chapter 04

I blinked twice. Checked three times. But I couldn’t figure it out. It seemed… nothing was holding the equipment in place. They just seemed to floated there, resting straight against the wall but never touching the ground.

With an “L” shaped palm I laid my index finger against one of the axe handles. Hesitation. I cautiously applied pressure towards the axe. Nothing. I pushed against the axe. Nada. I repeatedly thrust my palm against the handle, grunting with each shove. I hurt my wrist. Taking a step back, I rubbed the soreness from my hand and looked over the tall, bony axe. Somehow, all these pieces were firmly fitted against the wall and refused to budge.

This must have been the day of realizations because I had just noticed one more thing. This room only had one door. The one which had closed behind me. The one which had upon its back a rather large vampire-ish looking skull with a handle grip dripping from its mouth and five various length scythe-like blades bursting from its bone-carved hair. The skin of my forehead tightened. This room had the same warm, enticing, glow (maybe even more so) as the rest of the house, but something about being closed in a room surrounded by floating murder tools sent a sudden chill up my spine.

I’ve had enough of this room. Aiming for the door’s knob, just to the left of the vampire skull’s smallest fang, I closed my eyes and reached for it. I know I’m a wimp, but the largest weapon I’ve ever been in contact with is a kitchen knife and the knives here obviously weren’t meant for use with food.

Rock-like texture dragged against the back of my hand as I turned the knob. Teeth pinched together, I pulled the door towards me and jumped through! The door closed and I shuddered, forcing the skull’s stagnant glare to become a shaky memory. I wouldn’t have minded looking around more. Some of the armor was artistically attractive, but I’m not that “in” to violence or its fashions, as you can tell. I shuddered again and exited the empty room.

“Food.” The thought passed through my mind once again. I still hadn’t found that storage room. Where could it have been?
Ding! Ding!
Underneath the staircase a narrow door seemed to chime at me.
How did I miss that?
I shook my head then walked over to the door. With my arm extended, the door began to shake as if in fear of me.
What the-?

No. The door wasn’t shaking. I was shaking. No, everything was shaking! The glass panels on the windows jittered, soot and ash shot out of the fireplace as the flames whipped through the air violently, sending vivid orange red reflections across the polished floor! I shrieked and fell to my knees, my body felt like it was molding in with the vibrating of the floor. A pounding buzz, which sounded like dozens of whistle-blowing trains played in high speed forced its way through the house! I wrapped my arms around my head and laid straight on my face!

What’s going on?! What’s happening?! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!

The whole experience was disorienting. The shaking of the house drove deep into my skin and made me feel numb all over. I could hardly tell whether or not I was still on the floor. The stairs screeched, I heard wooden plates and bowls hit the floor in the kitchen. Outside birds were calling and one by one all these things seemed to blur together. A headache had started in my temples and was getting stronger as all the sensations were absorbed into it. Then, suddenly it subsided. My eyes felt swollen and I could only assume that I had closed them. All the commotion seemed to swirl above, slowly becoming a shadow that was blanketing me, thick and heavy. It was so overwhelming it was almost lulling me to a forced sleep, then it stopped.

Nothing was shaking. Nothing was shrieking. My eyes were opened. Maybe I never closed them. The lashings of the fireplace soon quieted and flickered normally. It was as if nothing had happened, but I felt cold and damp from sweat. I slowly picked up my upper body off the floor and looked toward the last unexplored door. There was a silence outside and a ringing in my ears. My arms still shook. I laid back down and stared at the roof. I couldn’t even force myself to move.

I was lying there for a long time. Staring at the ceiling. Staring at the back of my eyelids. Staring at the doorway above my head. I was scared that if I moved that “thing” would start again.
What was that “thing”? What just happened?

It felt like I had woken up from a dream. Slowly hunger pains, once again, started to build up on me and brought me back to reality. Trudgedly I picked myself up and looked over at the door which I assumed was the storage room. I quickly decided against opening it and staggered for the kitchen.

