Collection of stories and drabbles; companion pieces to two longer stories, Kasbaarg: Beginnings and Kasbaarg: Legacy.
If you read, please try and leave a comment
If you would like to send a prompt or see a story about specific characters, feel free to ask and I'll see what I can do.
For this one, we had to describe a lake as seen by a young man who has just committed murder...without actually mentioning the murder.
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The sun broke over the rim of the mountain, chasing away the frost that clung to the tall blades of grass and turning the water of the glassy lake dark red. Red like the soil and grass at my feet, the young man mused.
The water is calm...not a ripple or a pulse anywhere, so unlike the beating of my own heart. I feel as though I am being pursued by some wild beast. I wonder if I dipped my hands in those waters, those icy waters, if they would turn red for me...red and warm.
The young man moved to the edge of the lake, his footsteps leaving the cold grass crushed to the ground. He knelt on his haunches and dipped a hand in the freezing water.
So, it does turn red for me...but not warm. No, it will never turn warm for me. It is numbing my hand, stealing away my own warmth, turning it cold like my heart. Now the red is gone and the lake is turning golden...golden like the hilt of my dagger. I wonder how log it would take to die out there, in this lake. Would it take away this ache? No, the lake is much to beautiful to be stained with my sins...beautiful with its glassy surface, now starting to ripple a little, reflecting the sun and the dark firs at the edge. There, by the edge. It's a heron, getting breakfast. He wouldn't want to hunt here if the waters were defiled by my body. The little frogs in the thick, tan reeds and the scratchy horsetails are starting to wake up and talk. Are they talking about me? Do they know what I have done?
The young man stood up and walked slowly back to where he had been standing, then turned ot look back out across the lake to the rising sun.
The sun is climbing higher, throwing light on my sins and turning the lake deep blue. A fish just jumped...right over there, by the heron and the frogs. The ripples are spreading, growing larger, like a domino effect. In the sun's rays, I can see swarms of bugs, just above the surface of the water...another fish just jumped. Having a bit of breakfast, like the frogs and the heron...and here comes a eagle. The sun's rays are warming everything, bringing it back to life after a cold night of sleep. But not me. Nothing will take away the ice that is running in my veins, not even the healing rays of the sun? What is that?? Across the way. It looks like a pair of elk. I am standing so still they don't even realize I'm here. Their muzzles in the water are making more ripples and I can hear little sucking noises. A breeze is picking up now, pushing the water in waves against the pebbly shore, making a soft, whoosh, shoosh sound. It's a peaceful sound, the sound of the water moving, the gentle splashing of the fish and the elk, the frog noises and the little birds waking up to sing. A magical place, this lake, so easy to get lost in it and forget everything.
I wish I could forget everything...
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He's really a very poetic murderer...although he started to make me think of Vincent...with his ruining things with his sins blah blah blah.
-Kas
The next few stories that I'm going to put up are things I did for my creative writing class. For this one, we had to write about this picture and discribe sights, sounds, smells, you get the idea.
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Uma loved the great beast her father had brought home for her, one blustery winter day. It had slobbered and snarled, lashing out with sharp claws that were like the feet of the brass fire grate, great green eyes staring anger from the big, black head, ears pinned flat against its skull. Her father had put a strong leather leash on its collar, a collar with little pink hearts on it and tied the end to her oak bed, then left them alone.
Days later, she was riding the great beast, whom she affectionatly called Ralph. Ralph smashed her blocks, bit the heads off her dollies, disembodied them and generally slobbered all over the place. But Uma loved him. She loved his rank, feral scent, his coarse, oily fur and hot breath. She loved the way he moved under her when she rode him and responded to the gentle tugs on his leash. Granted, Ralph was not terribly happy with his new life as a small, delicate child's play thing. It really should be the other way around...she should be his plaything, to bat around with his claws. But for now, as long as he was leashed, he contented himself with batting the frail dolls around, pulling their heads, legs and arms off, creating a grotesque scene.
"Smile for the camera now, darling." Her father was saying as he steadied the camera, focusing in on his little Uma on the great beast, clothed in warm, golden sunshine, a great contrast against the dark burgundy wallpaper.
Uma smiled coyly, her fingers gently grazing Ralph's bristly haunches. Ralph snarled, eyes wide, tounge hanging out and tail tucked between his legs in submission. Not willing submission, but submission none the less.
