Little Shadow: A Prosian Tale - Chapter 2

Drifting and the Spirits

            Eventually the sun beams began to fade, and the sky above the treetops darkened to a warm orange, then a staunch blackness. The birds stopped their chirping, and the world around him grew very calm. A breeze swept through the bushes and all around the tree trunks, causing the shadow to shiver. His orb, still clung to his chest, was now the only source of light. A faint warmth flowed from the crystal into his hands and chest, which he noticed more and more as the night drew on. He had been walking a long distance through the day and into the night before he heard a strange noise- a loud moan, or the creak of a large door- coming from the darkness behind him. His pace quickened as he turned his head around, attempting to make out what could have made the noise. Then the sound came again, closer and more to the left. Then again, but this time almost in front of him. He was running now, and every new sound all around him made his body flinch. He noticed several faint glowing masses appearing around him, but he was too afraid to focus on any of them.

            Suddenly, as the shadow’s head was turned, a large tree root snagged his foot. Without preparation, the crystal orb flew out of his hands and he began to tumble down a steep hill. Leaves and branches smacked him in every part of the body, leaving cuts and bruises as he fell all the way down. With a loud thud, he made it to the base of the ravine, landing on his head in a pile of dead leaves. He sprawled his arms and legs outwards and lay in the mess, attempting to catch his shaky breath.

            After a few moments of rest, he realized that it wasn’t helping the fear dissipate. In fact, his breathing was even faster now, and his body tensed and began to quiver. There was something wrong. He tried to stand upright, but a massive pain sprang in his head and he fell back over. The shadows of the forest all bent towards him and slowly enveloped the trees and grass. The trees, dirt, bushes, even the moon above began to fade as it seemed the whole world was being swallowed by an angry darkness. The little shadow gripped his head in pain as the quivering became more violent. He was frightened and felt as if he was going to collapse.

            Yet in the midst of the growing shadows, he glanced up towards a small hint of orange light coming from the grass some ways away. The orb was now the only thing that drew any of his focus as he felt his mind drowning. It sat in a pile of sticks, the flame still floating perfectly in the center, giving off a warm glow that seemed to penetrate the darkness of the world around him. Once again, the little shadow tried to stand on his feet, but fell as another wave of pain hit. Given no other choice, he stretched his arms out and crawled towards the glow of the orb. His legs were weak, but he tried to kick them into the dirt to push himself forward, giving as much strength as he could rely on. Mud and leaves built up around his face and smeared his stomach and body, but he could hardly feel it as the pressure in his head pounded away. With one quivering hand, he stretched his arm out as far as he could reach.

            When he brought his hand down, instead of more dirt, he touched the smooth surface of the glowing orb. Immediately, an ocean of warmth spread from his hand all through the rest of his body. His vision began to clear, and the quivering in his limbs calmed. The pain in his head subsided to a minor pang, then dissolved into fuzz. He took his other hand and placed it on the orb, then closed his eyes and rested his head on the ground below.

               A few moments passed and the little shadow heard the same noise from earlier. Again, his body tensed, but it was still sore and tired so it hardly made a difference. He raised his head and watched as tall, glowing beings floated by. They were phantoms, and he noticed there were many of them on all sides, drifting just above the earth. They effortlessly flew up the mound of which he had fallen over, all quietly moaning to themselves, or perhaps mumbling. A closer look showed that each one was different, although it was hard to tell them apart. They drifted through the shadows, in no hurry but all in the same direction. After a few minutes spent watching them, the little shadow tried to stand. He made it onto his feet, with the help of the orb, and once again began to walk in the direction that he felt urged to go.

Hoping for Some Consistency

Alright, so lets try this again, shall we?

Yesterday I have started a new short fiction series called Little Shadow. The plan right now is just to update a chapter once a week for the next few months. I have part of the story all written out already, so they should all come out smoothly for now. The story is set in the fantasy realm of Prosia and tells the tale of a young shadow boy who wakes up in the middle of a thick forest. He has no memory of his past, and the only clue to this mystery is a crystal ball with a single flame floating in the center and a strong urge to move forward through the forest. I will also be updating some more of my poetry written over my time at the university I am currently attending, so look out for that as well.

In other news, I have made an account on the Absolute Write Water Cooler forums in an attempt to branch out and meet new people. Hopefully talking with other writers will motivate me to keep this blog up to date with actual content. You can find my introductory post here, and my forum profile here. And remember that I do keep up with my Twitter and Goodreads account, which you can find to the right of this post! (my left, your right. you get the gist).

