My Book (its kinda long for a post)
If this being here is a problem, or there is another thread for this, sorry.
Okay this is my book so far...actually ill only out down about 3/4's of it.
Please, please, give some review. and possible names for the book.
Dark trees the color of shadows, infest the forest west of a small settlement in the country side. Within the forest a foreboding ominous air enveloped the entire region almost like a blanket over a bed of trees. Above, a full moon hangs like a silver mirror illuminating all that it sees.
It’s the dead of night in the Black Forest, but all is not quiet. In fact, the exact opposite is occurring in the Eastern edge of the forest.
“You know, Edward, this might be the brightest night I’ve ever seen.” Said Jacob; the city guard, on post for the entrance into the only place he’s ever lived, Fort Bernard, located North East of the Black Forest. “Oh shut up Jacob, all you ever do is talk,” says Edward, the second guard on duty that night, as he takes another swig of his favorite home brewed whiskey. With a stutter in his voice and feeling a bit tired, Jacob continues his attempt on making a conversation, his only method of staying awake. “But Edward, I’ve heard gossip!” This time, a bit louder, Edward starts to speak. “What! More ghosts and ghouls!?! Your mommy telling you ghost stories at night again? Ha-ha!” And this is followed by a belch that stunk of cheap liquor. “You know Edward you should lay off that stuff while on the job, if the shift colonel catches you again he’ll…” Edward tosses his now empty wine skin, but it’s deflected by Jacobs’s standard issue wooden buckler. “What! I’ll get fired? It’s not like we get a single piece of gold for doing this! Not even a bit of bread to keep us from goin hungry at night!” At this Jacob looks down in defeat, it is required for every male member of a house hold above the age of 14 to spend at least one night of patrol a month or pay a hefty fine.
As the night drudges on in the still warm summer air, the pair both begin to set down their burdensome armor and equipment so they could have some time to rest. 60 pounds of steel hit the ground with a loud clang that sent near by birds fluttering in all directions, everything from their helms to their gorgets that are meant to protect ones neck. Suddenly, and without warning, Edward looks up, as if something just caught his attention. He moves over to Jacobs’s side of the gate. “Jacob, psst! Jacob did you hear that?” With a role of his eyes Jacob rises to his worn out boots and tired feet. “Calm down Edward you’re just drunk.” At that moment, un-known to the two guards, they were being watched by the inhabitants of the Black Forest. “No, no, I’m telling you Jacob!” Edward readies his pole ax, a long, thick wooden pole painted black with a shortened steel ax on the end, in his right hand and reaches for the warning horn a short, hollow rams horn used to alert the town if there is trouble with the other. “There’s someone or something around here” They both hear a barely noticeable rustle and a fowl stench up wind of them, something that smelled of both rotting flesh and wet fur. Now Jacob readies his sword and shield, wishing he had spent the extra gold piece for a better weapon, A few feet behind the two men, almost as if the forest itself was alive, they hear the most blood curdling shriek, like lightning splitting a tree, so loud they dropped their weapons just to cover their throbbing ears-
“Zain, come on son get ready for school it’s time to go!” said Henry. A big burley rugged looking man with a wild beard and heavy eye brows knocks loudly on the bedroom door. “Were going to be late boy! Don’t make me come in there!” Zain yells back in an annoyed tone while hastily putting on his school uniform, black dress pants, polished dress shoes, and the school crest, an eagle holding a red, white, green and black flag. “I’ve been ready Henry! I’ve just been waiting for you to finish up!” “uhh, ow, ow, o God my shoulders hurt!” Henry throws open the bedroom door to reveal a fair sized bedroom with white washed walls, and a barely visible carpet. The mess in room could only be described as a natural disaster. A medley of dirty socks, shirts, pants, under garments and candy wrappers littered the floor and even a run down old mattress in the corner. The only semi neat area within the room was an old hand made book shelf filled to the brim with books of every size and color. With a sigh Henry replies, “You’re lying again Zain, and why don’t you ever call me dad? That is what I am after all.” “And I do sympathize with you on the pain, I know for a fact how tuff that old man is.” Since the third grade Zain has been attending martial arts classes Koryu to be more precise a much older form, and now 9 years later a shichidan which translates into 7th dan black belt a process that takes 15 years of training in an astoundingly short time of 9 years. In the nations competitions he ranks second place of a total of 900 plus competitors, all higher rank then him but in western karate it is not as culturally driven as in the birth place of martial arts where it takes 10 years or amazing skill to become a ranking black belt. With a smirk on his face because he realizes how much calling his father by his first name irritates him he replies, “Ill try my best to remember that next time Henry” With an irritated look on his face Henry replies “Hmpf…ungrateful little brat” With a questioning look on his father face he asks, “What took you so long to get ready for school any way?” As Henry crosses his over masculine arms he states “The usual, I presume, woke up early to read a book then lost track of time?” “Or even worse, never went to bed and stayed up all night?” Shrugging Zain replies
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
