Wednesday, April 4, 2007

super revisited

Today the peasants of Littleport Coast find the Benevolent Mastermind doing what he does best. Strolling the streets and being beneficial to them! In very clever ways no less.

He knows all the people of Littleport Coast, the children, the elderly, and everybody in between. While walking alongside Tommy Of The Eastern Half, the Mastermind saw the Taco Scorpion slinking along an alleyway, peering out with that creepy fourth eye of his. He had no third eye, just the normal two of everybody else, and a fourth one off to the side.

The Taco Scorpion. Arguably the least intelligent villian ever to claim the title. The Benevolent Mastermind, the kind of guy to give prestige to the intelligent, disdained the Taco Scorpion. His villiany was ever simple to see through and overcome. He was barely worth the glance down the alleyway to acknowledge him.

Quickly forgetting the encounter, the Mastermind and Tommy Of The Eastern Half walked along the cobbled roadway towards the Eye Doc. He lived on the shoreline, right by the dock. Long ago he had painted an eye on the dock, and jested about his "Peering Pier" because he was the "Eye Dock" he told people. What a clever man.

Tommy Of The Eastern Half needed glasses. He loved to read, and he read at night. "Of course," cautioned his mother, "reading in the dark can lead to eye strain which develops over time, leaving the reader short sighted."

After explaining the young boy's plight to the Dock, the Benevolent Mastermind bid him a good night and molded the residual temporal medium around his consciousness, so he could sleep for a few hours without time actually passing.

The next day, the Mastermind woke up to a very strong distress signal, coming from the bowels of the nineth floor of the local Best Western hotel. In less than 2.71828 seconds, the Mastermind was there, in the dank cell, with the cold dripping noises, and with the Taco Scorpion. He wasn't dressed in his usual shabby attire, but rather in a Spiderman costume that a child might wear on halowe'en.

Sighing, the Mastermind addressed the Taco Scorpion, "What is it you want, eh? I can see through your every ploy. There is no hope for you. Why do you persist?"

"Not so fast, oh master of minds." sneered the Taco Scorpion, "This time, not even you, a man of honour and intelligence will overcome me!" and he proceeded to press a series of buttons on the wall nearest to him. The ceiling opened up and a cage descended! Inside was a maiden! Trapped by the wiles of the Taco Scorpion.

"Here is the deal, Mastermind. I will ask you a question..." At this, the Mastermind sniffed haughtily, and accepted the challenge, but the Taco Scorpion hadn't finished his sentence "... I will ask you a question, and you have to give me the WRONG answer, and I'll let the girl go. If you answer wrongly, by which you say the correct answer, she's mine, and there is nothing you can do!"

At this, the Mastermind remained confident. All he has to do is find the right answer, which is the correct answer, not the one to use as the wrong answer thus making him right... he needs to find this answer and answer anything else!

But it wasn't such a simple task.

"Ok then," said the Mastermind, "ask your question. If I give you the correct answer, by answering wrongly, you can take the girl and go."

But what did the Taco Scorpion have in mind?

"Here is the question, oh smart one: If I were you and you were me, am I me, or you?"

This indeed was not an easy question. But our Mastermind is not so easily stumped! He sits down to ponder, his thoughts connecting every which way.

Past tensively, he reverses the identity of self and the second person. "If I were you" means his identity is equivalent to my own, in the past. Wherefore mine is his, and neither of use is exclusively the other, or the self. In the present though, the identities have elapsed, and I am not me anymore, but I am him. He is me, and the identities have become exclusive. So at this point, the verdict is I am him, AND he is me. Both conditions are true. But now neither of us is both, we are exclusively the other and self has become obsolete.The argument becomes a cycle, where each is the other, and both and self are meaningless. So, the question of whether he is I or I am him, is both paradoxical and and nonsensical...

Oh no! What has become of our hero? He sits, entirely befuddled! Confounded! Mysitified! Perplexed! Vexed and chagrined! He is unable to come up with an answer, so he does nothing but think, as the Taco Scorpion cackles maniacally and runs away with the maiden!

Oh no! What will become of her? What will happen before she is found again?

