Serenity

[Perplexis-Umbra]

AN: Just this dark fantasy idea I had been playing with. Its been sitting my flash drive for over a month now. I feel that if I was to really put my all into it, I could create this kind of lurid, surreal, psychological\emotional experience. This is just kind of a tidbit of text I had written when the idea was spinning around in my head. All of the names were thought of on the spot. I wrote it all within a few hours.

Serenity. That is what I had seen in that moment. The sun in her hair, the moon in her skin, a sadness in her eyes… a purity in her soul. I was captivated in that moment. The room was littered with corpses. My sword and my armor were stained with it. But my mind did not see that, it saw something else, a gateway, into the past. Hope? Solace outside of killing. And I knew at that moment that this vision was my salvation, that there was no path to follow but hers and death. I swore an unspoken creed in madness at that moment, to follow serenity to the ends of the Earth, and to protect her always.

My eyes were locked on her. My mind was sent spinning by her. On one plane I saw a sad little girl, looking on at me and my comrades frozen and horrified, her young mind desperate for escape, yet none was given. On another, I saw a distant bliss brought to the forefront of memory by this vision. And on the farthest plane, one entirely separate from reality, I saw an angel to cleanse me of my sins and revive my humanity.

While shrouded in my incoherent musings I caught the sight of one of my compatriots moving towards the girl. I was struck back into reality. I knew very well what would happen to her if she was to be taken by the good men who serve the crown. She would in all likelihood be sold when we made our way back to the capital, and that road is a terrible and sad one. I could not allow it. In one fell swoop I sealed my fate. I drew my sword, and ran the man through, quickly and concisely, making haste to remove my sword from his back so I could attend to my two stunned brothers in arms. Their eyes were filled with shock for a moment, then with fear, and finally with anger. They were men loyal to the crown, stupid, mediocre swordsman, but loyal. Battle doctrine states that any man who slays a brother has committed a deplorable sin, and must be put to death. The larger of the two belched out a forceful, “Prophet help you Sir, you will die for this.” I did always love how men liked to posture just before they died. It was somewhat sad though, not even stopping to scrutinize the situation, just charging in like the wild dogs they had been trained to be.
They charged at me.

I dodged the attack of the first one, blocking the incoming attack of the second and countering by knocking the man off his balance. I caught the first just as he came in for a low thrust. I pinned his sword to the ground with my own and kicked him dead in the chest, sending him reeling backwards onto his arse, and making sure to arm myself with his blade. The second one came at me again with a heavy overhand strike, poor fool left himself wide open, I skewered him through the gut with his own body weight. I then casually kicked him off my blade, still somewhat alive, and no doubt slowly, painfully, correcting the fact. I ended the conflict swiftly thereafter by silencing the disarmed, disoriented man on the ground with his own weapon.

Then I turned to Serenity. She feared me. Thinking back I must have looked like evil personified in the form of a man. My comrades and I had massacred our way through the keep in our quest to bring Lord Windsor to justice. I was an ominous figure, shrouded in dark steel covered in maroon. But I suppose when all looks grim even a demon can seem like salvation, because when I went to the girl, outstretched my hand, met her eyes with mine and said to her in a most sincere voice much unlike myself, “I can help you, if you come with me. I could protect you.” Her fear subsided some, and she looked up at me, speaking no words, perhaps they were scared away by the monster before her, but somehow probing me with those... piercing green eyes. A child desperately looking for someone to save her? She wanted a hero, and I was not one, but perhaps I would suffice.

In that moment came from her, a gesture which seemed so poignant to me, almost soul-shattering in its power, she began to outstretch her small pale hand to meet my dark blood-stained hand. A hand which had brought so much death, hands red with the blood of the innocent and the guilty alike, to be touched by something so pure. But why was I seeing this child as such? It struck me then, my thoughts came together, and her face was connected to the face of my sister… my dead rotting sister, whom another dead boy had cared for so.

The snow white hair, a universal mark of her Legasian heritage, her eyes were that vibrant green I knew so well, and her facial features were the same frail, delicate, childish features embedded in my mind, suddenly revived, when time had ravaged their image. It made me feel… happy, but in a distant sense, as if it was not I who was feeling the pleasant emotion, but someone else, someone so close to me I could feel their joy radiating into me. Yet unlike how my waning memories pictured my long lost sister, her face was so sad, so hopeless… That image cut at me deeper than any blade ever had.

