Oh gosh, time flies. I'm sorry for this renewed absence. Monument and Silicon will continue, I'm just too sure when—I'm gonna try to get on top of them again, though. My writing class began this month and I got distracted trying to work out a few things about my project. Seeing the class schedule, and seeing it was beginning so soon, caused a moment a panic followed by immediately by several easing epiphanies. For one, I discovered my antagonist was right under my nose this whole time, and I've found the plot to go with the world and characters I've had in mind. Now I've been doing a lot of thinking, figuring other things out, about the story. The first class was several days ago. We did a few writing exercises, defined what a novel is, and broke down our favorite novels into the elements we enjoyed most to, maybe, get idea of what we should focus on. Thankfully, we're taking things slowly, so this first class was mostly conceptual. We'll be working on characters next. I'll keep you posted and will get my forum stories up and running again soon!
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwise, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life itself: gone was the sterility, the stagnant quality; the very air seemed alive. Looking over his shoulder, he saw out the door he’d stepped through, with its peephole and number place. He saw into the hallway that lay beyond. An apartment. His gaze found a window, and stepping up to it, he saw the opposing building, the busy street below.
When he looked back into the room, there was a woman standing deeper in the apartment. Though she was grown, not the little girl who had entered the house, he knew she was Rachel; of that, he had no doubt. Besides, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise: he’d seen her older self before, in his first dream, the one with the figures standing at the edge of a fissure.
She seemed to be studying him.
He prepared to speak, prepared to cry, prepared to hold this woman, his lost daughter, but before he summoned words to speak, she spoke: “You’re standing at a threshold, Dad.”
His mouth went dry and his attempt to speak died before it reached his tongue.
A smile bloomed on her lips as she waited. Waited for him to speak.
It took a while. “Rachel?”—little more than an exhalation.
The woman nodded, and then as if remembering, she shook her head. “I’m… She’s still out there.”
You’re here, he felt like saying. It suddenly occurred to him that he was in a dream, the Divine Dream, as Thomas had called it. How had he forgotten? Maybe this Divine Dream was more real than most dreams, but who was to say many liberties it could take with reality?
He wanted to ask her what she, if she wasn’t Rachel, was, but he stopped himself. He already had the answer: if this was a dream, then it would follow that she was, in some way, a dream. Not the real Rachel. An imitation of her.
So he asked, “Where is she?”
Her smile folded. She walked toward him, and turned her gaze to the window, toward the perfectly real-looking skyline. It could be San Francisco, *Clive thought. Then, *It is. She touched the glass as if testing its solidity. “I’ll tell you. Then you’ll do what I ask.”
“Yes,” he said. Only in hindsight, when a silence came between them, did he wonder at his quickness to agree; who knew what she’d ask of him?
When she spoke, it was without looking at him; her gaze was fixed on the pale blue sky. “She’s not in your world. Hasn’t been for a hundred lifetimes. Neither is she reachable in our Divine Dream. Her location is between the two realities. If our Divine Dream is death, and your world is the life, her’s is a semblance of both. Purgatory.”
His skin broke out in gooseflesh, and just for a moment, Clive felt the weight, the scope, of the reality itself on his shoulders, foresaw something larger than his conception compacted into his little head till it was bursting.
“How do I find her?” he asked.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll find her. We want you to, for while she doesn’t walk in your world, she doesn’t walk in the Divine Dream, either. You’re not the only one at a threshold, Dad.”
That Dad now made his skin crawl, knowing that this wasn’t truly Rachel.
“Now that I’ve told you what I know,” she said, “you will do what I ask.”
“Yes.” This time the word came out meek.
When he followed her gesture back the way he had come, he saw the door to the apartment had shut without making a noise. His pulse quickened.
“You want me to go through the threshold?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He swallowed and started moving before he could hesitate and thus be frozen in place, in fear, for the rest of the dream. The doorknob was cool under his shaking fingers. The door itself, he realized as he drew closer to it, radicated coldness; the cracks between door and jamb were well-directed beams of cold. He straightened to see through the peephole and saw the glass had frosted over. He stepped back and rubbed his arms, already chilled.
She was still there when he looked back, waiting for him to step through.
“Will I freeze to death?” he asked.
“Have you ever grown hungry here? Thirsty?”
“No,” he said.
“You’ve gotta step through the threshold, Dad. Enter the Divine Dream proper.”
He shuddered, not for the cold, and grabbed the doorknob again. A twist and the door blew open with a gust of cold wind passing over him, sending ice crystals flying into the room. He blinked against the barrage, eyes stinging. There, beyond the door, lay an icy wasteland. “Oh, no, no, no, I can’t go out there. There’s—” he shook his head, gestured beyond. “There’s nothing.”
The woman hadn’t left the window. The glass was frosting over with fog, and she seemed to be doodling in it. “You can’t turn back now. And besides, Dad, we made a deal, and a deal’s a promise.”
He didn’t like the look of the landscape, but he could not, he realized, stand to be in the same room, the same apartment, as this figment. If he had to go, then he’d do it on his terms. The woman didn’t stop him as he moved back into the apartment, opened a closet door, and rummaged around he found a box of winter clothes. If the woman was to be believed, he wouldn’t freeze to death, but still, the clothes he had on—the ones he’d been wearing that rainy day in November—were painfully inadequate for the environment, and whether it would kill him or not, he still felt the cold. There in the hall, he pulled a heavier set of clothes over his lighter apparel: a thick jacket that would have befitted a frozen mountaintop, with faux-fur lining, then heavy pants, a pair of wool socks and boots that were his size, and gloves. He saw a large, heavy blanket. He grabbed it, too, and behind it was another, smaller box.
He pulled it out, set it on top of the other box, and opened it. There were girl’s clothes inside. A jacket. Gloves. A scarf. He decided he would take them. Rachel’s. The woman behind him may have been a grown woman, but who knew how old the real Rachel would be when he found her? He wrapped the scarf around his neck, stuffed a pair of gloves into his jacket pocket, and after a brief consideration, wondering whether he should leave the kid’s jacket, he stuffed it under his own jacket; it would further insulate him, and just maybe, it would have a use down the line. Lastly, from its spot, tucked in the corner, he grabbed a wooden cane that he recognized as the one he’d gotten for his father when the old man had started having trouble walking. It reverted to his ownership when the man had died. Now he was the old man, or thereabouts.
With the blanket bundled under his arm, he returned to the front of the house. The figment who looked like Rachel was still there, and her drawing in the window had taken the form of an hourglass; Clive noted that. The door was still stood open, flapping back and with the wind’s fluctuations. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to close it.
The woman said nothing to him as he drew up to the door, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak to her, or it, having lost all desire to. He stopped short of the threshold, though, and that prompted a glance from her, but he got over his hesitation quickly and stepped through, pulling the door shut behind him. There was no change in the atmosphere besides the temperature, which plummeted. The door shut without difficulty, and the lock clicked. He looked at it, and found the door wasn’t attachment to anything; it stood, free of frame and hinge. He reached out, touched the apartment number, was about to try the doorknob, but his touch had caused the door to fall backward. It fell and shattered into a million shards of brilliantly clear ice. The wind scattered the smaller shards and swept snow over the larger ones that remained, so it appeared that nothing, no freak door in the middle of this icy nowhere, had ever been there.
Clive stood alone, shivering, wondering too late if you could wake up from the Divine Dream proper, as he had in the other, apparently adjacent dreams of the woods. He put the question aside, however, and pulled the strings of his hood tight. One hand gripping the crane, the other in his pocket with the little purple gloves, perhaps for luck, he started trudging toward the white and empty distance.
At this moment, something—if it hadn’t set already—solidified within him like concrete: he made a promise to the frigid air and whatever king had governed his misery that he would reunite his family, no matter what, and if hell had to be paid to do it, he’d find a way to pay it.
To be continued...
I had fun with Clive this part. We'll catch up with Tyler next. After his breakdown during Thanksgiving dinner at the Joneses and subsequent liberation from his father's household by the Sheriff's officers Henry and Alan, thanks to Thomas's tip and the information he received from the prince, Tyler's had a lot to process. We'll follow from his new abode to school. Plans will be hatched by teenagers. And new allies will perhaps be made. I'll see you all soon, and hopefully, the wait won't be as long.
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwis… moree, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life it… [view original content]
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwis… moree, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life it… [view original content]
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwis… moree, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life it… [view original content]
Um, NoHope I think you have a small mistake in the character list.
Deceased or Unknown: Wade Pittman
Awaiting Introduction: Wade Pittman
You know Wade Pittman's death was very gruesome, really a well executed part. I'm sort of sad he died since we won't see him anymore, but he was well written till the end. Anyway, i can't wait till we introduce new characters, you know each one gives a fresh new flavor to the story. Like this guy Wade Pittman, he sounds interesting, i wonder what his deal is.
Um, NoHope I think you have a small mistake in the character list.
Deceased or Unknown: Wade Pittman
Awaiting Introduction: Wade Pittm… morean
You know Wade Pittman's death was very gruesome, really a well executed part. I'm sort of sad he died since we won't see him anymore, but he was well written till the end. Anyway, i can't wait till we introduce new characters, you know each one gives a fresh new flavor to the story. Like this guy Wade Pittman, he sounds interesting, i wonder what his deal is.
Um, NoHope I think you have a small mistake in the character list.
Deceased or Unknown: Wade Pittman
Awaiting Introduction: Wade Pittm… morean
You know Wade Pittman's death was very gruesome, really a well executed part. I'm sort of sad he died since we won't see him anymore, but he was well written till the end. Anyway, i can't wait till we introduce new characters, you know each one gives a fresh new flavor to the story. Like this guy Wade Pittman, he sounds interesting, i wonder what his deal is.
