FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
You now, i wouldn't be opposed to moving the thing up a day. And that has nothing to do with me not starting mine. Nothing to do with it at all...
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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #172 - "Incomplete"
- Thread starter Cowlick
- Start date
- Status
Dandy Crocodile
Member
There's still over 10 hours to write! Everybody can just pull an all-nighter, right? ;P
Remember the days when the deadlines used to be Wednesdays? Or Thursday mornings for us Brits.
Anyways. I think I'm going to be killing off a character I have written about multiple times. Doesn't matter if you don't recall him or have never heard of him.
Thought about it for a long while. & I've finally found a challenge it clicked into place with. Now to actually start writing this thing.
Anyways. I think I'm going to be killing off a character I have written about multiple times. Doesn't matter if you don't recall him or have never heard of him.
Thought about it for a long while. & I've finally found a challenge it clicked into place with. Now to actually start writing this thing.
Cheat Code
Member
The deadline is actually really smart because everybody's story is gonna be bloody incomplete and everyone is under pressure.
Damnit Cowlick.
Damnit Cowlick.
Crap. Meant to say writing the last part.
Doesn't matter. Wasn't going to hide it in the story anyway.
Dandy Crocodile
Member
The theme is up for a little over a week before entries are submitted.
Hang around until later tonight and you'll see the entries start to pop up, after which there will be a few days to vote on them.
The cow hath everyone licked!
FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
Usually we post them either as a text posts, or links, usually to either google docs or dropbox. If your interested then submit! We're all bitching but there's still a good 12 or so hours before the deadline.
The theme is up for a little over a week before entries are submitted.
Hang around until later tonight and you'll see the entries start to pop up, after which there will be a few days to vote on them.
Thanks! 12 hours - no time and one word... Incomplete. I'd love to enter something but I doubt I can given UK time zone. I'll surely check out the entries though.
Submit something... incomplete... if you must!
BearFlexington
Member
Wrote this kind of fast. Hope it doesn't suck too bad.
Untitled
He locked his laptop and the screen informed him in crisp, bold numbers that it was just past noon. He closed the lid and unplugged it from his monitor. At the desk next to him, Jimmy pretended not notice. But when he scooped his keys up and pocketed them, he turned.
Taking off already?
Whats it to you, fucking busy body?
He mumbled something about a doctors appointment and made for the door. As his bastards luck would have him, Chris, the Director of Marketing came strolling out of one of the fish tank conference rooms and almost plowed into him. Chris looked at his laptop bag before checking his watch.
Taking your work to lunch, David?
Davids pulse moved up a gear. I have an appointment with the dentist. I thought I put a reminder on your calendar.
Chris frowned.
What a prick he was.
Ill have to check, but I dont recall seeing anything. Will you be returning afterwards?
Not likely.
Its on the other side of Piedmont. With the traffic, it wouldnt make sense to try and come back after. Plus, I dont know how long itll be. Its been a while since I had dental work done.
Chris, like the micro-manager he was, stood there, blocking the exit as though there was a decision to be made. Finally, after far too long he stepped aside. Well, I guess well see you tomorrow.
Sounds good.
The steering wheel was loose beneath his hands, slick with sweat and difficult to maintain. In his chest, his heart was playing a cold-blooded game of peek-a-boo.
It didnt make sense staying there anyway. It wasnt like he was getting anything done. And any work he did would simply need to be re-done when his head was screwed on straight.
He thought about where to go as he barreled down the 101. Each time he swerved to overtake a vehicle, clinking sounds could be heard in the trunk like correct answers on Jeopardy. He could go see Maggie. He hadnt seen Maggie in a while. She has kind eyes and didnt talk too much.
He checked the rearview and spotted highway patrol a few cars back. He let off the gas and swore loudly. The speedometer slowly descended back to a more reasonable mark of 70mph. Unfortunately, it was too little too late as the police cruiser moved into his lane and accelerated to meet him.
Goddammit! If he pulls me over . . . If he checks the trunk . . .