Angels, Never Slow

There is, and will be, a blind conductor

Riding, pushing along, alone

Familiar with the tracks, the turns, the

Bumps, the gentle breeze that rocks

The beast across an unsteady bridge.

Paths never seem to change, only ever

The destination. Another left turn,

A small wave and a smile that sinks oceans

Forgetful, always forgetful, never cautious enough.

A shudder from the cars; phone vibrations

Everything right on schedule, but never the cliff.

There is a certain pity that is often felt for him.

Mostly by his own self, to which is used as

The coal for the warming fire.

Outside, he feels a chill, and maybe it is winter

But there is no ice, only soft snow

Drifting in the air by strings of love.

Behind me, the horn erupts.

Engines bellow, and the tracks

I walk beside quiver, convulse with excitement

Or anxiety. They carry a burden not for me.

The train passes, speeding ahead. It is not for me.

Only for a moment, brief as spark’s life

Do I feel the heat of the fire,

And assume the engine’s passion, its commitment

And I see the slick, black pain(t) on the outside, inviting me.

And then I see the wheels, and I know they’ll never stop pushing.

An impressive engineering marvel, years of construction

A design with no instruction, but plenty of recorded failures.

It will stop soon, and I will hear the crash from a safe distance

From my spot in the snow, huddled in an igloo

Carving angels with my boots.

Little Shadow: A Prosian Tale - Chapter 1

Make Haste, Shadow

         

In a shaded clearing, deep in a thick and brightened forest, a little shadow boy slept in the center of a small pool of light. The top of his head hardly resembled hair anymore, and his feet, once the form of small, pitch-black bucklers, were now smoothed and rounded at the ends where toes should have been. Instead of fingers, his hands were smoothed and rounded at the ends, both of them tightly clutching a crystal ball to the slumbering shadow’s chest. In the center of this orb, a single flame, no larger than the flame of an average candle, floated freely in the open space. With each drowsy shift, the flame fixed its position so as to stay directly in the middle, as if held from the sides by invisible ropes.

            The air was warm, but with an occasional breeze that ruffled the loose ends of the shadow and pushed some fallen leaves around in circles. No other being or form of life appeared present in the clearing, other than the grubs that undoubtedly populated the dirt. The world was alive like a painting, but still in anticipation. Slowly, and without moving his head or the rest of his body, the shadow’s mind came back to the waking world. The first sense that brightened his thoughts was the smell of the outdoors- the crisp scents of a seasoned forest, which made him vaguely aware of his surroundings. A wave of feeling moved through his body as he became overtly aware of his sleeping position.

            The little shadow blinked and rubbed his eye, blankly white and lacking any pupils. After his vision cleared of the waking fuzz, he squinted towards the sunlight pouring in from above the trees. It roughly seemed to him to be about midday, and that was the most, he realized, that he knew for sure. He was a shadow, yes, and he knew how to describe his surroundings and his current experiences. Yet he seemed to lack any bearing of where exactly he awoke or how long he had actually slept, and no memory whatsoever of how he had even arrived in this clearing or about the orb in his hands. When he tried to recall, there was no memory at all of the past, except for a very distant set of words in a tired and shaking voice.

            “Make haste, shadow, and keep safe the warmth. Worry not of the tragedy yet.”

            The single memory stuck to the edge of his mind but refused to move any further. Carefully, leaning against the orb, which took both of his hands to steady, the shadow pushed himself onto his feet. They wobbled, and he leaned against the orb for balance. Turning around, he noticed the small bed formed out of the dead leaves and broken sticks of the ground, depressed and still warm from his slumber. Had he done this himself? No, perhaps not, but it was impossible to tell at the moment. Behind the bedding, a tall tree shaded most of the clearing except for a few spots of sunlight lacing through the leaves. Looking around, there didn’t seem to be any path or clear direction to go, but the little shadow felt a strong urge to walk in the direction opposite the large tree, as if something in his chest was pulling him in that direction. After a few moments of surveying the situation and brushing any loose forest debris off of himself, there seemed nothing else more to do than to walk forward, where the brush didn’t seem too terribly thick.

            Once deeper in the woods, there was still very little visible life, but he could hear the world all around him busying itself with noises. Bugs chirped and echoed against the trees, and other strange and unfamiliar sounds seemed to look down upon him from the treetops above. Every now and then, a small bird flapped its wings against some leaves, or chirped loudly from a perch, and the little shadow took a few moments to admire this other creature. He could identify these birds by name, and he remembered the names of trees and plants and other wildlife, but when he tried to dig further in his mind, there seemed to be nothing else there.

