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yrae2006-05-03 02:19 am
annarti.livejournal.com) wrote in yrae2006-05-03 02:19 am
ENGL 2503 Exercise 6
Title~ Mint
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine~
Notes~ Another uni assignment: Write a short piece (750 words *coughor886cough*) that is set in one place and consists of two or three episodes or vignettes that take place in strict chronological order. Then add a flashback that helps the reader make sense of the significance of the episodes, placing it between any two of the episodes.
The example they gave us actually did it with a lot of shorter fragments rather than essentially three big chunks, so I've gone with that idea instead. Seemed to fit better with this.
Mmm, angst.
~ ~ ~
He’s quiet. Very quiet. I’m not used to Raykinians being quiet. Not that we get them in here often, of course, but I’ve seen enough to know that even when he walked through the door, he was bizarrely quiet. Usually when they come into the healing house, they’re loud, obnoxious gits, oozing bravado from every pore… It’s really quite disgusting.
Especially this lot. What do they call themselves? I’m sure Kizi’s told me before. Warriors, anyway. Worst of the lot. They’re just so Raykinian it’s ugly.
But this one? Absolutely silent. Quite a relief, I must say.
~ ~ ~
I sit down heavily on the healer’s bed block, taking a deep breath to try and bring some life back into me. The cool, minty scent of the herbs around the healing house just adds to the mountain chill already in my veins. It’s nothing like the healing house back home. The herbs there are refreshing in the dry, desert heat, and feel as though they’re taking away any slight cold or ache just by breathing their perfume. Up here in the mountains, they’re just cold.
I let my breath out smoothly, calmly, still feeling numb all over. I’ve been numb for days now. I can’t say how many. I’ve lost count. My hands clench into loose fists—bad move. That same shock of pain courses up my right arm again, bringing an involuntary hiss from between my teeth. I hold my good, left hand to my temple, closing my eyes as I wait out the throbbing razor blades.
As with every time I’ve aggravated it though, it’s the pain in my mind that lingers long after the physical has faded.
Lin’s blood… if I had just been thinking…
~ ~ ~
One wrist is resting on his leg, so his hand hangs limply beside it. The other he’s got held up against his temple, and I can see that he’s grimacing with pain. I grab the bottle of standard pain killer from the shelf, with a spoon to measure it out. He’s probably got a migraine or something. That’d explain the un-Raykinian silence.
“Headache?” I ask him quietly, unscrewing the top of the bottle. “This will help.”
He shakes his head, still with his left hand there. His right, he lifts to push away my bottle.
I can’t help but gasp and take half a step back. I should be used to things like that; I am used to things like that, but it will always take a moment to adjust, no matter how experienced a healer you are.
~ ~ ~
Riders on black horses. At least two dozen of them. More than the fifteen of us could handle, so we bolted, scattering through the dank Kazinian forest in our groups.
~ ~ ~
I quickly fill a hand basin of fire-warmed antiseptic—water with some potato liqueur—from the pot at the back of the healing house, then set it down beside him. He doesn’t watch as he lowers his three-fingered hand into the basin, but I can hear him hiss at the flaring pain.
~ ~ ~
Me, Kaen and Naraan. We were almost flying through the trees on our own mounts, but the ever-present Kazinians could still be heard behind us, so close I could hear their black horses breathing down my neck.
~ ~ ~
He clenches his jaw tight as I begin to wash the blood from his hand. His good hand grips his forehead so that the knuckles turn white.
~ ~ ~
I turned around briefly in my saddle, trusting Lightfoot not to run into any trees as I counted our opposition. I yelled the Kazinian’s numbers out to Kaen and Naraan, and we wheeled around to face them.
~ ~ ~
I think I can see a drip of moisture squeezing from his otherwise sealed eyelids. Not to sound soppy or anything, but I’ve seen these men boast of injuries even worse this before.
~ ~ ~
I didn’t even realise it at first. The Kazinian’s blade was sharp enough that the cut was clean. There was pain, most certainly, but not as much as I would have expected. Much like when you stub your toe, and it only starts hurting when someone points out that it’s bleeding, only this was far worse than a stubbed toe.
~ ~ ~
I dribble some of the pain killer into the antiseptic water, but the anguish on his face clearly won’t be washed away by mint leaves and eucalyptus oil alone.
~ ~ ~
I saw another of the Kazinians aiming an arrow at me. I whipped my blade up to deflect it, but when it clashed with the steel, the pain that lanced up my arm almost made me lose my grip on the hilt.
The Kazinian aimed again and fired, but this arrow was missing me. I didn’t see the need to cause myself any further pain, so I let it fly past.
Only then did the thought enter my mind. Kazinians on black horses don’t miss.
It would have hurt, but I could have deflected that arrow. If I had just been thinking.