For several exits the cop followed him, likely running his plates. On the distance his exit could be seen. He contemplated skipping Maggie. But then where would he go? He was going the wrong way for any other place he could think of but wouldnt getting off at the next exit be daring the cop to pull him over?
He checked the rearview without moving his head and thought about lighting a cigarette. No, he thought, nothing looks more suspicious than a cigarette.
At that moment, the police cruiser changed lanes and pulled alongside him. David turned his head slowly, expecting to see the cop pointing to the shoulder. Instead the officer mouthed the words slow down and sped off.
He moaned in relief and took the next exit at an old womans pace before merging onto the busy causeway.
Built on landfill, the causeway took him through a four-mile stretch of sour-smelling swampland. As he accelerated to overtake the car in front of him, he thought about all the dumping hed done here over the years. It must have been in tonnage. Jim, Jose, J.D . . . hed murdered all the Js. Then of course there was Tom. Hell, Tom was in the trunk this very moment making a racket.
He overtook the car and floored it once more. The stench of the swamp turned his stomach. Not so much for its pungent, sulfur-like smell, but for the memories it conjured.
Why was he like this? Not enough love? Was it the ass whoopings his brother used to put on him? He sneered and looked at himself in the rearview.
By the time he arrived at Maggies his body was trembling and a chill crept up his spine. His feeling could best be described as soulless. His tongue was a swollen sponge, thick with old bile and his lips dry and threatening to crack. He felt, at best, wholly incomplete.
He climbed out and slammed the door of his sedan shut. Without bothering to resolve the situation in the trunk, he crossed the lot for Maggies. A sensation bordering on terror gripped him as he turned to the knob to find it locked. What the fuck is this? He raised a fist to bang on the door when it swung open.
Maggie stood in the doorway holding a sandwich board sign. Oh hi!
He chipper voice was severely unappreciated and stirred a bit of rage in him. He lowered his sweat-soaked fist. He just wanted to be inside, out of the goddamn sun.
Youre early, Maggie told him, the smell of her perfume sickening. Be a dear and set this down by the curb. She handed him the sign.
He clenched his jaw and carried the sign to the curb. Along the way, a pain, like that of folding knife, pierced his side.
Hold your goddamn horses, he said to himself.
He opened the door to Maggies and found the dimly lit room refreshing. He took a seat while she finished tidying up her affairs.
After some time she turned and her words, like he promise of a lover, washed over him. These two words stripped all the hate and self-loathing with which he piloted himself and for the first time that day he fashioned a smile.
The usual?
Untitled
He locked his laptop and the screen informed him in crisp, bold numbers that it was just past noon. He closed the lid and unplugged it from his monitor. At the desk next to him, Jimmy pretended not notice. But when he scooped his keys up and pocketed them, he turned.
Taking off already?
Whats it to you, fucking busy body?
He mumbled something about a doctors appointment and made for the door. As his bastards luck would have him, Chris, the Director of Marketing came strolling out of one of the fish tank conference rooms and almost plowed into him. Chris looked at his laptop bag before checking his watch.
Taking your work to lunch, David?
Davids pulse moved up a gear. I have an appointment with the dentist. I thought I put a reminder on your calendar.
Chris frowned.
What a prick he was.
Ill have to check, but I dont recall seeing anything. Will you be returning afterwards?
Not likely.
Its on the other side of Piedmont. With the traffic, it wouldnt make sense to try and come back after. Plus, I dont know how long itll be. Its been a while since I had dental work done.
Chris, like the micro-manager he was, stood there, blocking the exit as though there was a decision to be made. Finally, after far too long he stepped aside. Well, I guess well see you tomorrow.
Sounds good.
The steering wheel was loose beneath his hands, slick with sweat and difficult to maintain. In his chest, his heart was playing a cold-blooded game of peek-a-boo.
It didnt make sense staying there anyway. It wasnt like he was getting anything done. And any work he did would simply need to be re-done when his head was screwed on straight.
