Monday, February 27, 2017

Just Another World 
Chapter 1:

As his eyes began to open, and the world around him began to increase in volume, Stak lifted his hands up to his face. While wiping away the night full of dreams and nightmares, he took a moment to evaluate his hands away from his eyes. They were big, bigger than any being's hands could ever become. His palms were so rough and thick that a blade would have trouble piercing them. Stak admired them, but with the respect that those hands had seen some grim days...

Stak was a man about six feet tall, with arms that tugged both sides of the world together. His hair was shoulder length, and dark brown. His eyes were a dark blue, with a scars from his temples to his jaw line. He wore makeshift shorts with a loin cloth belt, and shin high boots that had hooves on the bottom for protection. His club was always by his side, with giant fang like teeth on the top for increased bloodshed. He was a warrior, like ever man and woman in his village.

He swung his legs to the left and off of his bed. The structure of his bed was made of a light colored wood, while he used animal hides to lay on. Next to where he laid was his wife, Kaya. She was a perfect specimen, long dark hair, silky smooth skin, and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. When Kaya opened her eyes to Stak, he couldn't help but feel like she could read his emotions. Her soul was the purest. Kaya turned over in a slow but assuring manner, letting Stak know that she was going back to sleep.

Stak and Kaya's oldest child, Ayak, was outside helping their sons. Ayak was eighteen, but did not look it. She was small and hadn't filled out yet, but still had the beauty of her mother. Kara, their middle son, was thirteen, but looked the same age as Ayak with similar features as his father. Finally, their was Stakaya, their youngest boy at the age of six. Stakaya was a boy that looked completely different then his parents. He had lighter skin and hair, but his eyes were a striking orange. He was a special boy, and his parents knew it.

Before Stak even opened his home, he could hear his village going about their day: cutting and retrieving lumber, cleaning wears in the stream, creating music around the smoldering fire, even the children could be heard giggling from the elders telling tales and singing songs. He let the beam of light into his entrance, and he closed his eyes to feel the Sun's energy. "This is what my people should always feel," Stak thought.

As the honored leader made his way down the hill in front of his hut, the whole village gave him their notice. Stak reciprocated and continued, making his way down to the villages meeting place. It was a giant circle where no grass grew, with a bonfire that was always lit. Most of the villager's huts were around the perimeter of this circle. the only huts that did not surround the circle were either leaders of the village, or the market, which was on the hill above the circle.

The villagers gathered around the circle. They were so alive, more so than then the whole community had ever felt before. Something about the way Stak was close to the smoke from the bonfire, staring deeply into the fire for answers. He was bent down on one knee, and had soil spilling from the bottom of his clenched hand, the whole village watched as it spilled and blew in the direction of the snowy mountains in the distance.

The village began whispering to one another, trying to make sense of this spiritual message. Stak closed his eyes in the hopes that he would feel what the gods were asking him to do, but there was nothing. He gave a peculiar sigh, then turned to face his people. "This day is a sacred one. We all opened our eyes from the dreams we had and from those dreams we can learn lessons." He met the eyes of every villager in the front row. "Nobody can tell you what your dreams were, and from those dreams only you can find it's meaning, but as a community can anyone share their night's visions?"

A young women made her way to the front of the villagers, she gave Stak a bow of her head and began to speak. "I had visions this past night." She said with a subtle quiver of hesitation. "And what did these visions that you saw speak?" Stak responded with a leveled manor. "They were of a boy. Your youngest boy." She responded with even more hesitation, predicting that Stak would get defensive.

Stak received what the woman had said but was still standing there as if he was waiting for her to speak still. Stakaya was hunched over in front of his mother, with her arms over his shoulders and crossed at his chest. His eyes were flaming orange, so captivating with the bonfire glimmering within them. Finally Stak returned with, "You had visions of Stakaya? For some, a night's vision will have spiritual value, and for some they can be meaningless. Is my son's appearance in your vision good, or bad?"

She started to speak "I was having trouble getting dreams last night, my spirit felt troubled. When I finally closed my eyes, the first and only thing I could see in the darkness was Stakaya, and his eyes."
She glanced over to the boy with a smile to lighten the tensions. "But when I tried to communicate with him in my vision, he seemed vexed. Almost as if there was something intriguing behind me, and it had his full attention. I turned around to see what he was looking at only to be disoriented by the exact same vision behind me, Stakaya just standing there staring into the dark distance."

Stak was fully enveloped in what the women was saying, he could feel the presence of the higher powers in what she spoke and it made him aware that what she was saying was the truth. None of this vision was fake. By this point, Kaya had taken their youngest boy for a stroll down to the plains that met the snow-covered mountains on the horizon. The sun was vibrant and the air was warm, with the subtle wind flowing past them, the tall grass led them farther and farther into the plains.

