Ayl's Ramblings

[Ayl]

So, here's a lil' something I wrote recently. Mind you, it's not entirely done yet, need to add some bits here and there, but here's the uncut version. Feedback is welcomed ON ALL PIECES:

Spoiler

The bumping of the the rickety wheels reduced once the carriage found itself on the much smoother, paved road that led up to the mansion. The horses’ gait was slow, but steady. Afterall, a gallop on those tricky roads could’ve harmed them. The sun was slowly setting, leaving the horizon colored bloody. The wind was softly brushing against the opened petals of the flowers that were placed throughout the garden in such a manner that those following the road could admire their beauty.


Yet the many different types of roses and tulips didn’t attract Madelinne’s attention in the slightest, whereas once her gaze would’ve been all over them. It was clear that it has been a long time since her childhood.


Oh, how had the scenery changed!


Where once there were giant figures sculpted out of the living fence, there was nothing but withered roots. The giant oaken guardians that stood watch over the archway were now barren of their emerald leaves, their once strong arms now gathered around them, trying to ward off Death’s cold. The contrast between before and after 20 years of absence was quite shocking.


With her hands tucked nicely in her lap, the woman in the carriage took short glances at the scenery, noticing the changes. Though a bit taken aback, the effect of the apparently abandoned domain didn’t deter her as much as should have. Soon, the sound of the carman’s “Hooo there!” reached her ears, as she felt the carriage come to a stop.


Doing a quick brush-up on herself, she waited for the door to be opened and the driver to help her out. She didn’t have to wait much and soon she was outside, in the dying light of the evening. At first glance, the manor didn’t look much different, but as her eyes got adjusted to the dusk’s darkness, she could spot the missing tiles on the roof, the shriveled paint on the walls and the ominous atmosphere it would emit.


It was like all that was good in that place had packed its bags and left a long time ago, leaving only sorrow to wander its once grand halls. At least, that was Madelinne’s impression as she stepped through the towering doors, into the main hall. The chandelier above her head, which used to be adorned with glittering crystals, now stood almost naked, with only a few candles to enlighten the vicinity.


In the candlelight, the woman’s features became more prominent. Her alabaster skin seemed soft, despite her obviously aged features. She was no longer a young flower, yet her hazel eyes still reflected rays of youth. Her blonde, dyed hair completed the image of a woman who had changed with the passing of time.


Following the clicking of her heels against the wooden floor, a voice boomed from behind the a door which was slightly cracked open. “I thought I instructed you to wait outside!” it asked. Immediatly, the voice was followed by a rather hunched back man. This one was even older than the lady standing in the entrance hall. Despite his hair looking whiter than snow, he was quite agile in movement.


Spotting the intruder, the well-dressed gentleman swiftly adopted a much more appropriate tone. “Oh, excuse me, madame! I confused you with someone else, apparently.” he apologised. “My name is Radolph, butler of Lord and Lady Aussberg. Please excuse the-”


“It’s been quite a while, my dear Radolph. I sincerely hope you’ve missed me, because I’ve certainly missed you!” the woman spoke, her lips arching in a smile. At first, seemingly insulted by the rude intrerruption, the man’s eyes widdened at the sudden revelation.


“L-Lady Madelinne?! Is that you?!” he asked, incredulous.


As she approached him with arms spread, beckoning for a hug, she replied: “Yes, Radolph, it is I. Oh, my sweet Radolph, how have the years been in your favour!”. She gently brushed his white, yet rich moustache, about the only trace of evidence left that the man ever had any hair at all. “Oh, my Lady! I cannot believe it! How long has it been…”.


His eyes sparkled with held-back tears of joy. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he took a more attentive look at the girl-turned-woman he used to love and take care of. “My, my, how you’ve grown! You look stunningly alike your mother!”.


The sudden mention of her parent made the smile on her face fade away, which was more than enough to make the large man realise he had mispoken. “Oh, but where are my manners? Please, come in! Let me take your coat!”. Madelinne quickly complied, taking off her satin shawl and fur coat.