He thought about where to go as he barreled down the 101. Each time he swerved to overtake a vehicle, clinking sounds could be heard in the trunk like correct answers on Jeopardy. He could go see Maggie. He hadnt seen Maggie in a while. She has kind eyes and didnt talk too much.
He checked the rearview and spotted highway patrol a few cars back. He let off the gas and swore loudly. The speedometer slowly descended back to a more reasonable mark of 70mph. Unfortunately, it was too little too late as the police cruiser moved into his lane and accelerated to meet him.
Goddammit! If he pulls me over . . . If he checks the trunk . . .
For several exits the cop followed him, likely running his plates. On the distance his exit could be seen. He contemplated skipping Maggie. But then where would he go? He was going the wrong way for any other place he could think of but wouldnt getting off at the next exit be daring the cop to pull him over?
He checked the rearview without moving his head and thought about lighting a cigarette. No, he thought, nothing looks more suspicious than a cigarette.
At that moment, the police cruiser changed lanes and pulled alongside him. David turned his head slowly, expecting to see the cop pointing to the shoulder. Instead the officer mouthed the words slow down and sped off.
He moaned in relief and took the next exit at an old womans pace before merging onto the busy causeway.
Built on landfill, the causeway took him through a four-mile stretch of sour-smelling swampland. As he accelerated to overtake the car in front of him, he thought about all the dumping hed done here over the years. It must have been in tonnage. Jim, Jose, J.D . . . hed murdered all the Js. Then of course there was Tom. Hell, Tom was in the trunk this very moment making a racket.
He overtook the car and floored it once more. The stench of the swamp turned his stomach. Not so much for its pungent, sulfur-like smell, but for the memories it conjured.
Why was he like this? Not enough love? Was it the ass whoopings his brother used to put on him? He sneered and looked at himself in the rearview.
By the time he arrived at Maggies his body was trembling and a chill crept up his spine. His feeling could best be described as soulless. His tongue was a swollen sponge, thick with old bile and his lips dry and threatening to crack. He felt, at best, wholly incomplete.
He climbed out and slammed the door of his sedan shut. Without bothering to resolve the situation in the trunk, he crossed the lot for Maggies. A sensation bordering on terror gripped him as he turned to the knob to find it locked. What the fuck is this? He raised a fist to bang on the door when it swung open.
Maggie stood in the doorway holding a sandwich board sign. Oh hi!
He chipper voice was severely unappreciated and stirred a bit of rage in him. He lowered his sweat-soaked fist. He just wanted to be inside, out of the goddamn sun.
Youre early, Maggie told him, the smell of her perfume sickening. Be a dear and set this down by the curb. She handed him the sign.
He clenched his jaw and carried the sign to the curb. Along the way, a pain, like that of folding knife, pierced his side.
Hold your goddamn horses, he said to himself.
He opened the door to Maggies and found the dimly lit room refreshing. He took a seat while she finished tidying up her affairs.
After some time she turned and her words, like he promise of a lover, washed over him. These two words stripped all the hate and self-loathing with which he piloted himself and for the first time that day he fashioned a smile.
The usual?
Oh the pressure!!
What the hell. Here's a one draft no changes off the top of my head...
Rain again. Cold chill too. Terrific, just terrific. Absently Frank rubbed the smooth, slightly stretched skin of his stump; then feeling the knob of bone hidden within he hastily withdrew his left hand and returned it to his side. He looked out the window of his house, a house that used to be their house, and watched the heavy, thick droplets of rainfall splatter and break up on the wooden deck of the porch.
Why the hell did it have to be my right hand? One stupid accident and just like that he was rendered a skewed version of himself, trying to operate everything that had one felt so normal and easy with the wrong hand and finding everything now felt oddly wrong and awkward.
The hospital psychologist said it would pass. All it needed was time. Staring out into the dark, overcast grey world outside his house on the edge of town, hardly able to see anything at all beyond a hundred yards or so, Frank couldnt help wondering when if ever that rosy day would dawn.