“You caught me red handed. Interrupted me right at the climax too.” With his “tough guy” voice, Henry begins the speech that he’s recited so many times over the past nineteen years that its become so engraved in his daily routine it been done just as many times as brushing his teeth. “Zain, I can’t understand how someone who likes to read as much as you do can have such disappointing grades. B’s and C’s are unacceptable!” By this point Zain begins to mimic the speech in his head faster then his father can say it out loud. “Son, you are 19 years old and in you senior year of High School how can you expect to gain admission into a decent collage with grades that barley let you skim by?” Now Henry is pacing the room back and forth kicking discarded articles of clothing off of the floor and into the closet, which soon turned to dismay because the closet was more a landfill then the room. “You have six months to bring that 2.5 grade point average into a minimum of 3, I mean really son. What do you have to do in your life that distracts you from getting good grades? Money is not a problem, you don’t have a job or bills to pay, I give you food, water, shelter and what ever you’re lazy heart desires, and all I ask for in return is good grades!” Zain stands and wedges past his angry father and retreats out of the room and into the hall way, by now Zain is packed for school in his beat up old backpack that he’s had longer then he could remember. Both men make their way to the front door which is a good two minutes of walking in the huge mansion-like home these two occupy. As they walk on white marble tile you can get a good view of the entire house, but it’s not clean and well kept with expensive furniture and other home decor as one would expect for such a presentable looking house to contain, in reality the entire house has been converted into a massive study, books and ancient parchment littered the ground. Henry is a world renowned archeologist he is also the most respected paleographer of his time, he speaks over 13 languages from Arabic to Japanese and can not only read and translate ancient texts but is familiar in lost languages, words letters and hieroglyphics that haven’t been seen for centuries and beyond. He is very old fashioned which is a characteristic that dubbed him “technologically challenged” Henry did not know a lick about anything that involved any more then simply flipping a switch or hitting a button. As a result of his lack of knowledge in computers he prefers to have all his information in files he can actually see. Books here and there, the occasional priceless tablet, a few pieces of pottery and some papyrus used for record keeping. He made it a personal mission of his when I was younger to teach me a few languages, as a result I am now fluent in English, Arabic, and Latin. My father’s favorite saying happens to be “Bene legere saecla vincere” which is Latin for “To read well is to master the ages”.
They both leave as Henry sets the alarm and locks all the doors, Zain gets into the car to begin the treacherous journey that is the highway. After the thirty minute car ride to north Belleview a city where the people and cars far out number the plants and animals is the location of one of Belleview’s most illustrious schools Balkis Memorial High, home of the Eagles, a world renowned school of excellence founded in 1989. They finally arrive. As Zain gets out of his fathers completely refurbished 1971 Super Sport Camero, a candy apple red hunk of metal that was capable of waking up half a city block with one touch of the pedal. He receives the usual welcome from his classmates…innumerable pairs of eyes staring directly at him with blatant disregard if he notices or not. Zain was not your typical high school senior, especially one attending Balkis Memorial High. As most students attending such a high class high society school most students tend to dress in the latest and most expensive trends available, while Zain wears the same white Jacket almost every day regardless of the current temperature. He wears no jewelry no watches or chains not even a ring. Attire is unfortunately not the only thing that sets Zain apart from his fellow peers, him being almost two years older due to him having an extremely deadly case of Chronic Bronchitis in the second grade resulted in repetition of the grade due to absence, which doesn’t help with blending in. But the most defining characteristic that Zain has is his eyes; he has a pair of golden eyes speckled with black that people can spot feet away some would say they look almost animalistic something off the cover of a nature magazine like National Geographic. Located right above the pair of golden eyes rests head of hair that is the richest brown you would ever think to imagine not too long but just enough to look messy.
Zain might not excel in subjects of the mind, but as his best and only friend Rob might say “you have the body of a born athlete and I envy you deeply for it”. Zain was a bit above average five feet eleven inches broad shoulders and a thick neck. He weighs about two hundred pounds but considering how lean his body looks it’s safe to say it isn’t fat. His friend Rob on the other hand was a quite guy, had a forgettable face and an even more forgettable voice. His eyes were a little blank and when he spoke to you he always seemed to be gazing off in another direction. He did nothing that made him stand out, he doesn’t get picked on or talked to, he doesn’t participate in any social event what so ever. Rob is just there. Zain and Rob might just be the strangest pair you would ever see, size, strength, looks academics just about anything and everything you could think those two are polar opposites. The only thing they do have in common is their love of reading; they speak about their favorite authors and new book releases whenever the chance arises.