Stakaya was a quiet child, with not much to exclaim when any other child normally would. The word introvert just didn't seem to give enough justice. His youth was diluted by the old soul that surrounded him each and every day. He knew why his mother was taking him on this coincidental stroll. While the entire community heard the girls vision, he was being immunized. It was to "protect" him, and by protect him that meant keep him in the dark about what the higher powers had in store for his destiny. He still loved his mother Kaya, because he knew what she did  was out of love.

See, the religion that Stak follows was not an easy one, to be frank. Their ideals and social structures were normal in the sense that they were based on good and bad morals, but when it came to existential ideas, communities have been divided so much that now, there are only small communities of roughly 600 or so. This always had intrigued Stakaya. His father was strong and wise and, from what he had overheard from some of the elders the other night, has seen a lot of death and rebirth within his life.

Stak was apart of a much larger community when he was just a boy. But war between communities and clans caused his first community to split, and it turned into a civil war. His own family had losses. Now, the followers love from time to time asking Stak to explain how enormous and spectacular his community was when he was a young man. How he would describe the massive tree structures that were part of The Great Forest. How the ropes were as big as tree trunks and how the carvings in their main halls were probably unfathomable to his present day following.

Kaya and Stakaya strolled along the perimeter of plant life and bush, sometimes cutting through to another open area in the plains where they would catch eyesight of each other. Kaya liked to walk behind her youngest son, she felt as though she could live through his eyes vicariously, and maybe get a glimpse of the world through Stakaya's flaming eyes.

Stakaya was a child of great imagination. His intellect helped create fantastic stories and ideas of the wild and untouched world around him. His favorite imaginative game to play was the one of his father. He aspired to be Stak, with his superhero physique and wise words to share to his followers. From there, his decision process on what type of quest to go on was short. He usually just went with the flow of the path that was in front of him.

Kaya giggled softly and admired her son slashing at the invisible foes in front of him, grunting and diving into the bushes for cover. "Oh my son, what could you possibly be threatened by out in this peaceful landscape?" Stakaya flinched and came back to reality to answer, "The snow cats of the mountains." His little hand turned to a point which was to the direction of the snow covered mountains.


Thursday, February 23, 2017

Word Count Wednesday

What I have been writing:

I have been writing more song lyrics or poems if you will, and I think putting writing aside for a second, song lyrics/poetry really helps me cope with my real world problems. I think it is just like writing in a journal or simply venting for personal therapy.

My Narrative is still under the curse of some serious writer's block, but tonight I'm breaking that curse! I hope to take your advice and just stop overthinking things and enjoy it for what it is.

What I have been reading:

Nothing. But tonight I am going to put some time into The Neil Gaiman book that is staring me in the face.

How does this make me feel:

I feel ironically like I have been productive. I think by the end of the night I will feel truly a sense of productivity. I have been going through an extremely rough time in my life and it took my attention from education but now I am back in the right focus, and ready to write my Narrative.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Word Count Wednesday Feb 15th

Word Count Wednesday.

What I have been working on: I am still working on my Short story/ Narrative 'From Another World' as well as writing song lyrics when inspired to do so. I like to listen to melodies and write lyrics for them. Most of the time it ends up being Hip Hop or Rap, but I'm sure they could be sung in a different tone to make them seem like acoustic songs or what have you.

I am dealing with a little bit of writer's block when it comes to further developing my story 'From Another World'. I have come to a place where my character's next decision will completely form the future of his endeavors. My House, Anglebent, has given me some brainstorming ideas to work with, and for that I am grateful. Unfortunately, I am still looking at the page and coming up with nothing. I have world built enough to where I don't need to continue, yet I still feel obsessed with doing so.

What I have been reading: Steven King's On Writing; Neil Gaiman's The Ocean At The End Of The Lane.

How does these pieces of work make me feel?: I have only dove into The Ocean at the end of The Lane a few pages, but so far it is a very peculiar read. It is about a man going back to his first childhood home and reminiscing about this little pond behind his neighbor's home. He was friends with a girl who was older than him. I believe the book is going to be about the imagination of these two when they were children. I feel like there may be a huge twist within the development of their lives as they grow older, but it is too soon to tell.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Word Count Wednesday

What I have been working on: I have a few ideas and stories in the works. My main focus is the short story narrative called From Another World (not entirely sure of this title yet). It takes place during the dawn of mankind, circa 15,000 B.C. In this world, we are following a man named Stak, who is a village/clan leader of a 'tribe'. The world around this congregation is dense forest, scenic plains, and in the distance the treacherous snow covered mountain ranges. Stak has legendary tales of past adventures, wars and even visions, but none of this plays a part in the beginning of the story.

How does this process make me feel: I feel very enveloped in creating the story for this character along with his family. At the beginning of the day I felt stuck at a moment in the Story where Stak asks his Villagers if they have had any visions they would like to share. My group, Anglebent, gave me some excellent ideas to work off of and I feel like it put me right back into the rhythm of writing again.

What I have been reading: I have been reading more of Steven King's novel On Writing. I have also started a book by the Author Neil Gaiman called The Ocean at The End of The Lane.