The Vote - Tale of The Week 59

[Hesus de bodemloze]

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Submission 1

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Lost in Translation

“Did you hear that?” one exclaimed (we shall call it Michael), literally quivering with excitement.

“Mmm... Yes, looks like you were right, one of those pathetic creatures really is sentient” its companion (who we shall call Gabriel) responded wryly.

They silently contemplated the mental amplifier dominating their cabin. Of course, now the call had been detected, they would need to go back and investigate fully. Reluctantly reconfiguring the living area for in-system use they turned their little ship back to the island of life they had so recently left.

Their search of the region of the call's origin remained fruitless for a long time, during which the two gravitated toward their usual temperaments, Michael excitable and optimistic, Gabriel saturnine and cynical. The detector responded to every mote of life, its chimes loudest for the two-legged ones, but there was never anything coherent. Then, finally, the mental tone they remembered came again.

They landed at a native monument, its design resembling a standard mooring for interstellar craft. (Were the locals subconsciously aware of the wider universe?) Having sent the ship up far enough for its saucer shape to be inconspicuous, Gabriel insisted that they adopt forms that wouldn't be unsettling to the locals. Michael agreed grudgingly, but had trouble coordinating the four-legged part without waving the arms of the rider in time to its trot.

As it turned out, the locals proved not to be a problem, their puny sensoria easily fooled by Gabriel's powers of mental projection. They arrived at their target's domicile just in time to receive the mental blast of its loudest broadcast yet through their portable amplifier.

“It wants something desperately, but I don't quite understand what, damn that useless machine.” Gabriel complained.

But Michael was much more assured. “I got a clear psychic impression of its friend/mate(?) in distress, of the need to poke holes in the friend's hide to release excess fluid. I think it must have Bloat!”

The two agreed that the best way to get on good terms with their target would be to find and bring relief to the friend/mate, whose signature was so strong in the call they would have no trouble locating it.

As they hurried off on their mercy mission, Michael mused. “At least we have these shiny pointy things, they should be ideal for relieving Bloat.”

Gabriel couldn't help voicing its reservations. “I still don't really understand that last word, are you sure it means Bloat?” it said, waving an admonishing tentacle. “They don't resemble us at all physically you know, they might not even have acid sacs.”

Michael ignored the remark, preferring to amuse itself practising therapeutic stabbing actions while the phrase continued unnoticed in the background, repeating itself over and over...

'Will no one rid me of this turbulent Priest?'.

Submission 2

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The Duel
"Where is he?" I asked the air.
"Where is he?" I called for the heir.
I awaited his arrival and he had not came.
I awaited his arrival, had he no shame?
I clasp my sword as a noise was heard,
As I prepared for battle, I felt absurd.
Under the night's skies and in the cover of darkness,
I readied myself for the time that is upon us.
A time of death and misery,
When our swords cried wildly.
The two princes clashed,
We both slashed.
Under the moon's gaze we fight,
Fighting wildly in the night.

He slashed,
I dodged.
He stabbed,
I blocked.
I took my sword and vehemently bashed it on his helm,
It cracked open with a noise not from this realm.
The awestruck prince then retook his sword,
I felt a pain I could not afford.
Such pain I felt as cold steel met my flesh,
My shoulder facing a gash.
I took the sword once more, this time stabbing,
He easily dodged with his face laughing.
I felt my doom,
I felt it loom.
My death was near,
But he was here.

I saw the Reaper, he beckoned...
I refused to go, my pain worsened.
I took my sword once more, stab I did.
The prince looked at me as my sword slid.
He fell lifeless to the floor,
Victory was at my door!
But the Reaper was there...
Oh how would I dare?
I said no, but my pain overtook me.
I saw just black as the Reaper took me.
So I leave this world, triumphant.
So I leave this world... But die I mustn't...
I have no choice...
Death has no voice...
I fight it again,
But we are already at the plane.
This is how I die,
Not with a cry,
But a whimper.
A cowardly death, for a proud fighter.

