The challenge is here, by Chuck Wendig. It's basically this: Pick a number between 1-10 three times. I rolled a d10 using an online dice roller(I am a nerd). The numbers correspond to these choices in three corresponding aspects: Subgenre/Setting/Element.
My random picks?
Subgenre: Sword and Sorcery
Setting: At the Gates of the Garden of Eden
Element: A Talking Sword.
This is what I came up with.)
The Garden
The knight walked the pitted road
alone. His armor no longer shined, covered in dried blood and mud. Black hair hung down to his shoulders, dirty and unkempt. He'd
lost his helm long ago. He carried a sword, its tip dragging in the
dirt.
"How can you be sure?" The
sword asked.
"I believe it," the man
replied.
"But you don't know. You can't."
"I do know. I have faith. That is
enough."
"How do you know you'll make it?
It has not been an easy road."
No, it had not. He'd faced hordes of
dark men, monstrous beasts and turned death aside each and every
time. "Like I said, I have faith."
"You really believe. You really
trust in Him. After everything."
"Yes. After everything."
"How will you find it?"
"Faith. Faith, my old friend."
The man walked on, the sword silent.
The land lay flat all around, dark and sandy. A hot wind blew dust
about. The man covered his mouth with his hand and closed his eyes.
It passed and he moved on.
"We've seen nothing for miles,"
the sword said. "Perhaps there is nothing left."
"Remnants. Vestiges of what we
once were. Pieces that are not whole."
"Will never be whole."
The man shook his head. "We will
be, again. There is always hope."
"Hope for what?"
"Salvation. For those of us left
in this broken world."
A hut appeared in the distance, as the
sun neared the horizon and the sky, always gray, grew darker. It
stood, walled with gray brick scoured by ages of time. A light shone
from the one window.
"We are close," the sword
said. "Be wary."
"I will be faithful." He
found the strength to pick up the sword and sheath it on his back.
The door to hut stood strong and wooden. He pounded on it.
"Who be there?" A frail voice
called. "These be evil times."
"A humble traveler, asking only
shelter for the long night."
"Do you have anything to offer?"
"I have nothing."
The door creaked open, revealing a
wizened old face. The old man peered curiously through a gap in the
door. He took notice of the armor and the sword. "You look like
one from ancient times."
"I follow an ancient path."
The door opened fully, revealing the
one room shack within. A dusty table stood in the center, wooden
cupboards against the wall and a cot in the corner.
"I don't have much but what I do
have, I offer."
"You have my thanks."
The old man nodded and gestured to the
table where two rickety chairs sat.
The knight took a seat as the elder
walked around the home, opening the cupboards. He took out a bottle
of brownish liquid, sloshing about. He grabbed two glasses and set
everything upon the table.
"I thank you but I do not drink
liquor," the younger said.
The old man halted, muttering to
himself. He went back to the cupboards and pulled out another
pitcher. This of water. He poured the liquor in one glass and water
in the other. He slid the water glass over to the other man.
The knight took it and drank. "I
thank you."
The old man took a seat across the
table and drank from his own glass. "Are you a knight?"
"Yes."
"You truly do follow an ancient
path, then, one long forgotten in this world. What does a knight do,
in a world so lost in darkness?"
"Bring light to the darkness. Seek
forgiveness and salvation. Believe."
"Believe?" The old man
snapped, drinking more. He cackled. "Believe? You are a fool!"
The knight put the glass down. "If
I have offended you, I will seek shelter elsewhere."
The old man chuckled at that. "There
is no other shelter here." He shook his head. "Stay. I have
not had company in a very long time. Tell me, knight, what do you
seek? The Holy Grail?" The old man smiled as if he'd made a
joke.
The knight finished the water in his
glass. "I seek no holy relic, only a holy place where I can
finally rest."
"You seek a temple?"
The knight shook his head. "I will
know it when I find it."
The old man, in gray rags and long
ragged white hair, smiled a toothless grin. "You search the
wrong way. There is nothing up this road but death. Go back the way
you came, I tell you."
The knight shook his head. "I must
keep on as I am."
The elder nodded. "Very well."
He stood and picked up the water pitcher. "Let me refill your
glass." He walked around the table.
The other man put his glass down as the
elder walked over. The old man threw the water into the knight's
face.
The knight's head snapped back.
The old man thrust a dagger at the
other man's neck.
The knight caught the wrist, twisting
it away.
The pitcher crashed against the
knight's head, knocking him over and out of his chair.
