My bacon was cooked . . . and then it got saved.
You see, Monday is my day to put a short story up at Legends Undying, and I . . . well, let me just copy what I wrote over there . . .
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9:45pm, Sunday evening . . . a cold bead of sweat runs down the side of my face, gathering speed as it makes it over the cheek bone, and finally launches itself to land on the (figurative) blank sheet of paper. The paper where the latest installment of my angels short story is supposed to be . . . and is not.
Damn it! Again, with the being late, with having life interfere with art. I still have to shower, and try to get at least four hours sleep before heading to work on Monday morning.
. . . and I have nothing! All I can think of is dragons, not angels. Because, you see, I want to enter the dragon story contest.
Hey!! I could whip up a dragon short story, and use it as my Monday contribution! The idea hits me like a ton of bricks, and it frees up my creative juices.
. . . I get some paper towels, sop up them juices, and wring them out over the keyboard . . . and 45 minutes later I have my entry.
It will be Entry #6, and I have a good feeling about it . . . safely nestled between two prime numbers, it looks good. The doubt and feelings of inadequacy will come later, after I read the other entries, but for now, I am happy. Besides, Melisa likes it, and that is all that matters.
So, here we go; entry number six . . .
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Unspoiled Offering
By E. J. D’Alise (Disperser)
Copyright February 2013
“But why us? Why our daughter?!?” Ernin looked at Saven, daring to see hope, but finding none.
“You know the agreement . . . they guarantee our safety, and in return, when their leader’s eldest comes of age, they feed on the youngest of our unspoiled daughters.” Saven could hardly get the words out. Just thinking about it hurt beyond belief, but voicing the fact made the pain unbearable.
He looked at the parchment from the elders, the words seemingly hovering above the paper . . . he knew it was an optical illusion due to the red letters on the blue background, the colors of official edicts.
“Where is she now?” Saven asked.
“She is with Serten, out by the cliffs.” Ernin sat as she spoke, an air of resignation settling upon her. “Oh . . . Serten . . . he will not let her go without a fight!”
The words carried renewed hope, but their flame was but a flicker. Ernin knew the elders would keep Serten from interfering.
“I will go talk to them.” As he spoke, Saven headed to the cliffs.
~
“The sky is magnificent!”
Serten was content to just look at Evare, letting her infectious enthusiasm and good mood wash over him. They had grown up together, and had been inseparable since they had come of age. As soon as he could settle on his own plot of land, he would ask her to be his mate.
Evare turned to him, her smile touching her eyes, and brightening the very air around them. She knew of his plans, and thought about their future every moment not spent learning, or doing chores. As she lost herself in his green eyes, she saw a change in his demeanor, saw him stiffen, and watched him lose his smile.
She turned, and saw her father coming toward them . . . as he neared, she knew something was wrong, and she feared something had happened to her mother.
~
Saven, Ernin, and Evare stood facing the circle of elders. Imposing they were, but they echoed the family’s pain. Most of the clan was in attendance. Serten stood well back, his dark visage made more ominous by the shadows cast by the Home Tree. Two elders stood at his sides. It was obvious they were not there to comfort him.
“Per the agreement at the end of The Great War, Evare, youngest of the maidens, is to be offered to the Leader’s oldest son. This sacrifice symbolizes our resolve to abide to The Truce agreed upon by our ancestors, and in exchange grants us the right to inhabit these lands. So it is written, so it is done.”
The eldest of the elders finished speaking, and nodded to the two who would deliver her to the sacrificial altar.
Evare offered no resistance as they gently led her from the group. No one spoke.
~
Standing on the altar, she looked down at the gathering. Her own kind were forbidden from this place, and she found no compassion, and no pity, in the faces of those gathered for the occasion, the Leader and his oldest son among them. Hideous creatures, they bore themselves with little grace, and shuffled along as if on the verge of toppling.
She resolved to face her end with dignity and grace. She glanced at the butchering pit . . . she had been told she would be mercifully killed before being dismembered. Closing her eyes, she could not cast the image of her body being torn asunder from her mind.
She opened her eyes, and watched as the Leader urged his oldest to start the feast. He looked weak . . . she hoped he would be strong enough to finish her in one blow. Despite her resolve, when he jumped up on the altar, she took a half step back. Then she caught herself, resumed her station, and stood tall even as he neared. She closed her eyes.
~
She waited for the blow, but what she felt was a rush of warm air, and the comforting heat of fire.
She opened her eyes. Serten was hovering above the altar, a determined look in his eyes. Even as his powerful wings held him in place, his tail impaled the Leader’s eldest, and without breaking station, he belched a stream of hot liquid that vaporized the Leader and his guards.