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
As Zain walks into the school via the front entrance a large 30 step stair case that leads up to an even larger imposing front entrance fully equipped with the latest innovations in public security, cameras, motion sensors, metal detectors and even a triad of automatic sliding glass doors. As Zain enters he immediately spots Rob who sits and waits by the trophy case a large glass credenza over populated with the most diverse amount of awards ever collected over a period of time, next to the administrations and guidance office, this has been his preferred spot for almost two years now. High school is like the wilderness to survive you need support because loaners stay loaners and even more importantly you need to establish and defend territory. Like the usual Rob, standing straight as a bored with his over sized hiking backpack almost about to tear from strain because of the amount of useless supplies it contained, ironed black pants, polished slackers, and a spotless white polo that still had the brand new shirt smell on it. “Hey Zain.” Said Rob, this being his usual greeting. “Morning Rob, how was your piano recital yesterday?” Rob closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Terrible, like usual it takes me a few moments to get a feel for the piece and as usual, Madam Foster would not inform me before hand on which piece I was to play.” Rob takes a step forward in my direction. “By the way Zain, did you finish the book I lent you last Tuesday yet or not?” “No” Replied Zain, “Henry interrupted before I could get to the last chapter” The bell located right above the pairs heads begins to ring violently. “Looks like its time to go.”
Moments before at the office where Henry works at the History Studies Institute, a large imposing building with no windows and a black spire fence surrounding the area that often confuses people concerning if they were trying to keep them out or the employees in. Henrys secretary Joyce a rather large women with a voice to match hits the intercom button. “Mr. Cursayer you have a private call on line one, it’s from the NSA.” The National Security Agency is the U.S. government's cryptologic organization. It is the world's largest intelligence-gathering agency also responsible for the collection and analysis of foreign communications. As a result they have hundred of orbital satellites stationed around the world. “Okay Joyce put him on the line” “Henry, It’s me Bill.” Henry replies, “Oh! Hey pal long time no see I haven’t even heard from you for almost two years now since you moved to Washington.” “Yeah, yeah I know, I’ve been busy lately, but listen carefully your going to love this I have a job for you. Recently our new satellites that were designed to study the earths upper mantle found something you might be interested in, Henry we uncovered a massive underground library at least three hundred feet down and about two miles in diameter! We excavated the entrance and conducted studies to assure safety and when we brought up samples of the books even our head intelligence officers couldn’t decipher the text. He asked me to find someone who can as soon as possible and you just happen to be the only person that can fit the job.” Henry wide eyed and in shock, his heart beating at the mere thought of being down there working. “Bill, ill be there as soon as I can. Send me the information by fax.”
The entire rest of the day Henry spent preparing. When he arrived home hands shaking in anticipation, he dug out his suit cases from the basement and began. He ended up using three suit cases just for books and research tools such as a Tape recorders, video camera, digital camera, latex gloves high intensity flash lights and evidence bags for sensitive materials. Then the last two suit cases were for the personal items. By four o clock the packing was done.
“Henry, I’m home!” and before Zain can finish closing the door Henry yells, “My name is DAD!” “Okay Henry” Replied Zain. “Hey Zain how was school?” “Same as always, boring. Why do you ask?” “Zain can you come in here for a minute I have some big news that concerns the both of us.” Zain walks into the living a usually bare room with an epidermis of dust over the walls and floor a little surprised to see most of their personal belongings in suit cases, and the biggest smile on his fathers face since his trip to Cairo Egypt. “Oh no, Henry your leaving again?” “No” Said Henry leaving Zain obviously confused. “Were both leaving” After a moment Zain now has the same goofy smile as his father. “To where? How long? And why?” Henry inhaled and exhaled as if about to begin a lengthy speech. “We are going to a small town named Dortonville in Eastern Europe about an hour flight from Germany, we will be away for maybe a year which is why you need to come, and the reason is to study and investigate an ancient hidden library that has been unearthed, books from all over the ancient world have been collected into one area.”
They left the next afternoon. As the two men boarded the plane that was a private Gulf Stream G500 jet an amazing machine 96 feet long 25 feet wide and built for a king. It was sent by Bill to pick us up and drop us off, guaranteed to be the most comfortable ride we have ever experienced; we had the whole cabin to ourselves all exquisitely furnished air conditioned 50 feet of it. Only a three hour flight as opposed to the twelve hour one on a commercial air liner. 43,000 feet above the air you feel a sense of freedom nothing holding you down and the only path available is to go up and towards your goal whatever it may be. Henrys goal of course was to study and learn, discover new places languages and another story to add to his already vast collection, Henry was a veteran when it came to new places and adventure. Zain on the other hand had a very different goal, moving to a new town, new people, and a fresh life. No highways, not too much traffic, life at a more personal level.