Turning from the window he hooked up his right arm to regard the stump where before his right hand had been. He could almost feel it was still there. Could almost imagine the sensation of wiggling his fingers.
There was nothing but dull flesh carefully smoothed into a rounded dome and the faint marks of the scars and stitching.
With a snarl Frank snatched his right arm down and strode from the room. He was heading for the stairs when the phone rang, halting him with one foot raised towards the first step.
Could it be?
Four quick steps into the kitchen and the phone hanging on the wall. Raising his right arm, his right hand then jerking it back and reaching with his left hand. Feeling oddly awkward. Then the phone was in his hand, and he held it to his ear hopefully.
Frank
It was her. His heart seemed to scrunch up on itself painfully, and his lungs to shiver as though filled with cold, frosty air. Then everything seemed to expand and he felt dizzy for a moment.
Its me, Frank said simply. He leant against the wall with his right shoulder for support.
Well, Id hope so, Linda said with a soft chuckle. I just wanted to check how you were doing. Are you healing?
Im healing. Least my hand is anyway, Frank replied. He felt sweat prickle his armpits. He was a nervous as a young man asking someone for a date.
Thats good. Im sure everything will be alright with time. I honestly do.
What about you? What are you doing?
Frank heard the hesitation in her voice. Could picture exactly her expression. He felt a knot of tension knowing she was quickly editing in her head what shed tell him and what she wouldnt.
Oh Im just settling in still. Working again still feels odd and of course being a house guest feels odd too.
How is your sister? And Bill?
Theyre fine. Both fine. Bills asking after you. He says hell call to arrange a visit. Figures you might want to go fishing again.
Bill was fine. Frank liked him and theyd found they were different enough with just the right amount of shared interests to find each other easy company.
That would be good. Id like that. And Kathy?
Shes fine. She hopes your well.
Not likely Frank thought, but he swallowed the sourness and tried to keep it light, to keep it positive.
Youre still planning on staying there?
You know the answer to that, Frank. Im staying. Im checking out some apartments next few days. Jobs fine. Im staying.
Frank slumped against the wall, felt a dull ache in his stump and a matching point of pain in the middle of his forehead.
But why? I know I know it was difficult at first that I was difficult. But Im adjusting now and Im fine. Im back at work myself and Ive accepted the accident. My loss
Thats good to hear. It really is. But right now I need this space. We were drifting apart even before what happened.
We werent
We were, Frank. And then your anger how you behaved I just need this space and beyond that I dont know. Well have to see. But Im not planning to come back, at least not how I feel currently.
But you might?
A pause. A long pause. Hardly aware of it Frank rubbed his stump against his thigh and gripped the phone tightly with his left hand, feeling the plastic creak under the pressure.
Frank
I know. I dont mean to push. But I miss you now. I really do.
Frank
And I love you. He chokes it out. Surprising himself. Hed always struggled to say it. It sounded so stupid and lame. Something a teenage girl would say.
Silence. No, not quite. Faint sound of her breathing.
Maybe
And he felt lightheaded. Grinned foolishly like a kid given a puppy for Christmas.
Linda
Ive got to go. Im sorry, Frank. Ive got to go.
I understand. Im sorry if I made you feel awkward.
No, its okay. Bye. Okay? Bye.
Bye , he whispers. Then theres a click and silence.
Frank replaced the phone in its cradle slowly, being careful with his left hand and arm. Feeling all wrong standing aligned to his left side rather than his right.
He did love her. He did miss her.
The house was cold and empty and on this dark and rainy day it was grey and barren.
Maybe.
He clung to that word. Like a soft shaft of hazy sunshine slipping through a break in stormy clouds illuminating the globules of falling water from the clouds it gave him hope for sunny days. For warmth and comfort.
Maybe.
Frank walked up the stairs and entered their bedroom. He couldnt think of it any other way. It was their bedroom.