The Taco Scorpion is on the loose, and we can only hope that there are some other superheroes close by who can save the day!

superhero!

(This one introduces a superhero... the Benevolent Mastermind)

In the not so temporally awkward present, in a location not too distant from here, the people were roaming the streets, when unbeknownst to them an evil to rival the goodness of the superheroes put the final threads into place on his Tapestry Of Maleficent Deeds (TM). Soon the world would know peril! Soon! What pitiful deeds the people abhorred would seem luxurious.

From the bowels of the earth this sickly plot unfolds. The rotting odour of death permeated the fog which rose in the streets this morning. The tails of mist seemed to snag the clothes of the unwary as they walked the roadside. Soon the public learned that the safest place was home. Inside their nice comfortable abodes, while the fog was outside.

But this is exactly what the yet unnamed evil guy wanted.

By midday, the sun was blackened out of sight. The people were afraid, huddled in their basements and attics, seeing their loved ones waste away in the pale light of energy-efficient fluorescent bulbs. Who could save them? So they would lament. But indeed, who?

Oh so little did they know though! So little! Things were only starting to get bad...

They would feel, first. Feel the vibrations in the boards beneath their hands as they sat, squeezing fearful fingers to stillness underneath their bottoms. The tremors of notes emanating from somewhere underground. A dirge rose throughout the city, undertones of loathing, the darkest music imagineable. Perhaps the wails of otherworldly beings, perhaps the cackle of evil as the harbingers of doom were finally released. The scent of decay slips, now, through the slightest of cracks, filling the homes of the not so safe.

What could grip their minds but dread? Could they suspect anything worse? No, they thought. Death himself would have to knock on the door to instill more fear. Little did they suspect, this was the next chapter in their plight. Screeches, scratches, pounding, a chaotic rhythm that could only harmonize with the dirge of the unknown. Something wanted in.

Luckily for the townspeople, this day happened to coincide with the birth of the Benevolent Mastermind. He who values the public, saves the afflicted, rescues the scared and astonishes all who see him. How does he do it? Well, if he were to explain it, it would involve you needing a calculator, and me (the narrator) needing a scientific dictionary just so I spell everything right. Basically, he retains the unprecented ability to exceed relativistic speeds, morphing the very fabric of the space-time continuum to his whim, placing mesons, tacheons, electrons, positrons, other bosons and fermions into place to produce superviscous antidotes to unheard of ails.

If, for some reason one of those tactics doesn't work, he can usually get away with confusing the bad guy to no end. It's quite stupefying to see him in action.

So, back to our story, the Benevolent Mastermind, albeit a newborn, is proportionate to a grown man and striding purposely through the fog of death we have come to be acquainted with.

"What is this?" he exclaims "an aggregation of dihydrogen monoxide particles precipated around ambient dust particles forming a mostly opaque substance slightly more dense than atmospheric air and having the odour of ozone and decaying loam? What a simple problem to solve!"

Momentarily, he constructed a device, not unlike a bug catching net, with a very fine mesh. The handle itself was an air freshener, with remote traces of chlorofluorocarbons. In his right hand he wielded this. In his left he held high-impact short-blast-radius electromagnetic pulse grenades, for surely this uncouth sound was merely the audible byproduct of vibrating diaphragms present in craftily placed cassette players.

Off he travelled through the city, swinging the net, capturing the moisture in the fine mesh, taking it out of the air, and the chlorofluorocarbons present reacting with the ozone particles, reducing the odour and toxicity of the air, for the air freshener also compensated for the smell of plant decay.

Oft he came across such craftily placed cassette players as he predicted, and a flick of the wrist, tossing an electromagnetic pulse grenade, silenced them.

Suffice it to say, in short order the city was returned to normal. At his behest the public gained the confidence to once again leave their homes, and they all beheld in wonder this new superhero. Dazzled mainly by his great looks, they cheered for the Benevolent Mastermind.

The city was safe!

