Everything Is Better With Dragons
Book blogger, Autistic, Probably a Dragon, Owned by Hell Hounds
Hey up,
I’ve been terribly lazy and sort of lost the thread with the short story I was writing, I’ve given myself a kick up the arse and will be making progress, and hopefully posting the rest of ‘Words, Words, Words’ in the next few days. And just for the hell of it I’ve decided to try another little experiment involving writing to music. Shall we see what happens.
Must go, I’ve got stories to write
Here’s another 1500 word or so of the short story is posted on Sunday.
Words! Words! Words! part 2
Diary Entry: Friday 23rd March 2012
It’s so quiet here, I’m alone at the moment, my friends have gone for now. In a couple of weeks we’ll have a house warming party, but for now I just want to make the place home. There’s so much stuff, I didn’t realise how much there would be! The sun is so beautiful today, its only March but it’s warm, sunny, almost summery. Time to shower; I need to wash away the dust! Now, how does the boiler work again?
Diary Entry: Saturday 24th March 2012
I’ve just realised, this is the first time in a year and a half that I’ve written in a diary. This isn’t a proper diary, just a notebook Lisa brought with her yesterday. It’s funny; ever since I found my old diaries I’ve felt the need to journal again. I usually only do that when I’m unhappy but at the minute life is good. I have a thriving business, and a new home. I’m going to the rescue centre next week and I’m going to get a cat. We can’t have dogs.
Diary Entry: Sunday 25th March 2012
It’s getting hectic again, with Easter and summer holidays coming up. Nice for some people, we aren’t having a holiday for a few more years, the shop can’t be left for too long, and Jimmy really can’t be left alone too long.
Ahh, well, we have the house to decorate this year anyway.
Diary Entry: Saturday 31st March 2012
I have two cats! Jessie and Ron! We went to the Blue Cross today, and I could have taken all of them home. But I was restricted to two and two only. And no dogs. There was the cutest chinny ever there. We only have just enough room as it is. I suppose I could put them in the conservatory? Nah, I’m dreaming again. Two cats was one cat more than we were originally going to have.
Diary Entry: Sunday 1st April 2012
The bloody cats have been attacking the curtains! And yowling all night! Why did I think this was a good idea? Paully rang me from the shop, Jimmy fucked up the till again yesterday, and he’s had to sort it all out again. Hahhah, nothing every changes does it? I’m still complaining about the shop and Jimmy messing up. But things have changed haven’t they? Now I’m happy, two years ago I was happy, but now we have our own home, instead of rented flats, and two shops. Maybe I should look through my old diary, no, I can’t, I don’t want to go through that stress, even second hand.
Diary Entry: Monday 2nd April 2012
Patricia came in to the shop today; it was a nice surprise I have to say. I haven’t really seen much of her in the last couple of years. We were talking about a few things and for some reason I invited her round for tea on Friday. She told me she only found out that the lads would be home during their tour because she saw it on their website. Matt is such a prick. He could at least have rung her. I never thought he’d be like that, not when I first met him, he was so kind, solicitous, charming even, and intelligent but ambitious. He wanted so much for them to succeed. I’m not sure I like what success has done to him, to all of them really.
I’m not going to look in my 2010 diary. It isn’t worth reliving the pain.
Diary Entry: Tuesday 3rd April 2012
Lisa came to the shop today; she left Jimmy in charge at the Kingston shop. I sent Paully over as soon as Lisa turned up. I am not spending tomorrow tidying up his mess again! Anyway, we were talking about Patricia’s visit yesterday and then we started meandering down memory lane. We worked it out; at the end of the month it’ll have been a year since we opened the Kingston branch, two years since Paul started working for us, and four since we opened the shop, so we’re thinking of having a party. And some sort of promotional thing in the shops, we’re not sure what yet. I’m going to have to get my thinking cap on!
Diary Entry: Thursday 5th April 2012
We had a management meeting this evening, Paully, Lisa, Jimmy and myself had a take away and a gas about what we’re going to do for our four/two/one year anniversary. I think we need to do some discounting, maybe ten per cent off everything? But the others weren’t so keen on the idea. Not sure what else to try? But we’re going to have a party anyway, for all the staff. There will be three cakes. Ohh, there’s an idea; perhaps we can give out bags of sweets or bits of cake to customers? But only if they buy something. I’ll tell the gang tomorrow.
Diary Entry: Friday 6th April 2012
That was interesting. Patricia wasn’t here very long, I think she was just curious to be honest. She had a bite to eat, made small talk, had a snoop about the place and then made some excuse to leave. Well, I didn’t think my company was that bad! But apparently she did. Ahh well, can’t do anything about it I suppose. I was only being nice for old time’s sake. I’m sure she’ll go home and gossip to her real friends about how her famous son’s stupid ex (‘can’t imagine why she left him, my Matthew is an absolute angel’ – I can hear her now J)has got herself a fancy house out of town and two shabby little bookshops. (‘can’t imagine why she thinks she’s so good, just because she’s got a couple of shops’). I’m probably just being bitching and pessimistic. Maybe I’ve read the situation wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time.
Diary Entry: Saturday 7th April 2012
Home from work and absolutely exhausted. Lisa is supposed to be coming round later to discuss promo stuff, don’t think I’ve got the energy! Someone get me the vodka and lemonade!
