The Slow Fade
 

Chapter Name: The Glade

All things must things must come to an end, whether for good or evil. One must move on, doing what he can in the face of adversity, but some lose the will to fight the unrelenting tide, and are swept away. It's never sudden. Like time, burning away at those below it, corruption is a slow fade...

"Remember son; always remember that this world is cruel. Watch yer back, and ye'll do fine. We carved this" gesturing to indicate the small island on which their small settlement lay, "from the wilderness. By our strength, and by the fact that we didn't allow any king who lives half-way across the world to tell us what to do." Young Roger always took those words for granted, those his father continually reminded him that only by one's own sweat and hard work could one find a place in a vile world. As a child, it was something far away. Never once had he imagined that one day, these words would apply to him.


Crack. Someone was following him through the dense vines that concealed the glade. Suddenly, a small, stringy boy slid out of the underbrush, barreling straight into the much larger form of Roger.

"Ow... Oh! I'm so sorry!" Roger had something of a reputation in the village for being quick to anger, if kindly. "I didn't mean to-" Trying to help the much larger boy up, the little tramp tripped, colliding with a tree. The resulting tangle took several minutes to sort out, and when they did, neither of them got up for several minutes, just enjoying freedom from the sweaty, knotted mass in which they had been trapped.

"I really am sorry."

"Don't mention it." Roger wasn't overly upset. That impossible after seeing the other's large brown eyes widening from fear and from awe of the small clearing. It was understandable of course, thought Roger. Rumors had spread that he had a hide-out in the forest, though no one had followed him until today. It was extremely amusing, watching the boy look about like he had found El Dorado itself. Though it did not shine with gold, the glade was, in its own way, even more mystifying. Roots criss-crossed the ground, forming intricate nets in the cool earth. The trunks of the trees were in most cases larger around than his own home, and the curtains of sleek vines reflected the little light that reached the forest floor, casting an eerie green glow.

Eventually, the young boy came out of his awed daze, and got up the courage to ask, "So, how did you find this?"

Grinning with a look of great satisfaction, Roger replied, "Remember those explorers who came through here? They must have thought I was a native. They chased me, and I ducked in here, and here I am. Great isn't it? There're supposed to be monsters in these woods, you know." He grinned almost dreamily. Then, as if it were just a secondary thought, "Who are you anyway?"

The young boy, who by now was thinking he didn't like this boy who seemed to be enraptured by the thought of powerful beasts in the forest. "I'm Dale Ericsson, but most just call me Hex."

"Well Hex, I-" Just then, another boy crashed through the brush. Turning on Hex, Roger hissed, dripping with sarcasm and suppressed anger, "Tell me, just how many more did you bring?"

"I didn't- He must have followed-" But by this time, Roger was already drawing his blade.

"We don't have time for this!" Both turned towards the new-comer. "The village is under attack! It's pirates!"





:bookishfj7:This is just the first chapter. I couldn't do more tonight, but I'll get back to it every once in a while. Hope you like it.

story
 

you WROTE this? OMG.. that's really good!!!! This is all yours?

Yes, all mine. And technically, it's the first draft. :laughks2:

its so awesome!! keep it up! its great! :D

I'm confused, a boy meets a stranger at his hideout, and then pirates attack... NvM, I'll stick with that:D

...big words... I was impressed by the first sentence!

Very good writer! :)

Oh Muffin! Never judge a story by its first chapter.

So the pirates meet the hideout at the stranger, then boys attack?

I'm sorry, but what? Try to rephrase that.

I just reversed what muffin said.

Chapter Name: Conviction Amongst the Rubble


The village was gone; nothing but a pile of rubble and ash. Death hit him hard at that point. Roger used to have friends in the village, and it held memories for him. This was where his father had died. Over and over he recalled the expression on his sister's face as she died in his arms...

"I'm scared." Her face was pale and sweaty. "D-don't let me go."

"I won't." He had promised her. "It's going to be ok." But even as he had said it, he knew he was lying, partly for his sake, but mostly to comfort himself. His sister couldn't die too. She was all he had left. "What happened?" Trying to give her something to focus on, other than the blade that had lodged in her ribs.

"I was running on the beach- and they came." She was staring into the night sky, seemingly at the stars, but her eyes didn't seem to see them.

"Who? Who did this to you?" Roger was almost on the verge of tears now.

"They... the- She shuddered as if from cold, though the night was mild and warm. The Pearl... Black Pearl..." A sigh escaped her lips, and the lights left her eyes. That was the true enemy, he realized. He could run far away from this place, and Death would always follow, the images of dying and dead, whether innocent or not, staring at what living eyes could not see.

"I'm going to find them." He muttered.

Looking up, Hex almost whimpered "What? You can't be serious. We're just kids!"

"I don't care. I'm going to track them down, and I will kill them." He almost lost control, almost killed the young boy before him, yet something stayed his hand. Perhaps it was because Hex, though he had barely known him before now, was his only connection to what he had called home.

