User blog:Claweight/story

in case any of you are wondering no i haven't forgotten about silent mountain

but i've kind of lost motivation, and since my writing style has changed significantly i am unhappy with a lot of the current manuscript and will rewrite a lot of it

it may take a bit, stay tuned

on another note we are doing a choice writing piece in class

here is mine so far

The rhythmic, muted thuds of The Mystic’s pawsteps were  audible only to nearby carpenter ants trooping through an old, slightly hollow piece of spruce tree sheltered from the rain by the rest of the snag it came from, its decomposing process sped up by the ants’ gnawing. The vibrations of the traveler from the muddy, rugged path a pawlength or two away disturbed their work for a few painful, prolonged moments before The Mystic was out of range.

Sometimes the creature wished she traveled as fast as those trees decomposed; her progress was significantly hindered due to her lame hind leg. Having a limp, she would have normally been easy prey for the other animals in the forest, but The Mystic was shielded by a few things.

One was that she was The Mystic. She had the job of defending and protecting all creatures great and small in the forest. Every century a Mystic was given from the Almighty Gods above; killing The Mystic meant guaranteed divine punishment, and besides, murdering the one who protects all kingdoms on Mu would be a nasty way to repay the favor.

Of course, there were the snakes. The Mystic sighed to herself thinking of them- always painted as the villain in many pieces of literature. They had the chance to prove they weren’t the cruel, twisted creatures animals assumed they were. But Ka, the current leader of the snakes and the living, breathing form of the snake generalization, turned that chance down.

They had forcefully pushed away their blessing, and therefore they were unrecognized as a true kingdom.

The Mystic’s one fear on the path she trudged was encountering an unsavory snake. They hated her for casting them out, though if The Mystic hadn’t been told to do so by the Gods she would have continued to guard them.

<span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Killing her would mean divine punishment, but they could care less.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The winding, muddy path littered with pointy stones and roots (who seemed to like tripping The Mystic just for the fun of it) was difficult to traverse alone, increasing The Mystic’s anxiety.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">I must take on a disciple or scholar soon, <span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Mystic thought to herself, dodging a root. <span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">They will be able to guard me as I grow older, and the journey to The Shrine will not be so lonely anymore.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">She halted at the end of the path, coming across a cracked and vine-entangled statue of Tliquiniaq, the wolf god of rain. Water slid down its dark stone surface, settling in the cracks or continuing onward to drip down the arms of Tliquiniaq’s throne, steadily forming a large, mud-colored puddle in front of the idol.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Thunder sounded, seconds before lightning flashed nearby, throwing a bright light on the statue for a brief moment. The Mystic knelt before it and closed her cloudy eyes, feeling the rain settling on her damp, feathered head disappearing.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Slowly, The Mystic and the Sacred Woods became one. For what felt like an eternity, there was no difference between her birdlike left paw and the pine needles above, slick with rain. There was no difference between her lionlike right paw and the damp bark of the nurse log, cradling life within. There was no difference between her mismatched body and the forest, no difference between her own soul and the broken one of Tliquiniaq, the one struck down, the one who laughed no more.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Mystic was everything, and everything was one.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Her eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the lush, familiar Land Of The Gods. Trees of all kinds surrounded her, but what normally would be seen as chaos placed unevenly in a dream somehow felt beautiful and perfect. Such was the way of the gods.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:13.999999999999998pt;font-family:Cambria;color:#ffffff;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Mystic stood, padding forward calmly. No longer did she feel the deadweight of her lamed, reptilian hind leg. No longer did she feel her bones creak and complain under the weight of age with every step.