Before her hand reached mine I was stricken by a voice I had come to know by a certain disdain that I could associate with no other. My dear friend, and fellow knight Sir Hollos of Westerfield. He was arrogant and vile, yet dutiful, just another dog, and how I hated him.

“Balstone! Windsor has escaped, stop prancing around, waving your sword like it’s your prick, and get back down here!” a gravelly repugnant voice, lacking any real finesse or pleasant qualities to speak of, came booming up the stairwell, to the back of me and the girl.

Obnoxious fool. I’d wanted to cut his throat since the day I met him, if for no other reason than to shut him up. I wanted to finally indulge that desire, but I knew Sir Hollos, for what little good I could say about the man, he could handle a blade. He was one of the few men I wasn't entirely sure whether or not I could best in combat, and I was not sure I wanted to know just yet.

Sir Hollos came up the winding stone steps to the dim cobblestone room littered with lifeless bloody forms, which had once been a fairly extravagant bed chamber, where me and the girl resided, his armor clanking with each dreaded step, his boot-clad foot carried him over the last step and into our view. He was an unsightly creature, receding gray hair, the unkempt makings of a beard clinging to a weak jutting jaw covered in worn leathery skin, a mouth filled with nothing but broken and yellow teeth formed into a permanent scowl, pale blue eyes, filled with bitter disdain, for what, I never knew, perhaps everyone, perhaps himself. It was all brought together by a battered collection of plate and leather that he would call armor. My friend… I had fought together with him on the battlefield, now we served our king together, called upon to silence a disobedient lord, and how I loathed him.

Clearly he scared the girl as much as he scared me because she was desperately trying to use me as a barrier between her and Sir Hollos, yet making a point to stay a certain distance from me, still not by any means trusting me, yet I believe desiring to. Those eyes of his surveyed the room for a moment, silently assessing the situation, his expression still as if someone had laid a cow pie at his feet. “What happened to your men Balstone?” he hissed inquisitively. “Few of them were killed by some that had tried to defend the little lordling.” Our attentions both turned to four men clad in chain and sky blue tabard with a dove holding a golden chalice seemingly soaring across their chests, sprawled out in their own blood, one with his head missing, another with a mace lodged in his breast just missing the dove. My eyes turned back to him, and his locked with mine “The others… I killed.”

Without pause he drew his sword from its scabbard. “Let’s get on with it then. We both know how it goes.” He came into a defensive stance watching my movements. I stood at attention trying to find what my next move would be in this predicament I had so readily thrust myself into with no hope for reprieve. “You know, I never liked the look of you. A little boy looking on at everyone around him like they were no better than the vermin skittering in the shit… Draw your sword so we can see what color your insides are.” His eyes flicked to the girl behind me, and he smiled a ghastly smile. “Who’s the little cunt?” he said as if amused by the situation. He seemed to think for a moment and then let out a soft chuckle. “So, that’s it. That’s what gets you hot, Balstone? The demon of Erihall with his smoky grey armor and his blood red raven, has a soft spot for little girls. Well Balstone, I promise when I cut you down I’ll sell her to pleasure house for a few coppers, get me self a nice meal and a woman to wet my cock, and I’ll thank you by pissing on your grave.”

I don’t know why he thought such things would work. I suppose he never knew me to show compassion, and was trying to exploit that, trying to make me stupid. Man was an oaf, his tongue never stopped wagging with venomous drivel, but he knew how to kill, and he knew how to intimidate. That much could be said for him. I needed to kill him, or debilitate him, but I could not die, not yet, not until she was safe. I knew I didn’t have to worry about the rest of the flock. They would stay put for quite some time. Every man who has ever been in Sir Hollos’s service has always been terrified of him. He told them to stay put, so he could come up here and play his games with me. Windsor was probably long gone as is. A coward it seemed, left his spoiled boy to die while he slipped out in the night. He should have known. This king was not like his father. He shouldn’t have tried to fuck him.