Upon arrival both of them before debarking from the Gulf Stream G500 had to shake off the air of sleep that now hung around them, with a severe case of jet lag and pins and needles from the tips of their toes to their backs they couldn’t wait to get to their new home. After a ten minute walk that helped bring them back to their senses they arrive at City Hall the only government building in the small town, both were welcomed inside and were each given a guide and a map to their new home. After a brief interview with customs they were on their way. All was bliss in the country air, birds chirping, a cool wind blowing and the sent of pine in the air, in till Henry took a glimpse of where on the map their home was located. “Zain, we have to hike three miles to our house” Zain gives his father a blank stare. “I’m sorry did you say hike?” “No mistake there son” “Great, well lets get going.” “Great, I knew you would love it here son!” Zain took a deep sigh. “Henry…that was sarcasm.”
After two hours of unpacking, and eating a small dinner of chicken and vegetable flavored cup noodles the only form of nourishment they can cook other then a simple sandwich, from the convenience store near the main road they went to sleep. Both woke early the next morning to the sound of knocking on the door. Standing the was a letter currier holding a sack, in it was a package from Bill containing information on the Site, how to get there and what to say to the guard. Also a bigger package that had Zain’s new school uniform, a pair of khaki jeans and white polo style shirt. On the paper it had details of the school I’m going to and admission papers.
“All right Henry, I'll be hiking to school now” As he turns around only to discover his father already left to the site. I arrive at school an ancient looking building with a tiled roof and stained glass windows and was surprised to see the majority of students were my age. As he makes his way to the head teacher’s office a short balding man with huge smile and teeth to match he hands his admission papers to the man, they both spend a few minutes discussing his new situation and signing paper work. After about 45 minutes all is done and I am finally admitted into my class room. The home room teacher who goes by the name of Mr. D because of the impossible pronunciation of his name, asks me to stand up and introduce my self. “Hi, my name is Zain Cursayer I’m nineteen years old. I am coming here from the United States Belleview to be more exact.” “Alright students” Said Mr. D “Just for today and today only can you have free time to socialize with our new student.” I sat back down and for the first few seconds that felt like a lifetime no one moved or said a thing, then as if someone flipped a switch the classroom became alive with students chattering and gossip. A few of the guys started talking to me about the most popular sports in America and we got into a lengthy discussion on cars those made in Europe, Japan and America. After the initial hustle died down most people went back to their seats. About a minute passed with no one speaking to me in till a girl came at sat next to me. She had blond hair average height and an above average looking face and body. She introduced herself as Alicia. She had that “it” girl air about her, like you could tell she was the most popular person here. But at the same time a very gentle voice and spoke kindly. We talked for the rest of the day on and on about nothing in particular. After school every one went their separate ways, one classmate stopped me mid stride out of the hall way he was a good five inches taller then me and out weighed me by at least a hundred pounds and spoke these few words “hey new guy do your self a favor and stay away from Alicia” I looked at him a decided to just ignore and tell him that I would think about it, he replied saying “you better think hard” which made me laugh because the way he looked and spoke reminded me of those black and white gangster movies he watched when I was younger.
The next few weeks were just a repeat of the last ones, I spent more and more time with Alicia and a group of the guys. There was not much to do in town but a movie theater, a small arcade and an even smaller shopping district. After the third week of my arrival I finally mustered up the nerve one day asked Alicia on a date nothing big just dinner and a movie. Which was a first for me, I stuttered and my face was as red as humanly possible at that moment. She agreed with a small nod and decided we would meet at the bus stop the day after tomorrow on Sunday. I spent three hours calling up friends on where prime spots to take a girl to would be, nothing too fancy or romantic but nice spots for fun.
The day of my first date had arrived; I arrived ten minutes early only to find her already there. That was the first time I had seen her in casual clothing and not a school uniform. She wore a short skirt above the knees but not short enough to be called revealing and a matching shirt. Saying she looked stunning would do no justice, she noticed me staring and blushed. That day we spent walking around town, she would show me places where she grew up and played when she was younger and would ask me about my childhood. She told me how she lost both of her parents in a fire and how here brother who goes to our school watches over her about how he is extremely over protective and I told her that I also lost my mother at a very young age 10 years ago to a car accident, we spoke about a lot of personal matters and noticed we had much in common. Needless to say the day went by smoothly with no mess ups but the time when I misread the menu and ordered a plate of raw calamari by mistake. I took her home and at the door before she went in I looked at straight into her eyes and said the corniest line any body could have ever heard, “It’s usually rule not to kiss on the first date but… your so beautiful I don’t think I can wait any longer” fortunately she thought it was a joke, she gave me a quick hug and said she had a great time.