He sat in the big old armchair Lindad bought at Rosens Antiques and haul upstairs and stared out the big picture window into the rain. He could still smell her scent from the fabric of the chair. Just faintly but it was still there. At least in his mind.
He settled deep into the armchair and watched the rain continue to fall outside.
Maybe.
Rubbing his stump absently with the fingers of his left hand. Not noticing the feel of the bone under the skin this time. Thinking of better times to possibly come should the promise of that word come true.
Since hed woken up in the hospital to find his right hand gone, taken from him when he was unconscious and unaware hed felt incomplete. In his rage at that hed driven Linda from him. Had rendered himself even more sundered. Even more incomplete. Doubly bereft.
Now he finally had some hope for a rejoining. To be complete again.
Maybe.
Rain again. Cold chill too. Terrific, just terrific. Absently Frank rubbed the smooth, slightly stretched skin of his stump; then feeling the knob of bone hidden within he hastily withdrew his left hand and returned it to his side. He looked out the window of his house, a house that used to be their house, and watched the heavy, thick droplets of rainfall splatter and break up on the wooden deck of the porch.
Why the hell did it have to be my right hand? One stupid accident and just like that he was rendered a skewed version of himself, trying to operate everything that had one felt so normal and easy with the wrong hand and finding everything now felt oddly wrong and awkward.
The hospital psychologist said it would pass. All it needed was time. Staring out into the dark, overcast grey world outside his house on the edge of town, hardly able to see anything at all beyond a hundred yards or so, Frank couldnt help wondering when if ever that rosy day would dawn.
Turning from the window he hooked up his right arm to regard the stump where before his right hand had been. He could almost feel it was still there. Could almost imagine the sensation of wiggling his fingers.
There was nothing but dull flesh carefully smoothed into a rounded dome and the faint marks of the scars and stitching.
With a snarl Frank snatched his right arm down and strode from the room. He was heading for the stairs when the phone rang, halting him with one foot raised towards the first step.
Could it be?
Four quick steps into the kitchen and the phone hanging on the wall. Raising his right arm, his right hand then jerking it back and reaching with his left hand. Feeling oddly awkward. Then the phone was in his hand, and he held it to his ear hopefully.
Frank
It was her. His heart seemed to scrunch up on itself painfully, and his lungs to shiver as though filled with cold, frosty air. Then everything seemed to expand and he felt dizzy for a moment.
Its me, Frank said simply. He leant against the wall with his right shoulder for support.
Well, Id hope so, Linda said with a soft chuckle. I just wanted to check how you were doing. Are you healing?
Im healing. Least my hand is anyway, Frank replied. He felt sweat prickle his armpits. He was a nervous as a young man asking someone for a date.
Thats good. Im sure everything will be alright with time. I honestly do.
What about you? What are you doing?
Frank heard the hesitation in her voice. Could picture exactly her expression. He felt a knot of tension knowing she was quickly editing in her head what shed tell him and what she wouldnt.
Oh Im just settling in still. Working again still feels odd and of course being a house guest feels odd too.
How is your sister? And Bill?
Theyre fine. Both fine. Bills asking after you. He says hell call to arrange a visit. Figures you might want to go fishing again.
Bill was fine. Frank liked him and theyd found they were different enough with just the right amount of shared interests to find each other easy company.
That would be good. Id like that. And Kathy?
Shes fine. She hopes your well.
Not likely Frank thought, but he swallowed the sourness and tried to keep it light, to keep it positive.
Youre still planning on staying there?
You know the answer to that, Frank. Im staying. Im checking out some apartments next few days. Jobs fine. Im staying.
Frank slumped against the wall, felt a dull ache in his stump and a matching point of pain in the middle of his forehead.
But why? I know I know it was difficult at first that I was difficult. But Im adjusting now and Im fine. Im back at work myself and Ive accepted the accident. My loss
Thats good to hear. It really is. But right now I need this space. We were drifting apart even before what happened.