Submission 3

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"Only Faith"

Wolves howled in the crisp night's air. Moonlight glanced down upon the temple stones, as if they were a scolded child caught with dirty fingers in the butter churn. “The Devils” had chosen harvest time to bring their wrath. As the two doomed companions rode across the meadow...


Yuri, I don't want to die.....Shut up you little twit. The Tuetons sacked Danzig a fortnight ago, set it ablaze with left nothing but ashes. They eviscerated the village priests on the temple stones, then stuck their heads on pikes. They say you can still see the gaze of terror in the priests eyes. How can any creature harbor such malis and hate? We've been summoned and we must go. We’ll be at the gathering point by morning. You‘ll feel better with some food in you. I’m sorry we didn’t eat before we left but there was no time.

But the Ritterbruder’s eyes are coals of fire and breath far fowler than any rotten carcass. Their fangs drip with poison that kills in an instant. Their sacks filled with the heads of children that they cover with honey and snack on while drinking tainted wine mixed with buckets of blood. Oh by the gods…let’s go home Yuri. Shut up,… little twit that’s nothing but bullocks we told you children to keep you in line. Come on now, we’ll be their by morning and you can get some rest.

In the back of his mind Yuri remembered that every breath of it was true. He saw those butchers kill his parents, but by Odin’s breath they would not take his children. His bladder released it’s warm embrace and tears strewn down his covered face as he thought of the past and the things to come.

Twas rumored that Christian Poles rode from Krakow to help them banish the Demons……

Submission 4

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"Unforgotten Deeds"
The ringing of a bell broke the silence of the night. The burning flames of torches danced wildly in the air, but the people remained still and without the slightest utterance. The place was sacred, but a sense of desperation bound their lips. No prayers or festivals were to be held; no feasts or great tales of bravery. As cruel as the land had been when it had come time for harvesting last season, it was the indifference of the gods which struck the populace the hardest. The priests claimed the famine was brought about by an offense to the gods, and so they were here; here to rectify their wrongs.

The ring around the central disk parted to make way for the three priests, whose faces were hidden behind hoods. When they had positioned themselves in a perfect triangle around the disk, they bowed their heads and uttered a short blessing. The audience bowed as well, and repeated the phrase. Then the priests raised their heads and called out a name.

"CERIAN."

Had the situation been any different, the tribe would have protested vehemently, but it passed almost without feeling. Whatever her crime, the gods demanded her death. She hesitated a moment as the grappled with her fate, then stepped forth. Tears fell as she spread her limbs across the disk, and saw the dagger being unsheathed. The next moment it was planted firmly in her chest. Her final breath left then, as silently as it had came.

"ANGWEN."

Again, the victim stepped forth, and again, the scene was repeated. When the life had finally left the body, it was dragged off the disk and discarded to the side. And hence, the ring around the disk grew smaller and smaller, until there was no longer space to dump the bodies; at which point, they began stacking...

"HEREMON."

By the time the last man was called, the intentions of the priests were clear. He stepped forth, half-crawling, half-climbing over the bodies. Blood trickled down across the land, and the priests' robes were now stained a too-familiar red. He lay his head down on the stone tablet, in the same place his children had before him; in the same place his lords and servants had too. His eyes looked up at the sky; only the moon stared back.

Then the third priest lay upon the disk, and the second. Finally the leader was the only one remaining. He slashed his wrists so that his blood mingled with those of his kinsmen, and seeped into the ground to be reborn anew, then gutted his eyes out of shame.

But none of this, the travelers knew. They rode past the stones silently, even as the stones cried out their testimony.

Submission 5

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Observers.


"What do you think they are doing there?"

"What do I know?"

"I think they are just exploring. Maybe investigating the place..."

"Ok, let me rephrase that. What do I care?"

"Well, it was their ancestors who worshipped this place, before the new cults from abroad came..."

"So?"

"So their curiosity for their forefathers may have brought them here, which could lead them to finding their true origin..."

"Bah! As if those "things" would be able to figure it out."