I swear, I read your comment four times thinking, did I kill Pittman? before I realized you were joking. Nice lol.
And thank you, Lord and @AgentZ46! I've updated the character list.
Ah, new part hype! And Rachel hype, albeit this is technically not really her. A very intriguing part and one that makes me truly wonder what we could have learned if we would have followed Melissa or Alexander in Clive's last choice. I guess though, the technical information would have been similar, even if the scene might have been a bit different. And not-Rachel brought up some really intriguing questions. First of all, most importantly, if she is not Rachel, not even some part of her, but just something taking on her appearance in Clive's dream here, then who is she? What is she? One of the same beings the Prince of Wolves and King of Lions belong to? Something... else? I think that would be the most unsettling thought, because it would mean there is even more we do not know about yet. But well, one thing I am particularly alarmed by is not-Rachel's statement that the real Rachel and likely Alex as well have not been in any world for a hundred lifetimes. This brings up the question, just what the hell is going on there. Are Clive and co. stuck in some sort of cycle, reliving their lives over and over again for some reason? Because that would be the only thing I could imagine, that someone once messed with this cycle by removing Clive's children and in this cycle, there might finally be a way to undo this meddling. But if Clive succeeds, will the current cycle just go on, with Rachel and Alex simply inserted into it, or will it start over in its original form, with them being there from the very beginning? Ah, this might be another of my crack theories, but I really try to make sense out of what not-Rachel has revealed here, because I feel it holds monumental implications. And well, then there is Clive in the Divine Dream proper. So far, if I am not mistaken, we had Thomas there, but always carefully supervised and guided by the Prince of Wolves. The fact that not-Rachel apparently lets him go out on his own, without supervision, makes me believe she is at least not the Prince in disguise. I also really have to wonder, what can he do there? Perhaps this meddling, this removal of Rachel and Alex from our world happened in the Divine Dream and can therefore only be undone there, but not my the Prince, or not-Rachel or anyone else, but by a Divine Dreamer.
Oh, whatever it is, I just know I am so damn hyped for this all
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwis… moree, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life it… [view original content]
Hey, I just noticed Michael's in the deceased list! It makes sense, I just didn't expect it because I never submitted him as an actual character (I think?)
Ah, new part hype! And Rachel hype, albeit this is technically not really her. A very intriguing part and one that makes me truly wonder what we could have learned if we would have followed Melissa or Alexander in Clive's last choice. I guess though, the technical information would have been similar, even if the scene might have been a bit different. And not-Rachel brought up some really intriguing questions. First of all, most importantly, if she is not Rachel, not even some part of her, but just something taking on her appearance in Clive's dream here, then who is she? What is she? One of the same beings the Prince of Wolves and King of Lions belong to? Something... else? I think that would be the most unsettling thought, because it would mean there is even more we do not know about yet.
The implication is that not-Rachel (and Thomas's father from the previous part) are manifestations taken from their psyche. It isn't made clear whether they are manifestations in the way that dreams are or some entity is using the memories of them as a mouthpiece of sorts.
But well, one thing I am particularly alarmed by is not-Rachel's statement that the real Rachel and likely Alex as well have not been in any world for a hundred lifetimes. This brings up the question, just what the hell is going on there. Are Clive and co. stuck in some sort of cycle, reliving their lives over and over again for some reason? Because that would be the only thing I could imagine, that someone once messed with this cycle by removing Clive's children and in this cycle, there might finally be a way to undo this meddling. But if Clive succeeds, will the current cycle just go on, with Rachel and Alex simply inserted into it, or will it start over in its original form, with them being there from the very beginning? Ah, this might be another of my crack theories, but I really try to make sense out of what not-Rachel has revealed here, because I feel it holds monumental implications.
It is a rather odd line to just throw out there willy-nilly. I believe what you're proposing is a time-loop. Crack theory though it may be, this story is filled with crack possibilities. And let me tell you, a time-loop is not the most crack but possibly possibility there is. So I'll let you off with a warning... Prepare for weirdness.
And well, then there is Clive in the Divine Dream proper. So far, if I am not mistaken, we had Thomas there, but always carefully supervised and guided by the Prince of Wolves. The fact that not-Rachel apparently lets him go out on his own, without supervision, makes me believe she is at least not the Prince in disguise. I also really have to wonder, what can he do there? Perhaps this meddling, this removal of Rachel and Alex from our world happened in the Divine Dream and can therefore only be undone there, but not my the Prince, or not-Rachel or anyone else, but by a Divine Dreamer.
Thomas's father was very insistent on getting Thomas to pass through the threshold, but he didn't enter; he locked himself in the back room when his not-father grew violent and unstable. Thus, Clive is actually the first dreamer (known to us) to have entered the "Divine Dream proper," as not-Rachel calls it. Your summation that the prince and the manifestations are not in cahoots is right on. Thomas was told not to leave the chapel (and therefore enter the Divine Dream proper) before he was specifically instructed to by the prince. Thomas's father attempted to undermine that order.
Oh, whatever it is, I just know I am so damn hyped for this all
I'm really glad to know everyone's still interested despite the waits!
Ah, new part hype! And Rachel hype, albeit this is technically not really her. A very intriguing part and one that makes me truly wonder wha… moret we could have learned if we would have followed Melissa or Alexander in Clive's last choice. I guess though, the technical information would have been similar, even if the scene might have been a bit different. And not-Rachel brought up some really intriguing questions. First of all, most importantly, if she is not Rachel, not even some part of her, but just something taking on her appearance in Clive's dream here, then who is she? What is she? One of the same beings the Prince of Wolves and King of Lions belong to? Something... else? I think that would be the most unsettling thought, because it would mean there is even more we do not know about yet. But well, one thing I am particularly alarmed by is not-Rachel's statement that the real Rachel and likely Alex as well have not been in any world for a hu… [view original content]
No, you didn't submit him. Slanted names in italic, like his, are either characters mentioned in backstories or of my own invention. He's the former, in this case.
Hey, I just noticed Michael's in the deceased list! It makes sense, I just didn't expect it because I never submitted him as an actual character (I think?)
I swear, I read your comment four times thinking, did I kill Pittman? before I realized you were joking. Nice lol.
And thank you, Lord and @AgentZ46! I've updated the character list.
The implication is that not-Rachel (and Thomas's father from the previous part) are manifestations taken from their psyche. It isn't made clear whether they are manifestations in the way that dreams are or some entity is using the memories of them as a mouthpiece of sorts.
Hm, I am fully convinced they serve as a mouthpiece, or maybe, at most, a mixture of both options. They seem to give helpful hints or things the dreamers don't know about, particularly not-Rachel, so I doubt they are just a manifestation of the dreamers' own psyche. Though this implies that whatever just contacted Clive is aware of what happened before, likely familiar with Rachel, though given that it seemed to also have the goal of bringing them back, I do not think it is responsible for their disappearance in the first place.
It is a rather odd line to just throw out there willy-nilly. I believe what you're proposing is a time-loop. Crack theory though it may be, this story is filled with crack possibilities. And let me tell you, a time-loop is not the most crack but possibly possibility there is. So I'll let you off with a warning... Prepare for weirdness.
Yes, time loop sounds better, this is precisely what I mean. A bit like a darker, longer version of Groundhog Day. Maybe Groundhog Life, or something like that, where a certain amount of time is, for whatever reason, repeated over and over, maybe with someone having once found the way to alter the events happening into his or her favour, namely by removing Rachel and Alex from it and probably doing other sorts of things. I think that's about what I'm supposing right now. Actually, indeed, a time-loop doesn't sound like the most unusual thing, given what we know so far, particularly with that line. But at the same time, I fully prepare for weirder twists to happen
Thomas's father was very insistent on getting Thomas to pass through the threshold, but he didn't enter; he locked himself in the back room when his not-father grew violent and unstable. Thus, Clive is actually the first dreamer (known to us) to have entered the "Divine Dream proper," as not-Rachel calls it. Your summation that the prince and the manifestations are not in cahoots is right on. Thomas was told not to leave the chapel (and therefore enter the Divine Dream proper) before he was specifically instructed to by the prince. Thomas's father attempted to undermine that order.
Ah, yes, I remember this! I forgot about it before you mentioned it and this is a bit discomforting, come to think of it. I mean, with the not-father getting violent against Thomas and his following refusal to do as he wished, maybe this is the same entity, but it has learned that it can't get the dreamers to follow its commands by force alone. So now it took a different approach, playing to Clive's heart's desire, presenting itself as an ally and a possible help in reuniting his family. Of course, a lot about the morality of the non-human entities in this story is still up for debate, actually almost everything, but the fact that the not-father was willing to use violence and threats to achieve his goal doesn't quite speak in his favour. If the same entity is trying to manipulate Clive, well, that might not be a good thing. Or maybe it is, maybe the Prince and his faction are not as ultimately well-intentioned as they seem to be. So, maybe this entity here is the King of Lions, or a third faction in whatever is going on there. Good thing is, this makes two factions focussed on bringing back Rachel and Alex, though I fear their goals might be entirely different.
I'm really glad to know everyone's still interested despite the waits!
Aha, that is the power of your writing here. There has been a bit of a break for sure, but amazingly, it didn't take me long to get back into it. I haven't even forgotten about any of my theories, so I can jump right back into speculation
Ah, new part hype! And Rachel hype, albeit this is technically not really her. A very intriguing part and one that makes me truly wonder wha… moret we could have learned if we would have followed Melissa or Alexander in Clive's last choice. I guess though, the technical information would have been similar, even if the scene might have been a bit different. And not-Rachel brought up some really intriguing questions. First of all, most importantly, if she is not Rachel, not even some part of her, but just something taking on her appearance in Clive's dream here, then who is she? What is she? One of the same beings the Prince of Wolves and King of Lions belong to? Something... else? I think that would be the most unsettling thought, because it would mean there is even more we do not know about yet.