Grabbing the match book, I lit one and threw it towards the center of the table. The cauldron was on its side at the other end of the room. I picked up a bowl off the floor and headed for the bucket of left over stew Tremarch had filled the night before. I scooped some out and tossed the bowl after the match. Half of the stew splashed onto the lightly lit coals. A couple moments wait, the coals had brightened directly beneath the bowl.
As I thought. None of the wood in this place burns… This place is getting kind of creepy.

Hunched over the table with my fingers dangling in its center, absorbing the subtle heat rising from the coals. My mind blanked, but I could feel coldness surrounding me. The house was too quiet. That earthquake… thing, had spooked me good! I was scared and suddenly aware of how alone I was, on my own, in a stranger’s house. I wanted to leave and runaway, but to what? I already was on the runaway! It’s no surprise that strange things happen, but is this how I was going to deal with it?
I’ve been away from home for months. How is it that now I decide to feel so insecure?
I guess I had never had something worry me so much as that event, then. My own limitations hit me like a brick and there was nothing I could do but lay down and cry.

I rested my head against the insides of my elbows until the smell of spilled stew starting to burn registered in my brain. I lifted my head and looked. The stew on the coals was bubbling and a thin, dark thread of smoke seeped up from it. Grabbing a fuzzy towel off a counter top, I pulled the bowl out from the middle of the table. It didn’t even smell of fire.

There was a dirty fork already on the table. I wiped it with a fold from my dress, stabbed a piece of meat and dragged it through my teeth. Nothing I could do but take care of the small things. The meat was still cold. I followed it with a potato and continued to pick the chunks out of the bowl.

I was getting cramps— might have been my nerves. I thought about going to my room but an icy shiver in my ribs made me forget the thought. Who knew what could have been waiting for me? Pushing the sloppy bowl out of the way, I rested my head again. I didn’t fall asleep until I moved to the floor and stared at the glowing coals beneath the table.

chapter 03

I woke up fairly early the next morning, or at least it felt early. It took me a long time to fall asleep. Not to mention a couple pointless trips to the outhouse, and a variety of abnormal sleeping positions involving my legs swaying above my head. My eyes felt swollen and I was sure a gear was out of place in my neck.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaahh!” A large holler rattled against my door. It was followed by a quick streaking noise as well as multiple fast, hollow thumps like someone violating a tree. I moused my way on my palms and the balls of my feet through my door and peered through the banister towards the kitchen. More rhythmic thumping sounded and a golden ripple like water floated past the kitchen entrance. It was closely followed by Tremarch. His legs bounced beneath his robe like dancers in a dragon costume as he pushed around a wash cloth.

Morning cleaning? Honestly, does he need to start it with a battle cry?

The streaks in the cleaned floor seemed to glow with a brilliant yellow in the morning light. I raised myself up off my knees and walked back to bed before Tremarch could notice me hanging about in nothing but my blouse.

He must polish this place everyday to get it to glow the way it does.

I returned to blissful morning sleep. Sleep should secure the possibility of me not having to help with chores.

…

“Sally…
Sally?”
Who the heck is Sally?
My eyelids sludged over my blurry eyes like two overweight snails. I was looking into a thick brown forest, with shrubbery that extended deep down two dark, crumbly caves. A wind blew through the forest and the trees all bowed. Suddenly a wide gaping hole opened up right in the middle of the forest! It was lined with pale white and yellow rocks and inhabited by some kind of monstrous red slug, it released a fowl stench! My body was instantly repelled by the smell! I flipped over to my side and buried my nose in the sheets clenched between my fingers!

“Are you awake Sally?” Tremarch leaned over my bed, barely even centimeters away from my cheek, exhaling his words through his shrubbery like beard.
“Gagh! What?! You’re face is too close!” I squeezed my eyes shut and rocked my head from side to side like a child in denial.

What a terrible thing to wake up to!

“I just wanted to let you know that there is food in the storage room downstairs. If we want to leave for town by tomorrow morning, I need to retrieve something from the forest. I’ll be back late this evening.”
“Fine.” I rolled my pillow over my head and squished my face in as deep as I could. After taking a breath to relax, I turned the pillow down and peaked over its corner. My door was open and Tremarch clomped down the stairs. With a huff and pout I dragged myself out of bed.