“Where is he?” she asked, her voice bearing nothing of the affection it manifested for the butler. With a rather sad look in his blue eyes, Radolph turned to her: “Upstairs, in the library. Allow me to-”


“Thank you, but I can manage on my own.”. As she turned to follow the path further into the mansion, she stopped. “How is he?” she inquired again. “Not well. It’s been very hard on him.” Radolph retorted with a tone betraying even more grief.


With another nod, the Lady started going up the staircase, her gentle hand resting against the railing. Following the crimson carpet, she reached the upper floor. A giggle escaped her mouth, as she recalled all the times she would play with her dolls, siblings and friends throughout the corridors.


Her memories of the manor still served her well, as she strode all the way to the double-doored entrance to the knowledge sanctuary that was the manor’s library. Without knocking, she entered the silent room. The flickering flames of the hearth was all that kept the shadows of the night at bay. Blocking the direct view of the fire was an armchair, from where the top of a person’s head could easily be distinguished.


Madelinne’s footsteps were muffled by the rugs spread over the floor, as she drew ever closer to the individual. “Father.” she called out. At first, the figure didn’t move, as if he had just woken from a dream and didn’t believe what he heard was true. Then, with slow gestures, he turned over the armrest, to gaze at the woman standing to his left. Unsurprised, he exclaimed: “Finally! Itt was about bloody time you got here!”. The cold greeting angered Madelinne, despite her not showing it. “I’m sorry I inconvenienced you, as usual.”. As if he hadn’t even heard her, Lord Aussberg reverted to his previous position. “You even missed the funeral. Did you really hate her that much as to not bother to be present, or did you have more than one sick mother to care for?”.


Her father’s words hurt her like a fiery knife, plunged deep in her chest. “Maybe I would’ve been here if she had not tried her best to alienate me!”. The old Lord huffed. “Alienate you? She desired naught but your happiness! How dare you speak such ill words?!”


“I would’ve been a tenfold more happy if she had bothered to speak to me, instead of paying so strangers to take care of me in her place. I would’ve been so much more content if, instead of attending balls and tea parties, she would’ve read me bedtime stories and told me how much she loved me. But no, I was to be married as soon as possible, to a man whom not only I did not love, but I could never love, whereas the man I truly loved was exiled for the sin of returning my love!”


Before she realised how she had reacted, tears were falling down her cheeks. Upon realising this, Madelinne quickly attempted to remove them, but was surprised by the soft texture of the cloth her father was now wiping her face with, a sorrowful smile on his face.


“Foolish child…” he mumbled. “You’ve grown into an adult, yet you still have the greediness of an infant. Wait here, I have something for you!”. With that, he left her for a few moments, as he went further into the darkness. In the corner of the room, there was an old study her father would often use to do his work on. Quickly extracting something from one of the drawers, he walked back to her, handling her a sealed envelope. “Here, this is for you! Read it carefully. We’ll talk then. I’ll go tell Radolph to prepare supper.”.


Leaving the room, the Lord left his daughter alone, with only the shadows and flames as companions. Sighing, she took a long glance at the object in her hand, wondering what could be inside that was so relevant. Occupying her father’s former seat, she used her long nails to open the seal, picking out a written piece of paper.


Taking her time, she unfolded the letter and started reading it, word by word. The words were written by hand, with a beautiful calligraphy, which she recognised to be her mother’s:


“To Madelinne, my beloved daughter,


If you are reading this, then I’m no longer alive. I don’t know how fast the news of my passing will reach you, seeing as you refuse to reply to my correspondence. However, I cannot blame you. Afterall, we did not part on the greatest of terms, a guilt I bear up until this very day. But believe me when I say that it is not guilt that pushes me to write you these lines, but love. Yes, you may find it hard to believe this, but I did love you.


I always did and I never did anything but seek your best. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you to enjoy your life. It is clear to me now, on my deathbed, that I did not achieve that goal, seeing as you would not talk to me. Thus, I would want to apologise. I want to tell you how sorry I am for pushing you away from my side. Oh, how I see now the error of my judgement. It haunts me day and night, this I swear to you.


You were so beautiful that day, in your white wedding dress. A truly opposite image from the groom I had picked for you. Of course you must hate me for the decision I had to make, but what was I do to? Earl Hentington was a distinguished individual, despite his foul reputation. Only after so many years do I realise my mistake. It would have been better to allow you to marry your beloved, instead. For that, I am deeply sorry, my child.