Thursday, March 29, 2007

to be tested

(continuance of Ralkien's story)
(This isn't too well thought out. It was written on the fly, so I may go back and edit it)

Through the grogginess of just having woken, I had the feeling something wasn't right. It was warm, no, hot. Unnaturally hot. It was spring, and in spring you should be waking up to frost crisped grass and misty breath.
The black shirt on my back spoke of no such cool though.
My first instinct was to reach out to the Power, draw Saidin into me to highten my senses. But I didn't. Who knew what could be going on in the Black Tower? Better to be safe than, well, dead.

So I was laying on my pallet, eyes closed, listening. I heard no unordinary sounds. Just the rustle of a breeze against the outside wall, the snoring of the other Dedicated and the faint crackle of fire. Who would have a fire lit at this hour though? It was none of my concern. I slowly opened my eyes to my surroundings. I saw the familiar wooden cabin I had been living in for 2 years. Thick timber walls painted black, a dirt floor littered with humped shaped; those would be the other Dedicated, sleeping on thin straw mats. There was a glow illuminating the small room though. The glow of a fire that must have been right above me. The source of the heat, the thing that caused me to wake up.

Realising there no immediate danger, I shifted to look up. Sure enough, there was a small fire burning near the ceiling. I had no idea how it got there, but there it was. I drew on Saidin and wove Earth to snuff the fire. What happened next was very much unexpected. As soon as the weave hit the heat of the flame, it erupted. The weave snapped back at me and the fire started to grow. Very quickly. The paint on the wood began to peel as tongues of flame snaked down the wall and across the ceiling, popping and throwing sparks when it hit the waterproofing pitch. So I wove Water and Air to suffocate and extinguish the growing flame. Again the weaves snapped back and the fire grew faster.

My mind started to panic, so I summoned the Void, reducing my mind to a cold processor, untouched by feeling or circumstances. I gave a shout and rolled to my feet, shaking the other Dedicated awake. None of them would wake. It was as if they were dead. The fire had covered half of the sloping ceilieng and the enitre wall by my pallet, it was bright as day. I had to leave my friends, to save my own life. That's what they had taught me in 3 years here. Rule number one: protect the Dragon Reborn at all costs. To do this, you must be alive, so protect yourself at all costs as well.

I ran out of the open door, barefoot and clad in black trousers and a black shirt. The same as I wore every day and every night. The grass was slippery with dew, but I ran, shouting that there was a fire. It was the dead of night and the sky was very black. It took a while for my eyes to adjust but with Saidin I could soon see every detail as I ran past. My shouts clashed against all the black buildings, but no one came. I kept running, and shouting, towards the M'Hael's house. Surely he would be able to do something.

I was wide awake by now, and I wondered how the fire got there, and why I couldn't put it out. There were no easy answers there. I could have been really tired and messed the weaves up, but that was unlikely. Over the past 3 years, there wasn't a single day, not a single hour even when I hadn't used the Power. The weaves were a part of me and putting out a simple fire was child's play. Unless it was sustained by someone else holding the Power. I had been taught how to invert weaves so they couldn't be detected, so it may have been an inverted weave. But who would do that? Maybe a Soldier who had just been shown inversion, and wanted to pull a prank, but there's no way they could sustain a woven fire in those conditions. There were no easy answers.

The grass thinned to a dirt walkway, and I saw the M'Hael's quarters just up ahead. Then I felt a surge of the Power, a very strong weave from somewhere to my right, Fire, Earth and Spirit. This one wasn't inverted and I saw the ground ahead of me start to tear apart. Heated dirt and rocks began to give off their own light as they were churned up by the weave. Then from my left, another weave exploded into the air, this one Earth and Air. It was the same weave I used to give flight and accuracy to my arrows. The same weave I had never taught anybody. Nonetheless, someone was using this weave to propell rocks towards me very fast.
I couldn't run forward anymore, so I turned around, ignoring the pain as my heel was gouged on the dirt.
I wove strands of Fire to vapourise the rocks, and turned towards the weaver they came from. Suddenly the air thickened and I couldn't run. Pain covered my whole body as my skin heated up. I saw boils start to form along my arms and grow larger and larger. Behind the veil of the Void, pain was meaningless, but I could feel the pressure of it trying to break through. Some of the boils began to pop, spewing boiling liquid onto my clothes. It burned through quickly, revealing a network of boils on my chest as well. Then the liquid ignited, spreading fire across my body. The pain became very intense across the Void, threatening to shatter it.