"Don't underestimate them. Not that long ago that you said they would never buildup, now they are erecting stone fortresses everywhere."

"You call those things fortresses? I'd barely call them buildings at all."

"I call it progress."

The silence grew between the two colleagues, as they carefully watched the riders moving around the ruins, exploring.

"Besides, erosion has probably done a good job at erasing our traces."

"Look! He's touching the stones!"

"Relax! they won't find anything."

"Maybe we should, you know, scare them off."

"Yeah, because that would not make them suspicious of our existence."

"It is a good idea..."

"Hey, last time you had a good idea you decided to go down and help them build THAT! And now we are stuck here!"

"If they find it out, it is us who will have to respond to the Council...again."

"They do not scare me. I've been dealing with them since we were first sent here...like, 3000 years ago?"

"3618 years, 134 days, 21 hours, to be precise."

"See? They have had all that time to find these stone's origins, and they have not done it, what makes you think they will do it tonight?"

"They are getting smarter, friend, you can't...wait, what is that one doing?"

"Touching the stone?"

"No, he's reading from it. He's...pushing that one in the middle with the metal stick, then going South for the second...then...he's activating the sequence!"

"I-I think you're right!"

"I told you they would do it!"

"So now what? We cannot let them activate it!"

"I guess we'll have to put them to sleep."

"Don't be stupid! No! get away from that module! We are not supposed to interfere anymore!"

"Let me do it! Let go! Ah! See, you made me turn on the lights!"

"They are looking up! They are looking at us!"

"Of course they!"

"Imbecile! And now they are running away! Oh no! The Council will be so angry!"

"No they won't if you let me take care of them!"

"No, wait! We'll use the new equipment. Take them up here, and if it does its work, they won't remember a thing! It'd be as if nothing happened!"

"It's never been tested on them!"

"We have no other options!"

"Um, yes we do! Let me finish them!"

"No! I am your superior and you will obey my commands!"

"*Sighs* As you command Sir...I have a feeling that we will regret this..."

Saying that, the disk lifted the two men, and got lost in the dark infinity.

Submission 6

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NIGHT
He shuddered under his helmet. The night sky seemed to cover them like a funeral shroud. And the only thing darker than the sky was the circle of stones before him. Well, before them.

He hadn't noticed that he was being followed. He hadn't thought that anyone would bother to venture so far out into uninhabited land. By day it could have actually been picturesque...in a weird way. It wasn't a very natural place, and the great menhirs jutted out of the landscape like jagged teeth in need of bashing in.

Bashing.

He was still being followed.

The soldier, despite being clad from head to toe in the panoply of battle, was unsure if he could win against this opponent. An unknown one. Was it a bandit living in the hills? Were the stones his temporary hideout? Was it a ranger, one who scouted the area regularly?

Oh, why had he come! He had always been drawn to the wilds, he had always been fascinated by the dangerous spots. He had always ignored the warnings of his family, his friends, his superior officers.

The soldier turned and saw his own reflection in the hazy night air. Something wasn't right. Why was his gear so dirty? And where did he get that scar on his arm from? The gauntlet had been completely torn off. But his eyes, his suddenly wise and weary eyes, rested on the sword in his shade's hand.

It was covered in blood.

The soldier galloped as hard as he could back to camp. He would never return there again.

[SonOfAlexander]

1 -
Great tale - got my vote. The adjectives were perfect and you really pulled me in with the faint hints of who they were and what they were doing. Original, interesting, and all wound up very well at the end. A nice exterior view of humanity.

2 -
Nice to see a poem, but unfortunately it didnt tickle my fancy. Yes it rhymed well, but endless couplets are just too typical and samy in my opinion - something a little DIFFERENT. Otherwise, very well set out and followed through, with an excellent pace and control over the 'plot'.

3-
A real shame. You really know how to string together beautiful, fluent phrases that could come from William Golding, but unfortunately it was all too random. The storyline was just too vague and so strongly 'barbarian' it didn't catch me really. Good try though.