But, I do wish to tell you this, before I am no longer able to. I never stopped thinking about you. Since the day of your wedding, the last time I saw you, I carried you in my thoughts day and night. Often would I find myself remembering the times I used to admire you from the mansion’s windows, how you would play in the gardens with your brother.


How your wonderful, raven hair would fly in the wind, how you constantly laughed and loved to dance in the rain. Oh, how cute you looked when you would come in, soaked from head to toe. It sometimes pained me to scold you for your misdeeds, for they were oh, so amusing.


Not a moment went by that I didn’t miss these things about you, my dear. And now, that my time draws near, my only regret is that I’ve never apologised to you for how I’ve behaved. But I still have hope! I still hope that you will come, with the wind, to see me. To forgive me. Oh, how wonderful a fantasy that is, isn’t it?


But worry not, my sweet. Your mother will always watch over you, from Heaven! Know only that I never stopped caring for you, no matter what, and I can only hope that one day, you will find it in yourself to forgive me.


With love, your mother!”


It took several minutes for her to read through the whole thing, in spite of the letter being short. Just as she was finishing the last sentence, her father walked back in.


“So?” he asked. “Still upset?”


Sobbing, struggling to keep her tears back, Madelinne couldn’t refrain from asking: “H-How did you know? The seal was untouched. H-How could you possibly know what it could say?”. Lord Aussberg kept silent at first, only to burst into a chuckle.


“Oh, child,” he said, as he approached her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was because I knew your mother better than anyone that I guessed what the letter could contain. But what is more important, is whether or not her words have had any effect.” he said, wisely.


Wiping further tears from her eyes, Madelinne smiled. “I guess you did know her best. I’m sorry, father, I-”


“Shh, it’s alright, child. I’m sure that, wherever she is, your mother knows.”. At his statement, the woman could only nod, more tears threatening to overcome her. Holding her hand, the old father pulled his daughter into an tight embrace. “I love my, my child.” he whispered.


With a laugh, Madelinne inquired: “How much more are you going to call me a child, father? I’m a grown woman, you know!”.


“Oh, I know, sweetheart, but to me, you’ll always be but a child.”. Contemplating it for a moment, Madelinne smiled as she hugged her father even tighter, finding in her the strength to speak the words she hadn’t said in so many years:


“I love you, daddy.”

 

[Ayl]

This was my entry for the June Prose Contest, enjoy:

Spoiler

Little Jenny was walking through the bustle that was the market, a wide, innocent smile decorating her childish face. The Regional Fair was, perhaps, the biggest event of the year, when farmers, artisans and craftmen from all over the County would come and display their goods. Fruits and vegetables, both firm and frail, their juiciness attracting many a child’s eye. Fine works of art, such as oil paintings and painted pottery were put on show for the possible patrons. The streets were so crowded, it made strolling up and down the paved roads almost impossible without bumping into some handsome stranger, or lovely maiden.


Jenny couldn’t afford herself a stall, so she was needed to sell her wares by walking around and shouting aloud for all ears to hear her: “Come get your Happiness! Come get your Hope! We have Love, too! Come now!”. Her squeaky voice carried with it the distinctive tune of youth and hope. Her emerald eyes were darting left and right after possible customers. Unlike her fellow salesmen, Jenny cared little for the size of their pouches. Her small frame did her big heart injustice, for all the little girl really cared about was making the world a better place, not enriching herself.


After shouting about for a while, Jenny was finally approached by a tall man, with a ravishing moustache and a belly to rival one of Ol’ Janner’s giant ale barrels. With a snarky tone, he inquired: “What have you there, lil’ one?”.


Jenny quickly jumped to the occasion and opened the rather large, brown leather bag she was carrying with her and displayed its contents. In it, dozens of small, brightly colored vials sparkled in the golden threads of light, raining down on their heads. “They’re liquid emotions, kind ser! Just a sip from one o’ them can change your life! Would you like to purchase one?”


The man quirked a brow, skeptically. By his tanned skin, it was obvious he hailed from one of the more distant lands, separated by the furious seas. Jenny noticed this, so she concluded the stranger needed no Bravery from her. Stretching out a hand towards the bag, before Jenny could protest in any way, the man snatched a bottle from the bunch, bringing it before his eyes and studying it rigurously. “You say this sparkly fluid will make feel whatever I want to?”.