The implication is that not-Rachel (and Thomas's father from the previous part) are manifestations taken from their psyche. It isn't made clear whe… [view original content]
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwis… moree, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life it… [view original content]
Wow I missed a lot but after three days of reding I'm caught up and ready for the next parts. ( Also yay my characters the schneiders have already been intodruced)
Hey guys. I intended to write this yesterday, but the day got away from me. It's been a while, longer than I thought it has been. It was a wrong of me to leave you guys hanging for so long with no updates or continuations to either story. I'm sorry. Classes have taken the focus of my writing. History class has weekly writing assignments, and I've gotten a little carried away writing historical short stories for it. I'm also 40,000 words into that novel, which I suppose isn't much progress considering the length of my absence. While it's still unfinished, I can't help but consider it an accomplishment since it's longest thing I've ever written on own, without outside input, and with my own characters. It is truly awful, but as a first draft, I can't expect much else. I've been reading a ton still: I read 98 books last year, including A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings (hyped for book 3, but I'm pacing myself). This year, my reading goal is 104 books; I'm at 40 so far, but counting I'm graphics novels this time, and that's given me a real boost.
Health-wise, I'm good. My family and I were sick off and on for much of December and January, but we're all much better now. I'm in a choir group now, which has been okay, and I recently joined a theater/improv group, which has been a lot of fun. I should say now that I'm going on a month-long trip in May up the east coast as the game end for my American history class. Bottom line is, I've been good but busy. That said, going forward I'm going to make time to return to an active presence on the forums, whether that's interacting on the forum itself, following other users' stories, or providing new parts to my own stories.
On the matter of Silicon County:
Since it's been so long, and since this story is somewhat convoluted, I'm going to reread what I've written because there are certain areas that I'm unclear on and possibly some stuff I've forgotten. Meanwhile, I'll be producing a summery so that my readers don't need to go to that same trouble. However, I will continue to post new parts—written from the point of view of a new character, whose perspective I was planning to introduce in chapter four. Moving it around shouldn't cause any problems. This way, the story can go on. Resuming with an unfamiliar perspective should also hopefully provide a good jumping on point. I'm writing on the new part. It should be finished in the near future.
On the matter of Monument to the Walking Dead:
In the past, I've voiced my problems with writing this story. Unfortunately, my disillusion has only grown. Zombies bore me now. I know that the human drama is important part, but it's the same with that, frankly. Never could get into The Walking Dead comic. The show lost my after season five. Though I still liked it, the game kind of lost me half through season two. But I fucking love season one of the Telltale game. I'm going to replay it soon in the hopes that I can recapture my enthusiasm for writing Monument.
In any case, I think I need to reconceptualize Monument, because I'm just not feeling it. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can continue to write it as I have been. In own my opinion—which may or not be shared—it's too directionless, repetitive, and it uses too many cliches of the franchise. Death is also cheap and pointless in the story. Characters die to clear the roster. I know I have a much more cynical view on the story, but something needs to change. Again, I've promised not to cancel it, and I'm keeping to my word. I also don't want to ditched the current plot threads. I think I will pick up the current plots threads, but ditch my old plans and come up with something that I would want to write. I would like to hear your thoughts on this.
I have one question in particular to ask of everyone. Besides being fan fiction and copying the mechanics of the zombie virus, Monument has few connections to The Walking Dead franchise. How would you feel if I moved further away from the source material? If I ventured into other genres of horror, such as fantasy or science fiction, if I gave Monument a more supernatural edge? Since I don't want to have a jarring/alienating tonal shift, I would have to be subtle/gradual with the introduction of such elements, but it would give me much more wriggle room and I think it would go a long way to curing my burnout of the story.
PS: I have more characters than I know what to do with, so I'm closing submissions on both stories. If anyone were planning to submit, message me; I'm more than willing to work something out. It's not that I'm opposed to new characters, just that I don't want to openly advertise for their submission anymore.
I'm glad to see your back. I can't wait to see what you do with your stories. Do whatever you need to with Monument. For some reason I thought it was close to being done anyways. I'm really curious about your novel, are you planning to have it published and sell it? Can you say what it is about?
Cross-posting this on Silicon and Monument.
Hey guys. I intended to write this yesterday, but the day got away from me. It's been a while… more, longer than I thought it has been. It was a wrong of me to leave you guys hanging for so long with no updates or continuations to either story. I'm sorry. Classes have taken the focus of my writing. History class has weekly writing assignments, and I've gotten a little carried away writing historical short stories for it. I'm also 40,000 words into that novel, which I suppose isn't much progress considering the length of my absence. While it's still unfinished, I can't help but consider it an accomplishment since it's longest thing I've ever written on own, without outside input, and with my own characters. It is truly awful, but as a first draft, I can't expect much else. I've been reading a ton still: I read 98 books last year, including A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings (hyped for book 3, but I'… [view original content]
I don't have much to say about Silicion aside from being excited for it to continue. In regards to Monument, it's a shame that you're not as passionate anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of stepping away from the Walking Dead world. On one hand I think it'd be good for you to get back into it, on the other I'm concerned it'd feel too different after getting into it. However you should do whatever you want to do with the story. It certainly won't be as good if you're not into it.
Cross-posting this on Silicon and Monument.
Hey guys. I intended to write this yesterday, but the day got away from me. It's been a while… more, longer than I thought it has been. It was a wrong of me to leave you guys hanging for so long with no updates or continuations to either story. I'm sorry. Classes have taken the focus of my writing. History class has weekly writing assignments, and I've gotten a little carried away writing historical short stories for it. I'm also 40,000 words into that novel, which I suppose isn't much progress considering the length of my absence. While it's still unfinished, I can't help but consider it an accomplishment since it's longest thing I've ever written on own, without outside input, and with my own characters. It is truly awful, but as a first draft, I can't expect much else. I've been reading a ton still: I read 98 books last year, including A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings (hyped for book 3, but I'… [view original content]
Glad to be back! As for the novel, I'm first going to make sure I have a decent product. It has been my desire to publish traditionally, though a publisher. I have a lot options: I could self-publish it, I could put it up for free on a blog, or—and admittedly this is very appealing—I could put it in a drawer, count it as a learning experience, and write another novel. But I'm trying to not get ahead of myself.
I'm glad to see your back. I can't wait to see what you do with your stories. Do whatever you need to with Monument. For some reason I thoug… moreht it was close to being done anyways. I'm really curious about your novel, are you planning to have it published and sell it? Can you say what it is about?
I definitely understand your concern. There's no freaking way that I'm just throwing werewolves or vampires or superpowers into it. What I add, while not specifically keeping with the source material, should at least mesh with it to avoid tonal dissonance. I'm thinking of laying the story with some mysticism and exploring things of small supernatural proportion from a subjective perspective. Is what I'm seeing real or imaginary? Was this kid high when he saw this? That sort of thing. I want it to be valid to doubt the reality of the supernatural elements.
So pleased to know that you're okay!
I don't have much to say about Silicion aside from being excited for it to continue. In regards to … moreMonument, it's a shame that you're not as passionate anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of stepping away from the Walking Dead world. On one hand I think it'd be good for you to get back into it, on the other I'm concerned it'd feel too different after getting into it. However you should do whatever you want to do with the story. It certainly won't be as good if you're not into it.
Well, if you decide against publishing it. I say you should post it somewhere, so we can all marvel at your writing genius, and possibly give a few critiques. Not like, you would need a lot or anything.
Glad to be back! As for the novel, I'm first going to make sure I have a decent product. It has been my desire to publish traditionally, tho… moreugh a publisher. I have a lot options: I could self-publish it, I could put it up for free on a blog, or—and admittedly this is very appealing—I could put it in a drawer, count it as a learning experience, and write another novel. But I'm trying to not get ahead of myself.
Oh, you have no idea how awful this thing is at present. But I do want to put my work out there, assuming I'm not embarrassed by the end product. And thank you for the critique offer! I'll try to remember!
Well, if you decide against publishing it. I say you should post it somewhere, so we can all marvel at your writing genius, and possibly give a few critiques. Not like, you would need a lot or anything.
I definitely understand your concern. There's no freaking way that I'm just throwing werewolves or vampires or superpowers into it. What I a… moredd, while not specifically keeping with the source material, should at least mesh with it to avoid tonal dissonance. I'm thinking of laying the story with some mysticism and exploring things of small supernatural proportion from a subjective perspective. Is what I'm seeing real or imaginary? Was this kid high when he saw this? That sort of thing. I want it to be valid to doubt the reality of the supernatural elements.
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartly parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent growing their first—that does this. He does not look like a killer, perhaps with the exception of his eyes, which are cold bluish gray, and somehow beguiling, as if knowledge hides behind them. Whether maleficent or innocent, it is unclear.
He smiles at me as any nice young man might, and we speak. His voice is soft-spoke, accented by his upbringing in Britain. He seems sad in a charming way. He talk about current events, life at the institution, and his feelings. At last, I brooch the subject: I ask him about the black dog.
“No one cared about that,” he says, frowning. He comes off as smart, almost self-aware. “They thought it was an delusion of an abused mind.”
“I’d care to hear about it,” I am quick to say. “I think it was crudely dismissed during your trial.”
Though at first hesitant, he begins to tell the tale.