Diary Entry: Sunday 8th April 2012
We didn’t discuss the promo work, instead Lisa found my old diaries again and started reading them aloud to me. I think she has a sadistic streak! Why have I never noticed that before?
Oh and we got very drunk. We don’t often do that these days. Lisa crashed here; Jimmy has gone out with Paul for a ‘boys night out’ in Kingston. Gods only know what state they were in when they got back to J & L’s place, but I think Lisa’s glad she crashed here instead of getting a taxi home. I think we all needed it though, it’s getting stressful at work at the minute and we all needed to blow off steam.
I’m having a lazy day today, I think I’m just going to sit in the garden and read. If the cats will let me. My dear creatures like to knock my books out of my hand, because if my hands are full of books then I’m not stroking them. I’m going to feed Ron to next doors dog if he’s not careful!
‘So?’ Lisa asked me from the till, as the last customer of the day left the shop. Saturday’s are always the worst and I couldn’t wait to go home.
‘So what?’ I said, as I pulled the blinds over the windows, shutting out the lowering early summer sun.
‘Did you read any more of your old diaries? We had a laugh when we read those few entries from January and February 2010, did you read the rest?’
‘No.’ It had been a month since I’d even thought about them, to be honest. Why was she bring this stuff up now?
‘Oh, why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to rake up painful memories. It’s long over and done with.’
‘Really? Are you sure? Because it doesn’t always seem that way, especially now that they’re coming home for a while and you’re talking to Patricia again?’
‘I’m sure, they are the past, this is now, and we’re quickly hurtling in to the future, why upset everything?’
‘Spoilsport, I wanted to read some more, maybe I’ll take your diary home and read it for myself if you won’t.’ She disappeared in to the back room for a minute.
‘No Lisa, you won’t.’ I told her when she returned lugging the vacuum cleaner (we really needed a new one), ‘If anyone reads them it’ll be me, and I’m in no mood at the minute for a trip down memory lane. And you have other things to think about, including not carrying that damn great thing around.’
‘Stop fussing, do. It’ll do no harm. The doctor said that moderate exercise is good for me.’
‘Fine, fine, just be careful.’
I’m home now, and the house is empty, or it feels that way after the busyness of work. I’m going to retreat to the conservatory with a nice cold glass of vodka and a book.
I went to my room searching for something to read. I have thousands of books, I own (well part-own) two book shops, there is no way I should feel like I have nothing to read, but I do.
I hunt round the house for something I want to read, I trail from my bedroom to my sitting room, the second bedroom that’s used as an office back to my bedroom. I feel aimless, thinking over Lisa’s words from earlier. Maybe I should read my old diary? What harm can it do? After all it’s all in the past now isn’t it? I’ve moved on, so has he, from what I’ve heard.
Finally I give in. I search through the bedside draw, (why is it even in there?), ah, there it is, under my notebooks and random bits of jewellery.
_________________________________________________________________________________
That’s your lot so far, I only had a short time to work on it this afternoon. Read please, feedback, so long as its constructive is needed, thanks.
R xXx
Can people please read and leave me some feedback. I’ve got a plan for this but I want to see what people think to the first couple of thousand words.
Words! Words! Words!
‘Hey, look what I found?’ Lisa shouted at me from my former bedroom.
‘What Lisa?’
‘Your old diaries. From 2009 and 2010.’ She came charging out in to the sitting room where I was sorting knick-knacks.
‘Oh, really, well pack them up with those photo albums and the old calendars would you.’
‘Don’t you want to have a read. I like reading through my old journals, the ones from school are especially funny, I was such an emo!’
‘Darling you still are.’ I smiled at her as she fell in to the seat next to mine.
‘Come on, we could do with a rest. I’ll get the kettle on, we can have tea and biccies, and go through your old diaries.’
She laughed when I rolled my eyes at her. She smiled her most winsome, pathetic smile and I caved in with a laugh. It’s a good job I love her.
I knew it was a mistake the moment she opened the 2009 diary; her eyes lit up and she flashed that shit eating grin that says ‘you love me? You’re gonna hate me!’
Why? Ahh, well you see 2009 was the year of the great romance, or the start of it at least.
Diary entry: Monday 23rd November 2009
His hair is red. Not real red. Dyed, anime, shocking ‘Gerard Way’ red. He has the most amazing voice. He came in to the bookshop while I was putting some new YA books on the shelves, some dodgy vampire fic I think, erghh, mass churned out rubbish. He however has better taste. He bought a copy of ‘Flowers of Evil’ by Baudelaire. He sang to himself, he said ‘See you later, sweetheart’, he smiled. Very ‘Ville Valo’ of him, perhaps he’s a fan of HIM? I didn’t see any heartagrams though. He has a pretty smile, he got me at the smile, I couldn’t see past it, those blue eyes of his confused me, I don’t know what I said to him, or even if I gave him the right change
Ahh, what’s the use of drooling over a random pretty pretty? I’m such an idiot. My libido needs to get lost. I can’t talk to attractive men, I talk too much, or can’t say a word, I laugh too much, make an idiot of myself. No one could be remotely interested in me.
I’m so glad Lisa wasn’t working today; she’d have had a field day laughing at my stumbling. And then she would have told Jimmy!
My friends are evil to me.