“Aye!” she replied, her face donning an expression of pure joy. “That’s Selflessness you got there!” she said, pointing her gentle finger at the purple, swirling mass. Taking a quick look around him, the tall outlander spotted a lone beggar, hiding himself from the hot sun in the shade cast by a neighbouring tree. “You mean if I drink this, I will feel kind towards that lazy, pathetic scum over there?”.


Jenny shrugged at the man, her face now showing nothing but a detached attitude. “It will, but only if you truly want it to.”. The stranger frowned at her apparently cryptic words. Throwing another glance at the beggar, the man reached inside the pouch, which was hanging by his left side, strapped to his belt, grabbing a coin and flicking it at Jenny. While the girl was gawking over the doubloon, the outlander popped open the small vial and took a quick sip of the brew.


What happened next startled every single person in the immediate surrounding. The man let out a terrifying shriek, his eyes wide with shock. Before anyone could start questioning this sudden outburst, the man started laughing. From the crowd, another figure, similar to the one that bought the vial, emerged. Swiftly coming up to the first, the second one, shorter in stature and lacking a large stomach, panickly asked: “Father, what is it?! What ails you?!”.


Still laughing, the alleged father responded: “My son, worry not! Your father has found what he was looking for!”. While his son was still confused, the tall stranger grabbed his coin pouch and ripped it to shreds with his bare hands. The cascade of round pieces of gold fell down in multiple waves, the whole show being watched by the dozens of witnesses.


“COME! COME, YOU, PEOPLE IN NEED! Ever since I have first tasted the sweetness of coin, I’ve never parted with one needlessly. But now, my greed has been cured! And the person responsible of this, is right here!” he shouted as he pointed at Jenny. “Come! Come and join in my happiness!” the man said one last time, before the people started heading, one by one, to the little girl, out of curiosity, each with their own request. Some wanted Happiness, others wished for Empathy, while some longed for Love.


The sun had set for hours, when little Jenny arrived at her humble abode. Her bag was now empty. She had managed to sell her entire stock for the week in one day. She hadn’t even dared to dream she would accomplish such a feat. Yet another day had passed in which she had kept her promise to her parents.


When she was old enough to understand, her parents, kind people themselves, made her promise to never wrong any person, or make them sad. Even after they had passed away, months ago, from an unknown illness, Jenny still respects her given word to her parents. Entering the backyard, she headed towards the two gravestones that dominated the garden.


“I did it, mommy and daddy!” she said, falling to the ground, weary of walking with her only leg. Brushing the gravestones with her hands, her eyes couldn’t help but weep as she sighted her two missing fingers from an accident some time ago. Despite her broken body, her spirit still stood strong.


You see, to prevent people from being sad and to uphold her promise, Jenny shared all the joyful emotions she had with the world, while keeping none for herself. Afterall, Happiness was much more easy to sell than Sadness.

 

[Ayl]

Something a bit more creepy:

Spoiler

The darkness was kept at bay by the cries of laughter and the fire flickering inside the tavern’s lanterns. The old bartender was serving drinks left and right, while the gleeful folk were engaged in both pleasant conversation while sitting at their tables, and energetic dance. Whether man or woman, adult or child, they were all rejoicing in the spirit of holiday.


The Ripe Festival was an annual festivity, around the start of the third season, where the grains would usually be ripe for the taking. This year, the harvest was the best the little village of Sherwin has seen since its first settler.


Because of this, every villager was now celebrating the event, with bountiful amounts of ale, food and good mood. Old Timmon was spinning tales for the young ones, while Gertrude, the mayor’s daughter, was giving the handsome boys the ol’ look, to her father’s despair.


All were having a great time, appart from the mysterious man, sitting in the corner of the tavern. The seat was chosen strategically, as it was the most dim lighted one in the venue. His features were masked by the black, hooded cloak he was wearing. His presence was not so unexpected. Sherwin, although small, was situated on the King’s Road, which made visitors an often sight.


What was noticeable about this wanderer was the subtle, ominous air floating around him. Like he would’ve carried the very wind of change on his shoulders. He arrived somewhere towards the breaking of dusk, and never left the table. Anyone could’ve realised that the stranger was waiting for something.