We werent
We were, Frank. And then your anger how you behaved I just need this space and beyond that I dont know. Well have to see. But Im not planning to come back, at least not how I feel currently.
But you might?
A pause. A long pause. Hardly aware of it Frank rubbed his stump against his thigh and gripped the phone tightly with his left hand, feeling the plastic creak under the pressure.
Frank
I know. I dont mean to push. But I miss you now. I really do.
Frank
And I love you. He chokes it out. Surprising himself. Hed always struggled to say it. It sounded so stupid and lame. Something a teenage girl would say.
Silence. No, not quite. Faint sound of her breathing.
Maybe
And he felt lightheaded. Grinned foolishly like a kid given a puppy for Christmas.
Linda
Ive got to go. Im sorry, Frank. Ive got to go.
I understand. Im sorry if I made you feel awkward.
No, its okay. Bye. Okay? Bye.
Bye , he whispers. Then theres a click and silence.
Frank replaced the phone in its cradle slowly, being careful with his left hand and arm. Feeling all wrong standing aligned to his left side rather than his right.
He did love her. He did miss her.
The house was cold and empty and on this dark and rainy day it was grey and barren.
Maybe.
He clung to that word. Like a soft shaft of hazy sunshine slipping through a break in stormy clouds illuminating the globules of falling water from the clouds it gave him hope for sunny days. For warmth and comfort.
Maybe.
Frank walked up the stairs and entered their bedroom. He couldnt think of it any other way. It was their bedroom.
He sat in the big old armchair Lindad bought at Rosens Antiques and haul upstairs and stared out the big picture window into the rain. He could still smell her scent from the fabric of the chair. Just faintly but it was still there. At least in his mind.
He settled deep into the armchair and watched the rain continue to fall outside.
Maybe.
Rubbing his stump absently with the fingers of his left hand. Not noticing the feel of the bone under the skin this time. Thinking of better times to possibly come should the promise of that word come true.
Since hed woken up in the hospital to find his right hand gone, taken from him when he was unconscious and unaware hed felt incomplete. In his rage at that hed driven Linda from him. Had rendered himself even more sundered. Even more incomplete. Doubly bereft.
Now he finally had some hope for a rejoining. To be complete again.
Maybe.
Freeza Under The Shower
Member
Somehow I always manage to get 'overwhelmed' by other things other than writing. :\
Oh well better luck next
Oh well better luck next
FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
That almost happened to me this time. I'm forcing some time right now, even though i really should be taking a nap -_-
Cheat Code
Member
Yeah there is no way I'm getting in anything worth anybody's time.
FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
I'm actually legit surprised my first draft went under the word count. I am beginning to fear I can no longer write stupidly long stories anymore, but alas that's a problem for another time.
Status Update
Usual password.
Usual password.
Freedom's Chance
760 words, usual password
760 words, usual password
So I decided to take Cyans advice (and incidentally my own advice to Mike last week ) and submit something
incomplete!
) and submit something
incomplete!Dandy Crocodile
Member
A Jump in the Desert
1419 Words, standard password
Feels good to have enough time to join in again, even with just something small. I loved traveling but I hated watching the new topics come and go and not having nearly enough time to sit down and write.
1419 Words, standard password
Feels good to have enough time to join in again, even with just something small. I loved traveling but I hated watching the new topics come and go and not having nearly enough time to sit down and write.
The Cursed Heart -1800 words
FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
By David Gepet about 1800 words.
An Untold Story (~1000)
FlowersisBritish
fleurs n'est pas britannique
Best of Luck!
That should be your title
And that's time (officially) up! Barring entries submitted during the grace period -- which I'll edit in as they appear -- here are your candidates:
A Ballad for a King
An Untold Story
Architect
Beyond the Gates
By David Gepet
Coding
The Cursed Heart
Freedom's Chance
A Jump in the Desert
A Matter of Taste
Maybe
Mosaic
Part Two
Status Update
Toad
Untitled
The Wind that Breaks the Willow
A Ballad for a King
An Untold Story
Architect
Beyond the Gates
By David Gepet
Coding
The Cursed Heart
Freedom's Chance
A Jump in the Desert
A Matter of Taste
Maybe
Mosaic
Part Two
Status Update
Toad
Untitled
The Wind that Breaks the Willow
No time for formatting or fancy uploads. Here we go. Some 850 words. It's not even the story I had planned but something else based on the general idea.... Anyway.