A new thought came screeching to the forefront of my my mind, shattering all others in the process. It was a cowardly thing to do, but I had no honor, and Sir Hollos was not fast, with a blade maybe, but not with his feet. My armor was a light mesh of studded leather and chain. I had never liked being slow. I was always seeking balance, but Hollos’s armor was heavy, he was my senior as well, by how much, I never cared to remember, but he was certainly older than me. A simple thought, pick up the girl, just run. There was only one way out though, behind Sir Hollos. Merathi spice smoke, I had always kept a pouch on me, it had saved my life once, when my sword snapped in two, almost taking my head off in the process. It gave me just what I needed to gather my head and… improvise.

I knew what I needed to do. I drew my sword slowly, leisurely, and locked eyes with Sir Hollos. “So this is how it ends?” I said in a macabre matter of fact manner. “Aye,” he said in agreement. I looked back at the girl, she still looked so scared, so unsure, so vulnerable. I was mad, but it felt nice to fight for something, something other than my own petty need for blood. We charged at each other, sword in hand. And when we met, I did something Sir Hollos didn’t expect. I ducked in for a low thrust, he went to counter it, but then I changed my fighting style from Arturan to Merathi, using a movement designed for a curved blade, but a straight one would have to do. I came into an upward vertical motion, he was taken aback for a moment, but managed to block. I carried the energy all the way through and turned my entire body in a revolution as fast as I could manage, coming back in for another strike, knocking him back some with it. I did it again. I did it once more. And on the fourth a red plume shot from my hand into Hollos’s face, bring him debilitating pain and momentary blindness, while bringing me a gateway.

I looked back to Serenity, and promptly said, “Come with me… please, if you stay here… bad things will happen,” my voice quivering at the thought, an echo of the past, reminding me what fear was. And what was I? I was a mad man and a killer, exploiting a fearful child, so I could feel… something else, something pleasant, something human. But she wouldn’t die that day, she wouldn’t be a slave. I would defend, not slaughter for my petty bloodlust, but kill so this child may live, one good deed, perhaps that was my true desire, something worth fighting for.

And she came, when I called she came, through fear, delusion, or hope… Innocence possibly. Was I to be her knight on the valiant white stead? Perhaps so. Sir Hollos’s howling was so far away to me, a muddled cry beneath an ocean of much louder sounds, filling my mind to the brim with their echoes. There was something running towards me, something, disruptive, as if the mere sight distorted my distinctions between reality and fiction, a glow, a subtle aurora of white light, a snow-haired child, a frilly dress stained with dirt and blood… No rage, no turmoil, I shall not burn them all, nor shall the earth be stained with maroon, a sudden solace within mind and spirit, an unfamiliar sensation, unparalleled in its ability quell the nameless entities which choose to tear at me ceaselessly... sweet... Serenity... Would you be my guide through the dark?


Feel free to give feedback. I enjoy being told what I did wrong. Makes it easier to improve in the future. Not that it really matters, as this was less of a planned focused effort, and more of a burst of passion, figured I'd post it somewhere instead of letting it rot.

[ViceVersus]

Oh my. At first, I was daunted at the length of the piece, and the density of it - there are no paragraph breaks for new characters giving dialogue, as is the norm. But I found myself drawn into it. Like, a lot.

It's a gorgeous play of light, dark, good, evil, abstract concepts and concrete visceral detail. There are a lot of elements crashing together in this piece, and the aesthetic really made me feel a part of your first person narrator's psyche - and part me thinks that isn't entirely a good thing. With first person narrative, there's always the delicious option to give your reader the signs that their narrator's perception is violently askew. I got the sense of that, with this.

As I said before, sometimes it is so artfully abstract (particularly with the play on shadows and image; concepts like innocence and betrayal too!) and yet the opening physicality of trading blows was crisp and brutal. It is clear you have a strong command of language.

I won't comment on the structure of the tale itself, as it all seemed to pour forth in a wonderful jumble. What I would like to see next is the story told again, but this time, from the perspective of Serenity. Try to invert the tale. Lord Windsor being a good, just man. Your protagonist kidnapping her in madness and evil, rather than protecting her. Sir Hollos, an honorable man protecting his siege's home. That would be just absolutely juicy, especially if her tale was tactful, to the point, and free of emotional turbulence, as children often just experience what they see and know to be true.

Anyways, doing that would put the reader in an awkward position, not knowing who exactly to believe. After all, a child's perspective on something can be simplistic and wrong, but the narrator from this piece is in a state of wild near-madness. Who knows what track he's on.

