Orpheus Part Two

Thanks for your comments, folks. Here's the second half of my Orpheus story from last week. I am extremely concerned that the ending to this might be flat-out incomprehensible - if it is, LET ME KNOW! I like being comprehended!

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dmzmhcp_1g2rrr2

Because Amy Will Kill Me In My Sleep If I Don't Post...

“Ow! That was my toe.”

“Well, move over then.”

“I can’t see anything. Hold the light up higher.”

“This is as high as I can hold it. Wait—“

Perseus had just spotted a larger lamp. He lit it, and the room appeared before the two boys, jumping and shifting in the light of the oil lamp. Magnificent tapestries, displaying heroes, monsters, and a short man with red cheeks, lined the walls of the dark room. Tall stone statues stood in neat rows, and formed thin aisles between them. To Perseus, the statues looked like guards—ones who knew the boys shouldn’t be there.

He handed the smaller lamp to the boy beside him, and picked up the other one for himself. “Let’s hurry up and find it,” he said. He reached to close the door they had just come through, but then thought better of it. They might need to escape the palace in a hurry. “I don’t like it in here.”

“Me neither,” said his friend. “Look, why don’t we split up? You take that side and I’ll look over here. That way we’ll get done faster.”

Perseus didn’t really want to separate, but he pushed aside his fears and agreed to it anyway. Quintus was right; this way they would be done twice as fast.

He began looking behind the looming statues on his side. Cobwebs ran from carved toes all the way up to the next statues’ heads. He pushed his way past them with a shudder. Every once in a while he would peer over his shoulder at the door, to make sure no one was coming. The sound of his footsteps on the stone floor was eaten up by the tapestries, making eerily muffled echoes.

Perseus jumped as something stepped from behind the statue of Aphrodite.

“It’s just me,” Quintus said.

“I knew that.” But Perseus’ heart still beat furiously from the surprise.

“I don’t think it’s here,” Quintus whispered. He looked worried, and kept glancing longingly toward the door. “Maybe we should just go and come back another time.”

“No. It’s here, I know it is. It has to be.” Perseus looked around. All he saw were statues that had already been searched. The one in front of him had a grim face and a fiery crown. Hades, god of the Underworld. “There’s no other place—“and then the light from his lamp caught a glint of gold in the far corner of the room. He held the light higher, and could just make out a plain wood table, with something shiny on top. The two boys hurried over to see what it was.

“Wow,” breathed Quintus.

The shiny thing was a small box, made entirely of gold. The top showed a bull emerging from the ocean’s waves.

“This must be worth a fortune,” Quintus said. He looked around. “Do you think he would notice if we took it?”

“Of course he would. Now hold this so I can look inside.” Perseus handed over his lamp and opened the box. Inside was a small statue of Poseidon. The god of the ocean held a trident in his hand. A small conch shell hung on a golden thread around his neck. “This is it!’ Perseus cried. He grabbed for the statue. But in his excitement, he hit against one of the lamps, and hot oil spilled onto Quintus’ arm.

“Aaaaah!” Quintus dropped the lamp and began howling in pain.

“Be quiet!” Perseus hissed. “They’ll hear you!” He strained to listen for any noises coming from the hallway outside, but he couldn’t hear anything over Quintus’ shouting. “Come on, let’s go.”

He tugged his friend toward the door. Quintus’ howls got quieter, and they could hear noised coming from another part of the palace. Shouts and thuds told them they’d been heard.

There was no need anymore to be quiet. Quintus dropped the other lamp, and the two hurried in darkness for the door.

“Here it is,” Perseus said, after a few frantic seconds of groping for the exit.

They ran from the room and searched desperately for the right way out. Moonlight from the windows (too high for them to escape through) lighted their escape. Sounds of pursuit followed close behind.

“Quick! This way! I hear them!” someone shouted from behind.

Perseus and Quintus bolted through the door, and were met by fresh night air.

“My house,” Perseus yelled. “It’s closer.” He looked over his shoulder as he ran. Three men, all wearing tunics, burst from the palace. They seemed to be out of breath, however; they were running slowly, and breathing in huge gasps. “Hurry, I think we can lose them.”

The two ran as quickly as they could down to the sea shore, and stopped just short of a shabby, stonework cottage. Identical cottages pressed in closely all around.

Quintus headed quickly for the front door, but Perseus stopped him. “Wait a minute,” he said. “We have to hide this.” He held up the statue they had stolen. It was slippery with sweat from his hand.

“Where are we going to hide it?” Quintus asked, looking around. There wasn’t much space between the cottages, and no trees or anything to use as a hiding spot. The ocean broke against the shore a quarter of a mile away. “Should we bury it?”

“No, come on, I’ll show you,” Perseus said. He led Quintus around to the side of the house, and removed a loose stone from the wall. “I found a hole here one day, so now I put anything I want to hide in there. Then I cover it up with this rock.” He showed Quintus how the rock was really thin so that it wouldn’t take up much space in the wall. “Took me forever to find one that would work.”

Quintus stared at the hole in amazement. “No fair. I wish we had a hole in our house.”

Perseus was about to reply, but men’s voices from close by cut him off. Quintus looked at him with wide eyes. “They must have seen us come this way,” he said.

“We need to get inside.” Perseus shoved the statue into the hole, replaced the rock, and hurried with Quintus into the house.

Once the door shut behind them, Perseus felt safe. Nothing could get him here. The room they entered was warm and well-lit by a fire burning in the hearth. A few pieces of shabby furniture sat on top of a brightly colored rug. Two doors led to other parts of the house, and a window allowed in a patch of night sky. And in the middle of the room stood a tall, pretty woman, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Treehive: Prologue

So this is my main project, entitled Treehive after the main character, Wichard Treehive, a magic-using orphan adopted by one of the most powerful men on the planet. The style of the book first started out very satirical and poking fun at rpg's such as the Final Fantasy series, but as i got deeper and deeper into it, the drama began to increase, and the humor is now nearly dwarfed by it.

This selection is rather incredibly short, but next week will be much longer, i promise. Throughout the book ive been having trouble deciding whether i want to use past or present tense. opinions on that especially would be great. but anyways, heres the Prologue to book one of Treehive:

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dcsbkhnd_2f44k9f

The Door of Readiness (opening)

This has been a pet project of mine for a while - I've tinkered with it on and off, and would like it to reach a post-tinkering point. I worry that the language is a bit...much, and that certain parts may be more obscure than I would like...thoughts? (This is the beginning of it - since I don't know yet how to get my documents online, I'll post in fragments so as not to be overwhelmingly long.)

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dmzmhcp_0f792v2