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So here comes the prologue to an original story (all that really entails is that it's not a fanfiction; congratulations). It's a work in progress, but hey, if I manage to get somebody's attention, I just might post more. Ready? Here we go.



Sans Black

The heat died off slow as the sun set on a desert of black sands. In a last-ditched effort to survive the night, the sun flared itself up, burning the horizon with a red glow. The silhouette of a man in some kind of desert garb loped on down the dunes toward the blaze of light; his entire being was tightly wrapped up in tan cloth, dark shaded goggles shielded his eyes, and leather boots trudged on through the blackened sand. It was a cold evening.

The air was frozen, so in order to blow, it first had to crack itself; and the wind snapped and howled constantly. Yet despite the slush of chilled revenants, that silhouette refused to bend or yield. He was tall and erect in his march, as though some stone pillar, immovable, slowly moving across the desert. But suddenly, he stopped moving. The sand before him violently boiled, and a small, bony creature crawled forth from the bubbling pit.

“What have you done?” A tortured moan escaped the shadowy thing as the sand beneath it returned to a more regular state. “This zone has died, blackened as if scorched. Where were you in its time of need?”

“Why are you always so dramatic?” The silhouette sighed. “Oh and by the way, I like this new form. It’s cute.”

“Cute,” gasped the shadow, “what?! Do you have even the slightest idea the dark feelings associated with black cats? I even turned my eyes red for the occasion.”

“They’re nice. Oh hey, are the glowing?” The silhouette bent forth to better observe.

“They are, thank you for noticing. Enough though, really now, where have you been? You vanished completely and you were gone for nearly a decade.”

“You know your master, my maker?”

“Of course.”

“I met his makers’ makers. And they were bored. So they’d gathered a batch of us for a small fighting tournament.”

“So a small fighting tournament took eight years?” The cat was beginning to get skeptical.

“Of course not. What do you take me for? Has to be something to do with the transfers… I don’t know, I don’t really understand inter-dimensional travel magic.”

“Well, how’d you do?”

“I came out alright. But enough, what is it you want from me this time? What new quest must you send me on?”

“Ah, yes. My master has spoken. Jorgya is doomed and heroic intervention is required. He’s given me a prophecy for you. It reads ‘The hero shall be obvious, but nobody will expect it of him, or her.’” The silhouette then stepped over the cat and began to walk away.

“Alright then. I’ll find your hero for you.”

“Oh. Well, uh, right then. Remember, the unsuspected obvious.” The cat spoke out louder and louder, delving into an outright yell as the silhouette proceeded further and further away into the blinding redness. “He is to kill the corrupt king of Jorgya! Begin your search in the town on the edge of this desert! Ah…”

The silhouette continued walking on, but gave a vague hand signal to let the cat know he’d heard him. The cat sighed and sank himself back into the darkness, relinquishing a thought before disappearing completely.

“Old anthropomorph. You’ve lived so long viewing only the stagnation of life. You’ve forgotten the difference that eight years can bring. Perhaps when next we meet, I shall finally ask if it is truly death you desire?”

Those red eyes vanished into the sand, shedding a single sympathetic wane for the tired immortal. The silhouette did not notice and did not care. As the sun too sank into the horizon, the red of the sky became purple, turning blue. The silhouette became more visible, further revealing the man in desert garb. He came and stopped upon a large slope rolling down, the black sand slowly diluting into dry, but colorful vegetation. But more than that, society lay in wait under the descent; it was a relatively small city, consisting of small metal buildings, wooden housing, and oddly enough, a few sparse towers. Here and there, little lighted windows dotted the growing night as the stars in the sky began joining in on the act.

“Hmm,” pondered the man in desert garb, “a place to stay.”

And thus he was away, his being now stained dark blue in place of the black it had been from the enormous shadow he cast.

“Oh. And I need to begin.”

This post has been edited by Moddy Auld: 26 January 2011 - 10:47 PM

Interesting and weird a little bit, but I would to know what's next. Its kinda cool like someone transform into a black cat? I really hope it's not the end of the prologue yet. It felt really short. I'll read further if it gets me into it.

skykitty, on 26 January 2011 - 03:52 PM, said:

Thanks for commenting.

I however am sorry to say that this is indeed the entirety of the prologue. Then again, with the prologue, I wasn't really shooting for length, more, something to grab attention with (seems to have worked, somewhat). And I certainly have more in stall for this story. Much, much more. Unfortunately though, I cannot upload any more at this moment. See, my AP Lit teacher has the draft, so I can't type any of it for now. But I'll get on it when I can.

I think the prologue was about the right length, like these two strange creatures have something to say: one to deliver, one to take action. They take the time to do this with enough small talk to characterize them, almost like they're squaring up to each other, but are still friends/aquaintences. Good job, I'd definitely read more of this.

This post has been edited by Elliot: 28 January 2011 - 05:32 PM

Well thank you, I feel complimented.
And speaking of more, I've managed to abscond the draft for the weekend, so I'll type some of it up, revise, etc. And submit, starting with the first chapter here. However, since the chapter spans across over five pages or so, I figure I'll post in cut up parts. So here we go now, chapter one, part one.