He rolled, standing, lights flashing in
his eyes.
The old man came on.
The sword flashed out in the knight's
hand, knocking dagger and pitcher away. He held the point of the
blade against the old man's neck.
"Yield!" The knight called.
The old man hesitated.
"Adam," the knight said, his
voice soft and low, vision clearing. "Yield or die."
Adam sighed and raised his arms. "I
yield."
The knight sheathed his sword.
Adam gestured to the table. "Shall
we break bread and talk?"
The knight nodded.
Adam went to the cupboards and brought
out a loaf of bread. He brought it to the table and broke it in half.
The knight sat, accepting half a loaf.
"We tried to come back," Adam
said, nibbling at a piece of bread. "We knew we couldn't go
back, just as you cannot go there...but we tried. Just as you will
try, and fail."
"I will not fail. You guard it
now?"
"I suppose we do. What do you
expect to find? Paradise?" Adam laughed without mirth. "You
will not find that."
"I do not search for paradise."
"You seek the Garden. You are
close but the way, the way is perilous."
"Is Eve here, too, then?"
Adam nodded, his eyes heavy with
sadness. "The most beautiful woman. The only woman. We tried to
come back." His voice filled with regret, he looked ready to
cry. "I would cry but I have no more tears left. I have cried
for all that I have done, all the sorrow I have wrought. I have no
more tears left."
The knight ate in silence.
"You should kill him," the
sword spoke.
Adam's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Your
sword speaks? The voice...it sounds familiar." Adam stared at
the weapon. "Who is it?"
"That is none of your concern,"
the knight said.
"You should kill him and abandon
this quest," the sword said. "The pathetic man is right.
You will not find salvation."
"What?" Adam asked, standing
up. "It cannot be true! A human believes where an angel does
not?" He burst into laughter.
The knight finished his bread and
stood. "I will seek shelter elsewhere," he said and headed
for the door.
"He abandoned us, knight!"
Adam called out. "You will not find Him!"'
The knight left the old man bent over,
cackling with laughter.
Night had fallen, pitch black and
thick. The knight walked along the road, leaving the hut behind.
"You will not sleep this night?"
The sword asked.
"I will walk. We are close."
"You will do no good if you get
yourself killed."
"You forget, you always forget. My
faith protects me."
Silence held the air as the man walked,
boots crunching dirt.
"You are a good man," the
sword broke the silence. "I am glad you are the one who found
me. I hope you find what you are looking for."
The knight gripped the handle of the
blade. "He forsake us for our sins and left us to destroy
ourselves. We did so and now we are left, broken and bleeding. He did
not believe we deserved saving. I will show Him we can be pure of
heart and mind, we can be saved. I will ask for forgiveness, for all
of us. And he will give us salvation."
The sword did not answer.
The knight kept on, his muscles drained
and his body exhausted. The sun rose, lightening the dull gray sky
and illuminating the flat plain around him. The road led on, empty
and lifeless. The air around him seemed to thicken. Each step felt
harder to take than the last until it seemed he walked through water.
Haze obfuscated the land around him, blurry and distant. His vision
grew distorted, colors swirling, mixing, spreading, growing.
"What manner of trick is this?"
He asked, spitting out the words, sounding shaken.
"I know not, but it is dangerous.
Do not..." The sword's voice faded from his mind.
His feet no longer touched the ground.
His body fell miles.
He forgot.
He opened his eyes. He lay on a bed in
a white room underneath white blankets. Pain was gone. Exhaustion was
gone. He struggled to remember. Why would he be in pain? Why would he
be exhausted? He realized he was naked in the bed and looked for
clothes around the room, but there were none. No sword, either. Why
did he think of a sword? He had no need of a sword. This place felt
safe, peaceful.
He pushed himself to sit up and the
door swung open. Had there even been a door before...His thoughts
stopped abruptly as a beautiful woman walked in, wearing nothing but
a flimsy black robe. Long and flowing brown hair fell down her back,
her eyes not pools but oceans of blue you could drown in and she
flashed a radiant smile at him.
"You're up," she said, her
voice as beautiful as her body, light and magical.
"Yes but..." He frowned.
"Something's wrong..."
"Don't worry," she said.
"I'll join you in bed. We can forget about everything, here."
"No, wait." His cheeks
flushed red. “We can't-”
She pulled the robe apart. “Why can't
we?”
He closed his eyes. "No,
something...this...this is wrong."
"Then why does it feel so right?"
She whispered, coming closer.