            At one point, as he stared curiously at a loud, red-winged bird, the ground suddenly vibrated, and a rush of wind blew past him. Startled, he stumbled over his feet and fell on his hands and knees. He looked up to see a blur running quickly away from him. It was a deer. Yes, yes, a deer. It ran off in such a hurry, he could barely tell, and it quickly disappeared in the distance.

            The shadow was calming down, and he noticed that his arms and legs were shaking from the jolt of energy. The crystal orb sat a few feet away in the dirt, where it landed after he had fallen. He sat down in the dirt and tried to gain his composure. Shadows, he remembered, were not meant to be this afraid. He closed his eyes, listening again to the chirping of the birds and the pleasantries of the forest. After a few moments, he opened his eyes once more and propped himself back onto his feet. The urge in his chest was still present, like a longing for home, but without the knowledge of a home to travel towards. Picking up the orb and brushing it off helped quell the shaking in his arms, and the shadow forced himself to continue forward into the forest, nervous but hopeful about the journey ahead.

2016 Reading Challenge (100 Books) - January Update

Its a little later into February, but I'm just coming off of a cold and I now have a little motivation to write and update the blog. Early in January, I decided to sign onto a reading challenge of 100 books before the year's end. You can view the basic progress of the challenge on my Goodreads, which I will post the link to at the end of this post. Currently, I'm only four books in, which in the long term is a slow start. However, at the time that I'm writing this, I am already on my fifth book in February, so I'm quickly picking up speed. The four books of January were Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray BradBury, "The Shadow over Innsmouth" by H.P. Lovecraft, "A Poetry Handbook" by Mary Oliver, and "The Illustrated Man" by Ray Bradbury. 

On my Goodreads, I should have ratings of each of these books, but here I thought I would provide a short review of each of them. I'm not a fan of simply grading a book or a film and leaving that as a review, so I hope to answer some questions about my thoughts on each book. These will be incredibly brief, though, so don't expect anything too extensive unless the review calls for it.

Zen in the Art of Writing - Ray Bradbury

This was a perfect book to start the year with. Bradbury has compiled a small collection of essays that work to inspiring prospective writers into sitting down and work on their craft. The book isn't very technical, which may turn some people away, but only because its purpose is to invigorate the reader and excite them about writing, which is precisely what the book did for me. Parts of this book act as a semi-autobiography, where he retell his story in order to better present the lessons he wishes to teach. While some of these passages may come off a little boastful on Bradbury's part, his heart is always in the right place. The final chapter is comprised of poems that he wrote which also play into the theme of writing and being a writer. It isn't an enormous book, and it shouldn't take anyone very long to finish, but that just means its more worth the read if you're interested in writing. A perfect starting point.

The Shadow over Innsmouth - H.P. Lovecraft

I'm not at all very familiar with Lovecraftian lore, but over the past year I've become an immense fan of the video game Bloodborne, which is inspired by the cult classic horror stories, with this story in particular inspiring the plot of the game's DLC. So I ordered this small collection of stories in order to understand where the lore of the game arose, as well as to open a gateway into a new section of literature that I am unfortunately ignorant of. The collection includes a few other stories that supposedly all make a small part of the Cthulu mythos. After finishing the publication, I am definitely interested in learning more about the mythos in order to have a clearer picture of the over-looming mystery, but I can't say that any of the stories truly excited me. They were definitely creepy, and their imagery was terrifyingly specific and interesting, but I think I was simply turned off by how he writes these stories. In the title story, there is a 3-4 page block of the history of Innsmouth (a town) explained by an old drunkard that the protagonist was recommended to meet. The story of the town was such a creepy and intriguing story, but I had trouble simply reading it. The drunkard talked like an old sailor with missing teeth, which is fine and I actually admire that Lovecraft was able to write his dialogue in this way, but it went on for too long and I had to reread every sentence several times to fully comprehend what the man was saying. This is a small example, and in no way am I suggesting that he is a bad writer, but little decisions like that do build up, and eventually I became tired of reading it. The story and background is amazing and one that I'm still eager to dig into, but it was definitely a rougher start for me.