He looked around the beach. Warm sea-breezes wafted up through the houses, softly whispering to the dancing palm trees. The jungle that had been his hide-out was now foreboding and cold. If he hadn't been there, his sister might still have been alive. He could have saved her! Then again, maybe not. The tiny voice in the back of his mind tried to convince him. If you had both died, nobody would have avenged either of you. You're better alive than dead. On the edge of the forest, a small sea turtle, perhaps the last of its brethren to come out, left its sandy nest and began its descent to the sea. It was half-way down the beach when suddenly, SNAP! A seagull swooped down and devoured it. Only those who were fit to survive, just like his father had always told him.

Turning his attention back to Hex, he asked, "Are you going to help me or not?" He couldn't face the idea of fighting on his own.

Sighing, the small boy turned his icy blue eyes on him, and said "Yes. I Will." Suddenly, Roger felt much better. At the same time, another turtle, smaller than the first, clambered out of the sand. It would be devoured too. Roger, with a gentleness he had never known, picked the small, forlorn creature up, and walked down into the incoming tide. He watched as it swam out into the blue surf, then turned back. He would find those who had wronged him, and when he did, he would have his vengeance.

nice its keeping me interested N i cant wait for the next chapter:bookishfj7::schilder090:

Chapter Name: The Forging of Death's Grip

The last golden rays of the sun set and the raft was nearly built. It wouldn't last long, but they didn't intend it to; they would be island-hopping to Tortuga, across countless islets and reefs. But even though it was as sturdy as any dinghy, carefully layered with pitch, which they melted onto the bottom, and tested for several days, the two boys worried it wouldn't be enough. The third, the one who had brought the news of the attack, had joined them a few days before, and work had begun in earnest. Now all they had left was to cut the mast, and they could be on their way.

The forest would forever haunt the boys' nightmares, especially that of the third boy, James, now nick-named 'Bloodless'. This was due in part to his dead-white complexion, and also to his lack of either muscle or fat anywhere on his body- Very unusual in a village where men were judged by their labor. Narrowly dodging his would-be captors, his slight form had slipped unnoticed into the shadows. Sweat had streamed down his face as he recalled the flight. "Nobody should have to go through that. Knowing you're about to die, wishing you could do it all over. Wishing you were somewhere other than where you are."


The tree they chose was a palm, not too large, just big enough to work as their mast, and not to hard, for they had few tools. Even so, they had difficulty finding the right tools with which to cut it down. Hex had found three axes, sharp and of a shiny black material neither Roger nor Bloodless could place. "Obsidian. From the Spanish Main." was Hex's simple answer. "Razor sharp, but we won't get much use out of them, they break easily." It was a strange sensation, for these particular axes didn't seem to cut so much as slide through it, so that soon they were finished.

For Roger, each moment whittling away at soft wood was like a release from his thoughts of late, and the decisions ahead, looming just over the horizon like a storm.
That's what this all feels like. His thoughts in that moment were bitter. The calm before the storm. But when will the storm hit? But he threw the thoughts aside, and returned to the calming rhythmicity of his work. And again his father's words helped him. "Don't dwell on what hasn't happened yet. Deal with what's happening now."

"Alright, that ought to be good for tonight. You should both get some shut-eye." Only when the two younger boys had fallen into sleep's embracing arms did Roger finally begin his true work. Like a rat, or other loathsome scavenger, he searched the village, looking through every room, every nook and cranny. A pistol, a dagger, and the old core of a Voodoo doll, left behind by the death of the town's healer. The first two's uses were straight forward of course, and though he didn't know just what to do with it yet, he felt that the core might yet be useful...

The dawn came all too early for Hex and James, but, reluctantly, they got out of the nests of leaves they had built, and slid down towards the beach, expecting Roger to be waiting, or perhaps working on any finishing touches to the vessel. He wasn't there. Clang! Metal on metal, like bells, or like the fall of a hammer... The two rushed through the town towards the old blacksmith's shop. Clang! Another peal like thunder, and this time accompanied by a small grunt of exhaustion.

Reluctantly, they entered the foyer. The blacksmith had never had children, and perhaps it was for the better. The old, grizzled man who forged the town's tools thought very lowly of the little ones, and he never passed up a chance to cause them trouble. Suddenly, a blur of ebony swooped past them. A large black bird perched on an old stand; it must have been the old man's pet. Relieved, James gasped "Just a raven." They slowly, even more cautiously, crept down the hallway into the workshop.
There, the large form of Roger loomed. He was removing something hot from the anvil, where he had just finished beating it into shape, and dunked it into a pale of water. Steam hissed like a great serpent, coiling and writhing through the air. For some reason, the two had not yet seen fit announcing themselves, feeling perhaps that they were witnessing something dark, even... profane. Roger removed the object, and placed it on the table. It was a weapon, that much was clear. Its main body appeared to be made of wood, though it had apparently not been burnt in the fire for some reason, and a huge barrel- a pistol's by the look of it - emerged from its front end. On either side of the barrel, gleaming blades emerged. It had the look of a claw from some monstrosity, survived from ancient times. In its back there was an open space, where one could place their hand, and it likely had a handle of some sort within.
As Hex peered further into the room, he tripped over James, who cried out. Roger turned to face them. "Hello. Oh this? I call it Death's Grip. Do you like it?"