Diary Entry: Tuesday 24th November 2009
Oh, gods I’m horny! It was seeing that hot guy in the shop yesterday, I slept so badly! Time for a cold shower me thinks, then shopping. I’ll have to pop in to the shop to make sure Jimmy isn’t making a mess of the place. I love him but he can be such a scruffy git at times. No wonder Lisa won’t live with him!
Diary Entry: Wednesday 25th November 2009
He was in the shop again today.
Lisa served him; he bought ‘Shakespeare’s Sonnets’ and ‘To kill a Mockingbird’.
I had a chance to look him over properly, since I didn’t have deal with him, oh god I’d love to ‘deal with him’ ; D, he wears tight black jeans and a red leather jacket. He carries a messenger bag covered in band patches and pins.
He smiled at me; I was hiding in the children’s books again. Well I suppose to be truthful I wasn’t hiding so much as tidying. Nobody bothers to tidy up, except me, all the books get put on the shelves willy-nilly. They should be alphabetised.
Lisa’s decided she in love with Jimmy again. We talked about their ‘relationship’. It’s odd, really I don’t think she want anyone’s opinion, she just want to talk to convince herself that she’s doing the right thing, and sometimes it’s just to congratulate herself.
God’s! I’ve just re-read that bit, I sound like such a harpy! I should be happy for them, they’ve been together since we were at school and it works for them I suppose. I’m going to scribble that last paragraph out.
No I’m not. This is my diary; I’ll write what I think. So, I’m a bit jealous, because no one could ever possibly love me the way Lisa and Jimmy love each other, despite their weirdness. I love them both, they’re such a support for me, I’d never have tried to start a business on my own without them!
She thinks the red haired guy is ‘cute’.
Ah Lisa, she makes me laugh so much at times. Last Saturday she wasn’t talking to Jim, but now she’s in love!? I’d worry, but it’s Lisa. Next time Jimmy forgets to get a bottle of milk she’ll probably hate him again. There is something very strange about their relationship.
And she thinks the red haired guy is hot.
Diary Entry: Thursday 26th November 2009
Oh Jimmy, I really do despair of that man sometimes! He’s messed up the till again! Seriously, I’m not letting him back on there until I’m certain he won’t fuck up, I had to spend an hour, (an hour!), this evening sorting out the mess!
Diary Entry: Saturday 27th November 2009
Soooo tired!!!!
We were stupidly busy at work today. I shouldn’t complain, the business needs the income, but I get so tired at the minute.
I’m going out tonight, playing third wheel for Lisa and Jimmy. They want to go to the Red Dragon; there are live bands on or something.
I don’t want to go out, I hate going out, I never go to pubs.
The bands will be shit; L& J will be too wrapped up in each other to talk to me.
I’ll stand out like a sore thumb. I know the sort of bands those two like, rock, metal, loud noise and screamy music. I’m too big, tall and broad, to pull off the ‘rock chick’ look. You have to be all legs and supermodel thin to manage it.
I am not wearing a skirt. Lisa just rang, to make sure I was going to go out with them tonight. She decided to tell me all about her clothes as well. She wants me to wear a skirt. I do not wear skirts.
No one will notice me next to her anyway, I’m too boring. I can’t see what’s wrong with jeans and a clean shirt? My assets are suitably covered and I look tidy in jeans and a shirt. Besides I like my red shirt, it’s comfortable.
Lisa insists that I’m boring, that I should buy new clothes, now that we’re beginning to make a bit of money. I don’t want new stuff.
The stuff she points out when we’re shopping wouldn’t suit me. They don’t make those sort of clothes in heffalump size. My legs wouldn’t look good in a mini skirt – tartan or otherwise.
Damn! Its half seven already! Time to stop scribbling and have a shower, they’ll be here in an hour!
Diary Entry: Sunday 29th November 2009
What an awful night!
I was right, the bands were utter tripe.
I think I drank way too much; I was so bored by it all.
Next time L & J want to go out they can go by themselves.
I’m going back to sleep.
Diary Entry: Tuesday 1st December 2009
We put some decorations up in the shop, since I’m forced to pretend I give a shit about Christmas. Apparently it’s good for business, pulls in passing trade, reminds people to buy presents, same old same old.
That guy was in the shop again, Jimmy spoke to him. I’ve relented and said he can go back on the till but only if me or Lisa are around to supervise.
They talked about music. Jimmy reckons he’s something of an ‘expert’ on rock and metal, but I ain’t so sure.
The red haired guy asked if he could put up a poster in the shop window. He’s a singer, his brother plays the drums, and his best mate plays the guitar. They’re looking for a bassist and the keyboardist left last week.
Jimmy likes to think he can play the guitar, but I’ve heard him serenading Lisa! I have a pair of earplugs hidden under the till for just such an eventuality
He bought another book, but I couldn’t see what it was this time.
Jimmy wants to go to the ‘gig’. I don’t think I should go. Last Sunday was a disaster, and I don’t like going out anyway. I’ll probably be the oldest one there anyway. The oldest one there on my own probably.
Diary Entry: Wednesday 2nd December 2009
Damn! The shop is dead! What are people playing at? Don’t they know there’s only 22 days left until Xmas, they should be running around like headless chickens in the desperate search to find that ‘perfect’ gift. And where better to find such a thing than my little second hand book shop? Haha, I don’t do xmas! Just call me Scrooge, hmm, perhaps I should have a few copies of Christmas Carol out on display? I’m so bored I’m writing my diary when I should be making money Fuck it, I’m going to read some more of P& P.
