orionsixwings
Demosthenes
- Joined
- Jun 8, 2005
- Messages
- 278
I know it's been a while since I last updated this story, so I'm including links to the previous chapters here for those who haven't read them yet.
PROLOGUE AND CHAPTER ONE
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10090-untitled-story.html
CHAPTER TWO
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10106-untitled-story-chapter-2-to-be-a-crown-prince.html
CHAPTER THREE
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10152-untitled-chapter-3-a-breath-of-truth.html
Again, I need the good, the bad, and the ugly. Don't be afraid to offend me because I don't easily get offended. I'd rather you say the truth so I can correct my mistakes before I send this to the publishers.
THANKS.
He could barely remember being alive. He had no idea who he was, how he came into this place. He tried to press his mind to remember, but nothing. All he could feel was the ache felt throughout his body. He could hardly see; he twitched when he touched his eyes. His body was all about wounds, bruises and scratches. He could swear he has a broken rib. But he was alive. How could he live with this kind of pain? He was on fire. He was burning.
How?
With a piercing headache, he started to remember. Quite vaguely. The wild people. The hard beatings. The vile curses. His mind flashed back images of his utter suffering at the hands of people he never even knew. He saw grim faces giving him murderous glares. Women throwing things at him. Children spitting at him. He'll never be able to recount how many bash in the head he got, how many fists got to land on his chest and stomach, or how may kicks his whole body received. He felt dread at that. Torture. But he was still alive. Was he left here to die? It seemed a suitable idea.
He was lying on the ground. Hard ground. It was good no protruding stones added up to his list of pain causes. He lay there, like a lump of a dead animal, waiting to be fed by anything who liked meat. He could not move without gasping. Only a broken rib? It must be more than just a rib. Whatever intact part of his body kept him alive to wake up. He must have crawled all this way - his hands were dirty, his fingernails full of earth. His torn clothes were all patched with dried mud.
Looking at his surroundings, he saw no signs of people. Only the rush of a nearby spring seem to have given life to where he was. Over the horizon, he can see the sun slowly setting down, the tall lush trees taking over the sight. There were no clouds in the sky, just a pact of birds flying towards his direction.
"Water".
His voice was hoarse. He tried to stand up, but an instant flash of blinding pain prevented him. He tried again, and he never could recall how loud his scream was. He tried to crawl towards the stream, but just an inch of movement already caused him to pass out. Again.
PROLOGUE AND CHAPTER ONE
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10090-untitled-story.html
CHAPTER TWO
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10106-untitled-story-chapter-2-to-be-a-crown-prince.html
CHAPTER THREE
http://www.chronicles-network.com/forum/10152-untitled-chapter-3-a-breath-of-truth.html
Again, I need the good, the bad, and the ugly. Don't be afraid to offend me because I don't easily get offended. I'd rather you say the truth so I can correct my mistakes before I send this to the publishers.
THANKS.
CHAPTER FOUR:
SURVIVOR
SURVIVOR
He could barely remember being alive. He had no idea who he was, how he came into this place. He tried to press his mind to remember, but nothing. All he could feel was the ache felt throughout his body. He could hardly see; he twitched when he touched his eyes. His body was all about wounds, bruises and scratches. He could swear he has a broken rib. But he was alive. How could he live with this kind of pain? He was on fire. He was burning.
How?
With a piercing headache, he started to remember. Quite vaguely. The wild people. The hard beatings. The vile curses. His mind flashed back images of his utter suffering at the hands of people he never even knew. He saw grim faces giving him murderous glares. Women throwing things at him. Children spitting at him. He'll never be able to recount how many bash in the head he got, how many fists got to land on his chest and stomach, or how may kicks his whole body received. He felt dread at that. Torture. But he was still alive. Was he left here to die? It seemed a suitable idea.
He was lying on the ground. Hard ground. It was good no protruding stones added up to his list of pain causes. He lay there, like a lump of a dead animal, waiting to be fed by anything who liked meat. He could not move without gasping. Only a broken rib? It must be more than just a rib. Whatever intact part of his body kept him alive to wake up. He must have crawled all this way - his hands were dirty, his fingernails full of earth. His torn clothes were all patched with dried mud.
Looking at his surroundings, he saw no signs of people. Only the rush of a nearby spring seem to have given life to where he was. Over the horizon, he can see the sun slowly setting down, the tall lush trees taking over the sight. There were no clouds in the sky, just a pact of birds flying towards his direction.
"Water".
His voice was hoarse. He tried to stand up, but an instant flash of blinding pain prevented him. He tried again, and he never could recall how loud his scream was. He tried to crawl towards the stream, but just an inch of movement already caused him to pass out. Again.