I was certain that I had been asleep for hours but the sun was only slightly higher in the sky than when I rose earlier. There was a clump of fabric on the floor which I pierced with my big toe and raised to my hand. I dressed in just a plain beige skirt with a simple blouse. I didn’t pack anything with me when I left home. All I thought I needed were my handy work boots, which were down stairs by the door.

After curling my long socks on, I swiftly guided my hand and self down the stair rail.
Food, eh?
At the bottom, the main entrance of the house was currently diagonal to my right. From its left, my right, there was the living room and beyond that the kitchen, both which I have become familiar with since I arrived last night. It stood to reason that there would be food storage in the kitchen. It was a big kitchen with lots of space, but despite that, I don’t recall seeing any kind of entrance to a storage room. There were cupboards and shelves, but no place for fresh food.

To my left, just beyond the staircase, were a couple of rooms I had yet to explore. With an affirmative nod I headed under the ledge of the second floor and grasped the first room’s doorknob. There were plenty of bedrooms upstairs, lots of space in the living room and kitchen… what could be kept in these rooms here? As I rotated my wrist and pushed on the door, the wood pattern swept from my vision and I beheld the whole room.

Nothing.
Absolutely nothing. Just an empty room. It wasn’t even half the width of the living room. The only things present were the the window on the far wall, and a few scuff marks on the floor.
Not much of a view either.
In the near corner of the left wall there was another door, so I strutted towards it and turned the knob.

Peering around the opening door, something silver caught my eye. It was another plain room much like the last. No furniture, no window in this one, but this room was much more interesting. The walls were lined with a large array of various weapons and armors.
Tremarch is a collector?

Nothing in the room looked used. Despite everything being clean and polished, something was really odd about this place. Besides the fact that mass amounts of extravagant soldier gear graced all four of its walls. I stopped gaping at the collective shine of the decorations and focused on one at a time. Sure enough, each piece was just as extraordinary as the last. I really mean extraordinary!

These suits and weapons didn’t look like typical king’s army uniforms. Every one was customized in some way. The majority of the weapons were different styles of axes. Most were giant sized. Their blades were almost as long as Tremarch’s body. Some had multiple heads stacked on top of each other, some had special cut edges, some were on chains, and some were long like double sided scythes.

The armor suits were just as strange with their various spikes, odd chain links, and overlapping edges. Some seemed built to protect upper body, while some seemed designed to protect the lower. Looking at others, I couldn’t even figure out how you were supposed to move. They all looked roughly fitted for the same size of man and almost everything was engraved with a crest somewhere on it: the chests of the armors, the joints of the weapons. They were brightly colored crests and each looked different.

I didn’t grow up near a castle. I’ve rarely seen anything from the real military, except for pictures in school books. In short, I know nothing about military gear, yet I was in awe over this collection. Or maybe the thing that shocked me most was:
What’s a hermit like Tremarch doing with all this?

Then while staring at a particularly bony multi-headed axe, I noticed something peculiar.

chapter 02

“Tremarch.”
“Ahmgh?” I shot my head up from my bowl of steaming stew. Eyebrows crimped, cheeks inflated, lips pressed, trying to keep the solids in, not succeeding so well with the liquids.
“My name is Tremarch. Tremarch Jungor. What’s yours?” I forced back my mouthful. Tender meat becomes a sandbag when you swallow too much. I coughed some back up and gagged. Tremarch smiled in awkward politeness and waited patiently.
“Sally Jones.” My voice collapsed halfway through the words and hot tears squeezed out of my eyes, partially from my attempt at mass swallowing, partially because I’m a bad liar.

It was a policy of mine not to give my real name to people I’ve just met. Actually, since I had been on my own, it had really become more of a bad habit. Even worse was the fact that I could never really work up the courage to tell people my real name once I felt I could trust them with it.

“Well, miss Sally Jones,” Tremarch leaned forward and rested his palms beneath his beard. I was half expecting him to ask why I had lied about my name, but even if he knew I was lying, why would he care? I would have been out of his hair soon enough. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the nowhere?”