That's just my take, though. Really awesome job, thank you for posting.

-VV

[The Afterman]

I was pretty baffled by how amazingly well-thought out this piece appeared (I don't know if it was spontaneous or not). While my opinion isn't nearly as expert as Vice's, I'll give it anyway.

I love the character Balstone; conflicted, looking for something to fight for, finding that cause in Serenity. His motives seem justified, wanting to protect the innocence of a defenseless little girl. But if I look at it from another angle, I could ask if it was Serenity he was defending, or his own soul? Is he protecting the girl so that she may go on to do better things than becoming a whore in a "pleasure house," or is he merely trying to redeem himself? It could be both, but Balstone's apparent insanity begs to question his true motives. Maybe he's trying to make himself believe he's doing this for the right reasons. I can't know, only you can.

It's well crafted, I'll say as much. Morality has gone askew, doing the wrong things for the greater good seems to play heavily in the story. Also, blind patriotism and reckless chivalry are some elements I personally interpret; people blindly carrying out the will of another without question, or putting their lives on the line for someone else with nay a thought. It's impacting, and shows you some very deep-rooted human qualities.

Sir Hollos is a character I think everyone can recognize: that person you just want silenced, that rude, arrogant person whose every word is a curse from hell itself. I found myself wanting this character ended; not because he is portrayed badly, mind you, he was fantastically well done, but because he is who he is. Allowing his survival adds that sense of longing, that irking feeling that you were expecting him to die but he didn't. A wonderful technique to use; it will make readers come back if you decide to pursue continuing the story. I myself want to read further into the fates of Balstone and Serenity, as well as that of Sir Hollos, should he and Balstone ever cross paths again.

I also like how Serenity is both a person and a concept: she's a little girl, but at the same time she seems to represent Balstone's redemption, and peace of mind. I hope that is the theme you intended her to portray, because I get the sense that it is. If not, maybe I'm just over-analyzing.

Either way, an amazing work, and I hope to see more. Your diction is quite captivating, and you paint a very grand picture with words.
I hope you decide to continue this story, for I was entranced by it.

[Perplexis-Umbra]

Wow... Thank you both very much. It's funny because I wouldn't have expected anyone to praise this. I really just wrote it because the scene kept replaying in my mind, which is why it starts so abruptly without any real explanation of exactly what's going on. I really just felt the need to write up that one scene. I'm actually rewriting this right now, and I intend to begin directly before the massacre at the castle, to give a better introduction to the character of Sir Nicholas Balstone, and making sure everything's properly fleshed out, without any major grammatical errors. I'm notorious for not finishing things, but I would like to delve into this story more. The idea has been lurking around in my head for probably over a year now.

Oh my. At first, I was daunted at the length of the piece, and the density of it - there are no paragraph breaks for new characters giving dialogue, as is the norm. But I found myself drawn into it. Like, a lot.

You know, it's funny. I edited it a ridiculous number of times to change like a minor error in a single sentence, but it never occurred to me to do that, yet as I said, the original piece was very informal. I pretty much just kept typing until I was done. Though, your reaction is exactly as intended. Like I said it's supposed to be a very lurid and surreal experience

It's a gorgeous play of light, dark, good, evil, abstract concepts and concrete visceral detail. There are a lot of elements crashing together in this piece, and the aesthetic really made me feel a part of your first person narrator's psyche - and part me thinks that isn't entirely a good thing. With first person narrative, there's always the delicious option to give your reader the signs that their narrator's perception is violently askew. I got the sense of that, with this

Thank you once again. That analysis makes me feel very good about my writing skills, which is an area where I criticize myself endlessly. Don't be alarmed, once again, exactly as I would have liked it to be. Well, the entire story is subjective to the mind of Nicholas Balstone, so yes his views are askew. At the time of the book his perception of reality is very volatile, you notice how at first he calls her Serenity as if she is some divine avatar to free him from his own turmoil, then when he's forced to kill the soldiers and interact with a world outside of his own distant dreamscape he calls her 'the girl' with significantly less veneration, then he calls her Serenity when he's pulled back in again.

As I said before, sometimes it is so artfully abstract (particularly with the play on shadows and image; concepts like innocence and betrayal too!) and yet the opening physicality of trading blows was crisp and brutal. It is clear you have a strong command of language.

