Misheard Whisper
Nico-Nico-NOPE
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- Jul 7, 2009
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I guess I should preface this with a disclaimer: Not only is this my NaNo project for the year, but I am pantsing it 100% all the way - no planning whatsoever. As a result, the story is likely to twist and turn at random. The fourth wall is unsteady at best. Genres may change as I get bored of them. Spaceships may appear out of nowhere in particular, and you could probably drive a truck through some of the plot holes. Oh, and I'm using a dare machine to give me a random prompt for each chapter, which I will post a list of at some point. Regardless, I aim only to entertain. I will be posting this more or less as it is written, with just enough editing to ensure it's legible. Chapters will be brief and digestible. Like biscuits. I like biscuits.
I've rated it Teen to give myself some breathing room, there's really nothing objectionable so far. I'll let you know if there will be, though.
A strange darkness had fallen over the land of Geulednweuafisgagrsuia (pronounced ‘Fred’). A lethargic wind coiled through the treetops of Gelendia Village, rustling leaves and generally being an annoyance for the townsfolk who were attempting to sleep. Given that it was, in fact, around two in the morning, one would not have been mad to expect darkness in one form or another. However, this darkness was different. It was . . . darker. It hung over the town’s tiled roofs like a terribly oppressive blanket, choking the air and life out of the atmosphere.
On a modest bean farm just on the outskirts of town, Fabiola Dalgaard was the one resident of Gelendia who could not sleep. She had been experimenting with moonbeans lately, a potentially lucrative crop under high demand in the capital, yet limited in supply due to the difficulty involved in growing them. The biggest problem with moonbeans, she mused as she lay in bed wrestling with her gutted sleep schedule, was that they needed to be manually turned every few hours during the night for the first few weeks of their lives. Most plants were sensible and turned themselves to whatever light source they required, but not so these little bastards. She had just ventured forth into the cold night not fifteen minutes earlier to rotate the moonbean plants, and as such she held little hope of getting back to sleep any time in the near future. She could hear Linton snoring away in the next room, and for a brief moment she was glad that she wouldn’t have to deal with this for the rest of her life. After tomorrow, she would no longer be a bean farmer’s daughter. Maybe finally her life would change for the better . . .
She doubted it, though. More likely life would simply get a lot more boring in the future. That happened when you got married off, she heard. She had consistently been told how lucky she was lately, but it sure didn’t feel like it. It was difficult for girls of her social standing to find a partner at the best of times, much less an arranged one. She had no dowry to speak of, so her parents had been ecstatic to inform her that they had found a man who would take her without one. Bean farming was not the most labour-intensive business in the world, and as a result she knew she was little more than another mouth to feed on the little farmstead.
Thankfully, Fabiola’s musings were interrupted just as she was beginning to feel dispirited once again. The moon had abruptly disappeared – or, at the very least, the moonlight had, along with all other light. Grateful for the distraction from her dizzying cycle of self-loathing and boredom, Fabiola stumbled out of bed and felt her way to the window, prying open the casement as quietly as possible and looking up at the sky.
Nothing.
Not a star in sight. No moon hung where a waxing gibbous had floated just minutes earlier. Not even one of the occasional airships that sometimes pootled across the sky, burning signal lights fore and aft. The darkness was absolute, save for the weak ambient light from the faintly glowing moonbean field outside her window, which didn’t manage to shed any real light on the situation. Somewhere, a wolf howled. Fumbling around in the dark, Fabiola pulled her clothes back on over her nightdress and slipped outside, doing her level best not to trip over anything.
The night was cold and damp, the dew underfoot icy and slippery under her bare feet. As her eyes adjusted, Fabiola realised it wasn’t completely dark after all. Only the sky directly above the village of Gelendia was obscured, seemingly by an enormous, black shroud. A few miles to the east, she could see the faint light of a few stars, twinkling uninterrupted beyond the apparently solid mass that hung overhead.
It was more than just clouds, though – or at least, she hoped it was, or else she would feel rather silly when she had to explain this in the morning. Part of her just wanted to go back to bed and let it all blow over – not that there was anything happening yet – but something told her that she was awake for a reason. Unsure of what she was really doing – or indeed, why she was doing it – Fabiola headed for the middle of town, drawing her rough leather coat around her as she ran, feeling a creeping sense of dread chasing her along the road.
The centre of Gelendia Village was even darker than the outskirts had been. A few candles burned in windows of houses where the owners could afford it. A single streetlamp – the town’s pride and joy, an admittedly antiquated contraption in this era of modern technology – flickered dully in the square, shedding a pool of light around Fabiola as she arrived, blinking in the comparative brightness. Something told her that this was where she needed to be, though she couldn’t be certain what that something was. She wasn’t even sure it was a something.