The ground behind me was still breaking up, the gap widening and getting closer to me. Shards of rock were being shot into my back, and the dirt beneath my feet heated up. The boils, blackened by the fire, stopped growing and began to crumble, oozing molten fluid down my appendages.
I tried to keep my sanity, but the pain finally shattered through the Void and ravaged my mind. I screamed and instinct took over. I lashed out with weaves of Earth and Air, trying to sluice the fluid off my body and trying to kill the weavers to my left and right.

The weight of the air lifted and I slumped to the ground. Hot rocks pierced my skin as I crawled away from the advancing gap. I wove Air to draw the heat away from my skin and I was able to stand up again and summon the Void.
I was tired now, exhausted, but I pressed through it. I released Saidin so the channelers wouldn't know exaclty where I was, and I ran behind one of the buildings beside the path. I felt a tingling on my skin, just then. Saidar. Female channelers. At this point, I realised I didn't have much of a chance of surviving, so I stayed in the cover of the building and slowly retreated, listening for anything.

Nothing changed as I got further and further away.
The sun was finally starting to creep over the horizon and light up the sky. I still held the Void to block the pain of my broken skin as I walked. I followed the path towards the stables by the main gate, hoping to find a horse or something, and get out.

I stepped into the stable doors... and I had stepped into broad daylight. I looked at my arms and the boils were gone! The pain receded immediately and I took in my new surroundings. The house of the M'Hael greeted my eyes, in front of was the M'Hael himself and a couple other Asha'men, noteably Davian Telkeres and Ky. They were looking at me, as were many others standing off to the side.

I walked towards the M'Hael and when I reached him, he opened his right hand, revealing a colourfully inset pin, in the shape of a dragon. He reached up and pinned it on my collar, opposite the silver sword of the Dedicated. "Congratulations, Ralkien Malfouri." he said. Simply and formally.

"Thank you, M'Hael." I replied, "I choose the Dai Madhi'in." The Battle Seekers. I made the choice a long time ago, that my Squad would be the ones on the frontlines of Tarmon Gaidon. The Last Stand of mortals against Shai'tan. Led by the Dragon Reborn himself. And now, I was an Asha'man. Highest ranking male channeler in the land, next to the M'Hael and the Dragon himself.

What an honour!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

a prayer..

I wrote this in response to how crappy I felt. It has a nice ring of submission in it.


In your love, destroy me

I hate this.
This, this sin.
This, my own self.
For what this sin has made me,
for what I always have been.
This sin that is part of me,
that is me.

You say you hate this,
this sin.
You hate the taint,
that mars this beauty (as you call me...)

In your love, destroy me.
In your love, shatter me,
may there be nothing of myself left,
that everything that has been, or could ever be,
is completely obliterated.

And also, Lord,
in your love, make me.
This is what we both want.
This is what we've both been aiming for.
I don't know why we keep missing.

Whatever the cost; my life,
or everything except that.
Lord, in your love, break me.
To my knees,
that I may never stand (on my own) again.

Amen

Monday, February 5, 2007

an overwhelming tranquillity

An overwhelming tranquillity

I share a gaze with the moon,
its radiance almost dull in contrast to the sun.
I close my eyes and feel the sun sink behind me,
its distant tails of flame alighting my bare arms,
a memory of the scorching day.

The fiery residues trace along the clouds,
following the curves of the roiling cumulus.
Throughout the fading sky, through the cloudy gaps,
twinkle shifting stars in myriad orange, blue, white,
a testament to much more than another tomorrow.

A warm breeze gently flows,
like a salve along my reddened skin.
The sound of waves crashing soothes my ears,
a mist off the ocean makes for a sweet breath,
an overwhelming tranquillity.

I embrace this moment,
this fleeting instant,
a wishful eternity.