4-
Gritty, hard nosed, primitive stuff. Love that sort of thing. But when you see that pic its the first thing that pops into your head. Its a shame you couldnt have made a more interesting plot, and after the first paragraph or so it is a little repetitive.

5 -
Hmmm. I really liked the whole one-two dialogue set up, and you do it well with authentic lines. But I don't understand in the end - are these characters gods or what? The last line should have tied everything up and left me glowing with satisfaction but...

6-
Very good actually. One big problem is that it doesnt grab you from the beginning, I had to read on to find the juice. Otherwise very rapid succesion style of events. Too short as well, but good value for what's there.

[Mega Tortas de Bodemloze]

3-
A real shame. You really know how to string together beautiful, fluent phrases that could come from William Golding, but unfortunately it was all too random. The storyline was just too vague and so strongly 'barbarian' it didn't catch me really. Good try though.

Just the incoherent ramblings of a shattered mind.... The writer did however take pains to stay with the picture though....The review is greatly appreciated...thank you... The story is simply about a father trying to protect his family....Luthuanians against the Germanic onslaught...

William Golding...I'm unfamiliar with him, could someone point me in the right direction please....

[Legio]

william golding wrote lord of the flies.

[Nazgûl Killer]

2 -
Nice to see a poem, but unfortunately it didnt tickle my fancy. Yes it rhymed well, but endless couplets are just too typical and samy in my opinion - something a little DIFFERENT. Otherwise, very well set out and followed through, with an excellent pace and control over the 'plot'.

Oh, I see your point... Hmm... Thanks mate, I'll improve on that next time

[Mega Tortas de Bodemloze]

Now if I may... I'd like to say a few words on the beauty of these weekly gatherings... The Diversity...Each person bringing a different view-point on the same focus. Take my scribblings...They are mainly emotional retching and as many of you have pointed out, very unpolished. But then that is my feeling and expression style. Take this week's piece in my mind probably my best rendering here because in my mind it focused on the picture and the story. To me stayed within it's confines... Having posted it early {for me} I went back and read it several times over a few days and to me it made sense and was indeed polished....

"To each their own in their own way" So to each of you, thank you for everything you post, and in the different styles you render them in....

[Juvenal]

Yes, we do all indeed seem to have our personal styles. I value Mega's creativity and emotional impact, while Naz gives us enthusiastic torrents of verse (my own work in that direction produce very small results for great effort). I seem to recall Theo being the master of melodrama, while Viking Prince produces quiet, thoughtful, slightly melancholy tales.

My own stories have a tendency to be clinical and cold, laced with ironic humour, something I'd like to be able to vary... but it really is hard trying to get out of my rut.

[SonOfAlexander]

Yes, we do all indeed seem to have our personal styles. I value Mega's creativity and emotional impact, while Naz gives us enthusiastic torrents of verse (my own work in that direction produce very small results for great effort). I seem to recall Theo being the master of melodrama, while Viking Prince produces quiet, thoughtful, slightly melancholy tales.

My own stories have a tendency to be clinical and cold, laced with ironic humour, something I'd like to be able to vary... but it really is hard trying to get out of my rut.

All right, and I agree with your self-analysis as well.
Personally, I see mine as trying to be sort of dramatic, either through action or pure strength of description. But the problem with that is it doesnt always work...

[Nazgûl Killer]

while Naz gives us enthusiastic torrents of verse (my own work in that direction produce very small results for great effort)

Well, shucks...

[Juvenal]

My apologies for failing to mention SonOfAlexander's tales of high adventure and derring-do.

Looks like we have a 3-way tie for first place here. I wonder if it might be a good idea to not allow voting for oneself in the run-off - maybe that would break the log-jam.

[Mega Tortas de Bodemloze]

Ya I think a little sandwhich-boarding might be in order as well. I'm sure we can do a little better than 7 votes....The run-off would last the week...no?? I can re-make my sig and make the rounds then....

Edit: Once they post the run off I'll make my sig a sandwhich board and see if I can drum up some passers by...