Regardless of whether the something had actually been a something or not, it had been right. No sooner had Fabiola arrived in the square than all the lights went out completely, as if sucked out of the world by a sudden intake of breath. She didn’t have long to wonder what had happened, however; before she could even process what was happening, a blinding flash of lightning split the sky, accompanied by a resounding crash that shook the very earth. Sounds of splintering glass and cracking timbers filled the air, followed by the arrival of a powerful wind that just about knocked her to the ground, whirling around the square like a dervish. Lightning continued to crackle and burst, providing a splintered, fragmented view of the square around her. Thunder rolled and the earth bucked, cracks spiderwebbing across the cobblestones at an alarming rate.
Fabiola stumbled, trying to remain upright as other residents of the town came stumbling out of their homes, rubbing their eyes and shouting things she couldn’t hear over the chaos whirling all around her. Boards fell off buildings, the front of an inn half-collapsed under the shaking, and pulverised cobblestones bounced and rattled all around her. Fabiola found herself laughing at the absurdity of it all, standing untouched in the middle of the maelstrom of wind, lightning and debris.
Blue light flashed, and a pillar of pure energy rocketed out of the sky, slamming directly into the girl in the centre of the square and passing through her. The earth around Fabiola gave way as she lost track of her senses, looking straight upwards into a blinding light that yielded no answers as to its sudden and mysterious appearance. A second after the light came the sound, a high-pitched shriek that caused her – and everybody else within fifty miles, she was sure – to clamp her hands tightly over her ears. It was to no avail, however, as the sound pierced right through her head, rattling her teeth uncomfortably.
Almost as soon as it had happened, though, it was gone. The light faded in a split second, the sound disappeared as abruptly as it had come, and the wind died down. By the time Fabiola opened her eyes, the stars were back, along with the gibbous moon, shining serenely upon a scene of absolute destruction. Apart from a small circle around Fabiola, the entire square had been torn up. Flames flickered in collapsed buildings, now little more than piles of rubble. The devastation was worst near the epicentre, with the sole exception of Fabiola and her immediate surroundings. At a loss for words, she turned on the spot, taking in the chaos as the townspeople picked themselves up off the ground and brushed themselves off.
There were several dozen people in the square by this point, and more continued to arrive as they were drawn to the source of the destruction likes moths to a flame. Fabiola was the only one who remained unscathed; others had been caught by the winds, pelted by debris or otherwise inconvenienced. She shuddered to think how many would have failed to get outside in time.
An eerie silence hung over the town square as, slowly, everybody turned to look at the girl in the centre of it all. Untouched by the havoc wrought upon her neighbours, Fabiola stood tall and unblemished in the centre of a war zone. She heard their mutters. She felt their stares. Witch, she heard them thinking. Their eyes blazed with a potent cocktail of fear, anger, and confusion. Witch. Witch.
One of them said it. Aloud. She had no idea who it was. She only knew that before a second had passed, the word was on every pair of lips in the square. She tried to protest, but there was no way to convince this many angry people in time to save herself. They had seen her standing there laughing as the fires of heaven rained down upon Gelendia, leaving her untouched in the very epicentre. She had to be responsible.
Fabiola ran. Still barefoot, she fled the square, curses ringing in her ears. She was swift, but it did not matter, because she was not immediately pursued. She was not the only one in shock, she realised as she glanced over her shoulder. It would be some time before they came for her, but come they would. Once the damage had been assessed, everyone accounted for, she would be hunted down. Immediately dismissing any other possible courses of action as insufficiently exciting or plot-worthy, Fabiola decided then and there that leaving town was the only option.
By the time she arrived back at the farmstead, her parents and brother were awake, evidently having heard the commotion. Realising it was probably best to avoid awkward questions, Fabiola slipped into her room through the still-open window and gathered what meagre possessions she could. The shoes she had forgotten before, a change of clothes, and the only remnant of her childhood she still retained: a small, crudely-carved, but sufficiently unique and interesting wooden toy horse. Slipping the shoes on, she bundled the rest into an old bag and exited via the window again. She heard her father’s voice in the front room, angrily grumbling about his disturbed sleep. Fabiola rolled her eyes as she passed the moonbean patch, thanking the gods she wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. On a whim, she stooped down and plucked a sprig of moonbean from the nearest plant, reasoning that it must have some significance if it had been given so much attention in the narration thus far.