Thursday, February 1, 2007

an abstract concept

(this is an older prose of mine. dramatic monologue? something like that)

An Abstract Concept

Hi!
Oh, oh no... are you hurt?
Wow, look... look at that... I can see your... your heart.
Pretty...
and look! Look at that! This red stuff, it's beautiful!
Look at it, the richness of it.
What is it? It's coming out of your heart, there are three lines, jagged lines.
The red is coming out of it, those lines, it's coming out of the lines.
What's that? My knees... uh-oh, theres red on my knees!
Look! it's all over the floor It's everywhere...
Cool.
Unless... wait, it's coming out from you...
Do you... do you, need it?
Should it be still inside you? Look it's coming out! Fast!
I don't think I can put it all back in, maybe you will make more.
Do you really need it? If it's gone, will you... will you... die?
I can't stop it from coming out.
It's probably almost gone. I don't think that is good.
It should be inside you.
Maybe... those lines! Somebody should fix those lines!
How long have they been like that?
A long time?
Didn't anybody notice?
Why didn't anybody fix it?
The red... it's still coming out.
Nobody ever fixed it?
What? Nobody ever wanted to?
Why would nobody fix it? If the red is gone, you might... die.
Somebody should fix it.
Soon.
I can try, but I can't put the red back. (Why did nobody fix it?)
I hope it's not too late. (Did nobody notice?)
I don't want you to die... (Did they want you to die?)
Ok, I'm going to try to fix those lines.
Oh look! The red! It's on my hands now!
This is exciting!
Oh... right, I have to fix you.
What? It's too late?
No. Shh.
I'll fix it.
Trust me.
If your heart stopped moving like that it would be easier.
It's beating all over the place.
This is hard!
Oh, never mind, it's slowing down.
What will I fix the lines with?
Oh, I can fix it now, your heart stopped beating. I can fix it now.

There you go!
I fixed it!
The lines are gone. See? It's better!
Now you can make more red. You won't die now!
Come on! Wake up!
I fixed it! You are ok now!
Are you?
Was I too late?
Oh no...
Now there's red all over me.
And you, it's all over you too.
Get up! Look! It's cool!
Your heart... it still isn't beating. Should it be?
It was before, before I fixed you, it should start again right?
It shouldn't be stopped?
But... it's still stopped.
I...
I was, I was too... late, wasn't I?
No, I'm sorry!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

another profile

Ok, this is the profile of Ralkien. It mostly goes hand in hand with Sarah's profile; different accounts of similar stories. Asha'men can channel the One Power. Basically, they are magic users. Their successive ranks are Soldier, Dedicated and Asha'man. Dedicated status is denoted by a silver sword shaped collar pin, Asha'man status by a coloured dragon shaped collar pin. The Dark One's Eyes as a dice roll is all ones. In some games it is a winning roll, in others a losing roll. I think that is all you need to know. Also written in first person.


Age thirteen...
We were out in the fields, we almost always were; it was safe. My friends and I were playing. We were kids, thats what kids do. We had played in this same field as long as I could remember, it wasn't very large but we had long since divided it up into sections, depending on what game we played.

This day we played Catch The Chicken, there weren't any chickens in the actual game, but we would have teams, one bigger than the other. The bigger team was the Chicken team, the Catchers had to catch all the Chickens. There was a part of the field that was uneven, it was right next to the forest; there were deep holes and large rocks. In Catch The Chicken, this area was the Chicken Pen. The rest of the field was divided into the Crop, where the Catchers had to run through the pretended farmer's crop and Catch the stray Chickens and return them to the Chicken Pen, and the Catcher's house, which was some fallen trees where we could sit and rest; countless people had rested on them and their surfaces were smooth to the touch.

This day, I was a Chicken, along with five other boys, and there were three Catchers. Two of the Chickens were caught and sent to the Pen. O yes, I forgot to tell you, we were smart Chickens, we could open the Chicken Pen from the outside and free all the Chickens if we could get there without being caught. I was running to the Pen to free my fellow Chickens, flapping their 'wings' and squaking to imitate their part. One of the Catchers was chasing me, he was a faster runner than me, but I ran hard that day and managed to stay one step ahead of him, until we closed in on the Pen, and he slowed down - it wasn't smart to run in the Pen, because of the rocks and holes. I hadn't realised how fast I was running and the shouts of the other boys assailed me and told me to stop running before I killed myself.