OMFG!!! I’m such a geek!
The red haired guy came in again. He wanted to know if anyone had been interested in his ad for a bassist and keyboardist, or if anyone had asked about the gig.
He asked if I was going.
I think I might have said I would be.
Oh lordy! He caught me reading P&P! How uncool is that? A 25 year old reading Jane Austen? He probably thinks I’m a boring old maid.
Okay, I am, I suppose, but I can’t help it. I’m not attractive, or clever, and I know nothing about music.
See, now I’ve gone and brought myself down again. I’m going back to my book. Oh Mr Darcy! Where art thou?
Diary Entry: Friday 4th December 2009
He was in here again.
Seriously, that man must have nothing else to do. He bought another book today, Edgar Alan Poe this time. He actually tried to make conversation with me, sadly not ‘criminal conversation’ but still. Anyway, Lisa came back from her dinner break at the worst possible time!
We were discussing the emergence of e-books. He’s really clever. But I still don’t know his name.
He said ‘See you tomorrow night’ when he left. I am definitely going to that gig now. Lisa smirked at me when he left. She was looking at me all afternoon; does she know I have a thing for this guy? Oh gods I hope I’m not that obvious, I hope he hasn’t worked that out, it would be mortifying!
Diary Entry: Saturday 5th December 2009
9am
I am NOT going tonight!!!!
1pm
I am going tonight.
I don’t have a choice, Lisa dragged me in to town. We’ve left Jim all by himself in the shop, on a Saturday. It’s going to be a disaster. Oh thank Ingui! Here comes Lisa with my coffee. We’re ‘refuelling’ before she forces me in to more shops.
7pm
I hate my friends.
Why do they do this to me?
What did I do to deserve this?
Diary Entry: Sunday 6th December 2009
I take it all back.
Lisa, you are the best friend I could ever have!
Oh Gods!
He asked me out!!!!!!!!!
His name is Matthew Johnson.
He has an engineering degree – see I said he was clever – but he works in a pub and he writes music. He wants to be a professional singer. He has a beautiful voice.
We are going to meet up tomorrow at Lacey’s for dinner.
Oh Gods! What am I going to do? I have been out with anyone since Antony in first year at Uni.
Why would he even be interested in me?
Diary Entry: Monday 7th December 2009
Well, that was interesting. So….Intense!
He’s so fascinating. We talked and talked, all the way through the meal, then we went for a walk, and talked some more.
I still don’t get what he sees in me.
Erggh, Jimmy really messed up the till again on Saturday. As flying as I was from the date, I still had to go back to work and sort it all out. Really brought me down!
Diary Entry: Wednesday 9th December 2009
I’m so tired, again!
It’s busy at last in the shop; the xmas rush seems to have started. And Matthew was on the phone until really late last night. That man is messing with my sleep patterns! Terrible!
Hah, better go, he’s come on facebook and wants to chat
‘Hey, it peters out for a while after that, all you’ve written is ‘work manic’ or ‘date with Matthew, yummy’ for weeks after. Where’s the juicy details?’
‘Maybe I’m psychic? Maybe I knew you’d get your grubby hands on my diaries one day and decided not to write anything down?’
‘Nahhh, I’d know if you were psychic. And you wouldn’t have written that stuff about me and Jimmy if you thought I’d ever read it.’
‘Damn! You caught me out once again.’ I laughed at her, there’s a reason (actually there are a thousand reasons) why Lisa is my best friend and her husband is only just behind her in the list of people I love most in the world.
‘So, why did you stop writing?’
‘I was happy. I always write diaries when I’m miserable. That winter I was too happy, and busy, to write in my diary as well.’
‘True, it was a good time wasn’t it? Come on, since I’m not going to get any details, we’d better get some more work done.’
‘Good plan that man.’
‘Oh hey. Did you hear, Matt and the lads are doing a gig at the HotSpot during their UK and Ireland Tour?’
‘Are they? That’ll be nice for his mum and dad. I saw Patricia the other day at the Co-op, she hasn’t seen her sons for a year!’
‘Doesn’t surprise me, Matthew can be such a selfish git.’
‘But Patrick wouldn’t just ignore them?’
‘Hah, we both know that Patrick does whatever Matthew tells him to do.’
‘You can be so cynical at times Lisa. It’s really rather endearing.’
Diary Entry: Friday 23rd March 2012
It’s so quiet here, I’m alone at the moment, my friends have gone for now. I a couple of weeks we’ll have a house warming party, but for now I just want to make the place home. There’s so much stuff, I didn’t realise how much there would be! The sun is so beautiful today, its only March but it’s warm, sunny, almost summery. Time to shower; I need to wash away the dust! Now, how does the boiler work again?
Diary Entry: Saturday 24th March 2012
I’ve just realised, this is the first time in a year and a half that I’ve written in a diary. This isn’t a proper diary, just a notebook Lisa brought with her yesterday. It’s funny; ever since I found my old diaries I’ve felt the need to journal again. I usually only do that when I’m unhappy but at the minute life is good. I have a thriving business, and a new home. I’m going to the rescue centre next week and I’m going to get a cat. We can’t have dogs.