Rabbit in the Cage_Part 1

Orange eyes. They were strictly orange, no iris nor pupil to speak of, with a faint unnatural glow. They snapped open to the dim morning. It was the man in desert garb, only, he’d removed his masking and goggles, so it was subtly apparent that he wasn’t exactly a man. His head was ever so slightly animalistic and covered in white fur; he sat up and his tall ears bounded even higher up, the right one being blue. Still was he more human than anything else, but he also held the appearance of a rabbit.

This rabbit-man in desert garb got out of bed and retrieved his mask and goggles and proceeded to wrap up his head and fold his ears down, concealing his inhuman face. Before anything else, he twisted his neck around and listened the crackle in the tiny room. His light metal gauntlets lay in wait on the nightstand until he took them up and reequipped them. Up came his gloved hands, flexing to be sure everything was on proper. And then he was away.

In went the door, and out ducked this desert garb scarecrow, tall and thin and dusty, into the small hallway. He gently closed the door behind him and made his way down the short staircase. A young lady--a young human lady with medium auburn hair tied back in a ponytail sat at the back of the tiny room, beyond the counter, as the concealing cloth preceded the man stepping down the adjoining stairs. Her attention was swiftly drawn.

“Hello little miss,” he said, handing back a key from his pocket, “tell your parents I said thanks for the night.” He turned and his boots began to tap across to the door.

“Hey mister,” she reeled him back, “wouldn’t you at least like some breakfast before you go? Mom’s workin’ in the kitchen now.” She thumbed over to a sinking doorway with scarce steam slowly pouring up from the near microscopic kitchen.

“Sorry, haven’t really had much of an appetite for the longest time.” He reached out for the exit, but stopped short. For a moment he was still, before turning back to better inhale the fragrance. “Hmm. Smells good though…”



So after a quick breakfast of eggs and a biscuit, this rabbit-man had thoroughly shocked his keeper for the night and cook for the morning. The reason being not quite what he thought, but something else, something she couldn’t really bring herself to bring up.

“Well,” he said, standing and tucking his chair back under the table, “that was fairly delicious. Thank you very much, ma’am.” He picked up his plate and fork and made his way over to the sink to deposit them. Meanwhile, another guest, a man, eyed him as he spoke from beyond the morning paper.

“Oh, ah,” her words fumbled a bit as she shut the rest of the food she’d cooked up in the oven to keep it warm for the other few guests. “You’re kind, thanks. But it weren’t nothin’. I make it pretty much the same, every morning’.”

“And all by hand, no less. I find that moderately impressive. These newer tools they use--well. They’re still new to me. But I think--”

“What’s a matter, miss” interrupted this other man, “something wrong? You seem a tad nervous.” The others stared at him for a moment.

“It’s. Just…” She turned back to the rabbit. “You… ate egg. Yeah. I wouldn’t have expected that. That’s all.”

The rabbit-man started to say something about why that was, but the young lady came in, and she started to say something about a message from father; but then she noticed his tall ears and pure white fur, and quickly covered her mouth, stifling a gasp that nearly came out.

“Oh,” she said, embarrassed, “I’m so sorry. That was rude of me.”

“Ah,” he chuckled quite lightheartedly with a smirk, “no, no, it’s fine. I know my appearance is quite shocking.”

“No. It’s just…”

“Let’s just say,” the mother interjected, “you do well to hide yourself.”

“What,” the daughter perplexed. “No, not that.” The little brown hair turned back to the white hare, looking quite far up to him. “It’s just that, round her, pets and things are hard to come by, and, well,” she was shy to admit, “bunnies are kinda my favorite.”

“Hmm,” he pondered. “Well. Since that be the case, would you like to pet me?”

“What,” everybody questioned at once. Everybody aside from the gentleman still sitting at the table, though he still joined in looking upon the rabbit with one brow raised.

“Really,” the girl questioned, tilting her tender head to the side and twisting up her cheek. “You’d let me do that?”

“Sure. I won’t mind.”

With this confirmation, she approached him, her hand thinking whether to follow through. He bent a little at the sternum and lowered down into a crouch, allowing for easier access to the much shorter girl. Shyly, while struggling to contain a smile, she ran her hand up and down the back of his skull. He resisted the curious urge to twitch his eyes and nose. It wasn’t working all that well. The blue ear of his flickered also, transmitting waves of sweet harmony off into the distance, out the window into the early morning light. Meanwhile, the other two in the room exchanged a shot look at one another, not sure exactly of what to make of the spectacle before them. The hand withdrew, seeking safety in her chest; she was finished and suppressing that silly-little-girl brand of joy that she thought herself far too old for. Her bright gaze followed as the rabbit stood upright again. He smiled back upon her, his face honestly a little flush beneath the impenetrable fur (though, not so much from the girl’s affection, but rather from having others there to view him allow her act out upon that affection).

“T-thank you,” she finally managed.