I will interlace this story with his life story. To understand this man, we must consider the creatures who have passed through Theodore Deerman’s life Those include a murderer, a pair of abusers, a barnyard pig, and a mythical black dog. We must consider the animals, including Deerman himself…
Excerpt from CONSIDER THE ANIMALS, an article by Amber Page
Theodore, 03-12 - The Divine Dream:
Blood, everywhere. On the walls of the barn. On the ground within. Coating Theodore, who knelt in it. Dripping from the bodies—human and animal—that hung from the rafters. Everything was covered in a congealing, slimy layer of blood. Everything but the lion. The lion’s coat was unsullied. It was clean, the lion. The lion that stalked Theodore in circles. Circling, circling, this moment four-legged and primitive. Theodore, kneeling in the blood, his head lowered. The liquid padding of the lion’s paws stopped behind him and a hot breath exhaled upon the nape of his neck. A moan escaped Theodore’s throat.
Then its voice said to him, YOU’RE TRYING MY PATIENCE, THEODORE.
And then the beast’s presence was gone. Theodore glanced behind. It was gone, like a ghost. But the prints stilled remained in the blood. Giant, deep, the newest distinct, the oldest slowing filling in with blood. They made a diminishing circle which closed in on him. Although he had some reckoning of what was to come, it still drove him to his stomach when it did.
I’M NOT MAD, the King of Lions fumed as it peeled off the metal roof of the barn and crumpled it into an ever-shrinking ball, as if it was tin foil, JUST DISAPPOINTED. TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ME ANGRY.
Theodore cowered within as the cataclysm of screaming metal went on outside. “I trust you!” he cried.
NO, YOU DON’T, the lion said. It moved to the front of the barn and squatted naked and humanoid outside the doors, concealed by darkness, a giant void against the star-field behind it. Its eyes glowed yellow. It studied the sphere it had made, which faintly glinted in its hand. YOU FEAR ME. BUT FEAR IS LESS EASILY BROKEN THAN TRUST, SO I FIND NOTHING REGRETTABLE IN THAT. It tossed the sphere away into the perpetual night, perhaps to join the cosmos as a world composed entirely of steel. NOW TELL ME, HOW HAVE YOU DISAPPOINTED ME, THEN WE MAY FIND SOME PATH TO THE FULFILMENT OF YOUR DUTY.
“My duty.”
The lion sighed. FIND THE GIRL, it said, like a teacher who was speaking to a lackluster student. RID HER OF THE CRANE WIFE’S INFLUENCE SO THAT I MIGHT SPEAK TO HER. PROTECT HER FROM THE CUR’S AGENTS UNTIL SHE CAN FULFIL HER OWN DUTY.
“Starting the fire,” Theodore moaned.
YES.
Theodore shook his head. “I don’t want to. I won’t kill for you.”
OH, THEODORE. YOU AREN’T KILLING ANYTHING, ANYONE, UNLESS THEY MEAN TO HARM THE GIRL. BESIDES, WHAT WANT OR DON’T WANT IS MUTE. BUT I WILL HAVE WHAT I WANT. YOU WILL FIND HER...
The lion breathed on his neck again. So hot was its breath, so fragrant with the scent of meat. The black silhouette remained outside, and it leaned in then, so close that Theodore could have drowned in its eyes. Within the slitted and darkly animistic things, there surged an ageless sea of intelligence.
...OR I WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE DIRECT CONTROL, LIKE THE CUR IS WONT TO DO. YOU DON’T WANT THAT. NOT ONLY WOULD YOU LOSE YOUR EARTHLY FORM, BUT YOU’D BE TRAPPED IN THIS BARN OF YOUR DREAMS. I ASSURE YOU, IF YOU DO NOT YIELD, THE HORRORS OF THIS WILL PALE IN COMPARISON TO WHAT WILL COME.
Silence, then:
DO WE HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING?
Though his entire body was shaking, Theodore forced the word out. “Yes.”
I’VE BROKEN YOU. NO MORE RESISTING. NO MORE DELAYS.
A pause, but not a reprieve: Theodore, surrounded by darkness and blood and corpses and the lion's monstrous presence, stood on the brink, at some irreversible point. It was live or die. No... it was survive or suffer.
At last, a mercy, as the lion said: YOU MAY WAKE UP.
With a deep inhale, the afternoon light blinding his eyes, Theodore awoke as the lion had commanded. He tumbled out of bed and lay gasping for breath like someone who had nearly drowned, each every lungful of air to be fought for. He was drenched in sweat, which was turning cold in the chilly room. He shut his eyes and cried and clutched the blanket around him. Something told he he’d been asleep for days, either his empty stomach or his thirst. The memory of blood covering his skin still was still palpable, fading as a sensation but permanent in his mind.
Broken.
All because he had resisted. When the lion had first appeared to him, Theodore had recognized the consequence of what might come and had dragged his feet in carrying out his task. The lion had not been fooled. Seeking to scare him into submission, the lion had peopled his dreams with horrors, and when met with continued resistance, had stolen Theodore’s ability to wake up. Trapped, surrounded by creatures from his past, Theodore had been broken. He could not tolerate the thought of returning to that hell without breaking into tears and shaking throughout his whole body.
But the purport of his task remained. If he found the girl, events would advance irrecoverably. Would he become the lion’s wind-up man, its unquestioning servent?
Or would he do enough, make enough progress, to avoid the dream-hell, all the while searching for a way out? Ally myself with this Crane Wife, her cur. But if the lion caught onto what he planned, it would be as the lion had said: he’d be trapped again, his mortal body forfeit.
Or should he just kill himself now? There was no way to be sure that death would release him, but it was ever an option, and in his mind, an increasingly appealing one compared to the possible torture ahead.
[Servitude]
[Subterfuge]
[Suicide]
Post-part Update:
Apologies for the delay of this part. More than twenty days between my announcement and the actually part, but hey, I guess that's an improvement. A few things got in the way. I went to SXSW in Austin for three days (I got to see a panel which included Leah Hoyer from Telltale). Ideally, the next part should come sooner, but I can't be sure, because there's a few things that need to take priority for the remainder of the month. First, I have until the end of the month to finish the novel, which I need to get to work on on the double, because this month, from Monday to Friday, I'm going to be at the beach with no computer (I have found I can write longhand, i.e. in a notebook, but it's slow going and I'd like to enjoy my time at the gulf). Which brings me to the second point of the delay: there's going to a talent show at the beach, and I've decided to write and short story, which I need to finish as well. I hope you enjoy this part. It feels good to continue Silicon. I'll try to reply to comments before I leave for the beach, but I probably won't have much of an online presence again until April.
[Suicide] The fact that I'm even willing to consider this choice is really upsetting me as it really goes against my beliefs. But sadly it seems to be the only way out for this poor soul. Servitude will force him to do things he really doesn't want to do and I honestly can't imagine subterfuge being successful which would inevitably trap him in that hell he fears. So suicide seems the only way. I don't see it as giving up or taking the easy way out but rather as an act of defiance. A refusal to be apart of the King of Lion's schemes.
As difficult as it is to understand what's going on in this part, I really enjoyed it! As you can see it really got me thinking. So well done as always and I'm so pleased to see this story active again.
EDIT: Good luck with the Novel and short story btw! I'm confident that they'll both be fantastic!
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartl… morey parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent … [view original content]
Oh yes, a new part! This is amazing and I am happy Of course it also gave me a lot to think about. So, we actually got more than just a glimpse of the King of Lions here and it is clear, as much as each of these beings is morally ambiguous so far, he is probably the most likely to be outright evil if judged by conventional human morality. The jury is still up about the Prince of Wolves and the Crane Wife. However, I assume that the cur the King of Lions mentioned here is none other than the Prince and what little we got here, though obviously warped by the King's personal bias, doesn't sound too promising either. It seems this girl is the key though and she is also among the greatest mysteries here, because we know next to nothing about her. She is the knight, this much I am certain about, given that we know the knight is working for Crane. However, her identity in Silicon remains to be seen, albeit I have this theory she might be Lana and if not, then she is probably a currently unintroduced character. And it seems the Prince of Wolves has something in store for her that isn't too good for her, but whatever the King of Lions has planned cannot be much better, given the brutal methods he uses to get what he wants. The Prince of Wolves seems to have at least some respect for his agents and at least takes some effort to maintain their well-being, whereas the King of Lions clearly sees them as nothing but tools to be used in any way necessary to get his goals as quickly as possible. Safe to say, he is the most terrifying being we have encountered so far.
[Subterfuge]
Here's the thing, Servitude cannot be an option here, the King and his goals spell plenty bad for the humans of Silicon and I doubt he'd ever let Theodore leave his service. Suicide meanwhile, I don't think that is an option either. The King strikes me as intelligent enough to ensure that his servants can't just kill themselves to end their torment, or else he would risk not having any servants at all. The Crane Wife and the Prince of Wolves both seem more affable in their interactions (with Crane it is at least implied), probably to ensure that their servants work for them almost willingly, but the King clearly doesn't care for this, so I suspect he might have ways to prevent this suicide from happening, or from being carried out successful. Who knows what he can do, we know people can survive what should be lethal wounds, presumably if their masters are willing to protect them, which I guess is what happened with Thomas early on. So, I doubt Theodore can kill himself and I don't want him to serve this monster. But subterfuge, as risky as it is, could be the only true way out and he might get a shot at actually harming the King's plans if he does so. We know little about the Crane Wife, but from the knight's parts, she was made out to be more benevolent than the King, so I would rather ally with her (or even the Prince of Wolves at this particular stage, without knowing the full picture) and this seems the way to go.