Alas, the question “for what” was soon going to be answered.


It was because of the villagers’ combined cheers that the scream came as nothing more than a murmur at first. When the shouts of joy lowered, it escalated, to the point where all the feelings of happiness were snuffed and replaced with a heart-gripping fear.


Eyes darted towards the darkness, with the intent of pinpointing the whereabouts of the sound. The atmosphere was tense. Without any specific reason, no one moved. A silence worthy of a crypt installed itself, only to be broken seconds later by the fearful scream of a housewife, as the lanterns’ fires suddenly went out.


Darkness covered them like a careful mother would put her children to sleep. Inspired by a feeling of practicality, some men had started searching for other light sources.


“Oi, over here! I found some matches! We can relight the torches!” shouted one of them.


At this point, the hooded figure sitting solitary in a corner swiftly got off his chair and spoke for the first time: “No!” he warned.


But it was too late.


A screeching noise could be heard as the man lit the match, holding it close to the freshly extinguished torch. The contraption went up in flames, illuminating its surroundings, allowing for a most stunning image.


Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, right in front of the tavern. There wouldn’t have been nothing disturbing about her at first glance, appart from her skin being the same colour as a cadaver’s. Her head was bowed down, with her eyes closed and her hands were resting one over the other, both upon her lap. It was as if she was praying.


With slow movements, she raised her head and opened her eyes. At once, the air chilled throughout the tavern. “S-Sh-She’s dead!” one of the peasants managed to articulate. “She’s a-”


His last words were cut off by the dreadful shriek. The Banshee had opened its mouth and was now singing its wail of death. Within seconds, the humans dropped to the floor, in agony, due to the monster’s screams.


Now that her victims were incapacitated, the Banshee’s features turned into a frightening grin. She was hungry for flesh and tonight she had a feast prepared. Like a feline, she jumped upon the closest unlucky bastard and sunk her dagger-long nails into his heart, biting into his neck.


The monster’s attention, however, was soon attracted by a flash. The blade the fire reflected off soon pierced her shoulder. Letting out another shriek, the Banshee turned to face her aggressor. The solitary figure was now standing among the unconscious villagers, sword in hand, hood taken off.


His violet, vertically slit eyes met hers, and for a moment, he could sense fear within them, for the beast recognized what he was. There was a moment of pause, in which the night’s breeze brushed his snow-white hair, making it wave.


The still scene was broken as soon as the Banshee jumped off the man she was devouring, lunging at the mysterious man. Dodging her by an inch, the man whirled and managed to slash her. Black blood oozed from the wound, burning the floor as it came into contact, accompanied by another shriek of horror.


“Save your breath!” the man replied sardonically, his words giving an indication about what the monster was facing: her screams had no effect on him. "It’s the end for you!”. The Banshee quickly rose and attempted another head-on attack on the swordsman. Fortunately, the man, yet again, proved more agile. A slash to the neck brought the Banshee to the floor, writhing in death’s embrace.


Approaching with gentle steps, the fighter was now one feet away from the creature. “Ehna vinis tuah der!” he chanted. Even with her throat sliced open, the Banshee was still able to let out one last horrid scream before she bursted into flames.


Watching the Banshee burn, the man was suddenly startled by the feeling of a touch on his ankle. Startled, he turned and pointed his sword at the potential threat, only to see the mayor, the first to wake up.


“Y-you!” he tried intonating. “You’re one...one of those...monster hunters…”


“Aye, I’m an Inquisitor.” he answered, although he wasn’t really asked.


The Inquisitor extended a hand, as to help the mayor rise. “T-thank you!” the shaken man tried showing his gratitude. “Thank you for everything! Without you, we would’ve all-”


“Don’t thank me yet.” came the white haired man’s interruption.


A confuse expression installed itself upon the elder’s face, while the fear from earlier came rushing back, gradually.


The Inquisitor grinned. “Well… I’m not done, just yet! You see, Banshees travel in packs.”.


Just as he finished the sentence, another dozen shrieks could be heard in the distance. The frightened mayor freezed in horror, while the fighter smiled.


“No rest for the wicked…” he mumbled under his breath, readying his sword.