Sunday, September 30, 2007

Beginnings of a story

So I typed this up last night, but forgot to actually post it up. Here's a story I wrote at the UGLi a few days ago and workshopped on Thursday. I haven't actually edited it since then, but I'm pretty much looking for direction. And a title, but that will have to come after a climax/conflict/something.

Click on Post Page below for the story!

He woke looking at a web of leaves. The sun shone through around him, painting splotches of white everywhere. His walking stick lay beside him as he lay under his trusty towel. The soft, brown earth below him was comforting. The grass had just the perfect amount of spring. But although the world around him was so calm and beautiful, something felt off. He rolled over to find a furry caterpillar crawling around next to him, and he reached over to stroke it, pondering his current situation.

Slowly, he sat up and stretched. It really was a great morning. Even the air was cool and crisp—perfect weather for a t-shirt and long pants. He stood up, still mulling over last night, folded his towel, and tucked it into his knapsack. Then he picked up his walking stick, which just came up to his chest, and walked down to the river, stopping at a bush on the way for a breakfast of berries.

The water was cool, clear, and refreshing. Normally, it would have felt invigorating, but today, those strange events from the night before just kept nagging at him. This camping trip couldn't continue until that was resolved.

Ryan got up and walked east along the riverbank. Her footsteps were still visible in the damp mud on the riverbank, so she was easy to track. Half an hour later, he came upon the clearing he had walked through yesterday. Today, though, he felt something different as he approached it. He crept up slowly behind a tree and stopped, listening. This was one thing he had come to learn very well over time: ALWAYS trust your instincts. And right now, his instincts were screaming, “TROUBLE!”

He strained his senses to try to discern what was so creepy about that place, and then softly, a voice drifted towards him from his left. Slowly he tiptoed in it's direction, being very careful not to step on a twig, lest he attract unwanted attention. When he got close enough to decipher the mumbling, he realized they were speaking in a language he couldn't understand. He slipped his knife out of his knapsack and flipped it open before crawling closer. He silently thanked his father for the birthday present that had come in handy so many times before.

There were three people around the fire pit ahead. One was lying on the other side of the fire pit turned away from him while the other two were sitting across from each other talking. The two that were sitting up were stocky and well-built with short, blond hair.

The person lying down here is supposed to be the "her" he's pursuing, but of course, it's up for interpretation/change.