Mosaic
A small ceramic clicking sound pulled Sharu out off the trancelike state he always fell into when sweeping the temple floor. Irritated he let his eyes wander over the floor, looking for the source of this highly unusual occurrence. When he finally spotted the little black tile lying not three paces in front of him, a cold shiver of panic washed over him. Quickly he shuffled over to the object and picked it up, hoping against all hope, that it wasn't what he thought it was.
But sadly the up close inspection did only confirm Sharu's worst fear. There in his palm he was holding a tile from the Eternal Mosaic. A little under half an inch in length on each side, the small black square still had a bit of the cement which had once held it to the wall left on its backside.
This can't be happening... Sharu felt sweat running down his back. Not now. Not with the Ceremony only day away.
Gripping the tile firmly in his hand he ran to his quarters in the back of the temple. Rushing through the door, he almost fell over one of the countless piles of books, scattering them over the stone floor. Not paying the mess he was making any attention he stumbled over to the cabinet on the wall, opened it and started rummaging through its content. After what felt like an eternity he finally found the small clay pot containing a miniscule amount of half dried glue.
Without waiting Sharu darted back into the great hall and stopped. Oh no... He had thought that it would be obvious. In his head he had seen the head priest walk in, pointing at the empty space, yelling at Sharu about his carelessness. But now that Sharu let his eyes wander over millions and millions of colorful tiles, he realized that fastening the tile back in its place was by no means the most pressing of his problems. First he needed to find the place where it belonged.
He tried to remember where he had found it, but in his panic hadn't paid any attention to that, not to mention that he might have swept the tile along the floor for a good while before he had noticed it. The black color of the tile didn't help either, for a lot of things including every outline was black.
Sharu felt like crying. The sacred place of his people. For centuries they came from all over the country to once a year soent a day in prayer and gaze upon the mighty power of the Creator who had revealed himself to his people through the Eternal Mosaic. A symbol of continuity and, well, eternity. And now it was broken. On Sharu's watch.
No, he couldn't give up. He still had hours before the visitors would stream into the temple come sunrise. He just needed to find the right place and set the tile back in its place. No one would notice.
And so Sharu began pacing up and down the walls of the great hall, carefully studying every little inch of the vast Mosaic in front of him. His hands glided softly over the cool surface of the small tiles feeling for the smallest of irregularities. But he found nothing.
Hours went by and Sharu's search remained fruitless. Soon he would need to get a ladder and search in parts higher up. He was sweating and exhausted and before his eyes the different colors slowly started moving and merging with each other. Maybe he had already overlooked the right place.
Then, finally when the sun was already setting he felt it. An indentation in the otherwise smooth surface. He rejoiced. Everything was going to be fine after all. He got the glue from his pocket and started to set the tile back in its place... he stopped.
The part of the mosaic that was in front of him depicted a hunting scene. The Creator and his followers chasing away the unholy boars from the sacred lands. The Creator sat high upon his horse. His bow in hand his blues eyes fixed on the target in front of him. Everything was shown in perfect detail. His skin a perfect ivory white. Except for his forehead where a single black dot had now appeared thanks to Sharu.
Sharu howled in frustration, he quickly tried to remove the black tile again. He needed to search the floor for the white tile and then... His fingers slipped and before he could help it two more tiles had come loose from the mosaic. Sharu could only watch in horror as they fell to the floor below him. He looked at the place where they had loosened. The black tile still sat in its place. A spot of dirt on the Creator's forehead.