And well, good luck with your goals for the rest of this month! As Agent said, I am sure they will turn out to be fantastic Also, I hope you'll find time to enjoy your stay at the beach. Certainly, this part got me instantly hooked into the story again, it was quite a way to pick Silicon up again and while I am so excited for it and for Monument, I first and foremost hope that you will be successful in this talent show. I actually have something I would like to ask via PM, but it is nothing too pressing and given that I will be gone as well a whole week starting with Wednesday next week, I suppose this might be better discussed once we have both returned, it can wait until then.
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartl… morey parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent … [view original content]
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartl… morey parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent … [view original content]
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartl… morey parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent … [view original content]
Theodore Deerman enters the room and sits across from me at the table. He is tall, even sitting, and fit. His hair is dirty blond and smartl… morey parted. A thin but well-groomed beard adorns his face. He wears no restraints—he is, afterall, a model patient. The guard who stands by the door through Deerman entered watches us passively; he is attentive, but clearly Deerman acting out of line was the last thing he expects.
Three years ago, Deerman donned a mask with the visage of a werewolf that had been purchased the week before for trick-or-treating. He took an axe to his cousin’s rapist, butchered the man, and cooked and partially ate the man’s remains, earning himself, in the trails that followed, the title of the Big Bad Wolf. He was declared mentally insane and institutionalized at Pinewood Heights. He was twenty-one.
Now, at twenty-four, he seems no older. In fact, he seems younger. I think it is the beard—that of an adolescent … [view original content]
(!) Theodore will go along with things, meanwhile conspiring against the King of Lions
In regards to the choice, this is an interesting one. In my plans, before I decided to put this choice in your hands, I had always picture Theodore as a reluctant but loyal servant. At this time, it's unsure how his subterfuge will play out, but assuredly it will have consequence to the grander scheme of things, and was, perhaps, in your best interest. The servitude option would have followed my initial plans. The suicide option was perhaps as Liquid speculated: not a viable means of escaping fate.
Another span of silence, for which I ask forgiveness. I've been back from the beach for a while. Got sunburned. Got my ass kicked in fight circle. Over all, it went well. Oh, and I'm happy to say that the short story was a hit! It went longer than I anticipate (I spoke for twenty minutes to a crowd of like thirty people, during which time they fell dead silent—luckily it was out of interest, rather than boredom) so next year I'll write something shorter for my own benefit.
Sadly, it seems I will have lots on my plate until the beginning of May, the most daunting being editing the novel, the first draft of which I pulled an all nighter to finish. In the interim, I will strive to write a new part of Silicon. However, I believe on the 8th of May, I will be leaving on another trip and won't be back again until June 2nd, so unfortunately it seems Monument won't continue until that time.
When next we meet, it will be with the short-term results of this choice in a continuation of Theodore's story. See you all again soon!
Voting is closed!
(!) Theodore will go along with things, meanwhile conspiring against the King of Lions
In regards to the choice, thi… mores is an interesting one. In my plans, before I decided to put this choice in your hands, I had always picture Theodore as a reluctant but loyal servant. At this time, it's unsure how his subterfuge will play out, but assuredly it will have consequence to the grander scheme of things, and was, perhaps, in your best interest. The servitude option would have followed my initial plans. The suicide option was perhaps as Liquid speculated: not a viable means of escaping fate.
Another span of silence, for which I ask forgiveness. I've been back from the beach for a while. Got sunburned. Got my ass kicked in fight circle. Over all, it went well. Oh, and I'm happy to say that the short story was a hit! It went longer than I anticipate (I spoke for twenty minutes to a crowd of like thirty people, during which ti… [view original content]
Goddamn. I feel like I've fallen into a pattern. There won't be a new part for at least another month. I put off piecing it together until today and got swamped by packing and last minute preparations for my departure tomorrow. I'll devote the summer to getting the stories running again, and will hopefully continue with a steady schedule into the fall. Until then, I'll be going on a road trip up the east coast. I'll be visiting places in Alabama, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Washington D.C., Pennsylvania, New York, and Massachusetts, and then, on the way back, I'll be going through Ohio and Tennessee. It goes without saying that this will be an invaluable experience. I'm excited. I'm nervous. But past that, I look forward to getting home and climbing back onto the forum story saddle. Thank you for your patience. See you soon!
I'm back and putting together the next part. It'll be due some time in the next few days. We'll catch up with the PoV characters and their situations. I'm gonna try to get us up to speed without having to make a lengthy summery.
Ah, those are wonderful news Hope, welcome back! I hope your vacation has been refreshing. For certain, I am super excited and look forward for the next part no matter when it is done
I'm back and putting together the next part. It'll be due some time in the next few days. We'll catch up with the PoV characters and their situations. I'm gonna try to get us up to speed without having to make a lengthy summery.
Comments
Update
Oh gosh, time flies. I'm sorry for this renewed absence. Monument and Silicon will continue, I'm just too sure when—I'm gonna try to get on top of them again, though. My writing class began this month and I got distracted trying to work out a few things about my project. Seeing the class schedule, and seeing it was beginning so soon, caused a moment a panic followed by immediately by several easing epiphanies. For one, I discovered my antagonist was right under my nose this whole time, and I've found the plot to go with the world and characters I've had in mind. Now I've been doing a lot of thinking, figuring other things out, about the story. The first class was several days ago. We did a few writing exercises, defined what a novel is, and broke down our favorite novels into the elements we enjoyed most to, maybe, get idea of what we should focus on. Thankfully, we're taking things slowly, so this first class was mostly conceptual. We'll be working on characters next. I'll keep you posted and will get my forum stories up and running again soon!
Clive, 03-11 - Thursday, Dec. 1st, ??:?? AM:
Things had to be tackled one at a time if Clive had any hope of learning the truth. Otherwise, he could get distracted long enough for the plethora of loose ends to become an overall hindrance, a noose. Whatever mysteries surrounded Melissa and the young man, whoever he was, could wait until Clive had some answers about Rachel.
So he ignored the houses the others had vanished into, for now, and headed toward Rachel’s, crossing the yard, climbing the steps, and hesitating at the door. The inside, the walls, the decor, were all silver, each a polished metal surface. He steeled himself before plunging through after the girl. And in an instant, everything changed.
A sudden vibrancy struck Clive as surely as a bright light. It was like stepping from a blurry black-and-white picture into a full-color video. Color had returned to the house, this cramped living room, and, it seemed, so had life itself: gone was the sterility, the stagnant quality; the very air seemed alive. Looking over his shoulder, he saw out the door he’d stepped through, with its peephole and number place. He saw into the hallway that lay beyond. An apartment. His gaze found a window, and stepping up to it, he saw the opposing building, the busy street below.
When he looked back into the room, there was a woman standing deeper in the apartment. Though she was grown, not the little girl who had entered the house, he knew she was Rachel; of that, he had no doubt. Besides, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise: he’d seen her older self before, in his first dream, the one with the figures standing at the edge of a fissure.
She seemed to be studying him.
He prepared to speak, prepared to cry, prepared to hold this woman, his lost daughter, but before he summoned words to speak, she spoke: “You’re standing at a threshold, Dad.”
His mouth went dry and his attempt to speak died before it reached his tongue.
A smile bloomed on her lips as she waited. Waited for him to speak.
It took a while. “Rachel?”—little more than an exhalation.
The woman nodded, and then as if remembering, she shook her head. “I’m… She’s still out there.”
You’re here, he felt like saying. It suddenly occurred to him that he was in a dream, the Divine Dream, as Thomas had called it. How had he forgotten? Maybe this Divine Dream was more real than most dreams, but who was to say many liberties it could take with reality?
He wanted to ask her what she, if she wasn’t Rachel, was, but he stopped himself. He already had the answer: if this was a dream, then it would follow that she was, in some way, a dream. Not the real Rachel. An imitation of her.
So he asked, “Where is she?”
Her smile folded. She walked toward him, and turned her gaze to the window, toward the perfectly real-looking skyline. It could be San Francisco, *Clive thought. Then, *It is. She touched the glass as if testing its solidity. “I’ll tell you. Then you’ll do what I ask.”
“Yes,” he said. Only in hindsight, when a silence came between them, did he wonder at his quickness to agree; who knew what she’d ask of him?
When she spoke, it was without looking at him; her gaze was fixed on the pale blue sky. “She’s not in your world. Hasn’t been for a hundred lifetimes. Neither is she reachable in our Divine Dream. Her location is between the two realities. If our Divine Dream is death, and your world is the life, her’s is a semblance of both. Purgatory.”
His skin broke out in gooseflesh, and just for a moment, Clive felt the weight, the scope, of the reality itself on his shoulders, foresaw something larger than his conception compacted into his little head till it was bursting.
“How do I find her?” he asked.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll find her. We want you to, for while she doesn’t walk in your world, she doesn’t walk in the Divine Dream, either. You’re not the only one at a threshold, Dad.”
That Dad now made his skin crawl, knowing that this wasn’t truly Rachel.
“Now that I’ve told you what I know,” she said, “you will do what I ask.”
“Yes.” This time the word came out meek.
When he followed her gesture back the way he had come, he saw the door to the apartment had shut without making a noise. His pulse quickened.
“You want me to go through the threshold?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He swallowed and started moving before he could hesitate and thus be frozen in place, in fear, for the rest of the dream. The doorknob was cool under his shaking fingers. The door itself, he realized as he drew closer to it, radicated coldness; the cracks between door and jamb were well-directed beams of cold. He straightened to see through the peephole and saw the glass had frosted over. He stepped back and rubbed his arms, already chilled.
She was still there when he looked back, waiting for him to step through.
“Will I freeze to death?” he asked.