I rolled the spoon around in my mouth, staring up at the candlelit chandelier, with its autumn light which coated the room.
“Nothing much… Just getting out in the world.” I waved my spoon at him without removing my gaze from the ceiling. “What about you? What are you doing in the middle of nowhere? If you break your hip your screwed, you know.” Tremarch lifted his woolly chin and laughed.

I stretched my legs and tilted my chair. The kitchen had a fireplace glow just like the living room. The whole house was possessed with a curiously consistent sunset atmosphere.
I’m stuffed.

“I’m a lumberjack,” he informed, “I live where the merchandise is. More soup?”
“… sure.” Tremarch smoothly grasped my bowl from the bottom and raised it to the large cauldron in the middle of the table.

The table wasn’t round. Octagon-ish. I didn’t bother to count its sides, though. I sat a couple edges away from Tremarch but I wasn’t near to sitting across the table. There were probably more sides than eight. The cauldron was built right into the middle of the table, held above hot coals by a hoist with a ratty straw-made rope, much like a wishing well.

This house looks way too big and elaborate for just one old man.

“Half, please.” He spooned me a ladle full of stew and gently returned the bowl perfectly to its hole in the stew spill beneath my chin. “So if you have merchandise, you must have clients. What kind of business do you get out here?”
“Oh, no one comes out here to purchase my lumber, but my clients prefer that this is where I live. They protect me as long as I work solely for them. Once every month, more or less, I go to town and deliver their goods.”
“So there is a town nearby? What kind of clients don’t want you expanding your business?”
“Not necessarily nearby; ’bout a half a day’s walk, and it’s not as it sounds. Working in a limited market makes me feel rather special.” The old man smiled but his eyes somehow seemed sullied. “Not that I wouldn’t give it up. Another time around.”
Whatever, old men’s eyes always look like that.

“Half a day, eh? I can be out of your hair by tomorrow then.”
“Oh! You’d better let me escort you if you plan on tromping through the forest. Even experienced travelers ‘ave been known to get lost in these woods. This house is fairly close to the edge of the forest but you’re still rather lucky to ‘ave spotted it. I’ll ‘ave my shipment loaded up and ready to go in a couple days.”
“Pehhh.” I let out a breath of frustration.

Concerned fella, isn’t he? I suppose I shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have someone guide me through the forest if it really is as difficult to navigate as he suggests.

“Alright. Another companion. But I’ll be fine on my own once we exit the forest, right?”
“Well… you’d best let me escort you right into town. After the forest, there’s still a couple miles before we come in contact with any kind of population.”
“Fine, fine. I can deal with that.” I dropped my spoon into my stew. I had only taken one bite from the freshly filled bowl. I pushed my chair back and walked out through the living room.

“If you want to go to bed, feel free to take any of the rooms upstairs. And don’t you worry about extra blankets, this house stays pretty warm at night.” I could feel Tremarch’s smile through his words, humming in the rims of my ears.
Does he keep the fire going all night? Blah. I’m way too full to sleep.

The lights were off but even in my room, farthest in the back of the upper level of the house, fireplace reflections were still bouncing off the polished wood. It was fairly bright compared to outside, but not at all irritating. I was really getting curious about what was making everything glow so much. Is it really just that well polished?

My full stomach weighed down on my hips as I rested my crossed arms on the wide rims of a large diamond shaped window overlooking the backyard. My mouth pressed between my wrists, making squishy faces. Outside, the whole yard seemed to glow. Even the small tool shed had a slight aura from Tremarch’s oil lamp. I could see him rummaging around outside. Waddling back and forth between the shed and the outhouse a few times, sitting on the doorstep to smoke a pipe, eventually entering the shed and closing the door.

He was the one who seemed to jump at the idea of sleeping in the shed, so I didn’t mind taking over the entire house. I wouldn’t mind doing some exploring, if I wasn’t so tired. I wouldn’t mind going to sleep if my stomach would just settle down.
I’m too much of a glutton.
I flopped onto the bed in the corner of the room: side against the wall, pillow by the window, and feet towards the door. There were only a few linen sheets to sleep in, but Tremarch was right, it was plenty warm.

