Writer's Din

Friday, March 22, 2013

Gulin's Gift

The two travelers went on their way enjoying the light breeze and the sunshine where the trees parted enough to allow the light to shine through. The path was soft and free of stones. Luther watched his companion as Tolwen lead the way for a time, Tolwen was a contradiction within him self, Tolwen spoke of worldly travels yet he seemed more like a child. Luther displaced the thought for he felt it was the unfairness to judge a man he hardly knew.

Both travelers were startled by a sudden movement in the trees; three men appeared from the shadows. Each man had a sword drawn and pointed at the two travelers. Luther and Tolwen reached for their swords but were meant with points of swords inches from their faces.

One man said, “Steady gentlemen all we want is your gold and coin.”

Luther responded, “You’ll find neither here thief.”

Tolwen, said, “Be off we are just poor travelers.”

The man touched Luther’s robe, “These are fine garments for poor travelers.”

Luther said, “You heard my friend, you have picked the wrong travelers to rob. We have nothing of value to the likes of you. ”I’ll be the judge of that, empty your pockets and bags, but first draw your swords slowly and carefully and drop them to the ground.”

The Slasher

Drip! Drip! Blood dripped onto the ground below the fire escape, five flights up Ruby Thompson lay motionless, blood pouring from the deep cut across her throat, eyes staring wide open and dead as Ruby was. In the distance the first siren blasted through the night air, soon other sirens chimed in, all in route to East 63^rd Street the apartment of Ruby Thompson, 305 –E. Rudy had lived in a shady part of town, drug dealers, pimps and drive-bys were common place on East 63^rd. Ruby had lived in the area most of her 25 years, a waitress by trade, a good girl for the part of town she called home.

Detective Betty Martin was the first to reach the body, eleven years on the force and five in homicide. Betty was a hard girl from the same background Ruby was from, only difference was Betty had married a cop and got out of the dirt and filth of the street. Here she was right back in the seedy part of the city but this time she wore the badge and she asked the questions. Betty’s partner Tony Loomis was a new comer to Homicide, only three months as a detective. Tony learned quick and the first lesson was Detective Martin was all business, she wasn’t looking for a easy walk and she never, never took crap from anyone and the included the other officers.

Betty pulled back the neckline of Ruby’s blouse, the cut was deep, clear to the bone, one quick slash and Ruby was history.

Loomis looked at the cut but not too closely, “same as the others?”

“This cut is deeper and it was one quick cut, our man is getting bolder, more sure of himself.”

Taming of a Werewolf

A resounding knock on the heavy wooden door and a moment later the peephole opened then closed and the door opened. In the hallway outside stood a tall bulky figure of a man and with the bright light behind him, he made a dark ominous outline, even then is was clear the man wore a long cloak and hood covering his face. The doorman gestured for him to enter and awaited the strangers name to pass on to the other guests, instead the stranger spoke in a deep gravelly tone, “I am expected.” The doorman gave a slight nod of the head stepped aside just in time avoid being brushed aside by the stranger. In a voice of questionable authority the doorman offered to take the strangers wrap. Once inside the stranger undid a clasp under his chin and pulled the hood from his head and in one swoop pulled it from his shoulders and placed it across the doorman’s extended arm. Another nod of accepting the wrap and the doorman faded into the shadows of the corner.

The stranger face revealed cold gray eyes with gray eyebrows and matching long hair pulled back into a smart ponytail, the sharp edge of his chin and cheekbones suggested a hard demeanor. The stranger’s choice of clothing supported the adventurous look of the face. Dressed all in black with a couple of pouches tied to his wide black belt and a double layer of leather over one shoulder going to the belt but not attached. On his right hip a revolver all in black, on his left a dagger of length enough to bring down any man. His black boots with lacing down the front reached almost to his knees.

The stranger’s entrance had not gone unnoticed by the other guests. Men in bright colored jackets and white-ruffed shirts stared at him; some raised an eyebrow wondering who he was. Several women smiled at the stranger, the air of mystery that his presents suggested brought fear to some and wild fantasies to others. The ladies were dressed in their finest the stranger assumed. Bright gowns of every color, every conceivable design but all included the cinched waists and plunging neckline to show their heaving breasts.

Letra and Cobar Test of Faith

The night had fallen and the fires roared in the village. At the largest fire an old woman sat with her blankets wrapped about her. Soon, from the huts of the village, young children ran towards the fire and the old woman. From 5 years up to 12 or 13, boys and girls alike raced to the fire, for it was time to listen and to learn. Twenty plus children found a spot around the fire close enough to hear the wise words of the Tribal Seer, and to learn more of the past of their tribe.

Smiling at the eager faces of the children, Motu the Seer waited for the last child to settle in before telling her lesson for the night. With a voice strong and sure she began. “Children, how many of you know why when we join mates in our village they ask for the blessing of Letra and Cobar while holding the red and white staff of joining?” After seeing several heads shaking and eager eyes waiting for the lesson, Motu began.

“In the summer before my father’s father’s father, the might river that still runs by our village,” Motu pointed in the direction of the river, “ran strong and provided a rich supply of fish; the water was clear and sweet as it is today. Then, one morning the tribal Chieftain found the river had dried up over night; in the muddy riverbed fish lay dying. The wise Chieftain sent two of his fastest runners up the river into the mountains to see how far back the river had dried up and why it was dry. Days passed and the tribe danced to Gura, the river goddess, to restore their river that gave them life. The dances continued day after day until, on the third morning, a single runner returned to the Chieftain. Although the runner was a brave member of the tribe, a look of great fear filled his eyes as he dropped to his knees in front of the Chieftain.

Starting a KickStarter Soon!

To help get my work published, I will be starting a KickStarter Campaign soon. I will make the link on my homepage direct link to it once I have done this. I would appreciate any help you are willing to throw my way so I can get my work published, thanks!