“Have you ever grown hungry here? Thirsty?”
“No,” he said.
“You’ve gotta step through the threshold, Dad. Enter the Divine Dream proper.”
He shuddered, not for the cold, and grabbed the doorknob again. A twist and the door blew open with a gust of cold wind passing over him, sending ice crystals flying into the room. He blinked against the barrage, eyes stinging. There, beyond the door, lay an icy wasteland. “Oh, no, no, no, I can’t go out there. There’s—” he shook his head, gestured beyond. “There’s nothing.”
The woman hadn’t left the window. The glass was frosting over with fog, and she seemed to be doodling in it. “You can’t turn back now. And besides, Dad, we made a deal, and a deal’s a promise.”
He didn’t like the look of the landscape, but he could not, he realized, stand to be in the same room, the same apartment, as this figment. If he had to go, then he’d do it on his terms. The woman didn’t stop him as he moved back into the apartment, opened a closet door, and rummaged around he found a box of winter clothes. If the woman was to be believed, he wouldn’t freeze to death, but still, the clothes he had on—the ones he’d been wearing that rainy day in November—were painfully inadequate for the environment, and whether it would kill him or not, he still felt the cold. There in the hall, he pulled a heavier set of clothes over his lighter apparel: a thick jacket that would have befitted a frozen mountaintop, with faux-fur lining, then heavy pants, a pair of wool socks and boots that were his size, and gloves. He saw a large, heavy blanket. He grabbed it, too, and behind it was another, smaller box.
He pulled it out, set it on top of the other box, and opened it. There were girl’s clothes inside. A jacket. Gloves. A scarf. He decided he would take them. Rachel’s. The woman behind him may have been a grown woman, but who knew how old the real Rachel would be when he found her? He wrapped the scarf around his neck, stuffed a pair of gloves into his jacket pocket, and after a brief consideration, wondering whether he should leave the kid’s jacket, he stuffed it under his own jacket; it would further insulate him, and just maybe, it would have a use down the line. Lastly, from its spot, tucked in the corner, he grabbed a wooden cane that he recognized as the one he’d gotten for his father when the old man had started having trouble walking. It reverted to his ownership when the man had died. Now he was the old man, or thereabouts.
With the blanket bundled under his arm, he returned to the front of the house. The figment who looked like Rachel was still there, and her drawing in the window had taken the form of an hourglass; Clive noted that. The door was still stood open, flapping back and with the wind’s fluctuations. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to close it.
The woman said nothing to him as he drew up to the door, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak to her, or it, having lost all desire to. He stopped short of the threshold, though, and that prompted a glance from her, but he got over his hesitation quickly and stepped through, pulling the door shut behind him. There was no change in the atmosphere besides the temperature, which plummeted. The door shut without difficulty, and the lock clicked. He looked at it, and found the door wasn’t attachment to anything; it stood, free of frame and hinge. He reached out, touched the apartment number, was about to try the doorknob, but his touch had caused the door to fall backward. It fell and shattered into a million shards of brilliantly clear ice. The wind scattered the smaller shards and swept snow over the larger ones that remained, so it appeared that nothing, no freak door in the middle of this icy nowhere, had ever been there.
Clive stood alone, shivering, wondering too late if you could wake up from the Divine Dream proper, as he had in the other, apparently adjacent dreams of the woods. He put the question aside, however, and pulled the strings of his hood tight. One hand gripping the crane, the other in his pocket with the little purple gloves, perhaps for luck, he started trudging toward the white and empty distance.
At this moment, something—if it hadn’t set already—solidified within him like concrete: he made a promise to the frigid air and whatever king had governed his misery that he would reunite his family, no matter what, and if hell had to be paid to do it, he’d find a way to pay it.
To be continued...
I had fun with Clive this part. We'll catch up with Tyler next. After his breakdown during Thanksgiving dinner at the Joneses and subsequent liberation from his father's household by the Sheriff's officers Henry and Alan, thanks to Thomas's tip and the information he received from the prince, Tyler's had a lot to process. We'll follow from his new abode to school. Plans will be hatched by teenagers. And new allies will perhaps be made. I'll see you all soon, and hopefully, the wait won't be as long.
I’m not sure if the part itself is what’s shocking me or the contents of it, I’ll check back later.
YES ALL HAIL THE AGE OF RETURNING STORIES. Osterlon, Cost of Loyalty, Prime and now Silicon. Yes! One million times yes.
Clivey clue,
what will you do?
When fate comes a calling.
Will you rise
Or to our surprise
Just keep on falling?
Seriously, man you need to sort things out.
Man... poor Clive. Hopefully he can find some answers and get his family back.
Um, NoHope I think you have a small mistake in the character list.
Deceased or Unknown: Wade Pittman
Awaiting Introduction: Wade Pittman
You know Wade Pittman's death was very gruesome, really a well executed part. I'm sort of sad he died since we won't see him anymore, but he was well written till the end. Anyway, i can't wait till we introduce new characters, you know each one gives a fresh new flavor to the story. Like this guy Wade Pittman, he sounds interesting, i wonder what his deal is.
On top of that Amanda Gavins is still in the Awaiting Introduction list.
I swear, I read your comment four times thinking, did I kill Pittman? before I realized you were joking. Nice lol.
And thank you, Lord and @AgentZ46! I've updated the character list.
tfw you don't remember if you killed off a character.
Ah, new part hype! And Rachel hype, albeit this is technically not really her. A very intriguing part and one that makes me truly wonder what we could have learned if we would have followed Melissa or Alexander in Clive's last choice. I guess though, the technical information would have been similar, even if the scene might have been a bit different. And not-Rachel brought up some really intriguing questions. First of all, most importantly, if she is not Rachel, not even some part of her, but just something taking on her appearance in Clive's dream here, then who is she? What is she? One of the same beings the Prince of Wolves and King of Lions belong to? Something... else? I think that would be the most unsettling thought, because it would mean there is even more we do not know about yet. But well, one thing I am particularly alarmed by is not-Rachel's statement that the real Rachel and likely Alex as well have not been in any world for a hundred lifetimes. This brings up the question, just what the hell is going on there. Are Clive and co. stuck in some sort of cycle, reliving their lives over and over again for some reason? Because that would be the only thing I could imagine, that someone once messed with this cycle by removing Clive's children and in this cycle, there might finally be a way to undo this meddling. But if Clive succeeds, will the current cycle just go on, with Rachel and Alex simply inserted into it, or will it start over in its original form, with them being there from the very beginning? Ah, this might be another of my crack theories, but I really try to make sense out of what not-Rachel has revealed here, because I feel it holds monumental implications. And well, then there is Clive in the Divine Dream proper. So far, if I am not mistaken, we had Thomas there, but always carefully supervised and guided by the Prince of Wolves. The fact that not-Rachel apparently lets him go out on his own, without supervision, makes me believe she is at least not the Prince in disguise. I also really have to wonder, what can he do there? Perhaps this meddling, this removal of Rachel and Alex from our world happened in the Divine Dream and can therefore only be undone there, but not my the Prince, or not-Rachel or anyone else, but by a Divine Dreamer.
Oh, whatever it is, I just know I am so damn hyped for this all
I thought process was more like, That didn't happen!
That didn't happen, did it?
Did it happen?
I was doubting reality for good minute lol.
Hey, I just noticed Michael's in the deceased list! It makes sense, I just didn't expect it because I never submitted him as an actual character (I think?)
The implication is that not-Rachel (and Thomas's father from the previous part) are manifestations taken from their psyche. It isn't made clear whether they are manifestations in the way that dreams are or some entity is using the memories of them as a mouthpiece of sorts.
It is a rather odd line to just throw out there willy-nilly. I believe what you're proposing is a time-loop. Crack theory though it may be, this story is filled with crack possibilities. And let me tell you, a time-loop is not the most crack but possibly possibility there is. So I'll let you off with a warning... Prepare for weirdness.
Thomas's father was very insistent on getting Thomas to pass through the threshold, but he didn't enter; he locked himself in the back room when his not-father grew violent and unstable. Thus, Clive is actually the first dreamer (known to us) to have entered the "Divine Dream proper," as not-Rachel calls it. Your summation that the prince and the manifestations are not in cahoots is right on. Thomas was told not to leave the chapel (and therefore enter the Divine Dream proper) before he was specifically instructed to by the prince. Thomas's father attempted to undermine that order.
I'm really glad to know everyone's still interested despite the waits!
No, you didn't submit him. Slanted names in italic, like his, are either characters mentioned in backstories or of my own invention. He's the former, in this case.
Really sorry, sarcasm is in my nature. I was making fun of the fact that Wade was misplace twice by taking both of the placements literally.
Hm, I am fully convinced they serve as a mouthpiece, or maybe, at most, a mixture of both options. They seem to give helpful hints or things the dreamers don't know about, particularly not-Rachel, so I doubt they are just a manifestation of the dreamers' own psyche. Though this implies that whatever just contacted Clive is aware of what happened before, likely familiar with Rachel, though given that it seemed to also have the goal of bringing them back, I do not think it is responsible for their disappearance in the first place.