A Poetry Handbook -  Mary Oliver

This year, I've started focusing my university studies partially on poetry, meaning that a lot of my free time will be taken up by poetry for classes and possibly leisure. I had planned on finishing Edward Hirsch's How to Read a Poem (and Fall in Love with Poetry) but I unfortunately left it at home when I left for school. So until I'm able to finish that one, I decided to focus on this quick read. It is really refreshing when reading a book on poetry from someone who truly loves the subject themselves, and I really do get that feeling from Mary Oliver (and the same could be said for Hirsch, and I daresay even moreso). This really brief introduction into the technicalities of poetry was something I'm very glad to have read at the beginning of the year. I don't have much more to say on the book itself, other than if you are interested in studying poetry, this is a fine book to start with and one I recommend to anyone. It is brief, so there is nothing incredibly comprehensive or lengthy, but there are other books for a deeper look into any aspect of poetry. This only serves as an introduction and a base in which to start with and refer back to every now and again.

The Illustrated Man - Ray Bradbury

Seeing as I received multiple Bradbury books for Christmas, I think I've accepted the current Bradbury binge that I seem to be in. Fahrenheit 451 is definitely one of my favorite books of old time, and The Illustrated Man has some of the elements that will later inspire Bradbury's well known masterpiece. That being said, I don't find myself falling in love with these stories. The publication is a collection of science fiction stories set in the future, with the colonization of other planets, space travel, and aliens are pretty much assumed, and they all are told through the over-arching story about a man whose tattoos move and tell stories when he perspires. (The story actually ends in a way that I think was meant to be comical, but comes off fairly lacking in my opinion.) There are some very well told stories in here, such as Kaleidescope, about a rocket ship that explodes, spiraling its crew out into open space where they reflect on their lives as they drift farther apart (even typing this now gives me chills), or The Visitor, about a man exiled to Mars from an incurable disease who is then visited by a man who is able to use hypnosis to manipulate the world around him. Bradbury has a talent for creating some deviously clever plots and setups, but there are some cases where it seems the stories never reach farther than just the idea, such as The Highway, where nothing feels entirely complete. But those are on the minority, and the majority of these stories stand just fine on their own. I don't know, its not something that really hooked me, but I can say honestly that I enjoyed them.

So these turned out much longer than anticipated. I'm glad I was able to write this much about them, even if it still isn't a lot. Next month will have more reviews, and you can follow my progress on Goodreads below.

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/38778018-michael-quigg

One More Follower and Goodreads Challenge!

I'm trying to officially turn a part of this blog towards reviewing newly released books, but I need one more follower to meet the minimum requirements for BookLook Bloggers. If you know anyone that would enjoy the content of this blog, spread the word! With this new system, I will be able to post far more regularly, meaning I will actually be able to fill this blog up.

Also, I've started a (help me) 100 books challenge for the year. I will post my Goodreads page later in the week which is tracking my process. I'm almost four books in, and by my calculations I need to be reading around 8.3 books a month, which I have no idea how I will accomplish this. Even if I don't, though, it will still turn out to be a lot of fun!

Time to be Frank.

Hello, I'm Frank.

Now that my quota for obvious jokes have been made, I feel I need to update on the blog's progress.

I am currently enrolled in my first semester as a sophomore in college at Illinois State University. I'm having a real  nice start to the year, but unfortunately I have been busier than I have ever been. My classes demand lots of attention and study time, which takes away from my ability to continuously write for this blog. All of the subjects I want to write about or have already planned to write about take a lot more thought power than I'm able to presently provide. However, I still want to keep this blog running and updated, hence my dilemma.

That's why I'm going to try out an idea that came to me earlier today. At my mother's house in my hometown, I have a large collection of books. (Currently the number sits around 320 and always growing.) It has been a collection I officially started last year and features a very large variety of subjects. It is entirely unfocused and include many of my current interests, my childhood literature, and anything cheap and/or free that looked interesting.

So I want to talk about them.

The entire collection is listed on an excel worksheet on my computer along with their publishers, authors, and the dates that they were published. It isn't a perfect list, and I'm nearly positive I've left a few texts out, but it still includes a large majority of what I store on my shelves. Once a week, I will use a random number generator to pick out a book. The only other stipulation is that I have to have read it. If the generator produces the number of a book I have not read yet, I will pick the closest one that has been.

I've been planning on talking about my book collection for a few months, and I think this is a perfect way to do so. There won't be a specific format for each post. It will all depend on what I feel like talking about. Like I said, the collection is always growing and there will always be new additions to talk about. There will be one for this week which I will work on as soon as I finish typing this up!

I'm very excited to start, so keep coming back for more posts about books!