Duxwing
I've Overcome Existential Despair
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- Sep 9, 2012
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Dear Forum,
Here is a link to Chapter 1 and the synopsis: http://www.intpforum.com/showthread.php?t=14494
Please, please give me some feedback; it's much appreciated.
Chapter 2: Sanguine Melody
The brisk morning air scorches Illian’s lungs as his feet thunder along the wet soil. Squinting into the glaring sunrise, he glimpses Artnoc’s arm stretch down before him, and seizes it! Their clammy palms straining, Artnoc pulls his best friend into the tree. And upon his reaching the top, their eyes, now full of terrified tears, meet again.
“Daddy! Daddy! Why?” screams Illian as Ocseiuq’s hammer pounds the flute into a razor sharp saber. Just as Artnoc’s wail descends into a sob; the plinks of Ocseiuq’s hammer against Illian’s flute descend into a low, growling thunder. Ocseiuq presents Illian the sword with a look of stern pride, staring right through him.
“Swords fill the hand of patriots, Illian! …Eugh, what’s that thing you’re sitting next to?”
“I’m Artnoc, and leave me alone you—“
“Swine: back to your own country! Back to your filthy cesspit of Suicitnemnoc!”
“Countries?” Illian sputters on his own tears as he laughs, “Daddy, I see houses and I see fields and I see you and I see me and Artnoc and everybody from up here in this tree, but I don’t see any countries!”
“Young Illian, foolish Swine! Young Swine, foolish Illian!”
“Daddy, what are countries for if you can’t even tell the difference between him and me!?”
“Patriotism! F—” the clang of the sword against the branch above Artnoc’s head cuts him off
“You!”
Artnoc retreats further up the tree, leaving Illian alone with his vengeful father. Ocseiuq grips him by the collar of his pajamas— the fabric creaking as the fibers stretch— and slings him, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder; Artnoc’s flute wails as he attempts to drown it all out.
“Help me! Help me! Why can’t you just HELP ME?”
As Illian cries out, the door slams shut.
Here is a link to Chapter 1 and the synopsis: http://www.intpforum.com/showthread.php?t=14494
Please, please give me some feedback; it's much appreciated.
Chapter 2: Sanguine Melody
The brisk morning air scorches Illian’s lungs as his feet thunder along the wet soil. Squinting into the glaring sunrise, he glimpses Artnoc’s arm stretch down before him, and seizes it! Their clammy palms straining, Artnoc pulls his best friend into the tree. And upon his reaching the top, their eyes, now full of terrified tears, meet again.
“Daddy! Daddy! Why?” screams Illian as Ocseiuq’s hammer pounds the flute into a razor sharp saber. Just as Artnoc’s wail descends into a sob; the plinks of Ocseiuq’s hammer against Illian’s flute descend into a low, growling thunder. Ocseiuq presents Illian the sword with a look of stern pride, staring right through him.
“Swords fill the hand of patriots, Illian! …Eugh, what’s that thing you’re sitting next to?”
“I’m Artnoc, and leave me alone you—“
“Swine: back to your own country! Back to your filthy cesspit of Suicitnemnoc!”
“Countries?” Illian sputters on his own tears as he laughs, “Daddy, I see houses and I see fields and I see you and I see me and Artnoc and everybody from up here in this tree, but I don’t see any countries!”
“Young Illian, foolish Swine! Young Swine, foolish Illian!”
“Daddy, what are countries for if you can’t even tell the difference between him and me!?”
“Patriotism! F—” the clang of the sword against the branch above Artnoc’s head cuts him off
“You!”
Artnoc retreats further up the tree, leaving Illian alone with his vengeful father. Ocseiuq grips him by the collar of his pajamas— the fabric creaking as the fibers stretch— and slings him, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder; Artnoc’s flute wails as he attempts to drown it all out.
“Help me! Help me! Why can’t you just HELP ME?”
As Illian cries out, the door slams shut.