The next day I woke up early anxious to see Alicia before school started and was almost on the verge of skipping to school. I saw her right away she was facing the other direction speaking to a group of her friends obviously about yesterday because when I approached all the girls looked at me and started to speak in hushed tones, one of them even giggled. I asked her if I could speak to her in private but before she could answer I noticed that my shadow was just immensely over shadowed by the tree like human behind me. As I turned I was face to face with the brute from the first day. I asked him if he would move away since he was close enough for our chests to touch and he replied by poking his trunk like fingers into my chest. “I thought I told you to stay away from my sister.” My jaw dropped, this monster was Alicia’s overprotective brother? This could be a problem. This seemed to be a challenge he called me out to the outside area and announced to all that were there at the time which coincidently happened to be half the senior class, that there was going to be a fight. I turned to face Alicia with a look that asked what I was supposed to do. But before we could come to blows she stepped in front of her brother and tried to explain the situation, he was obviously ignoring her and when he pushed her aside I knew speaking and reasoning would have done no good here. As I did not want to get hit first I took the initiative and with a clenched fist stuck first, right in his jaw, he stalled for a moment and that gave me time to go for his nose this was a battle I knew would be a loss for me if it lasted to long, he was just too big. There was now a large crowd watching us like we were some sport to pass the time. With cheers of, “fight! fight!” echoing throughout the school yard he seemed to get angrier by the second. As he was on the ground he grabbed my feet from under me and with all three hundred pounds of him and beat the living hell out of me. I was someone who could take a hit but when the size of his fist was as large as my chest, a seventh level black belt wont do more then hold your pants up. A few minutes later a feverish screams from his sister all I then remembered were two school guard’s tackling him off of me and the both of us being arrested and taken into custody, under the charges of attacking a fellow student and disturbance of the peace. In addition to that punishment assigned by the city the school offered it’s own, a three week suspension from school.
As I hike home that day, and reported to my father he just gave me one of those looks that tells you he’s not mad, just straight up disgusted. I resolved to spend the next three weeks assisting my father in his studies.
The next day Zain wakes up at 5 am to get as much research time in as possible. They set out along a man made route in a rented Jeep, South away from the town, for about 2 hours and 45 minutes we neither saw nor heard any form of life other then the occasional sputter the engine made and the churning of rocks beneath the tires. Then the Jeep stops in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, my father gets out of the car as I carry our gear and behind a small grove of trees is an excavation site, about a hundred or so feet deep and a couple hundred feet wide, there were ladders and support beams all over the place. The only thing out of place was a make shift hut and an old armed security guard that seemed to be as aged as the ruins surrounding him. He greeted my father with a hand shake and gave a questioning look in my direction, “Good morning Mr. Cursayer, here early today aren’t we? And who might this young man be?” “This is my son Mr. Johnson the one I mention yesterday.” Mr. Johnson gave a long nod as if to show he understood, but requested identification none the less. After I showed him my Identification Card and proof of Henry being my father he gave me permission to enter. We went down into a stone corridor covered in dirt and debris, all the while I was thinking it was not that impressive, nothing worth looking at twice, then we took one flight of stone stairs down and my jaw hit the floor. Here underground I was looking at a massive stone wall that seemed to have been cut from the earth around it, and in barley ill eligible writing at the very top of the entrance was an earthen pillar with the words “Custos Morum” which literally meant “Guardian of Morals”. After I entered I was once again speechless for I thought I had fallen to a new world.
Zain begins to explore the library as he first enters he is un able to fathom how such a huge space exists underground and with so much light, as his father told him there are many hidden things and places stay close and don’t get lost. There are pillars with inscriptions on them in many languages the majority being Latin and the rest being ancient forms of Greek, Arabic, Hebrew and others he has never seen before. Marble book cases that must have be 30 feet tall and several inches thick. Corridors that lead to even bigger corridors that branched of into smaller rooms. Zain discovers hidden catacombs, shelves, even an underground garden as he walks through the garden there is grass and trees in the center a working fountain that looked to be made of glass, each spout was in the shape of a lions head and the top was in the shape of a sword hilt with the pommel facing upwards. He begins to wonder if he had fallen into one the books he loves to read so much.
More walking leads him to discovering a well lit room with no visible light source, and a single book case with only a small pile books covered in gold and jewels some with pearls and glowing he approaches drawn to them by some unknown power. Zain heard nothing but his own hard breathing, and steady foot falls. He reaches out to a book that none could compare to the glamour in which this book stood, it had no adornments or jewels but there was an un earthly glow that seemed to sooth his breathing he reaches out slowly wondering why he could not wrench his eyes away his hand was so close to the book he could almost feel warmth emanating from the cover, suddenly a skeletal fist stained red as deep as the color of blood Zain was so confused his brain seemed to have slowed down as his heart speed out of control.
Zain attempted to pull his arm away but the skeletal figures grip was unbelievable. As he looked up the at first hidden face of the unknown attacker came into view he saw a skull cracked in so many places it seemed to be a spider web. He looked into where its eyes might have been centuries ago and he saw an emerald green glow that that seemed to speak to him and draw him into another world his eyes grew tired and his conciseness wavered for a moment and when he came to his senses he was in a white room that gave the impression that it went on forever, Limbo, a state in which somebody or something is neglected or is simply left in oblivion. But like his inquisitive mind would react he was no where near afraid as he was astonished, he felt like he was underwater even his head had a heavy feel as if he stayed to long in the deep end. As he took his first step it felt as if he traveled a long distance, there was no physical proof he just felt it, some directions moved him feet while other made him feel like he had traveled through time it self.