Okay I haven’t done much writing recently, a little poetry now and then, work has been getting in the way. But, I was rooting around in some of my old work and decided to start playing with this peice. It was inspired by a print called Winter Rose I saw. My brain went ‘hmm, I wander where she’s going with her dog?’ And then I started to write…….
A regency fairy-tale 1
‘Eleanor, my dear, where are you walking to in such dreadful weather?’
The sharp voice interrupted Eleanor’s reverie, ‘Oh not her’, she thought as
she recognised the woman hailing her from the carriage. Lady Elizabeth
Whitwood, the local gossip and arbiter of good taste.
‘Alfie must have his exercise, Lady Whitwood. The snow is barely an inch
thick on the road, I’ll take no harm from that.’
Hopefully if her answers were succinct enough the impertinent woman
would go on quickly and allow her to get on with her task without much
delay.
‘Oh but surely your servants can do that. I never allow Louisa to exercise
Hermione, Brookes always exercises our hounds. I’m certain your mother
would not have approved.’
‘Our men are busy preparing the Hall for tonight’s festivities.’
‘Well, if you need to borrow one or two I’d be only to pleased to lend you any
I have spare.’
‘No, thank you, Lady Whitwood, we can manage.’
‘Go away tedious women’, thought Eleanor, ‘They’ll be waiting for me now.’
‘Well if you’re sure, I’ll see you this evening. Don’t catch cold dear, it
wouldn’t do for the hostess to be coughing and wheezing all over her guests.’
‘Yes, Lady Elizabeth, I’ll see you this evening.’
Relief washed over Eleanor as Lady Elizabeth’s carriage drove on.
‘Hurry, Alfie,’ she told her Collie dog, ‘we have places to be.’
The young woman hurried along the lane until she came to a gap in the
hawthorn hedge that bordered the road. After checking the road was
deserted she ducked under the elder tree that guarded the entrance to
Elfhome.
That’s all I’ve got so far, I’m not sure what will be happening next. I think the dog might not necessarily be a dog…..
I started well. I had an idea, it developed over a few days and i think it could be quite good. I managed to find the time to make notes and then write them up in to a coherent narrative. I have a note book with different ‘scenes’ in, but i haven’t actually managed to get very far with the novel.
I managed 1000 words a day for the first week then got distracted writing short stories for a group of friends and haven’t got back in to my novel. As well as that, i feel that its a bit uninspired and i’m really struggling to maintain any momentum.
I’m going to keep bashing away at it and hopefully make something useful out of the work i’ve done so far.
National Novel Writing Month starts in November.
The object of NaNoWriMo, as I understand it, is to try to write what is essencially the first draft (50,000 words) of a novel in a month and then upload it to the website. I first read about NaNoWriMo earlier in the year in one of the writing magazines I get regularly. It looks like fun, I think i’m going to haev a go at it this year.
I have a tendancy to edit as I go along so I think it could be an interesting exercise in just getting the initial story down on paper, and then tidying it up when November’s over. Since I also struggle to finish novels (but not short stories once i get going) it might help me get past that problem as well.
Happy writing
Rosemarie
Quick recap – Hibalt and Tobold have been invited to attend an interview for a place in the Brazen Horde by its famous leader Gorgo the Terrible. After witnessing a punch-up between a horde member and another interviewee they finally get to meet the great man himself. They have just been invited to take a seat.
Tobold sat down, and down, and down. The stool was so low all that could be seen of him was his greasy mop of hair. Hibalt lowered himself gingerly on to his stool and found that it wobbled slightly if he sat too heavily on the back leg; the stool had only three. It reminded him of the milking stool his mother had had, until Hibalt’s father used it to break someone’s head open during a brawl at their tavern.
‘This is a very impressive application, did you write it yourself?’
Tobold wasn’t sure to whom Gorgo’s question was directed, so he answered it anyway,
‘No, we found a scribe to fill it in for us both.’
‘And we didn’t pay him.’ Hibalt added by way of clarification; it wouldn’t do for Gorgo to think they were so polite, even if they had apologised after they had slightly roughed the scribe up.
‘Very good. As you are, I am sure, aware, here at the Brazen Horde we have a policy of community involvement, and we are an equal oppurtunities employer. The mission statement of the Horde is to provide a valuable service to community, by removing evil kings, mad sorcerors and the like from power, and substituting enlightened government by barbarism. We have branches in all major city states and empires, and our employees are afforded many oppurtunities to travel and develop they’re own interests. How do you feel you would, if offered a position here, cope with joining sure a large organisation?’
Hibalt had already decided that he would do the talking,
‘Well, Sir, as we have shown on our application, we have been part of large organistions before. Last year we spent three months with the Gurner’s, and they number three hundred at least. I think we would settle well in such a large and well organised horde as yours.’
‘Why did you leave the Gurner’s?’ The man who had shown Hibalt and Tobold in asked from behind them.
Hibalt jumped and fell from his seat. In this ungainly position, that is flat on his back in the floor with his legs waving in the air, he answered the man.
‘We weren’t very good at pulling faces when we attacked people.’
‘Ahh, I see, well, I’ll add ‘differences with management’ to the reason for leaving section of the application form.’