Yes, time loop sounds better, this is precisely what I mean. A bit like a darker, longer version of Groundhog Day. Maybe Groundhog Life, or something like that, where a certain amount of time is, for whatever reason, repeated over and over, maybe with someone having once found the way to alter the events happening into his or her favour, namely by removing Rachel and Alex from it and probably doing other sorts of things. I think that's about what I'm supposing right now. Actually, indeed, a time-loop doesn't sound like the most unusual thing, given what we know so far, particularly with that line. But at the same time, I fully prepare for weirder twists to happen
Ah, yes, I remember this! I forgot about it before you mentioned it and this is a bit discomforting, come to think of it. I mean, with the not-father getting violent against Thomas and his following refusal to do as he wished, maybe this is the same entity, but it has learned that it can't get the dreamers to follow its commands by force alone. So now it took a different approach, playing to Clive's heart's desire, presenting itself as an ally and a possible help in reuniting his family. Of course, a lot about the morality of the non-human entities in this story is still up for debate, actually almost everything, but the fact that the not-father was willing to use violence and threats to achieve his goal doesn't quite speak in his favour. If the same entity is trying to manipulate Clive, well, that might not be a good thing. Or maybe it is, maybe the Prince and his faction are not as ultimately well-intentioned as they seem to be. So, maybe this entity here is the King of Lions, or a third faction in whatever is going on there. Good thing is, this makes two factions focussed on bringing back Rachel and Alex, though I fear their goals might be entirely different.
Aha, that is the power of your writing here. There has been a bit of a break for sure, but amazingly, it didn't take me long to get back into it. I haven't even forgotten about any of my theories, so I can jump right back into speculation
No apologies are necessary! I found it funny how easily you got me to question my memory!
I wish I had seen this sooner. I'm glad the story is back. I can't wait for the next part.
Wow I missed a lot but after three days of reding I'm caught up and ready for the next parts. ( Also yay my characters the schneiders have already been intodruced)
Cross-posting this on Silicon and Monument.
Hey guys. I intended to write this yesterday, but the day got away from me. It's been a while, longer than I thought it has been. It was a wrong of me to leave you guys hanging for so long with no updates or continuations to either story. I'm sorry. Classes have taken the focus of my writing. History class has weekly writing assignments, and I've gotten a little carried away writing historical short stories for it. I'm also 40,000 words into that novel, which I suppose isn't much progress considering the length of my absence. While it's still unfinished, I can't help but consider it an accomplishment since it's longest thing I've ever written on own, without outside input, and with my own characters. It is truly awful, but as a first draft, I can't expect much else. I've been reading a ton still: I read 98 books last year, including A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings (hyped for book 3, but I'm pacing myself). This year, my reading goal is 104 books; I'm at 40 so far, but counting I'm graphics novels this time, and that's given me a real boost.
Health-wise, I'm good. My family and I were sick off and on for much of December and January, but we're all much better now. I'm in a choir group now, which has been okay, and I recently joined a theater/improv group, which has been a lot of fun. I should say now that I'm going on a month-long trip in May up the east coast as the game end for my American history class. Bottom line is, I've been good but busy. That said, going forward I'm going to make time to return to an active presence on the forums, whether that's interacting on the forum itself, following other users' stories, or providing new parts to my own stories.
On the matter of Silicon County:
Since it's been so long, and since this story is somewhat convoluted, I'm going to reread what I've written because there are certain areas that I'm unclear on and possibly some stuff I've forgotten. Meanwhile, I'll be producing a summery so that my readers don't need to go to that same trouble. However, I will continue to post new parts—written from the point of view of a new character, whose perspective I was planning to introduce in chapter four. Moving it around shouldn't cause any problems. This way, the story can go on. Resuming with an unfamiliar perspective should also hopefully provide a good jumping on point. I'm writing on the new part. It should be finished in the near future.
On the matter of Monument to the Walking Dead:
In the past, I've voiced my problems with writing this story. Unfortunately, my disillusion has only grown. Zombies bore me now. I know that the human drama is important part, but it's the same with that, frankly. Never could get into The Walking Dead comic. The show lost my after season five. Though I still liked it, the game kind of lost me half through season two. But I fucking love season one of the Telltale game. I'm going to replay it soon in the hopes that I can recapture my enthusiasm for writing Monument.
In any case, I think I need to reconceptualize Monument, because I'm just not feeling it. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can continue to write it as I have been. In own my opinion—which may or not be shared—it's too directionless, repetitive, and it uses too many cliches of the franchise. Death is also cheap and pointless in the story. Characters die to clear the roster. I know I have a much more cynical view on the story, but something needs to change. Again, I've promised not to cancel it, and I'm keeping to my word. I also don't want to ditched the current plot threads. I think I will pick up the current plots threads, but ditch my old plans and come up with something that I would want to write. I would like to hear your thoughts on this.
I have one question in particular to ask of everyone. Besides being fan fiction and copying the mechanics of the zombie virus, Monument has few connections to The Walking Dead franchise. How would you feel if I moved further away from the source material? If I ventured into other genres of horror, such as fantasy or science fiction, if I gave Monument a more supernatural edge? Since I don't want to have a jarring/alienating tonal shift, I would have to be subtle/gradual with the introduction of such elements, but it would give me much more wriggle room and I think it would go a long way to curing my burnout of the story.
PS: I have more characters than I know what to do with, so I'm closing submissions on both stories. If anyone were planning to submit, message me; I'm more than willing to work something out. It's not that I'm opposed to new characters, just that I don't want to openly advertise for their submission anymore.
I'm glad to see your back. I can't wait to see what you do with your stories. Do whatever you need to with Monument. For some reason I thought it was close to being done anyways. I'm really curious about your novel, are you planning to have it published and sell it? Can you say what it is about?
So pleased to know that you're okay!
I don't have much to say about Silicion aside from being excited for it to continue. In regards to Monument, it's a shame that you're not as passionate anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of stepping away from the Walking Dead world. On one hand I think it'd be good for you to get back into it, on the other I'm concerned it'd feel too different after getting into it. However you should do whatever you want to do with the story. It certainly won't be as good if you're not into it.
Glad to be back! As for the novel, I'm first going to make sure I have a decent product. It has been my desire to publish traditionally, though a publisher. I have a lot options: I could self-publish it, I could put it up for free on a blog, or—and admittedly this is very appealing—I could put it in a drawer, count it as a learning experience, and write another novel. But I'm trying to not get ahead of myself.
I definitely understand your concern. There's no freaking way that I'm just throwing werewolves or vampires or superpowers into it. What I add, while not specifically keeping with the source material, should at least mesh with it to avoid tonal dissonance. I'm thinking of laying the story with some mysticism and exploring things of small supernatural proportion from a subjective perspective. Is what I'm seeing real or imaginary? Was this kid high when he saw this? That sort of thing. I want it to be valid to doubt the reality of the supernatural elements.
Well, if you decide against publishing it. I say you should post it somewhere, so we can all marvel at your writing genius, and possibly give a few critiques. Not like, you would need a lot or anything.
Oh, you have no idea how awful this thing is at present. But I do want to put my work out there, assuming I'm not embarrassed by the end product. And thank you for the critique offer! I'll try to remember!
Do you think you'll change the title of the story to further step away from the Walking Dead?
Oh, no. I'm very happy with the title!
Theodore, 03-12 - The Divine Dream:
Blood, everywhere. On the walls of the barn. On the ground within. Coating Theodore, who knelt in it. Dripping from the bodies—human and animal—that hung from the rafters. Everything was covered in a congealing, slimy layer of blood. Everything but the lion. The lion’s coat was unsullied. It was clean, the lion. The lion that stalked Theodore in circles. Circling, circling, this moment four-legged and primitive. Theodore, kneeling in the blood, his head lowered. The liquid padding of the lion’s paws stopped behind him and a hot breath exhaled upon the nape of his neck. A moan escaped Theodore’s throat.
Then its voice said to him, YOU’RE TRYING MY PATIENCE, THEODORE.
And then the beast’s presence was gone. Theodore glanced behind. It was gone, like a ghost. But the prints stilled remained in the blood. Giant, deep, the newest distinct, the oldest slowing filling in with blood. They made a diminishing circle which closed in on him. Although he had some reckoning of what was to come, it still drove him to his stomach when it did.
I’M NOT MAD, the King of Lions fumed as it peeled off the metal roof of the barn and crumpled it into an ever-shrinking ball, as if it was tin foil, JUST DISAPPOINTED. TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ME ANGRY.
Theodore cowered within as the cataclysm of screaming metal went on outside. “I trust you!” he cried.
NO, YOU DON’T, the lion said. It moved to the front of the barn and squatted naked and humanoid outside the doors, concealed by darkness, a giant void against the star-field behind it. Its eyes glowed yellow. It studied the sphere it had made, which faintly glinted in its hand. YOU FEAR ME. BUT FEAR IS LESS EASILY BROKEN THAN TRUST, SO I FIND NOTHING REGRETTABLE IN THAT. It tossed the sphere away into the perpetual night, perhaps to join the cosmos as a world composed entirely of steel. NOW TELL ME, HOW HAVE YOU DISAPPOINTED ME, THEN WE MAY FIND SOME PATH TO THE FULFILMENT OF YOUR DUTY.
“My duty.”
The lion sighed. FIND THE GIRL, it said, like a teacher who was speaking to a lackluster student. RID HER OF THE CRANE WIFE’S INFLUENCE SO THAT I MIGHT SPEAK TO HER. PROTECT HER FROM THE CUR’S AGENTS UNTIL SHE CAN FULFIL HER OWN DUTY.
“Starting the fire,” Theodore moaned.
YES.
Theodore shook his head. “I don’t want to. I won’t kill for you.”
OH, THEODORE. YOU AREN’T KILLING ANYTHING, ANYONE, UNLESS THEY MEAN TO HARM THE GIRL. BESIDES, WHAT WANT OR DON’T WANT IS MUTE. BUT I WILL HAVE WHAT I WANT. YOU WILL FIND HER...
The lion breathed on his neck again. So hot was its breath, so fragrant with the scent of meat. The black silhouette remained outside, and it leaned in then, so close that Theodore could have drowned in its eyes. Within the slitted and darkly animistic things, there surged an ageless sea of intelligence.