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
After sometime in this strange place he could not tell if it had been minutes or hours but he seemed to now be able to control how far he moved with each step. Moments after he realized his new found skill he saw something out of the corner of his eyes, he walked towards it and came upon the first real object in what seemed like an infinite emptiness. What he saw confused him as he approached three statues of creatures that seemed so life like that they would attack if he moved to close, a few more feet and he was now face to face with a Dragon with it’s wings spread as if ready to take flight, teeth bared, talons drawn, it gave off a look of passion and strength, but just as the statue portrayed the dragon seemed to be moving away from him he knew he should not touch it.
As he turned away he saw the other two statues the closer was what looked to be a golem bigger then the dragon it seemed to be scowling right at him, at its sides were two large barbaric looking hammers clenched by fists as big as the creatures head. And its chiseled muscles seemed to pulse with blood as if tensed and holding back rage and anger. He could not help but feel regret as he looked upon the statues face that seemed to long for revenge.
He moved farther away, to the last statue, a griffin-something of a lion-eagle hybrid. The closer he moved the faster his heart beat, and the clearer his mind became, as if all of his senses seemed to have evolved. The statues eyes felt as if they were following his very movements, and every step he took. The griffin’s statue was as regal as any king of ancient times, he reached out his hand and felt the strong face of the beast, his fingers traced along the edge of its beak but as softly as he touched it he cut his right finger and moved back in shock, but the blood ran gold and felt as cool as ice. He moved his hand closer to his face and the blood ran down his finger and to his shock moved no farther, it collected around the wounded finger, like metal to a magnet, as he tried to clean his finger and check on the wound he felt something strange and cold around his finger, he hurried to clean the blood and his hand reveled a ring of pure gold inscribed with words he could not read. Suddenly and with out warning a fierce cry came from the now animated statue, claws spread and eyes flashing my head seemed to tare and re tare with every screech, the griffin stomped its feet in challenge took one final look at me jumped and disappeared before I could focus on its destination, I felt pain right where my right wrist is but could not see the cause then bone by bone and all at once I remembered my situation just moments before and the lit room came back into view, I had a feeling like I had just woken up from the longest sleep.
The pain from the skeletal being became to much for me to bare and I yelled out in agony, as I screamed and felt something cool around my right ring finger when I finally remembered the ring just as the image of the griffin grew clear within my mind the ring glowed a fierce gold and tendrils of yellow lightning moved up along my arm. The skeletal being reacted and was just as surprised as I was, it looked over my shoulder directly at the book that my left hand still unknowingly hovered over, its grip doubled ten fold and as fast as it’s hand was mine seemed to move faster, and I grabbed the book. Visions of forests and fields flew past my mind, lakes and mountains and a desert that that held none but the whitest sand, when I came to my senses the skeletal being was screaming not in anger or fear as would be the cause of most screaming but the sound coming from the skulls cracked jaw was sorrow, yelling for all and any sins committed in a past life a shriek that seemed to beg for forgiveness.
The longer it yelled the more cracked its ancient body became, its eyes gave out a lighter emerald light then before, and just seemed to dim out slowly into nothingness like an old wax candle. Its cracked frame gave a spastic sort of jolt every few seconds, I looked into its now lightless eye sockets and could have swore they seemed to have been saying thank you. The cracked skeletal frame gave a tired looking shudder as light bleed from the cracks that now cover its body and crumbled to dust, I clutched the book to my heaving chest the room seemed to spin and lose focus, the colors of the room inverted my body had become numb. I bet low and kneeled on the ground and moved to an on my back position the last thing I remembered before blacking out was saying out loud to the fading now quite room “what the hell happened” then…nothing.
Henry reaches up to a rather high shelf near a stone pillar, as he grabs his target and pulls to bring it down centuries worth of dust rained down on his head and coated his skin as it was drenched with sweat. He was astonished every time he opened a book or scroll, after much thought he came to the conclusion that the paper, parchment, and books are still able to hold consistency not only because the library is away from the natural elements such as rain, wind and human hands to soil them, but also because hundreds of years underground what ever animal life that was down here used up all the air in the sealed
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
chamber, the temperature of the underground library and it had a surprising dryness to it where else most underground areas are heavy with moisture and humidity.
Unfortunately his high intensity lantern and helmet light did not have the ability to illuminate the entire room, but from what he had seen the entire library seemed to be one big ruin, cracked walls no art work, and many empty chambers and hall ways that served no purpose. At one point he went through a room with a dried up old glass fountain, missing three out of the four lion headed openings, two feet away he discovered what seemed to be a broken statue of a sword hilt.