‘Thanks, we couldn’t decide how to phrase it properly, so we left that bit out.’
‘How do you feel about the extensive travel required of anyone who gains a position with this horde?’
Gorgo brought the interview back on track.
‘I’m looking forward to it.’ Tobold answered so that Hibalt had time to get back on his stool, ‘ We’ve never really been away from the Ider and the country ’round it. It’ll be fun.’
‘Why don’t you tell us a little about yourselves, how did you come to be barbarians?’
‘My dad was one,’ Tobold’s voice floated up to Gorgo, ‘He was a freelance and I followed him in to the family business. I was apprenticed to my uncle Ned for ten years and then i met up with Hibalt at a convention for newly trained barbarians. We decided to give it a go as a partnership, and we’ve worked together ever since. Thjat was about fifteen years ago.’
‘And have you never wanted to be anything else?’
‘Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be a farmer or something, but then I think wouldn’t it be boring staying in the same place all the time and stop wandering. It’s a family tradition, i couldn’t really see myself as anything but a barbarian.’
‘What about you Hibalt?’
Hibalt was now firmly settled back in his seat. Dusting off his jacket and smoothing his hair, Hibalt replied,
‘My father had a tavern in Iderford, the Green Dragon, we got all the best barbarians in there when I was a kid. I would listen for hours to them talking about their adventures. i was apprenticed to Black Hand Alf at the age of seven and have been a barbarian ever since.’
‘Lifers then, both of you. Just the sort we need. We’ve had a lot of youngsters apply for the job, enamoured by the legends and adventure.’
‘Young people these days, they have no concept of the hardship involved. But they learn quickly enough, I’m sure we all did.’
‘Very true Hibalt, very true. Experience and wisdom are valuable assets in this sort of organisation. But youth has its advantages; which of us now could ride for three days, fight a battle and then rescue and ravish a princess? I know I don’t have the energy any more.’
‘Oh yes, well I never was much for ravishing , I’ve always prefered theiving.’
‘Really Tobold? You’ve never said anything before.’
‘Well, you were enjoying yourself so much, it didn’t seem fair to spoil your fun.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now gents, are there any questions you would like to ask us?’
‘Yes, do you supply accoomodation or do we have to bring our own?’
‘Afraid you have to provide your own.’
‘Is this a saleried position, weekly paid or profit share?’
‘Profit share, and we provide food as well. Although we expect Horde member’s to suppliment their incomes with private ventures these must not conflict with any and all work for the Horde.’
‘Excellent.’
‘Do you have any more question?’
‘No, none that I can think of. Tobold?’
‘Nope.’
‘Well, in that case I’ll round up shall I? I’m sure you have things you wish to do. We have several more applicants to interview and then we will deliberate but if you are successful a messenger will be sent to find you by next friday at the latest. Good bye gentlemen.’
Tobold and Hibalt scrambled from their seats to shake hands again with Gorgo and his assistant before scuttling out of the yurt in to the afternoon sunlight.
As they strolled away with false purpose Hibalt heard Gorgo’s assistant call ‘Next’ then turned to Tobold,
‘Well that could have gone worse.’
‘How?’
‘We could have both fallen off our seats.’
They still hadn’t heard back a month later so they gave up on the Brazen Horde and decided to head in to the north for a holiday. Apparently the Northern Kingdoms were very nice in summer.
And just as soon as I decide what they are going to get up to the Tobold and Hibalt will be back.
Okay, I’ve had internet issues so I haven’t had a chance to update anything recently, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. I got a little bored the other day and I’ve come up with a few more adventures for my incompetent barbarians. So today’s post is the first part of their latest adventure.
Borderlands: The Brazen Horde Part 1
‘Stop pacing. We need to project confidence, or we won’t get the job,’ Tobold glared at Hibalt, ‘Don’t look so nervous, it’ll be fine.’
‘Nervous, who’s nervous? I’m not nervous. Are you nervous?’ Hibalt tried to do as he was told and ‘project confidence’ in his demeanour, but failed miserably.
‘No, you fool, I’m bored silly.’ ‘Do you think we’ll have to wait much longer?’ ‘How should I know? Why don’t you stare at the clouds like you usually do, and shut up?’
‘Ha, I like that! There aren’t any clouds to stare at.’
The pair returned to slouching against the brass clad wall of the yurt. They’d been waiting in the ever diminishing queue since dawn and had finally reached the front. With nothing else to do they waited and watched the Brazen Horde (‘Now Recruiting! Don’t Miss YOUR Chance to join OUR Team!) stir in to life. Waiting with them under the broiling noon sun was a young man fresh from his Steppe tribe and searching for his first position. Thoroughly bored Tobold scrutinised his impassive, and impressive, features, checking out, for the millionth time, their competition. ‘The shiny armour is good, very professional looking, he might look good in a parade; wish my armour was like that, the breast-plate hasn’t got a single dent and I can’t see even a dot of rust, he must spend hours with the sand and polish; I should steal myself a set like that.’
Tobold chuntered on in this way for some time; meanwhile Hibalt was observing the man he considered to be the real threat – a weasel faced fellow with greasier-than-the-average-barbarian hair. He reminded Hibalt of a wet sewer rat, even down to the stink and slight skin disorder. He also looked familiar; Hibalt wandered, ‘had they been in the same tavern brawl? Nice sword though, whoever he was’. Being of a slightly philosophical disposition Hibalt decided that he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it and returned to staring at the empty sky. With nothing else left to think off he contemplated the twists of fate that had brought him to the door of Gorgo the Terrible, a legend among barbarians.
