Author Topic: Patchwork Tomorrows  (Read 2195 times)

Rizzla

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Patchwork Tomorrows
« on: April 10, 2018, 06:29:22 pm »
dont mind me just posting this everywhere because it needs a lil love and so do i. feel free to give some critique, it'd be helpful.

this is the prologue for the prequel of a much bigger project, one that's been in progress since 2014 except it sucks a lot less than it did back then. to follow along you can check me out on wattpad, https://www.wattpad.com/user/dollirious


blurb: a coming of age story following two little witches and the unforgiving world they live in. || two girls, two lessons: life is harsh, and life is short.



The Thicket Purge, December 1881

    “Octavia, you need to keep up!”
    The little girl dragged her feet against the moist soil. All she could smell was mud and wood rot. Nothing like home… not anymore. She kept her head down, rain drip-dropping off the rim of her ragged hand-me-down cloak’s hood. As she heard frustrated footsteps swiftly make their way over, she stopped in her tracks. Her hands clasped over her face.
Hazel yanked the hood back. Her older brother’s face was more stern than Octavia had ever thought possible.
     Octavia let out a quiet whine and whimper, tears welling up in her eyes for what could easily have been the dozenth time since the departure. She did not look up at Hazel. Maybe then he wouldn’t be able to see her crying.
    “Octavia.” Hazel started loudly and assertively, yet somehow more forgiving than before.”You know what will happen, right? We’ve been over that, haven’t we? We need to keep moving.”
    “B-But, Mothe-”
    “She made her choice…” Hazel’s voice softened over with sympathy, taking his little sister’s cold hands off her face. He looked into her young, naive eyes. “and we had to make ours.”
    Octavia stared emptily at the ground. She sniffed.
    Hazel took a deep breath before gently pulling Octavia’s hood back over her head, grabbing her arm and forcing her forward.
    “We… we have to move. Times are changing.”
    Octavia wiped her nose with her free hand, reluctantly picking up pace with her sibling.
    “Come on. Emeric is meeting with us at the Gale Stones. We have to get there before anyone else does.”
  Octavia stared at Hazel.
  “He’ll have Mandrake.”

~ ~ ~

    Although the rain had eased off, a miserable fog had taken its place, slithering against the understory floor and hugging the children with its bleak embrace.
   The dull, symphonic hum of the Gale Stones echoed in their ears, promising them they were close.
“It’s alright, Octavia. We’re nearly there.”
 Hazel broke the silence that had settled over them for the last hour.
      The girl kept her eyes trained on the road ahead. She gave a sigh of both acknowledgement and relief, though she could not stop herself from wondering, truly, where?
     She wanted to pretend to be tough. The kind of tough she was after she held back her tears when one of the clan’s cockerels pecked her fingers after she tried to pick him up. The kind of tough that won her staring contests. The sort of tough that made her brothers and sisters respect her.
     So where did she stand now? Oh, why did it all have to happen so fast...
    “Hazel?” Octavia tightened her grip on Hazel’s clammy hand.
     “Yes?”
    “Where will we go?”
    For a moment, her brother looked like he wanted to say something- something to ease her mind but avoid the truth, the next he was shaking his head, searching for an answer that wasn’t really there.
   “Hazel?”
  “I… I don’t know.” Hazel snapped suddenly. “That’s why we’re going to see Emeric. He’ll know.”
    Moments passed. He didn’t sound quite like the big brother Octavia remembered anymore.         
    Under his breath, he added: “He always does.”
    The growing sound of the Gale Stones prevented any further discussion on the matter as concentration became the top priority.