Henry who has never gone this deep into the library not only because he was afraid the ruins might collapse on him or there being no powerful enough light source but because no matter what ancient pharos tomb, or witch doctors grave yard there was always the same warning “if any soul other then that of noble blood dare enter this holy/unholy place they shall suffer my wrath/curse or impending doom!” in the 30 years I have been studying and investigation ancient runes I have been threatened well over a hundred times by dead rulers, pharos, kings, and other magical personage that dealt with the arcane arts. There must be some truth in those threats because they have been used since the times of Ancient Mesopotamia around 3000 B.C.E. The land, along the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers is what is now known as modern Iraq. And even as far as writing at the tomb of King Scorpion the First in Abydos, near Luxor, in Egypt. This writing dates back to 3400 B.C. So after 6000 years of curses threats and other forms of beyond the grave punishments at least some of them might be true.
As Henry rummages through his waste pack to find his water bottle his cell phone drops from the pack, when Henry picks up the device he notices the time and drops his water bottle, it has been almost exactly 13 hours since they entered this tomb of literature. He starts to dial Zain’s phone number when he remembered that no matter how up to date your cell phone is you can’t have a signal 300 some feet under ground.
Zain wakes up feeling sore and his wrist feeling like it had been caught between a hammer and anvil, he remembered the previous days events concerning Alicia’s mammoth brother and his face begins to hurt. He rubs his eyes so he could focus and for a minute he thought he had gone blind. He was in a pitch dark room, that smelt of mold and dirt, as he fumbled around in the dark he felt his waist pack, as he pulled out a flash light turned it on and took a good long confusing look around the room he occupied his head began to pound recklessly, when he looked up he remembered going down to the library and walking but nothing more. Not why he was sleeping nor why he was in pain.
As he stood up to wipe the dust from his body he just now noticed that there was a book in his left hand, he looked at it confused and wondered why he was holding it. He put the book down and walked towards the hall way when he had this strange feeling that he shouldn’t be leaving the book, in the back of his head a sort of hum. He turned retrieved the book and out it in the waist pack. After a few minutes walking in corridors he doesn’t remember being in he stumbles across a room with a stone fountain in it, in its earlier years it might have been marvelous too look at, with its lion headed figurines and cool water running through it.
As he walks farther and farther towards the entrance in and out of corridors which he found he could navigate quite well, he seemed to have recovered his sense of direction. He begins to worry about the time and where his father is when he sees a light not too far up ahead. As he comes into view he sees his father Henry putting his cell phone back into his pocket mumbling about underground and service of some sort, “Henry what are you doing? What time is it?” and Henry for the second time that day dropping his phone yells back in a tone obviously trying to hide the fact that Zain scarred him half to death replies “we’ve been down here all day its almost 9:00!” “What, no way it didn’t even feel like an hour” “Lucky you”, Zain had that cold feeling where your heart should have been wondering how long he had been asleep...and why. “Ok Zain lets get home and take a nice long shower.
As the two were leaving and walking back up the ancient path, the sun had already gone down and Mr.Jhonson was just packing up his gear. “I got that package you ordered Mr. Cursayer, what’s all this equipment for anyway? Its enough for at least a month.” Henry looked at Zain and began to explain, “Oh, I forgot to mention that we will both be staying on site for the remainder of this month.” Zain replied, “im not complaining but why?” “For two reasons one being that it takes to much time to travel to and forth between home and our current location, and two that Mr. Johnson here is going back to his family and we just got reports of both thief’s planning to loot the area and private government organizations who want us out of here.” Zains face drained all of its color, “ how are we supposed to handle that?” A smile appeared on henrys face like that of a child who received a new toy, “that is also taken care of”. “But to night we head home.”
As Zain boarded the vehicle he made a mental note to check the metal package beneath his seat. It took longer to get home due to the lack of moon light during the quarter moon and the fact the truck was weighted down from the bulk of the newly acquired supplies that included two 15gallon containers of gas and other miscellaneous survival equipment. “Looks like it will be a new moon tomorrow son.” And with a sullen look on his face Zain said, “And mothers 10th anniversary.” Both became silent after that statement. The rest of the way home nothing was said but the occasional one word statement that received no more then a one word response.
After they unpacked Zain was the first to jump into the shower, he undressed and turned on the hot water. He took a good look at himself in the mirror only to see a face that wasn’t his own, he jumped and washed his face with cold water only to see that it was nothing but the face of a warrior in an intricate panting on the wall behind him. He carefully admired the work that went into the detail of his glistening suit armor and the design of the hilt at his waste all the way down to the gold tip of its sheath. He began to dose off as he entered the shower, his imagination going wild “if only I was born into a world with magic, a world where I could live my life how I want to, not along the path that society has made me.” He sighed so deep he ran out of breath, “if only I could enter a world like those I have only read about” but the more he thought the more depressed he became, “even if by some will of God my wish came true, who is to say that I would become the main character of this adventure, a world as I have dreamed is of no use if I cant make a difference, fight, travel and become the hero I wish to become.”