...OR I WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE DIRECT CONTROL, LIKE THE CUR IS WONT TO DO. YOU DON’T WANT THAT. NOT ONLY WOULD YOU LOSE YOUR EARTHLY FORM, BUT YOU’D BE TRAPPED IN THIS BARN OF YOUR DREAMS. I ASSURE YOU, IF YOU DO NOT YIELD, THE HORRORS OF THIS WILL PALE IN COMPARISON TO WHAT WILL COME.
Silence, then:
DO WE HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING?
Though his entire body was shaking, Theodore forced the word out. “Yes.”
I’VE BROKEN YOU. NO MORE RESISTING. NO MORE DELAYS.
A pause, but not a reprieve: Theodore, surrounded by darkness and blood and corpses and the lion's monstrous presence, stood on the brink, at some irreversible point. It was live or die. No... it was survive or suffer.
At last, a mercy, as the lion said: YOU MAY WAKE UP.
With a deep inhale, the afternoon light blinding his eyes, Theodore awoke as the lion had commanded. He tumbled out of bed and lay gasping for breath like someone who had nearly drowned, each every lungful of air to be fought for. He was drenched in sweat, which was turning cold in the chilly room. He shut his eyes and cried and clutched the blanket around him. Something told he he’d been asleep for days, either his empty stomach or his thirst. The memory of blood covering his skin still was still palpable, fading as a sensation but permanent in his mind.
Broken.
All because he had resisted. When the lion had first appeared to him, Theodore had recognized the consequence of what might come and had dragged his feet in carrying out his task. The lion had not been fooled. Seeking to scare him into submission, the lion had peopled his dreams with horrors, and when met with continued resistance, had stolen Theodore’s ability to wake up. Trapped, surrounded by creatures from his past, Theodore had been broken. He could not tolerate the thought of returning to that hell without breaking into tears and shaking throughout his whole body.
But the purport of his task remained. If he found the girl, events would advance irrecoverably. Would he become the lion’s wind-up man, its unquestioning servent?
Or would he do enough, make enough progress, to avoid the dream-hell, all the while searching for a way out? Ally myself with this Crane Wife, her cur. But if the lion caught onto what he planned, it would be as the lion had said: he’d be trapped again, his mortal body forfeit.
Or should he just kill himself now? There was no way to be sure that death would release him, but it was ever an option, and in his mind, an increasingly appealing one compared to the possible torture ahead.
[Servitude]
[Subterfuge]
[Suicide]
Post-part Update:
Apologies for the delay of this part. More than twenty days between my announcement and the actually part, but hey, I guess that's an improvement. A few things got in the way. I went to SXSW in Austin for three days (I got to see a panel which included Leah Hoyer from Telltale). Ideally, the next part should come sooner, but I can't be sure, because there's a few things that need to take priority for the remainder of the month. First, I have until the end of the month to finish the novel, which I need to get to work on on the double, because this month, from Monday to Friday, I'm going to be at the beach with no computer (I have found I can write longhand, i.e. in a notebook, but it's slow going and I'd like to enjoy my time at the gulf). Which brings me to the second point of the delay: there's going to a talent show at the beach, and I've decided to write and short story, which I need to finish as well. I hope you enjoy this part. It feels good to continue Silicon. I'll try to reply to comments before I leave for the beach, but I probably won't have much of an online presence again until April.
[Suicide] The fact that I'm even willing to consider this choice is really upsetting me as it really goes against my beliefs. But sadly it seems to be the only way out for this poor soul. Servitude will force him to do things he really doesn't want to do and I honestly can't imagine subterfuge being successful which would inevitably trap him in that hell he fears. So suicide seems the only way. I don't see it as giving up or taking the easy way out but rather as an act of defiance. A refusal to be apart of the King of Lion's schemes.
As difficult as it is to understand what's going on in this part, I really enjoyed it! As you can see it really got me thinking. So well done as always and I'm so pleased to see this story active again.
EDIT: Good luck with the Novel and short story btw! I'm confident that they'll both be fantastic!
Oh yes, a new part! This is amazing and I am happy
Of course it also gave me a lot to think about. So, we actually got more than just a glimpse of the King of Lions here and it is clear, as much as each of these beings is morally ambiguous so far, he is probably the most likely to be outright evil if judged by conventional human morality. The jury is still up about the Prince of Wolves and the Crane Wife. However, I assume that the cur the King of Lions mentioned here is none other than the Prince and what little we got here, though obviously warped by the King's personal bias, doesn't sound too promising either. It seems this girl is the key though and she is also among the greatest mysteries here, because we know next to nothing about her. She is the knight, this much I am certain about, given that we know the knight is working for Crane. However, her identity in Silicon remains to be seen, albeit I have this theory she might be Lana and if not, then she is probably a currently unintroduced character. And it seems the Prince of Wolves has something in store for her that isn't too good for her, but whatever the King of Lions has planned cannot be much better, given the brutal methods he uses to get what he wants. The Prince of Wolves seems to have at least some respect for his agents and at least takes some effort to maintain their well-being, whereas the King of Lions clearly sees them as nothing but tools to be used in any way necessary to get his goals as quickly as possible. Safe to say, he is the most terrifying being we have encountered so far.
[Subterfuge]
Here's the thing, Servitude cannot be an option here, the King and his goals spell plenty bad for the humans of Silicon and I doubt he'd ever let Theodore leave his service. Suicide meanwhile, I don't think that is an option either. The King strikes me as intelligent enough to ensure that his servants can't just kill themselves to end their torment, or else he would risk not having any servants at all. The Crane Wife and the Prince of Wolves both seem more affable in their interactions (with Crane it is at least implied), probably to ensure that their servants work for them almost willingly, but the King clearly doesn't care for this, so I suspect he might have ways to prevent this suicide from happening, or from being carried out successful. Who knows what he can do, we know people can survive what should be lethal wounds, presumably if their masters are willing to protect them, which I guess is what happened with Thomas early on. So, I doubt Theodore can kill himself and I don't want him to serve this monster. But subterfuge, as risky as it is, could be the only true way out and he might get a shot at actually harming the King's plans if he does so. We know little about the Crane Wife, but from the knight's parts, she was made out to be more benevolent than the King, so I would rather ally with her (or even the Prince of Wolves at this particular stage, without knowing the full picture) and this seems the way to go.
And well, good luck with your goals for the rest of this month! As Agent said, I am sure they will turn out to be fantastic
Also, I hope you'll find time to enjoy your stay at the beach. Certainly, this part got me instantly hooked into the story again, it was quite a way to pick Silicon up again and while I am so excited for it and for Monument, I first and foremost hope that you will be successful in this talent show. I actually have something I would like to ask via PM, but it is nothing too pressing and given that I will be gone as well a whole week starting with Wednesday next week, I suppose this might be better discussed once we have both returned, it can wait until then.
[Subterfuge]
I think this is the most interesting choice.
Like the others said, good luck on your novel and short story. Be sure to tell us if you win that contest.
[Subterfuge]
Was looking for this story, glad to see it back
[Subterfuge]
Voting is closed!
(!) Theodore will go along with things, meanwhile conspiring against the King of Lions
In regards to the choice, this is an interesting one. In my plans, before I decided to put this choice in your hands, I had always picture Theodore as a reluctant but loyal servant. At this time, it's unsure how his subterfuge will play out, but assuredly it will have consequence to the grander scheme of things, and was, perhaps, in your best interest. The servitude option would have followed my initial plans. The suicide option was perhaps as Liquid speculated: not a viable means of escaping fate.
Another span of silence, for which I ask forgiveness. I've been back from the beach for a while. Got sunburned. Got my ass kicked in fight circle. Over all, it went well. Oh, and I'm happy to say that the short story was a hit! It went longer than I anticipate (I spoke for twenty minutes to a crowd of like thirty people, during which time they fell dead silent—luckily it was out of interest, rather than boredom) so next year I'll write something shorter for my own benefit.
Sadly, it seems I will have lots on my plate until the beginning of May, the most daunting being editing the novel, the first draft of which I pulled an all nighter to finish. In the interim, I will strive to write a new part of Silicon. However, I believe on the 8th of May, I will be leaving on another trip and won't be back again until June 2nd, so unfortunately it seems Monument won't continue until that time.
When next we meet, it will be with the short-term results of this choice in a continuation of Theodore's story. See you all again soon!
Congrats on the short story!
Goddamn. I feel like I've fallen into a pattern. There won't be a new part for at least another month. I put off piecing it together until today and got swamped by packing and last minute preparations for my departure tomorrow. I'll devote the summer to getting the stories running again, and will hopefully continue with a steady schedule into the fall. Until then, I'll be going on a road trip up the east coast. I'll be visiting places in Alabama, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Washington D.C., Pennsylvania, New York, and Massachusetts, and then, on the way back, I'll be going through Ohio and Tennessee. It goes without saying that this will be an invaluable experience. I'm excited. I'm nervous. But past that, I look forward to getting home and climbing back onto the forum story saddle. Thank you for your patience. See you soon!
Interesting story! I would like to read the ready first three chapters and find out how the events continue. I like reading books in this style and writing small stories myself using this guide https://answershark.com/writing/fiction-review/how-to-write-short-story-review.html. In any case, I wait for the following chapters!
I'm back and putting together the next part. It'll be due some time in the next few days. We'll catch up with the PoV characters and their situations. I'm gonna try to get us up to speed without having to make a lengthy summery.
Ah, those are wonderful news Hope, welcome back! I hope your vacation has been refreshing. For certain, I am super excited and look forward for the next part no matter when it is done