I turned my head away from watching the Catcher just in time to see the ground slope down right in front of me with a hole where my foot would land. As fast as I was running, if I would've taken a longer stride I would have stumbled, a shorter stride would have put my feet too far behind me and put me flat on my face. I wasn't quick enough to think of either of these things anyway, but a panic grasped my mind, and chills ran down my spine as I knew my ankle would be wrenched in a fraction of a second. My pulse quickened in that instant and I could see every detail of the hole my foot was about to enter; every blade of grass, every tiny pebble of dirt at their bases. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see my foot get ruined. My foot came down, on flat ground, my body still carried forward, I lifted my other foot; it came down, I was still running, and I opened my eyes and forced myself to slow. I watched the pitted land as I ran over it; rocks seemed to flatten and other holes filled themselves up for a few paces until I stopped running, staring in awe. The other boys apparently hadn't seen and were continuing the game, all the Chickens were freed from the Pen and the one Catcher in the Catcher's house came running out to help regather the Chickens.

Ten days later...
I woke up, but at the time, I didn't know I was awake. My vision was murky, clouded with fuzziness, and everything moved as if in a dream. That's what I thought it was; a dream. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond, I tried to lift my head, and pain lanced through me, up my spine and attacking the base of my skull. The world I saw through my veiled eyes lurched and my mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

The pain didn't recede. I laid in agony, time lost its meaning, I may have drifted off to sleep several times, the only difference was the pain. I don't know if I was awake or asleep at one point, but I felt like I was about to die. I needed to find a way to get rid of the pain, to buffer myself from it. The only thing other than the pain I was aware of was a picture I had seen in a book. There was water, so much water in this picture, and it flew off a cliff and fell into the abyss below. In my mind, I made the pain flow with the water. I managed to sluice it off my mind and it fell away from me into a chasm with no definition, no way to be filled, and no way for the pain to come back.

My vision was still muddled but I could make out general shapes. I believe my mother came to see me and left in a rush, then she came back, with another women, the Wisdom I thought. My mother stayed most of the time, I think, but the Wisdom left; she seemed unable to do anything to remedy whatever was wrong with me.

The only change I noticed was my vision clearing up, I was still sluicing all my emotion into that river as it flew into the chasm. Across my buffer zone, I could all of a sudden feel cold, no longer was pain etching my mind. The image of the void and waterfall vanished and I could see my mother patting my forehead with a damp cloth. From that moment on, the pain was gone.

Age thirteen, later that year...
It seemed lately, that the other boys didn't want to play with me. The weather was perfect, the field was green, but they all seemed able to come up with some excuse to be absent.

At first, after the incident a while ago, the other boys hadn't changed, not right away at least. I don't even know if they noticed what had happened, even when I was home almost that whole day. They still wanted to play with me though. Until I started to win. At first they laughed along with me, but I kept winning. I don't quite know how it happened, I wasn't the fasted runner by far. It didn't depend on the game either, I would win Catch The Chickens, Casting Stones, Sticks and Stones, whatever we played, I seemed to win.

After a while it became evident the other boys didn't want to play with me. I was sick for two days during the summer, but it wasn't like before, no splitting headaches, no high fevers, just a normal sick. After those days I couldn't find my friends anywhere. They would either be home, but unavailable, or simply 'away' doing a chore, running an errand whatever. They wanted to avoid me.

There were still some people I could be friends with, people that hadn't played in the field with me. I started to play with my brothers, they played dice games a lot, and one of their friends played with some cards as well. At first I would watch, but eventually they would let me play too. At first they joked about me being cursed, I would roll the Dark One's Eyes time and again. They laughed at first, but as soon as I started to win, the same thing happened as before. They shunned me, they said a little boy shouldn't be playing with dice.