As he settled next to Evare, the rest of the humans broke rank, and ran. Folding his wings around her, he looked into her eyes. “Are you alright?” His voice was strong, confident . . . capable.
“Yes, but . . . won’t this mean war?”
Serten looked at the humans running away. “For too long we have suffered as no more than pack animals for these humans, even as they grew soft and indolent. We had won the right to be treated as equal, and now it seems we will have to fight for that right once again.”
He looked over his shoulder. Evare followed his gaze, and saw a swarm of dragons of the South clan heading toward her Home Tree. She had heard stories about The Gathering, and could hardly believe she was alive to witness it.
“Join me,” Serten’s wings unfolded, and with one powerful beat, they lifted him into the air, “as we fight to regain our rightful place in the skies above this land.”
Evare briefly worried about the coming conflict . . . then smiled, and she lifted to join Serten. This was, after all, what dragons were born to do.
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As usual, as I re-read something the day after, I can see places where I could improve a few things, add a few words, remove a few others. For instance, as Evare is on the altar, I considered adding a sentence regarding the Leader’s oldest son barring his teeth, and Evare not knowing if the creature was smiling or snarling.
All part of the initial mis-direction toward the eventual overturning of the reader’s expectations.
But, ultimately, I decided to leave it as is. I thought it was a decent effort for just shy of an hour of writing (including editing). I would love to hear reactions to the story, but it’s not necessary.
I hope it was a good read. If it was, tell everyone. If it wasn’t . . . remember, no need to get all hot and bothered over it.
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Please, if you are considering bestowing me some recognition beyond commenting below, refrain from doing so. I will decline nominations whereby one blogger bestows an award onto another blogger, or group of bloggers. I appreciate the intent behind it, but I would much prefer a comment thanking me for turning you away from a life of crime, religion, or making you a better person in some other way. That would actually mean something to me.
Should you still nominate me, I will strongly suspect you pulled my name at random, and that you are not, in fact, a reader of my blog. If you wish to know more, please read below.
About awards: Blogger Awards About “likes”: Of “Likes”, Subscriptions, and Stuff
Note: to those who may click on “like”, or rate the post; if you do not personally hear from me, know that I am sincerely appreciative, and I thank you for noticing what I do.
. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
Disperser Tracks 
this is really good emilio. you seem to put yourself in those stories and that is good. that is what makes a good writting.
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Oh, my, but this is an entertaining little story! And a great surprise at the end that they’re dragons . . . even though you did mention that it would be about them. Anyway, I really enjoyed it. I followed the link “dragon story contest” and “like-d” it there but I did not read any of the others. Hope your story impresses them as much as it did me. Good luck!
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Thanks . . . Because of the awards (most magical, scariest, and most innovative), I don’t think it will do well as it does not fit on any of those categories. But I liked writing it, and that is worth a lot to me.
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And all the more to me. They should have a category “best feeling” . . . but somehow I don’t think that would fly . . . hey, that’s funny and I didn’t even try to be . . . um, I guess “they” can tell we’re related . . .
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It’s always a popularity contest to various degrees . . . why I don’t worry about it.
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love your gathering of dragons!! and how you reveal them at the end- a nice twist!
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Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.
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I love all dragon stories that are not cutesy and I like stories that take advantage of a reader’s assumptions. It’s a teaching moment, as it were. Thank you for sending me this link!
There was one part that didn’t work for me. If Serten and Evare are so close, and planning their future together, and if the overlords require the sacrifice of an “unspoiled” female….then naturally, Serten and Evare would proceed to become spoiled that very day. I am a strong female, and take the strong female perspective on it, I guess. Take out the word “unspoiled” and this entire discussion goes away.
I think the change from immediate, total, passive compliance on the part of the dragons, to preparations for an epic war the next day…is not quite believable. You could add some hints earlier, to suggest that things are not going so well, so the transition to war is more natural.
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Thank you for the feedback.
. . . I hesitate to offer excuses for the foundation of a story I literally threw together, but I’ll offer some rationalization for the flow and details of the story.
First and foremost, it was all along meant to hide the twist at the end, and that drove stylistic choices and story details.
“Unspoiled” serves the purpose of leading the expectations of the reader (stories of virgins sacrificed to dragons). That said, I approached it as being more than just the custom. The custom of primae noctis (although likely more a myth than real) is still played in various works of fiction. Same with arranged marriages. And certainly there are modern day society where not being a virgin is itself cause for execution, be the female strong or not. In all those cases, I’d argue that the fact a person is or isn’t a virgin is almost secondary to her (in the case of women) being presented as such (except in the case of honor killings, in which case it is the single and most important fact).
