians were savage as well, but it was in a different kind of way. They valued the world so much that they killed their own kind for even harming a plant. The two beings had been at war with no hope of it ever ending in sight. They had separated into two kingdoms, one of Edrians and one of humans. Lillian was a human.

Lillian guided the horse to a stop in front of the elders’ circle, there she took the saddle bag and released the horse from its reigns. “Go home,” she whispered to it just before walking into the front doors of the elders’ building.

Inside was a small circular room, the only place the people of the town where allowed to see. She looked around and glared at the blood soaked table that stood in the center of the room. It was a sturdy oak table that served as a place to behead the Edrians and to torture humans who talked of peace between the two races. She had been there too many times.

The screams of the tortured souls who had been bound to that table seemed to echo in the room. Her father head been killed there and by law, no one could speak of him. Lillian walked up to the table and looked at the stains that painted it. She saw the remnants of a finger belonging to a small child nailed to the center of the table, her finger. She looked down at her right hand, its pinkie finger gone long ago.

Posted 11 Years Ago

I like this story so far. You  need a transition between the trunk and the stables, it was too sudden. But here (it's not perfect but I tried to help lol):

Chapter 1 
Lilian stood transfixed by the moonlight. They said that deep into the past it actually was like a light and not a shadow that you could only tell it was there by a sense deep in your soul. A wolf howled off in the distance sending chills up her spine, it was so sad in its song of the ages but it had a comforting sense around it that no one but her seemed to feel. Her mother never understood why she stood out in the dark, for she herself was too terrified of the dark moon above. Everyone was now. They never even looked at it and when they saw her gazing longingly up into the sky they simply muttered to themselves remembering that is was Lilian, the one the elders had named as the cursed one, the one who would be a danger to all eternity.

"I wonder why they are so scared of the things they do not understand. They tell stories of it but never really look any further…" Lillian pulled her long sleeves up to her elbows, fingering the pale pink scars that littered her snow white skin. They were meant as reminders from the elders telling her who she was, the cursed one. The elders had told her when she was around three years old they tried to rid her of her curse, but she knew better that they feared her, feared what she would become.

The only reason they had ever proclaimed her "cursed” was because she had dared to ask why they killed all those who entered their small village without permission, why when there was a food shortage they killed the slaves children that had not yet seen ten summers? The elders feared she would open the eyes of the people and invoke a rebellion. She probably wouldn't have but after the first time they whipped her and shoved hot coals upon her back she had made a plan.

At first it was a very rudimentary plan, the fantasies of a tortured little girl, but now it was more and they needed to pay. She didn't care what they did to anyone so long as they suffered for the pain they had inflicted upon her. It was mad, she knew it, still it had to be done.

Lillian turned around slowly and walked toward the house. Her snow white hair flowed freely behind her. Her mother stood in the kitchen cooking the mush that they would call dinner tonight. It was a warm tasteless mess that seemed to linger in her throat.

"You really shouldn’t linger outside, the people already think the worst of you,” she said with her back to her daughter, still cooking the mush.

"Then why should I care?” Lillian replied, her voice holding a slight rasp but still allowing the air to whisper it through the home. Her mother Anira turned around, her lifeless grey eyes seeing more of Lillian than any person with normal sight could.

“Because they are wrong. You are just like the rest of them simply more outspoken. You are Inlakar.”

The ancient word for “spoken” flowed from her mother’s lips like water, catching Lillian off guard.

“I don’t know, Mother, I just don’t understand why they are all so blind and if they are not, then they are cowards.”

Anira’s back bent over as if a heavy weight had been placed upon her. She shook her head and ladled out some of the thick mush into a wooden bowl.

“It’s late and I have no wish to argue with you. Here is your dinner. Take it and go.”

Lillian numbly took the bowl from her mother and watched her walk out of the room neglecting to serve herself some food. She lightly set down the bowl and walked over to the pantry, barely noticing she even moved. She opened the door as if her life depended upon it.

The scent of rich spices and preserved meat wafted out towards her. She pushed past the tantalizing aromas and walked into the small pantry and moved a container full of potatoes out of the way, revealing her father’s old trunk. Its wood told tales of long years upon the road. It had been a gift from her grandfather to her father, as it had been for many generations passing on from generation to generation, each owner placing a piece of themselves inside. She eased open the old trunk, its hinges squeaking the way all things full of age did.

Lillain ran outside to her neighbors home and into their stables where there were two mares, one brown with a single white hook and one completely black. She ran her hands along the brown ones flank.

"I have a job for you, do you think you are up for it?” she whispered into the mare’s ear. She grabbed a saddle blanket and some horse bags, quietly filling up the bags with hay and wood, anything she knew was flammable. She silently placed it over the horse’s back and hoisted herself up onto the horse with a practiced grace.

“Now off to the elders’ circle,” she murmured to herself dictating her every move not giving herself the chance to back out of her plan.

Now you have to move the horse, she told herself, her movements becoming more and more like a well-trained dog. She spurred the mare into the heart of the city while keeping to the back roads and avoiding as many people’s stares as she could.

Inside the town was a large building. It had a thatched roof and cracked walls. This was the only building that dated back since before the time of the Edrians. The humans came first, but they were brutes that killed the forest of any green healthy thing.

The Edrians were savage as well, but it was in a different kind of way. They valued the world so much that they killed their own kind for even harming a plant. The two beings had been at war with no hope of it ever ending in sight. They had separated into two kingdoms, one of Edrians and one of humans. Lillian was a human.

Lillian guided the horse to a stop in front of the elders’ circle, there she took the saddle bag and released the horse from its reigns. “Go home,” she whispered to it just before walking into the front doors of the elders’ building.

Inside was a small circular room, the only place the people of the town where allowed to see. She looked around and glared at the blood soaked table that stood in the center of the room. It was a sturdy oak table that served as a place to behead the Edrians and to torture humans who talked of peace between the two races. She had been there too many times.

The screams of the tortured souls who had been bound to that table seemed to echo in the room. Her father head been killed there and by law, no one could speak of him. Lillian walked up to the table and looked at the stains that painted it. She saw the remnants of a finger belonging to a small child nailed to the center of the table, her finger. She looked down at her right hand, its pinkie finger gone long ago.

Rating /100

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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11 Years Ago

Yes, please do!

11 Years Ago

liked the reconstruction done.

Reviews

Prritiy

the pace is nice of the story, it is captivating.

I also second Dru's words- working on grammar and too-short chapters can really be discouraging. What you can do now is by going to edit section you can reorganize the chapters by combining the paragraphs and correct the grammar too. It will also retain the build up interest.

best wishes