As Zain left the shower and dried off, he took one last look in the mirror at his body, its been almost a month now since he trained or did any physical activity what so ever. He already saw the signs of his laziness where his once firm used chest used to proudly rest was now a pair rolls and each of his abdominal muscles merged to form one overlapping layer of meat. He was not fat or out of shape but he no longer has the body if an Olympian. His body was completely blemish free apart from his right arm, where a single horizontal scar shoots 4 inches from the inward side of his arm to the side facing away, neither he nor his father know how or where it happened, he woke up In the hospital one summer after noon with news of his mother dead and a gash on his arm that took 3 months to heal. Doctors could not explain why a scar that needed 15 stitches and only a week to heal lasted half a year.
He saw his father entering the rest room and thought that he could never leave him alone, no matter how grand and monumental an adventure hoped to be. His father was amazing, he was a friend and mentor a pillar against the injustices of the world. There is a difference to being a father and being a dad, one is an obligation a responsibility, feed and clothe them teach them right from wrong and hope they turn out ok. The other is an inspiration, some one you can depend on, no matter what day of the week it is a trip to the movies is never out of the question. The later is what Henry was. While his father was in the shower Zain took a seat out side on the porch while gazing at the moon, “there is definitely going to be a new moon tomorrow.” He took another minute to breathe in the fresh air, out here it was always colder then your body temperature no humidity and no big city smells, just clear skies and crystalline waters. He rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes, as he got up and all the blood rushed to his head he thought he had caught a glimpse of a pellucid body of water, the sight was enough of a mental shock to wake him up. As he stood up and walked to where there was now nothing but black dirt and a few rose bushes he decided it was nothing but the night time air playing tricks on him. He reluctantly forced him self up and back indoors. When he entered the den where his father was now sitting watching the news and unfortunately wearing nothing but a pair of socks and Speedo style underwear looked up and laughed at his sons obvious annoyment in his apparel. Zain took a seat far enough that if his dad decided to attack he would have enough time to make a run from the minator like man a yard away. Zain has never lost a match against his father even though the size and weight difference is equivalent to day and night. His father always attempts a sneak attack to hopefully catch his son off guard, he might be a little jealous of his son’s almost un-natural strength, but secretly is proud to have a son that could hold his own. It was 11 p.m. and Zain had a hard confusing day so it was no surprise that the moment he closed his eyes to yawn almost like clock work his father threw him sell clear over the coffee table knocking the remote and other various items here and there as he landed on top of Zain. He was now completely immobile within his father’s headlock. “Umpf!, h.he.hey! Come on not now Henry!” at the sound of his son once again using his first name his already tight grip became all the more unbearable. At the first sign of real pain Zain tensed up his neck and back threw his left leg over the couch and used its top edge to separate him and his father, at the same time Henry posted both feet across the back of the couch and hoisted Zain back over the couch and onto the wood floor. “Pfft, I can’t understand how an OLD man like you can have so much energy at the end of the day.” And like a bull towards a matador his father charged his son who at the last minute shot his legs upwards into his father’s bare chest grabbed his fathers wrist tugged him down and got his father into a head lock using his legs, after a minute of struggling his father admitted defeat.
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
I know i just quintuple posted...forgive me, it only lets me post 20000 charecters at once.
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
I for one really like your story so far. I'm currently working on one two so I know how hard it is to get help lol.
The first thing is that the story is well written and very detailed that is the key to unlocking good storylines.
For the posting problem I had the samething with my story but found this place to be of great help.
You can use it to just link your story right to the thread saves you typing space and alot of posting. You can also upload any pictures the same way and the best part is that it is free to use.
I for one would love to read more of your story.
Is there anychance you would give my story a look through maybe you could get some ideas or something It is not the same kind of story but I hope it sparks something.
Here is the link:
My suggestion for you is to break up each corresponding quote into a seperate paragraph. On the net multi-quotation paragraphs aren't easy on the eyes.
Okay thx. i was trying to figure out a better way for them to speak any ways. it just didint sound rite in my head as i was reading.
"Let my ears hear not but the most sinful of lyrics"
That took 3 months to heal. Doctors could not explain why a scar that needed 15 stitches and only a week to heal lasted half a year.
Mistake half a year is 6 months not 3.
I love your story so far it seems like a fun one day book to me. You should try to put more descriptions in to the story line. I love very descriptive books, because they give you a more clear idea of the surrounding and their influence in the character. If you ever finish this book send me a copy by mail I'll love to read it or buy it.