    Then, a flash of white.
     A hoarse shriek.
    A tumble, a crash. The sound of pebbles being dislodged and branches snapping.
    Hazel immediately grabbed Octavia and shoved her behind him. He outstretched his hand. 
    Flames danced between his fingertips, licked at his palms.
    Their hearts pounded in their chests.
    Hazel looked around, wildly, eyes wide as ever. His palm was his torch, searching for the source of the outburst.
     Could it hurt them?  Was it human?  Had they been found?
     As a final, echoing thump sounded off mere yards away from them, silence engulfed them once more. Whatever it had been, it had met its end.
    Hazel forced his fingers between Octavia’s, the fire merely tickling her flesh. He guided her towards the source of the commotion, legs stiff.
    They had reached one of the many areas of divots and gullies of the Thicket, stories told they had been made by the creatures of Old. Below the steep slope rested what their people considered a Sanctuary; holy, a place of protection, more meaningful than any man-made shrine. Four mighty standing stones with intricate holes, guarding a pentacle sign made of granite against the earth. The Gale Stones. The stones that called out with their ghostly song, even when wind was nowhere to be found.
    And there it was. A now grungy white horse collapsed at the summit.
    The children slid as cautiously as they were capable of in their now panic-stricken state down the dark, root entangled slope towards the Sanctuary. Mud caked to their clothes and got caught under their broken-up fingernails.
    “Em…” Hazel whispered at first, “Emeric?” Then he dared to yell out the name.
     “I’m here!” A voice whisper-shouted back. “Keep your damn voice down!”
     Crouched behind one of the Stones was an older boy, dark-haired with an aura unlike the rest. Emeric. When he knew the coast was clear, he ran up to his brother and sister, pulling them into a relieved, nearly tearful hug. “You’re both alright? No one followed?”
      “No, looks like you were though!” hissed Hazel, pushing away from the hug, glaring pointedly at the fallen horse.
     Emeric said nothing.
     “That’s a military horse.”
      “It’s a Tempest, Hazel. We learned about them in school. When they gallop too fast they have trouble stopping. It could have came from anywhere.”
     Octavia knew this tone all too well.
    “Yeah? Where’s its rider?”
    Emeric sighed. “It probably teleported, if not, it’s dead.”
     Hazel shot Emeric a harshly skeptical look. He trudged off to the other side of the clearing towards the Tempest.
     Octavia seized her opportunity while she had it: she grabbed Emeric’s sleeve, looking towards the Gale Stones, then back to him.
    “Where is he?” Her eyes darted back to the Stones, “Mandrake?”
    Emeric made the same face Hazel had made earlier, the one where he searched for a different answer, even when he knew what the real one was. An adult’s look. He bit his lip, staring off into the fog.
    “Did you get him?” Octavia raised her voice.
    “Yes. I did. But you need to listen, he--”
    That was all Octavia needed to hear. She took off over the rows of rock that formed the pentacle, fumbling over roots and other debris. Between the fourth stone and a mossy dying tree, Emeric had placed all that they managed to scavenge before they split up. Edibles, scarce of valuables, a couple satchels, a bloodied cloth…
     As far as Octavia could understand, he was their plan. Their only plan.
     Octavia plopped down to her knees. She peeled back the bloodstained cloth, breath held.   
    Emeric came scrambling after her.
    “He….he didn’t get out unscathed,” Emeric breathed, leaning down next to her, eyes locked on the small furred figure being revealed.
  There he was, the one she had waited for without being given a reason. Blood soaked.
    “It looks worse than it is. I promise.”
    Emeric rested his hand on his little sister’s shoulder.
    “P-Promise?”
    He then answered a question Octavia hadn’t known she wanted to ask yet.
    “We need him, more than anything. Do you understand why?”
     Silence.
     “Octavia,” he began, running his fingers through his tangled hair. “We have a long way to go. It will not be easy, you know that already.”
    Octavia’s lip trembled. The mere reminder of it all…
    Emeric wrapped his arm around her, blinking back tears. “We don’t know what is going to happen along the way. We need to prepare. There’s bad people out there, we may need to split up again, and if we do… if anything happens…”
    Emeric raised Octavia’s chin, hands faltering.
    “He’ll be there for you if we can’t be.”
    Octavia couldn’t take it. She threw herself into Emeric’s arms. She let her tears come streaming down, nose running, face bright red. No more being tough.
    “N-No no, we n-need to stay t-together!” The little girl sobbed. “We have to!”
     Emeric held her close. It was all he could do for her now.
    Soon enough, Hazel heard Octavia’s wails and rushed back over to them. He sat down next to them without question. He rubbed Octavia’s back, even though he knew he could never mimic the way Mother did it.
    “I can make one last promise to you, Octavia.” Emeric whispered.
    Octavia’s whimpering ceased ever so slightly.
    “Somewhere in time, all of this is history.”
    Their eldest brother rested his chin atop Octavia’s white-blonde head.
    “Nothing but history.”