I sprawled my arms and legs over the sides of the bed haphazardly. I stared at the waves in the wood ceiling, recollecting the day, questioning tomorrow, erasing my head and thinking it all over again.

I wonder if I should be concerned about Tremarch. Even people like me know that this isn’t the kind of world where you should just let people walk into your home. I guess I’m just the kind of person people crave to have stay at their house! Wait, that might not be a good thing. He might be plotting something in that shed of his.

Maybe he’s one of those old hermit men from the stories I used to read, that eat children lost in the woods. Hah! Well, it’s not like it’s the first risk I’ve taken, out on my own. I still think its better than being stuck outside with the spiders and mosquitoes. I really doubt that guy could do something, even if he wanted to. So old… His creaking bones would wake me up before he could even approach me.

…or he might just be a nice old man. If anything does happen, it’s the fault of my inability to pass up an opportunity. And right now, I have the opportunity to sleep!
I rolled over and shut out my thoughts, in attempt to do just that. I felt really… expanded. Like my body was attempting to dissipate into the night atmosphere and my consciousness disappear. Only the weight in my belly seemed to be holding me back.

chapter 01

Make Belief Studios does all text stories too! Here’s the start of a long adventure story that’s still in the works. It’s WIP, so these posts might change without notice.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

“Well…

So long!”
My hand flickered in his direction as I gleamed a toothy triangular grin.

His rectangle of a figure slouched and wheezed a sound that went perfectly with his open circle of a mouth. I turned my back and cock-walked to my own path of destiny–
a path away from his.

Stupid soldier boy, there aren’t any wars around here… It was fun though!
I smiled at a quick reminiscence then never thought of it again.

…………………………………………………………………..

Items of Importance: Place to spend the night… and food!
I walked all afternoon and still hadn’t caught sight of an end to the forest I had decided to cross. Nothing but walls and walls of clumpy greens and a dark brown path that couldn’t go five strides without losing its way.

Best start looking for some makeshift shelter. Or better yet… a cabin!

No, really! I had just spotted a cabin! Hope quickly swelled up behind my nose and I immediately cut through the bushes. Just a short distance off the trudged path, lightly blended into the saplings. Just a few steps, pushed past a couple of stingy branches and- EEEW! SPIDER! Hop. Skip. I was at the door!

There it was, tall, solid, wooden, and in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t believe my luck, actually, I was constantly surprised at my luck. I always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. It was a few months since I decided to leave home and go on my own and I was really surprised how well things had been going for me.

When I first left, I passed through a farming community, so I seldom went hungry. As long as I didn’t get caught pinching crops, things were all good! Then once I was past the fields and wasn’t sure what I was going to do, I ran into that stray soldier who was randomly wandering the countryside and he took care of me ever since!

I didn’t plan to stay with him for so long, but as long as his talks about wars and discipline didn’t get too annoying, which they eventually did, why not? He cooked, he took care of camp, I thought it was a great arrangement! For the better that I left though, I didn’t want to grow too dependent on just one person and besides, people always have to part ways someday, right? It’s best not to get too attached.

Anyway, back to the cabin,
“HELLOOO?

Does anybody live here?”
I forced my neck as far as it could go through the doorway of the two story building. My voice was quickly swallowed by the emptiness of the room. No one was outside either. There was what looked like a larger yard behind the tall, pointed cabin, but there was no obvious evidence of life.

An active fireplace, the typical sign of occupancy.
…
Yet no one around. The polite thing would be to wait outside, but that’s so boring! Wait!

My foot halted and hovered above a gritty, sloshy welcome mat resting lightly on the well polished wood floor. The mat didn’t say welcome, but something that used automatically invited more dirty feet. I pulled my focus from the entrancement of the warm room and thought to myself,
I’m not anywhere near my old hometown. Strangers might not be welcomed here. People this far out into the country probably don’t take kindly to trespassers. I could be shot! Eww, what if a dirty old man lives here? …What if he’s not bad looking? No, be realistic! Nobody this far away from civilization would put a priority on appearances. Hmm… I haven’t looked in the mirror for a while either. I wonder-

“Can I help you?”
A gruff yet polite voice interrupted my thoughts.
I pulled myself back as my eyes widened and I let out a slight “eep.” A grubby, short man had suddenly appeared in front of me.
“You’re letting in the mosquitoes.”
My mouth hung open as I gathered the situation. I was still standing only halfway through this stranger’s doorway.