Side note: Charles and Diana may offer the perfect example of the schism between the fantasy presented to the masses and the reality. JFK and Jackie, another.
Second, the timing . . . it wasn’t something that was going to happen “later”. It happened that very day. Or, at least, I inferred they received the notice when they came to get her. The triggering event was the coming of age of “their” leader’s eldest son. I don’t think I left time between the announcement and her being taken by the elders for them to “get it on”, as it were.
I’ll grant you there wasn’t much foreshadowing of war, but this is a flash piece and peripheral issues would have significantly added to the word count . . . but, I don’t know if you remember or watched the movie Braveheart. There’s no foreshadowing of the character planning to wage war, let alone lead others into war . . . but a single event triggered the response. For that matter, a single event triggered the US into war in a number of cases, the last one resulting in an ongoing war without a clear resolution. WW I is perhaps the ultimate example of a war no one wanted that was triggered by a single event (interesting reading that, but I digress).
Obviously, I’m making excuses . . . worse yet, I’m justifying stuff that at the time I hadn’t consciously considered (except for the immediacy of her being taken — as I wrote it, had I been in that situation, I would have escaped, so I made it that they had no time to avoid it).
But, perhaps, the overarching excuse is that it’s fiction and, as such, takes some liberties. Even more so because I had to quickly steer to the surprise twist. The longer and more involved the narrative, the more difficulties with pronouns, actions, and details that might either give away the twist, or pose a conflict with said twist.
Before I end, understand that I agree those are valid concerns, but I was trying to fool the reader before the fact, not after. Heck, I have similar objections to beloved classic . . . I could easily take apart the events of Romeo and Juliet (I really dislike that story and saw the two protagonists not as tragic, but as idiots) and I certainly don’t consider Elizabeth and Darcy to be in love and theirs being a romantic story.
Or, I could default to saying I was a crappier writer back then . . . except my ego won’t let me. What I will say is that stories work for some readers and not others. Unfortunately, I can’t be objective about what I write because I wouldn’t have written it (or posted it) if I didn’t like it.
Thanks again for the feedback, and if you are at all interested in more dragon stories, here are a few more. As before, there’s absolutely no obligation or expectations of them being read. PLUS . . . you now know a bit of my writing style, so if it’s not to your taste, let me be the first to encourage giving them a pass.
This 3,100 words story is about the conflict between Unicorns and Dragons (you have to scroll a bit to get to it). Again, some suspension of belief is required because while dragons are real, everyone knows Unicorns don’t exist.
This is another flash piece (that’s code for quickly written and perhaps not to everyone’s liking):
Again, no obligation to read them, and thanks again for your in-depth comment.
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ha ha ha! I did not expect you to respond so carefully to my comment and then offer up more writing. That’s awesome! If what you wrote was junk, I wouldn’t have taken the time to comment, so I’m glad you took the right message from my critique. And yeah, I get that you threw it together in a moment of inspiration, so no worries. When I show my writing to others and their only comment is, “This is awesome. You’re such a great writer.” Then I don’t feel like I’ve received genuine feedback. I was trying to honor you in the way I wish to be honored. I’ve got one reader, and 89-year-old ex-literature professor, who periodically complains about my incorrect use of lie/lay. He’s right. I don’t understand it at all. And I want to. So I appreciate when he points it out.
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Let me be clear that I very much appreciated your feedback, and my response was not meant to argue, but to explain the choices I made.
Also, if you read any of my writing posts, you’ll read that I prefer brutal nitpicking to praise (but not malicious nitpicking). I have a few friends (the other writers in the Alphabet Challenge) and when we critique each other it’s without regard to feelings; the idea is to improve our writing, not to be coddled.
Of course, it has to be constructive, and yours was that. I almost left it at “thank you” but wanted to explain why the story was limited. Again, I stress I appreciated and found the feedback useful. Unfortunately, acting on it would substantially change the story even if it did plug up some of the issues you mention.
I linked a piece on feedback in my latest post. It’s not short, but it covers my response to a critique of one of my novels:
Finally, I’m always hesitant to reply to feedback because it always sounds like I’m arguing.
I’m not. If I read a book and it makes me feel a certain way, it doesn’t matter what the writer intended; I feel the way I do and no amount of explaining changes that. So, I respect the reader’s reactions and if I explain anything, it’s not to change anyone’s mind, but to clarify why I wrote something.
Thanks again for the comment.
. . . and you’ve now also learned I seldom write short comments when discussing anything.
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