He felt her sliding into the bed,
getting close to him. He slid away, falling to the floor in his
haste. "I cannot." He remembered...something. "I've
taken an oath."
"Oaths were made to be broken.
Trust me, I know."
"No," he said, standing. "I'm
sorry but I need my clothes. I need to leave. Now."
"You are a fool." Her voice
changed.
He turned as she threw herself from the
bed, stabbing him in the side with a dagger. Her hair turned filthy
white, her face wrinkled and her eyes black. Her voice blazed with
anger.
"Fool!" She screamed.
With a roar he grabbed her arms and
threw her away. He stumbled back, clutching at the dagger. "Eve!"
He howled, pulling the dagger out and throwing it at her. The world
fell away into darkness.
He remembered.
"Wake up!" The sword called.
"She's going to kill you!"
The knight awoke, laying on the ground.
He wore his armor and his sword but felt blood gushing from his side.
He pushed himself up, side spiking in pain. A shriek hurtled through
the air and he saw her, dark and old, floating in the air. She looked
as she had in the dream at the end, hair white, skin stretched and
wrinkled, eyes oozing darkness. She raised a hand and fire flew from
her fingertips.
The knight dove to the side, fireball
exploding behind him. He ducked another and threw himself back from a
third. His body, still weary, seemed slow to respond. He felt burns
across his open skin.
Eve screamed and flew at him, fingers
extended, claws reaching for him. He turned but too slow. She raked
his face bloody. He hit the ground hard.
"Give up!" She screamed like
a banshee. "Give up and live!"
"You couldn't forgive yourself,
could you Eve?" The knight called out, standing up. "You
couldn't ask for forgiveness for your sin. It's eaten at you all this
time, turning you to this wretched thing."
Eve snarled like a beast, throwing
another ball of flame.
The knight stood tall, open armed and
let it strike his armor. It billowed around him but did not harm him,
though the metal warmed up. He drew his sword as she threw another.
The blade struck it and sent it back. She barely dodged the
explosion.
"Let's kill the bitch," the
sword said.
"For once, we agree," the
knight said, taking steps forward. He ignored the pain in his side,
the ache in his muscles and the sheer exhaustion he felt. He strove
towards the witch.
Eve threw visions but he saw through
them, she threw lies yet he saw truth. She summoned up beasts and he
slew them.
He reached her. She looked tired,
barely able to stand, arms raised but doing nothing. Her face sagged
and her eyes were wide in fright. "You will not find what you
seek! You will only find death!"
"Yield," he said. "And I
will spare your life."
She smiled. "Never," she
spat, eyes twinkling as if she knew something he didn't.
"Behind!" The sword called
and the knight turned without questioning, swinging the sword.
The witch's head hit the ground and
rolled as the body crumpled to dust. Darkness swirled around the
knight and then dissipated, revealing a dark forest with a lone dirt
path leading through it.
The knight walked the path. Blood left
a trail behind him. He pulled off his breastplate and let it fall to
the side of the path. The side of his shirt felt patchy with blood.
He said nothing. The sword said nothing.
The man's breath caught at the sight of
the gate. It stood, looming over him, its height above the trees of
the forest. A dark wall extended from the gate in both directions as
far as the eye could see. The gate itself was made of golden bars,
bright and polished...No, that wasn't right. There were spots of rust
here and there along the gate, the brightness dimmed in spots. Still,
it was an impressive sight.
"We made it," the man said.
The sword said nothing.
He frowned as the two giant sides of
the gate stood ajar, leaving a gap wide enough for him to fit
through. He had expected it to be closed, to open at his touch...
"It's not for me to question,"
he whispered, stepping through the gate.
His feet faltered and he fell to his
knees. The view shocked him. The ground looked ancient and dusty,
nothing but old dirt and dead foliage. The trees stood tall but their
limbs were bare. Many had fallen, not to an axe but to rot. Bones
littered the earth. Bones of every kind of animal the man could think
of. So many bones, all over. So much death.
A wail escaped him. Everything welled
up and poured out. He clutched his bleeding side and fell, weeping. A
cold wind blew but nothing in the Garden moved.
The man pushed himself to stand. He
unsheathed his sword.
"Don't do this," the sword
said.
"I have nothing left," the
man said. He put the point of the blade against the left side of his
chest and both hands on the grip. He thrust the sword into his heart
and fell.
Eventually, all that was left was his
bones, the only human bones in the whole Garden, and the sword, lying
at the gate.
No comments:
Post a Comment