“Ah! I’m so sorry!” I jumped in, threw the door shut with my foot, and bowed slightly to cover my embarrassment. “eh- did you just say moskwitos?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So sorry!”
I felt my face burn with embarrassment and I bowed deeper. Then slowly I raised my shoulders and worked up to looking the man in the eye.

Short. Hairy.
Not my type. Not that I haven’t adapted in the past, or couldn’t adapt again, but he’s just plain too old for me.
…
Hairy. Short.

“A Dwarf!”
“No!”
“Aw, but you look just like one.” Disappointment. The non-dwarf old man, with hands at his hips, pushed his shoulders back slightly and ahem-ed his throat.
“What is a young lady like yourself doing in the stoop of my humble abode?”
Stoop? He’s right! He’s standing on a step! He’s even shorter than I thought! I could poke him in the eye and still keep my thumbs in my pockets!
“Young Lady is hoping to abode here herself.” I imitated his out-of-touch speak. Not that there was much for verbal conformity in a country as wide spread as ours. My smile compressed my left eyelid as I tilted my head to the right.

My eyes grazed the upper levels of the building. Everything was wood – including the fireplace. No bricks, steel, or mortar was in place to keep its flames contained.
Strange. Fireproof polish?
“That is, unless you know of any other suitable shelters in the local forest?”
The old man gave a surprised look at my fowardness, “‘aven’t been out of the nest for very long, ‘aven’t you, lass?”
My bottom eyelid quivered. “Lass…” I haven’t paid attention to old man talk in a long time.
“Hehh.” I smiled politely. That is, forcibly. “May I please stay here for the night?”

I was aware that it was an awkward question. How often do you go to random houses and ask to spend the night? But this was the middle of a forest! I’m a poor defenseless girl! Why should I have to sleep outside?!

It should have been obvious that I would never accept a “no” but I was putting out an aura to say I was ready to fight for his approval. Or at least sneak in the back after he’d gone to bed. Who was this old man to keep such a big place to himself anyway?

“Hah! Very well.” The old man grinned through his thick whiskers. “I’ll go get my things.”
“Huh? Things?” I squeaked. The old man clunked his way to a couch in the middle of the room, grabbed a few blankets and a pillow.
“There is a tool shed in the backyard, it certainly isn’t fit for a lady, so I’ll go there myself! In fact, I might be the lucky one. It’s much closer to the outhouse. Ha, hoo hoo.” He chuckled as he bundled his blankets all under one arm and headed back in my direction. I dodged to the right of him and entered what I assumed to be the living room. The old man picked up his mucky boots from beside the welcome mat and held them in front of himself while he nudged his lower half down to sit on the step.

“You know, I’m not worried about spending the night with a feeble old man.”
“Good on you, lass, but I live out here as a lonely man and it’s my wife whom might get worried.”
“You have a wife?”
“I’m quite sure I still do. ‘Aven’t seen her in a number of years though.”
“Oh?”
Does that mean she’s dead?

In the stoop he tugged at his boots then sprung from the step. Hoisting the blankets above his head so the bits that were hanging loosely would avoid the muddy welcome mat, he opened the door and looked back. “I’ll be set up in a jiff, then I’ll be back to cook us some supper!” His smiling wrinkles disappeared behind the shutting door.
K-lnk
I heard the door latch into place.

I stood hunched over with my hands weighted at my sides. I’m sure it looked like I was just slapped with someone’s sweaty sock. I was in.
“Okaaay.” I exhaled in disbelief. His acceptance and generosity were almost worrisome. However, I did manage to check off both things on tonight’s “Items of Importance” list! I thought best to deal with one thing at a time.

potd 1-3 reprints

For anyone who hasn’t gotten the news. Issues 1+2 of Peregrination of the Deliverer has been reprinted and is once again available for purchase.