With that, she slipped away, ever mindful of the persecution that was likely to follow her. She didn’t know where she was going, much less how she was going to get there with such limited means. The only thought in her mind was of getting away from Gelendia. She had seen what happened to witches, and it wasn’t something she was too keen to experience. She briefly considered telling her family what she was doing, but the inevitable angry mob would be asking them where she was. It was better for all involved if she just vanished mysteriously, unbelievable though it may sound.
It was still dark as Fabiola turned her back on everything she had ever known.
I've rated it Teen to give myself some breathing room, there's really nothing objectionable so far. I'll let you know if there will be, though.
Chapter One
Dare: Have a character take the blame for something they didn’t do.A strange darkness had fallen over the land of Geulednweuafisgagrsuia (pronounced ‘Fred’). A lethargic wind coiled through the treetops of Gelendia Village, rustling leaves and generally being an annoyance for the townsfolk who were attempting to sleep. Given that it was, in fact, around two in the morning, one would not have been mad to expect darkness in one form or another. However, this darkness was different. It was . . . darker. It hung over the town’s tiled roofs like a terribly oppressive blanket, choking the air and life out of the atmosphere.
On a modest bean farm just on the outskirts of town, Fabiola Dalgaard was the one resident of Gelendia who could not sleep. She had been experimenting with moonbeans lately, a potentially lucrative crop under high demand in the capital, yet limited in supply due to the difficulty involved in growing them. The biggest problem with moonbeans, she mused as she lay in bed wrestling with her gutted sleep schedule, was that they needed to be manually turned every few hours during the night for the first few weeks of their lives. Most plants were sensible and turned themselves to whatever light source they required, but not so these little bastards. She had just ventured forth into the cold night not fifteen minutes earlier to rotate the moonbean plants, and as such she held little hope of getting back to sleep any time in the near future. She could hear Linton snoring away in the next room, and for a brief moment she was glad that she wouldn’t have to deal with this for the rest of her life. After tomorrow, she would no longer be a bean farmer’s daughter. Maybe finally her life would change for the better . . .
She doubted it, though. More likely life would simply get a lot more boring in the future. That happened when you got married off, she heard. She had consistently been told how lucky she was lately, but it sure didn’t feel like it. It was difficult for girls of her social standing to find a partner at the best of times, much less an arranged one. She had no dowry to speak of, so her parents had been ecstatic to inform her that they had found a man who would take her without one. Bean farming was not the most labour-intensive business in the world, and as a result she knew she was little more than another mouth to feed on the little farmstead.
Thankfully, Fabiola’s musings were interrupted just as she was beginning to feel dispirited once again. The moon had abruptly disappeared – or, at the very least, the moonlight had, along with all other light. Grateful for the distraction from her dizzying cycle of self-loathing and boredom, Fabiola stumbled out of bed and felt her way to the window, prying open the casement as quietly as possible and looking up at the sky.
Nothing.
Not a star in sight. No moon hung where a waxing gibbous had floated just minutes earlier. Not even one of the occasional airships that sometimes pootled across the sky, burning signal lights fore and aft. The darkness was absolute, save for the weak ambient light from the faintly glowing moonbean field outside her window, which didn’t manage to shed any real light on the situation. Somewhere, a wolf howled. Fumbling around in the dark, Fabiola pulled her clothes back on over her nightdress and slipped outside, doing her level best not to trip over anything.
The night was cold and damp, the dew underfoot icy and slippery under her bare feet. As her eyes adjusted, Fabiola realised it wasn’t completely dark after all. Only the sky directly above the village of Gelendia was obscured, seemingly by an enormous, black shroud. A few miles to the east, she could see the faint light of a few stars, twinkling uninterrupted beyond the apparently solid mass that hung overhead.
It was more than just clouds, though – or at least, she hoped it was, or else she would feel rather silly when she had to explain this in the morning. Part of her just wanted to go back to bed and let it all blow over – not that there was anything happening yet – but something told her that she was awake for a reason. Unsure of what she was really doing – or indeed, why she was doing it – Fabiola headed for the middle of town, drawing her rough leather coat around her as she ran, feeling a creeping sense of dread chasing her along the road.
The centre of Gelendia Village was even darker than the outskirts had been. A few candles burned in windows of houses where the owners could afford it. A single streetlamp – the town’s pride and joy, an admittedly antiquated contraption in this era of modern technology – flickered dully in the square, shedding a pool of light around Fabiola as she arrived, blinking in the comparative brightness. Something told her that this was where she needed to be, though she couldn’t be certain what that something was. She wasn’t even sure it was a something.