:laughks2: This one was a little weirder, but hope you enjoy!

Chapter Name: The Voyage Begins

The sails were finished; now all the needed to be done was to gather supplies. Difficult work it was, for most of what the village had was taken or burned. It didn't help that only Hex or James did any work. Roger had been plotting for the last fort-night how he would kill his enemies, and though he had never said as much, the others knew. Slowly, the once active boy, who was soon to be a man, lapsed into brooding, spending more of his time on dark thoughts than in the world around him, and in the tasks of the present.

"I don't like it." Hex sighed, and paused in his search for food. James had told him this every few days for the last two weeks.

Turning on the younger boy, Hex replied, "I don't like it any more than you do, but if it saves our necks at some point, I won't complain."

"But if feels... evil." In fact, neither boy believed the weapon itself was evil, but rather the purpose for which it was forged, the purpose that it would fulfill. Perhaps it would help them have their retribution, but both had seen what dwelling on it had done to Roger, and neither wished to follow him that way. Often, though he kept his thoughts secret, Hex half-though that their companion had fallen into madness.
I just hope he comes to, once each and every one of those slimy rats has had his due. Meanwhile, darker thoughts were going on in Roger's mind.

He was supposed to be looking for any good food that might have been left, but he found himself captivated by the weapon which he himself had created. He silently spoke to it, half-pleeing, half-praying. "We'll find them, that is certain." Stroking it along its main body, he continued, "And when we have, you'll have your blood.
That I promise you. Your thirst will be quenched." A raven stood near him, pecking in the sand for clams. Why he did what he did next was never clear to him afterward. In a flash, he raised his new weapon... and shot it.

The next morning, the three woke up bright and early, before the dawn, when the sky was still grey and bleak. They slid onto the large raft that would be their vessel, and soon the land behind them was fleeing into the distance. As the sun rose, it penetrated the mists that shrouded the broad shoulders of the mountains there, casting them in a golden light. In the distance, the horizon stretched on and on, dotted by small islets. They were on their way. It was strange. None of them had ever known another home. As the last of the island's mighty peaks faded into the distance, Roger muttered to himself - his thoughts echoed by his fellows - "Farewell, Raven's Cove."



:buds:
Sorry that this was so short. It was a transitional chapter. I'll be sure to make more later.

Chapter Name: The Dream

Death is a curious thing; it shapes us and guides us, it makes us hold life even dearer, and when we come to fear it, it drives us to madness.

The sky was still grey as they set out from yet another small port, out of the many where they had stopped to buy supplies, and more importantly, to hear news of the Black Pearl.

"The Black Pearl? It hasn't been out that way in over a year." Roger wouldn't believe it. His sister wouldn't have lied! Such he felt in the most shallow parts of his heart, but something else was there... No, what he wanted now was to kill- to kill and to kill, until there was nothing more to kill. Then, perhaps, he could rest at peace, knowing that he would be alone to brood over the deaths of his family at the hands of the pirates.

That night, he dreamt that he lay on the silvery sand of some distant shore, listening to the sounds in the dark.
A figure stood over him, a young maiden, with eyes that pierced him, though he saw nothing else of her from under her hooded black cloak. And she spoke out in a voice he knew. It was his sister's voice.
"Oh Roger, what's happening to you?" Her concern was evident.

"I'm going to find your killers. Everyone on that accursed ship will pay for what they did to you." Without so much as turning to her, he continued "I know this is a dream, and I'll just wake up, and you'll be gone." Though he tried to be cold, he had already stored her words away in his memory, as if each were a jewel, worth its weight in gold, and more.

"You think that my death was that terrible?"

"It was death, need I say anything more?" Her eyes welled up with tears at his words, and he resented her for it. "I will make things right."

She was even sadder then. "Do you really think that death can be made right with killing? It is as likely that fire can fight fire. When there is fire, you right it with water, its opposite. Such is this universe. Their deaths will not make mine any less heinous. Rather, cherish life, for each of us must eventually enter the void." She turned and started to walk away.

"But you're here!" She couldn't go now, she couldn't leave him in his despair!

Turning back her head, her brown hair flowing out behind her, she turned those sad brown eyes on him, and sighing, said "You know I'm not. You said it yourself, this is just a dream." With that, she turned back to the horizon, and walked out into the sea, disappearing into the silvery mists.

Roger suddenly woke up, sweat dripping down his face.
"I'll find them." he muttered.
Turning over, he felt a cold lump in his clenched fist. He opened his hand, and there, in the middle of his palm, was a tiny black speck. A small black pearl...


:tiki8gt: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Tell me what you think.