Thank you yet again. Exactly what I intended. The story is told is supposed to shift along with Sir Nicholas's fractured psyche.

I won't comment on the structure of the tale itself, as it all seemed to pour forth in a wonderful jumble. What I would like to see next is the story told again, but this time, from the perspective of Serenity. Try to invert the tale. Lord Windsor being a good, just man. Your protagonist kidnapping her in madness and evil, rather than protecting her. Sir Hollos, an honorable man protecting his siege's home. That would be just absolutely juicy, especially if her tale was tactful, to the point, and free of emotional turbulence, as children often just experience what they see and know to be true

Now, to do that it would kind the whole foundation of the the tale. Serenity isn't just a little girl, she's an idea, honestly the story is supposed to be written in such a way that she could just be a figment of Sir Nicholas's mind, him projecting the image of his dead sister, so he could escape from his demons. To give her a voice outside of Sir Nicholas would ruin the dreamlike qualities intended in the story.

I was pretty baffled by how amazingly well-thought out this piece appeared (I don't know if it was spontaneous or not). While my opinion isn't nearly as expert as Vice's, I'll give it anyway.

Thank you. The idea is fairly well thought out. When I get an idea for a story I just sort of unconsciously build it, so the character of Sir Nicholas Balstone is very well thought out, but this individual writing is very spontaneous, maybe I had general outline, but all the names except for Balstone's are thought of on the spot, along with Sir Hollos and the way in which events transpired.

I love the character Balstone; conflicted, looking for something to fight for, finding that cause in Serenity. His motives seem justified, wanting to protect the innocence of a defenseless little girl. But if I look at it from another angle, I could ask if it was Serenity he was defending, or his own soul? Is he protecting the girl so that she may go on to do better things than becoming a whore in a "pleasure house," or is he merely trying to redeem himself? It could be both, but Balstone's apparent insanity begs to question his true motives. Maybe he's trying to make himself believe he's doing this for the right reasons. I can't know, only you can.

Well, Balstone is a very conflicted character, sort of lost within himself, and the reason he feels so strongly towards saving Serenity, is really a multi-faceted issue. I'd say you're right in all perspectives, but there's also multiple other areas to look at, that really haven't been looked into anywhere else but in my head. The story is not designed to end where it ended.

It's well crafted, I'll say as much. Morality has gone askew, doing the wrong things for the greater good seems to play heavily in the story. Also, blind patriotism and reckless chivalry are some elements I personally interpret; people blindly carrying out the will of another without question, or putting their lives on the line for someone else with nay a thought. It's impacting, and shows you some very deep-rooted human qualities.

And there is another thing built into the framework of the idea. It's meant to be both a human psychological experience, and a psychological experience within the parameters of the character Sir Nicholas Balstone.

Sir Hollos is a character I think everyone can recognize: that person you just want silenced, that rude, arrogant person whose every word is a curse from hell itself. I found myself wanting this character ended; not because he is portrayed badly, mind you, he was fantastically well done, but because he is who he is. Allowing his survival adds that sense of longing, that irking feeling that you were expecting him to die but he didn't. A wonderful technique to use; it will make readers come back if you decide to pursue continuing the story. I myself want to read further into the fates of Balstone and Serenity, as well as that of Sir Hollos, should he and Balstone ever cross paths again.

Now Sir Hollos, I couldn't really have much to say about. He's a very new addition to the story, and I would like to give him a slightly less venomous personality, make him more of a solemn dutiful character, but still with that spite towards Balstone.

I also like how Serenity is both a person and a concept: she's a little girl, but at the same time she seems to represent Balstone's redemption, and peace of mind. I hope that is the theme you intended her to portray, because I get the sense that it is. If not, maybe I'm just over-analyzing.

Exactly so. As I said to Vice, she exists in a manner subjective to Balstone, and it is up to the reader to really decide her exact nature.

Either way, an amazing work, and I hope to see more. Your diction is quite captivating, and you paint a very grand picture with words.
I hope you decide to continue this story, for I was entranced by it.

Well, I certainly will continue this. I've written around 1100 words of the new version. Thank you both once more. I do rarely get a chance to have feedback on my writing. I might even write something along the lines of a novella.




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[Perplexis-Umbra]

*Withdrawn*