I lost a finger. Naraan lost his life. Who’s worse off?
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine~
Notes~ Another uni assignment: Write a short piece (750 words *coughor886cough*) that is set in one place and consists of two or three episodes or vignettes that take place in strict chronological order. Then add a flashback that helps the reader make sense of the significance of the episodes, placing it between any two of the episodes.
The example they gave us actually did it with a lot of shorter fragments rather than essentially three big chunks, so I've gone with that idea instead. Seemed to fit better with this.
Mmm, angst.
He’s quiet. Very quiet. I’m not used to Raykinians being quiet. Not that we get them in here often, of course, but I’ve seen enough to know that even when he walked through the door, he was bizarrely quiet. Usually when they come into the healing house, they’re loud, obnoxious gits, oozing bravado from every pore… It’s really quite disgusting.
Especially this lot. What do they call themselves? I’m sure Kizi’s told me before. Warriors, anyway. Worst of the lot. They’re just so Raykinian it’s ugly.
But this one? Absolutely silent. Quite a relief, I must say.
I sit down heavily on the healer’s bed block, taking a deep breath to try and bring some life back into me. The cool, minty scent of the herbs around the healing house just adds to the mountain chill already in my veins. It’s nothing like the healing house back home. The herbs there are refreshing in the dry, desert heat, and feel as though they’re taking away any slight cold or ache just by breathing their perfume. Up here in the mountains, they’re just cold.
I let my breath out smoothly, calmly, still feeling numb all over. I’ve been numb for days now. I can’t say how many. I’ve lost count. My hands clench into loose fists—bad move. That same shock of pain courses up my right arm again, bringing an involuntary hiss from between my teeth. I hold my good, left hand to my temple, closing my eyes as I wait out the throbbing razor blades.
As with every time I’ve aggravated it though, it’s the pain in my mind that lingers long after the physical has faded.
Lin’s blood… if I had just been thinking…
One wrist is resting on his leg, so his hand hangs limply beside it. The other he’s got held up against his temple, and I can see that he’s grimacing with pain. I grab the bottle of standard pain killer from the shelf, with a spoon to measure it out. He’s probably got a migraine or something. That’d explain the un-Raykinian silence.
“Headache?” I ask him quietly, unscrewing the top of the bottle. “This will help.”
He shakes his head, still with his left hand there. His right, he lifts to push away my bottle.
I can’t help but gasp and take half a step back. I should be used to things like that; I am used to things like that, but it will always take a moment to adjust, no matter how experienced a healer you are.
Riders on black horses. At least two dozen of them. More than the fifteen of us could handle, so we bolted, scattering through the dank Kazinian forest in our groups.
I quickly fill a hand basin of fire-warmed antiseptic—water with some potato liqueur—from the pot at the back of the healing house, then set it down beside him. He doesn’t watch as he lowers his three-fingered hand into the basin, but I can hear him hiss at the flaring pain.
Me, Kaen and Naraan. We were almost flying through the trees on our own mounts, but the ever-present Kazinians could still be heard behind us, so close I could hear their black horses breathing down my neck.
He clenches his jaw tight as I begin to wash the blood from his hand. His good hand grips his forehead so that the knuckles turn white.
I turned around briefly in my saddle, trusting Lightfoot not to run into any trees as I counted our opposition. I yelled the Kazinian’s numbers out to Kaen and Naraan, and we wheeled around to face them.
I think I can see a drip of moisture squeezing from his otherwise sealed eyelids. Not to sound soppy or anything, but I’ve seen these men boast of injuries even worse this before.
I didn’t even realise it at first. The Kazinian’s blade was sharp enough that the cut was clean. There was pain, most certainly, but not as much as I would have expected. Much like when you stub your toe, and it only starts hurting when someone points out that it’s bleeding, only this was far worse than a stubbed toe.
I dribble some of the pain killer into the antiseptic water, but the anguish on his face clearly won’t be washed away by mint leaves and eucalyptus oil alone.
I saw another of the Kazinians aiming an arrow at me. I whipped my blade up to deflect it, but when it clashed with the steel, the pain that lanced up my arm almost made me lose my grip on the hilt.
The Kazinian aimed again and fired, but this arrow was missing me. I didn’t see the need to cause myself any further pain, so I let it fly past.
Only then did the thought enter my mind. Kazinians on black horses don’t miss.
It would have hurt, but I could have deflected that arrow. If I had just been thinking.
I lost a finger. Naraan lost his life. Who’s worse off?
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no subject
...I'll stop rambling now XD;;
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I agree, this wasn't confusing ... as it very well could've been. Muy impressive. These are hard to do right. I've never even tried ^o^
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Like with Arathalian and a researcher or something </oh-so-subtle hint>
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Arathalian and a researcher? Not Arathalian and a li'l puppy? XD