Joining the Brazen Horde had always been his dream; they were the best and didn’t often allow new members to join. Spotting the poster, and finding someone to read it to them, in the Blue Dragon (Voted Top Tavern by ‘Barbarian Magazine’ for five years in a row! Don’t miss Friday Free For All!) had been a stroke of luck.
Sometime after this, as the sun started to push long shadows across the ground a rather large individual wandered across to the group, travelling in a rather irregular manner as he bounced from yurt to tent to shack. He had the pained face of one who desperately need to relieve himself but couldn’t find the privy. Unfortunately he happened to bounce from the disk covered yurt in to the young man and then in to the weasel fellow. At this point he gave up, lifted his kilt and emptied his bladder all over his last bouncee.
‘Here we go,’ Hibalt thought, ‘Nice punch up, just the thing to relieve boredom. And that one might just get pushed off the interview list.’
The weasel man, somewhat irritated by being kept waiting and then urinated upon, drew his knife and stepped towards the immediate source of his irritation in an effort to protect himself from further drenching. The gentleman concerned blinked rapidly as the expression of profound relief vanished and he realised he was being attacked. Tobold and Hibalt looked on in amazement as the dullard leaned in to his attacker and walloped the knife away. The weasel screeched and the shook his arm, it had gone numb. He desperately backed away from his attacker, searching for another weapon as his attacker advanced. The weasel eventually backed in to Tobold, who grabbed him.
Hibalt had decided that they should get involved but since the fight had come to them, prehaps they should try to restore order; it might impress Gorgo the Terrible, which was the most important thing to achieve that day. Duly reaching his decision, Hibalt stepped smartly between the weasel and the dolt and tried to calm matters, in the approved manner of all barbarians – he smacked the weasel in the chops and sent him crashing to the floor, or would have if Tobold hadn’t been holding the fellow upright.
‘Problem solved, sir, and who would you be?’
‘I’m Harmen the Brave. Have you heard of me?’
‘No, ‘fraid not. Should we have done?’
‘I’m in a famous ballad, I am. The Lay of Gorgo The Great.’
‘Oh, no I’ve not heard that one. Is it new?’
‘It’s been doing the rounds for five years now. How can you not have heard it?’
‘I have, it’s very good, full of excitement and adventure.’ Piped up the youthful Steppe nomad.
‘And who are you, young man?’ Harmen asked, though he couldn’t have been more that five years older.
‘I’m Cylus. I haven’t got a ‘the Such and Such’ yet. My mum says you have to earn that bit.’
‘How pleasant to meet you Cylus, I’m sure you’ll get your moniker soon, you look the type.’ Hibalt scratched and looked at the unconscious fellow, still being held up by Tobold, ‘And does anyone know who this is?’
‘Snitch the Thief. Please deposit him there.’ A new voice joined the conversation. They all looked round to the yurt door before Harmen scurried away. Tobold dropped Snitch in an ungainly lump as Hibalt and Cylus scrambled back in to the queue.
‘Who’s next please?’ The man scanned his list, neatly pinned to a piece of wood by a small knife.
‘That would be us, Sir.’ It wouldn’t harm their chances to be polite, Hibalt thought.
‘Ah yes, Tobold and Hibalt. Please come this way.’
They followed him in to the yurt and looked around the dim interior which was lit only by a single oil lamp. The air was smokey and rank with the smell of sweat, stale alcohol and confined bodies. In the gloom stood a great figure, half hidden by an elaborate desk. The figure stepped forward in to the lamp light, removed the equally elaborate headdress and cloak and put out his hand to them.
‘Gentlemen, good of you to come. Do take a stool.’ The man, who could only have been Gorgo, shook their hands and indicated that the make use of the conveniently placed, and rather low stools.
End of Part One
Hope you liked that, part two will be here soon, provided I don’t have any more internet access problems. Any feedback would be helpful.
I’ve just seen a poster on the side of a bus, someone has done a remake of that eighties sword and sorcery extravaganza ‘Conan the Barbarian’. Conan originally appeared in a series of short stories written by Robert E. Howard in 1932 for Weird Tales. In 1982 Arnold Schwarzenegger starred in a film version, which was not bad I suppose (personally I preferred ‘Red Sonja’, a film also based on one of Howard’s short stories).
So in homage to the genre I have decided to write a short sword and sorcery snippet. I’ve never written S&S before, so there’s a good chance it could turn into a parody.
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Borderlands: Visit to Iderford
‘I’m bored, why are we here again?’ Tobold asked Hibalt, his nondescript travelling, raiding and drinking companion. They were walking through the riverside market place of Iderford after spending three weeks chasing a friend down the river Ider, from Iderhead, three hundred miles to the north-east.
‘Because, you great steaming nit, we have to find Gorgan.’
‘Why? It’s not as though she’ll still have your book. She’s probably sold it, traded it for beer or burnt it to cook her tea with by now.’ Tobold really wanted to find the nearest brothel that took Barbarian Card and spend the night in warm, clean-ish bed.