Regardless of whether the something had actually been a something or not, it had been right. No sooner had Fabiola arrived in the square than all the lights went out completely, as if sucked out of the world by a sudden intake of breath. She didn’t have long to wonder what had happened, however; before she could even process what was happening, a blinding flash of lightning split the sky, accompanied by a resounding crash that shook the very earth. Sounds of splintering glass and cracking timbers filled the air, followed by the arrival of a powerful wind that just about knocked her to the ground, whirling around the square like a dervish. Lightning continued to crackle and burst, providing a splintered, fragmented view of the square around her. Thunder rolled and the earth bucked, cracks spiderwebbing across the cobblestones at an alarming rate.
Fabiola stumbled, trying to remain upright as other residents of the town came stumbling out of their homes, rubbing their eyes and shouting things she couldn’t hear over the chaos whirling all around her. Boards fell off buildings, the front of an inn half-collapsed under the shaking, and pulverised cobblestones bounced and rattled all around her. Fabiola found herself laughing at the absurdity of it all, standing untouched in the middle of the maelstrom of wind, lightning and debris.
Blue light flashed, and a pillar of pure energy rocketed out of the sky, slamming directly into the girl in the centre of the square and passing through her. The earth around Fabiola gave way as she lost track of her senses, looking straight upwards into a blinding light that yielded no answers as to its sudden and mysterious appearance. A second after the light came the sound, a high-pitched shriek that caused her – and everybody else within fifty miles, she was sure – to clamp her hands tightly over her ears. It was to no avail, however, as the sound pierced right through her head, rattling her teeth uncomfortably.
Almost as soon as it had happened, though, it was gone. The light faded in a split second, the sound disappeared as abruptly as it had come, and the wind died down. By the time Fabiola opened her eyes, the stars were back, along with the gibbous moon, shining serenely upon a scene of absolute destruction. Apart from a small circle around Fabiola, the entire square had been torn up. Flames flickered in collapsed buildings, now little more than piles of rubble. The devastation was worst near the epicentre, with the sole exception of Fabiola and her immediate surroundings. At a loss for words, she turned on the spot, taking in the chaos as the townspeople picked themselves up off the ground and brushed themselves off.
There were several dozen people in the square by this point, and more continued to arrive as they were drawn to the source of the destruction likes moths to a flame. Fabiola was the only one who remained unscathed; others had been caught by the winds, pelted by debris or otherwise inconvenienced. She shuddered to think how many would have failed to get outside in time.
An eerie silence hung over the town square as, slowly, everybody turned to look at the girl in the centre of it all. Untouched by the havoc wrought upon her neighbours, Fabiola stood tall and unblemished in the centre of a war zone. She heard their mutters. She felt their stares. Witch, she heard them thinking. Their eyes blazed with a potent cocktail of fear, anger, and confusion. Witch. Witch.
One of them said it. Aloud. She had no idea who it was. She only knew that before a second had passed, the word was on every pair of lips in the square. She tried to protest, but there was no way to convince this many angry people in time to save herself. They had seen her standing there laughing as the fires of heaven rained down upon Gelendia, leaving her untouched in the very epicentre. She had to be responsible.
Fabiola ran. Still barefoot, she fled the square, curses ringing in her ears. She was swift, but it did not matter, because she was not immediately pursued. She was not the only one in shock, she realised as she glanced over her shoulder. It would be some time before they came for her, but come they would. Once the damage had been assessed, everyone accounted for, she would be hunted down. Immediately dismissing any other possible courses of action as insufficiently exciting or plot-worthy, Fabiola decided then and there that leaving town was the only option.
By the time she arrived back at the farmstead, her parents and brother were awake, evidently having heard the commotion. Realising it was probably best to avoid awkward questions, Fabiola slipped into her room through the still-open window and gathered what meagre possessions she could. The shoes she had forgotten before, a change of clothes, and the only remnant of her childhood she still retained: a small, crudely-carved, but sufficiently unique and interesting wooden toy horse. Slipping the shoes on, she bundled the rest into an old bag and exited via the window again. She heard her father’s voice in the front room, angrily grumbling about his disturbed sleep. Fabiola rolled her eyes as she passed the moonbean patch, thanking the gods she wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. On a whim, she stooped down and plucked a sprig of moonbean from the nearest plant, reasoning that it must have some significance if it had been given so much attention in the narration thus far.
With that, she slipped away, ever mindful of the persecution that was likely to follow her. She didn’t know where she was going, much less how she was going to get there with such limited means. The only thought in her mind was of getting away from Gelendia. She had seen what happened to witches, and it wasn’t something she was too keen to experience. She briefly considered telling her family what she was doing, but the inevitable angry mob would be asking them where she was. It was better for all involved if she just vanished mysteriously, unbelievable though it may sound.
It was still dark as Fabiola turned her back on everything she had ever known.