Sharu carefully stepped down the ladder. He went to his chambers, got his coat and a few other things. He then stepped through the massive temple doors into the warm summer evening. He took a deep breath and walked away from the temple without looking back. Behind him he thought that he heard the sound of ceramic falling onto marble but he didn't turn around to check.
Mosaic
A small ceramic clicking sound pulled Sharu out off the trancelike state he always fell into when sweeping the temple floor. Irritated he let his eyes wander over the floor, looking for the source of this highly unusual occurrence. When he finally spotted the little black tile lying not three paces in front of him, a cold shiver of panic washed over him. Quickly he shuffled over to the object and picked it up, hoping against all hope, that it wasn't what he thought it was.
But sadly the up close inspection did only confirm Sharu's worst fear. There in his palm he was holding a tile from the Eternal Mosaic. A little under half an inch in length on each side, the small black square still had a bit of the cement which had once held it to the wall left on its backside.
This can't be happening... Sharu felt sweat running down his back. Not now. Not with the Ceremony only day away.
Gripping the tile firmly in his hand he ran to his quarters in the back of the temple. Rushing through the door, he almost fell over one of the countless piles of books, scattering them over the stone floor. Not paying the mess he was making any attention he stumbled over to the cabinet on the wall, opened it and started rummaging through its content. After what felt like an eternity he finally found the small clay pot containing a miniscule amount of half dried glue.
Without waiting Sharu darted back into the great hall and stopped. Oh no... He had thought that it would be obvious. In his head he had seen the head priest walk in, pointing at the empty space, yelling at Sharu about his carelessness. But now that Sharu let his eyes wander over millions and millions of colorful tiles, he realized that fastening the tile back in its place was by no means the most pressing of his problems. First he needed to find the place where it belonged.
He tried to remember where he had found it, but in his panic hadn't paid any attention to that, not to mention that he might have swept the tile along the floor for a good while before he had noticed it. The black color of the tile didn't help either, for a lot of things including every outline was black.
Sharu felt like crying. The sacred place of his people. For centuries they came from all over the country to once a year soent a day in prayer and gaze upon the mighty power of the Creator who had revealed himself to his people through the Eternal Mosaic. A symbol of continuity and, well, eternity. And now it was broken. On Sharu's watch.
No, he couldn't give up. He still had hours before the visitors would stream into the temple come sunrise. He just needed to find the right place and set the tile back in its place. No one would notice.
And so Sharu began pacing up and down the walls of the great hall, carefully studying every little inch of the vast Mosaic in front of him. His hands glided softly over the cool surface of the small tiles feeling for the smallest of irregularities. But he found nothing.
Hours went by and Sharu's search remained fruitless. Soon he would need to get a ladder and search in parts higher up. He was sweating and exhausted and before his eyes the different colors slowly started moving and merging with each other. Maybe he had already overlooked the right place.
Then, finally when the sun was already setting he felt it. An indentation in the otherwise smooth surface. He rejoiced. Everything was going to be fine after all. He got the glue from his pocket and started to set the tile back in its place... he stopped.
The part of the mosaic that was in front of him depicted a hunting scene. The Creator and his followers chasing away the unholy boars from the sacred lands. The Creator sat high upon his horse. His bow in hand his blues eyes fixed on the target in front of him. Everything was shown in perfect detail. His skin a perfect ivory white. Except for his forehead where a single black dot had now appeared thanks to Sharu.
Sharu howled in frustration, he quickly tried to remove the black tile again. He needed to search the floor for the white tile and then... His fingers slipped and before he could help it two more tiles had come loose from the mosaic. Sharu could only watch in horror as they fell to the floor below him. He looked at the place where they had loosened. The black tile still sat in its place. A spot of dirt on the Creator's forehead.
Sharu carefully stepped down the ladder. He went to his chambers, got his coat and a few other things. He then stepped through the massive temple doors into the warm summer evening. He took a deep breath and walked away from the temple without looking back. Behind him he thought that he heard the sound of ceramic falling onto marble but he didn't turn around to check.
- Status