The light bulb on the camera flashed and her father smiled, then choked at the rank smell of Ralph. Her mother was just going to die when she opened the envelope and saw her angelic baby on the great black brute.
Serves her right for leaving them.
I was rummaging through a box today and found one of my totally awesome black and white splatter composition books for english writing from when I was like...9. I had to write a short story, so I created my very first character.
Just for the fun of it, I will retype it here, in all it's awful, badly spelled 'glory'. And probably some snarky comments added here and there.
Once apon a time there was a boy named Roman. Roman was a orphan who lived in Arizona in the 1800's. It was cold that day what day?, and Roman had found shelter i n a horse barn. The next morning the owner of the horse came out to feed. When I woke up that mouning Spelled it right up there, what happened? some one was shaking me. It was a girl named Ariana. Hello, who are you? and what are you doing in the barn? Well, natally, I stood up to my full 7 feet nine 0_0 Good gravy, thankfuly my boys are all much shorter now, and said My name is Roman and it is none of your busines why I am here. It is most certainly my business, because it is MY barn. It was the only place I could find, to keep warm, and I am an orphan. yes, because every boy just admits that right off Are you happy now? I was very inberist ??? when she walked me to the house, because I keepif triping over my feet. The next day Ariana said Roman, pick your feet up and watch were your going. One of these times your going to hurt yourself." why did I start using " all the sudden? Well after a couple times of picking up my feet, I started not to trip so much. But I still trip a little, it also helps to make friends at school and the boys don't tease me so much any more. Well, Ariana is calling me so I better go. Goodbye!
The end.
Perfectly painful. All I can say is Ariana is very trusting to let some strange 7'9 boy she found stay with her. Good times...goodtimes.
-Kas
‘Dreams are nothing more than wishes, and a wish is just a dream, you wish to come true’ ~ Harry Nilsson, The Puppy Song
Dreams are an important part of our lives. They signify our hopes, fears, desires, deepest thoughts and sometimes, just provide us with a little nighttime entertainment.
Ponder for a moment, if you will, what life would be like, if we suddenly lost the ability to dream, whether subconsciously or simply day dreaming…
Elsie sits quietly on the park bench watching the birds hopping to and fro hunting for worms and other tasty morsels. On a normal day, this creative young child would be smiling in delight at the happy little day dreams in her head, imagining what it would be like to be a little bird. To soar into the trees and sing a merry tune, not a care in the world, never wondering where the next meal will come from or if there will be a place to sleep that night.
However this is no ordinary day. Today she is unable to day dream. Today her mind is blank. She is unable to spin little happy tales and only knows the facts. The bird eats insects, the bird can fly because of it’s feathers and the way it is built. The bird raises babies in the spring and migrates in the fall. The bird’s name is a robin and it is gray with a reddish breast.
How dull life would be without the ability to dream! There would be no art, no designs, no creativity. Everyone would play by the rules, everything would be black and white and clear cut. No coloring outside the lines or purple skies with orange trees.
By reading this I’m sure someone will be thinking that I am confusing ‘imagining’ with ‘dreaming’. However I disagree. Imagining and Dreaming are one in the same and both are important aspects of our lives. The dreams we have at nighttime reflect on who we are, as individuals. Those who say that dreaming is one of the things that makes us human, has never seen a cat or dog running and growling in their sleep. But I digress.
Dreams reflect our deepest fears, that maybe we don’t admit to. I am afraid of falling, occasionally my mind gets mean and I have dreams where I am falling endlessly down a black board, never reaching the end, but just falling. Those dreams have been less and less as I have gained more confidence in myself. Dreams give me the ability to subconsciously relax after a stressful day by coming up with wacky things to entertain my mind, or things to pleasure my mind. I’m sure this is the same for many people.
In the past, civilizations had dream seers and prophets who were given visions, or dreams by their gods. In many ways these men and women had great power over the country and according to the dreams they had, the course of a battle could be decided, famines predicted and judgments cast. In Grecian history, Hero’s were gifted with visions which embarked them on many of their adventures, their gods and goddesses guiding their way by these dreams.
In conclusion, dreams are an important and healthy part of the human system, both on a personal and world wide scale. Without the capacity to dream, the world would be a very different place, like a sheet of white paper and no colors to put on it. The lack of dreams would inhibit us from moving forward, from progressing to better things. However, we can dream, and we do. Architecture, art, sculptures, science, technology, books, music and movies, all brought about by mans simple ability…to dream.