‘I don’t care, I’m still going to find her and get it back.’ Hibalt continued to look around him, searching for the four foot thief of books. It was not going to be easy, Gorgan could blend in, she could easily hide in a school and nobody would notice. Not that there were many schools out here in the Borderlands, but those strange new priests were opening up schools all the time. Not that they stayed open for long.
‘What’s so important about the book anyway, you never read it.’ Since neither of them could read.
‘Sometimes a scribe reads it to me. It has all sorts of useful advice. You know that time we were stuck in Candara and couldn’t find anyone who spoke Knuttish.’
‘Yes?’ Of course he remembered, it’s hard to forget a place when you have been chased out of it by armed men.
‘Well, the book had all these phrases in it, in Candaran.’
‘Yes, but we still got run out of town.’
‘Ah well, I think that was because I said the words wrong.’
‘Didn’t that priest tell you which words to use when we showed him the book?’
‘I forgot which words they were supposed to be.’
‘That explains it then.’
‘Shut up. I’m looking for Gorgan. She’s bound to have been here.’
‘We should ask around at the inns.’
‘You never get past the first three.’
‘Well, I like to be certain. I’m thourough.’
‘If you say so. You go hunting round the inns, I’ll try the market.’
‘Right, see you later.’ Tobold skipped gleefully away in a most un-barbarian-like fashion, to find the nearest pub.
Hibalt resumed his search. He found a likely looking stall-holder, calling forth his wares.
‘Excuse me, kind sir, could you tell me, has anybody tried to sell you a book lately?’
‘Look around, you daft thug, this is a second hand book stall, of course people have tried to sell me books, I just wish I could get people to buy ‘em instead.’
Hibalt considered reaching for his sword and running the man through, but then his therapist’s voice popped in to his head, reminding him about inappropriate reactions. Hibalt took a deep breath and counted down from ten. He tried a new strategy,
‘Sir, I am enquiring about a specific book, my book has a tattered red leather cover, with an etching of the Black Hills and Borderlands on the first page.’
‘Oh, a Red Book Tour Guide? We have one here sir, five pennies.’
‘No, that’s not my book, my book is special. But it’s very similar. My book was stolen from me, by a four foot siren.’
‘A four foot siren? Have you been drinking?’
‘Not recently, I’m on a program, to reduce my drinking. But I really want my book back.’
‘Okay, does it have any distinguishing features?’
‘Not really, a priest wrote my name in it once, when I tried to learn to read, and write.’
‘Well, that might be useful. What is your name?’
‘Hibalt Treebreaker.’
‘Right, well if anybody tries to sell me a Red Book Tour Guide with the name Hibalt Treebreaker written in it, I’ll keep it to one side in case I meet you again. What did you say the thief looked like?’
‘Four foot tall, blond hair, big boobs, large sword. You can’t miss Gorgan, pretty as a picture, she is.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Oh and sometimes she dresses as a priestess, just to confuse people.’
‘What a strange woman.’
‘Yes, but so much fun. We used to go on long raiding holidays when we were younger, you’d never know it now.’
‘Have things gone wrong between you?’ The trader couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t often that a barbarian felt the need to confide in him; usually they just robbed him and ran away.
‘Yes,’ Hibalt started weeping, ‘It all started when we argued over raiding the Temple of Sweetest Flowers in Manchura, she said we should because it was a symbol of female oppression, and I didn’t want to because the last barbarians to raid the Temple ended up hanging from the trees like bunting.’
‘What did you decide?’
‘She went off to raid the temple and I didn’t see her for three months after that. I thought she was dead. Apparently they thought she was a novice and it took her that long to escape.’
‘There, there, I’m sure you’ll sort it out. Why don’t you go and have a quiet pint over at the Blue Bull? My cousin’s the barman there; they have the best ale for miles.’
‘I told you, I don’t drink.’
With that the morose barbarian tipped up the hapless traders’ bench, scattering books and ancient scrolls all over the road.
‘That’s more like it,’ thought the trader, ‘I know where I am now.’ He then called for the watch and Hibalt had to dash for the river.
Tobold had been enjoying a pint in the beer garden of the Blue Bull, smiling at the barmaid and exchanging tall tales with other visiting barbarians, when Hibalt dashed past followed by five burly watchmen.
‘Do excuse me gentlemen, I really must go, my sidekick appears to be in some sort of trouble. See you around.’
With that he gripped his sword hilt, and gave chase.
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Safely back in their vessel and several miles downriver Tobold finally stopped rowing, turned in his seat and looked at Hibalt, who was manning the steering oar,
‘Well, what have you done now?’
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Sorry about that, I couldn’t help myself. 1000 words of silliness. It’s entirely possible Tobold and Hibalt will make another appearance, when I decide what they’re going to do next.
No I’m not posting a short story today, another day maybe.
I’ve just emailed my entry for the www.fantasybookreview.co.uk fantasy short story competition. I found this competition while browsing through a copy of Writer’s News a couple of months ago and had to enter it. I’ve never entered a writing competition before, until recently i’ve only ever writen fiction for pleasure, either because i wanted too or because certain small members of my family nagged me until i told them/wrote them a story.
Fantasy book Review is a really good website if you’re into fantasy (i read lots of that) or science fiction (not so much). Have a look, there’s all sorts of interesting things on there.
Everything Is Better With Dragons 