Age fifteen...
At this time, there was only one person special to me. Her name was Sarah. Either she didn't notice the obscure way things happened around me, or she didn't care, but we didn't talk about it. Even at this young age, I thought - hoped - that I would be with her for life. It seemed that we would, we would always have fun together, go for walks late at night until our parents were worried; we spent a lot of time together. It was she who introduced me to the world of books. We would often read together, stories of far away lands, mythical lands. Shara, past the Aiel waste, the Blight, where men fought bravely day after day, the Shining Walls of Tar Valon, where lived Aes Sedai. We would sit enthralled for hours, not uttering a word, our presence with each other and the stories were enough.

As I said, we would walk, mostly for the sake of being together; being alone, together. When we walked, it would be her taking me to places. She had several secret places, places she never told anybody about, places where she could be entirely alone. I was amazed that she could find so many inside a city, but living near the edge of it as we both did, she managed. We would sit for hours underneath an old unused wagon, or a dead-end alley that was clean but never visited by people, simply sit and talk, and be together.

But she wasn't available all the time. Like normal people there would be days, sometimes weeks, where her parents would take her somewhere, or when she became sick, and there was nobody for me to be with. The magic of the books weren't enough during those times, I had to find another way to keep busy. At first I would sit alone, training my mind to summon the River, sluicing my emotions into it as it flowed into the depthless chasm. Whether the River raged or swept calmly by, the emptiness brought peace to my mind.

Also, along the years I had started to learn to use a bow. At first I could only use my brother's bow, as he taught me. Later, I had saved my allowances and managed to buy my own bow and practiced with that a lot. Flowing along the River brought calm and also brought concentration. The depth of the chasm seemed to reach beyond me, so deep, reaching past my eyes to the target. And instead of feeding all my feelings into the River, some I poured into the arrow. The chasm would call the arrow, lead it to the target, as I loosed it and it flew straight and true.

After years of practice, the long hours when I couldn't be with Sarah, loosing arrows became something I could identify with. I became very good, and it was calming. Whether there was strong wind, rain, or any element of nature, I could point an arrow into the air and loose it. The chasm led the arrow to the target. The more I practiced, the better I became.

Age seventeen...
One day, Sarah and I were walking, we headed towards the field I used to play in. She led me across the field into the trees. I questioned our destination in my mind, but said nothing. Aburptly we came into a small opening, barely 2 paces across. I hadn't seen it as we approached, but from inside, the forest was visible in nearly all directions for a small distance. Sarah released my hand, cross the clearing, bent to retrieve something and returned. I opened my mouth to ask her what he was doing, but she pressed her finger to my lips after I said only her name. She pressed something into my palm, something warm. I looked down at it, it was an oval stone, deep blue-green in colour. Instantly it reminded me of Sarah's eyes, which I had spent many hours gazing into. I looked into those pools, those beautifully deep pools of colour, and said, "Sarah, it is beautiful, thank you." I realized I was grinning, Sarah had small smile on her lips, and water in the corners of her eyes. She wrapped me in a hug, and I returned it. We sat there and talked for a long time that day, until we could barely see each other in the failing light. She led me back out of the forest and he hugged once more before returning to our homes. That whole week, I never saw her.

A few days later a bunch of black clad men, called themselves the Asha'man, came. I hadn't seen them but word spread almost as fast as they apparently appeared. They were testing just about every male in sight, claiming to be recruiting for the Dragon Reborn. Me being the misfit I had become, willingly submitted myself for testing, hoping I'd fit in. I sought them out and was tested. They said I would be able to learn to channel, something about being born with a 'spark' and told me to go through a gate, they called it Travelling. I asked there was time to say bye, the reply was a curt "Little." I hurried off to find Sarah, but as had been the case of the past few days, she was not to be found, though I searched everywhere I knew.

I returned to the Asha'man, all I had was a book in my hand, and the stone Sarah gave to me in my pocket. I would never be found without that. Especially after that day. I pressed my hand against my pocket to make sure it was there. I would treasure it forever, for who she was, for what she was; to me. I hoped I would see her again, and I still hold that hope even though years have passed, and my life has changed much.

A tear slipped from my eye as I stepped out of the gate. I was in a large place in the middle of nowhere, a bunch of men surrounded me, wearing black. I began my training that day and have since moved from Soldier to Dedicated. I aspire to the Dai Mahdi'in, the Battle Seekers, and will be raised to Asha'man soon after my training.