In Progress The Shadow and the Holy Man (oh look ShadScy writes too but it's not really any good)

[MentheLapin]

I am obviously so cool I do my NaNo in December. Basically I got a cool idea for a story that is totally not inspired by the Eternal Diva. And here is the prologue :o

Prologue

The shadow smiled to itself, and rightly so. All the hard work had finally been paid off – untold fortune was its.

The shadow had never thought about death, but the holy man had shown it a different way of thinking. It wondered if maybe the fortune wasn’t all that it seemed. What if there was a downside? A negative? A...

A trap.

It was a trap, wasn’t it? The holy man had told it about traps. It knew all about them now, and it wasn’t going to fall at the last hurdle. The shadow was smarter than that. It knew that this was a final test from the holy man; a test like it had had when it had been in school. Not just a test of its intelligence, but a test of what it had heard, learned and understood.

But what if it wasn’t a trap? The holy man had spoken of double bluffs and now the shadow considered itself something of an expert on the subject. It knew that if this was a test, the holy man wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to check the shadow’s knowledge of double bluffs. It had seemed like such an insignificant thing at the time, but now, everything seemed much more important.

The shadow knew that it was one or the other. If it was a trap, and it took the fortune, it would die. But if it was a double bluff, then it should take the fortune and live.

But the holy man had also said something about pain! He had said that if pain was too much, the only escape was death. It had seemed like a sensible thing to the shadow.

That left a third option. The shadow wondered about death. The death the fortune could cause would be a painful one. The holy man would not have simply punished the shadow, should it make the wrong decision. He would make it feel the punishment for eternity. There was only one way out.

The holy man had never said anything about paranoia.

Oh my short prologue wow. And this is really bad and doesn't seem to be going anywhere. But it does. I have chapter 1 ready, which is far, far longer, and chapter 2 mostly done, which is also longer, so please R&R!

 

[Cloudsong]

I like it. Mostly because unlike many, many stories posted all across the various forums that I'm a part of, this actually was well written. Correct spelling, correct grammar, I think this grammar nazi has just reached heaven. xD I hope you post chapter one soon, cuz the prologue (Although not really...dramatic) makes me curious as to where the story will go :3

 

[MentheLapin]

And here's the much longer chapter one, complete with dip in writing quality.

One

People had been disappearing for a while now. It had become common knowledge that when you woke up in the morning, another would disappear. It never really affected Ryan, and he had no plans to be affected, even if someone close to him disappeared. Not that anybody was close to him. If it affected him, then he would try his best not to look affected, because it would affect others and—

Where was he, anyway? He rolled back over.

“Wah!” he exclaimed. This wasn’t his bed. Last time he had checked, there was never a fifty-or-so-year old woman in his bed, staring him right in the face.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Wah!” he exclaimed again. She spoke!

“Don’t be so surprised,” said the woman. She had a calm voice; she sounded a bit like Ryan’s grandmother. She wasn’t, however, Ryan’s grandmother at all. Ryan had never seen this woman before in his life. Her glasses had large red rims. They were quite nice. Ryan glanced at the side of her head to see what brand they were.

The side of the glasses read “Blood”. Ryan had never heard of that brand before – maybe it was foreign or something. The woman herself wasn’t foreign, though. She was Scottish, like Ryan, like the people who had disappeared.

The people who had disappeared! Of course! He had disappeared! Ryan swallowed hard. He didn’t like disappearing. He thought about never seeing his family again, never being able to tell the world about the disappearances.

“Ah, he’s awake.”

There was someone else in the room. It figured – there had been nine people who had disappeared. Ten, if you included him. The man that spoke wasn’t Scottish. He didn’t really have an accent as such, but he certainly wasn’t from Scotland. Anyone could tell you that, not just a Scotsman.

“Ryan, wasn’t it?” the man who wasn’t Scottish continued. “Ryan Eris?”

Ryan turned to face the man who wasn’t Scottish. “Who are you?” he asked, taking in his magnificent appearance. He wore long tan robes. That was all Ryan could pick up on – until, of course, he saw the great light shining behind his head. “Who are you?” he asked, once again.

“My name is not important. Just refer to me as... the holy man.” Ryan made a mental note to, indeed, refer to him as the holy man. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,” counted the holy man, gesturing to each person in the room, “looks like we’re all here, then. Let’s get started. Come along, now.”

The holy man didn’t move. Instead, he beckoned the ten to come closer, and so they did. It gave Ryan a chance to look at them all.

The first was a young girl, a bit older than Ryan. He would say she was about 16. She wore very few clothes. Ryan wondered if she was cold.

Staring at the girl (her chest in particular) was a strange old man. He had sunglasses on, but he wasn’t blind – he didn’t have a stick or a dog or anything of the sort. He had a large toothy grin on his face. Ryan hoped to God that he was a doctor or perhaps even a vampire, and he was just happy to see such a healthy heart.

Third was the woman with the ‘Blood’ glasses. She was quite short, and had an incredibly wrinkled face. She was looking down her nose at the holy man, in the same way she looked at everyone.

Next to the woman was another man. This man looked about twenty or so, and had a briefcase in his hand. He wore glasses and his face was overridden with spots and acne.

The man was followed by another. This one was about 40. He had little hair, but a large ginger beard grew from the bottom of his mouth. Ryan thought it was quite scary, in all honesty. He seemed crazed with his eyes wide open, his pupils dilated and a toothy grin on his face.

The sixth person was a small girl. She could only have been about three or four. She seemed unfazed by what was going on – such a small girl would have no idea of the potential danger she was in. Ryan thought about her parents – they must have been mortified upon their daughter’s disappearance. Would Ryan’s parents have even noticed he was gone by now?

Number seven was another man. He looked around the same age as the briefcase-wielding man. His fringe was pushed to one side, and he appeared to be wearing make-up – eyeliner or something of the sort. Ryan’s mother had always told him to stay out of her make-up bag – maybe this man had never been warned, and this was the consequence. He looked quite silly, what with his make-up, and tight t-shirt, and the satchel he was wearing on one shoulder.

Finally were a boy and a girl, about 9 or 10. They seemed pretty similar – perhaps they were twins or something? They were staring in the same direction, in the same position – eyes half-shut, arms folded. They each had ginger hair, like the man with the beard had obviously once had.

After counting the people, it took Ryan a while to notice that he was the tenth person. But this didn’t seem real. It was like a dream. He should be the innocent bystander, watching ten innocent people getting lead to their doom, lemming style.

“Ryan!” called the holy man. “Are you listening?”

Ryan jumped and turned to face him. He nodded his head, too scared to speak. Fear had at last taken over.

“Now, you’re probably wondering why you’re here...”

This was the point in the movie where the man with the beard would scream “Damn straight we do!” and probably launch himself at the holy man, trying to take him down. This wasn’t a movie, and the man with the beard said nothing, although Ryan could see him twitching.

“We’re going to play a game,” the holy man continued. Ten mouths simultaneously hit the floor. All of this for a game!?

The man with the beard really did scream this time. “A game!? A GAME!? You took us from our daily lives, worried our families and friends sick, and possibly put the world in ruins for a GAME!?”

“Yes,” replied the holy man, and the man with the beard sat back down. “Now, you’re probably wondering about the rules.”

Nobody responded. What everybody was wondering about was if they were going to live. The holy man seemed to read their minds, because he answered that question.

“The rules are simple. This will be a game of skill and knowledge. A test, if you will. The winner will receive untold fortune for the rest of their life – in wealth, knowledge and luck. But the losers...” The tone seemed to change dramatically at this moment, even though the atmosphere was already tense enough thanks to the holy man’s happy-go-lucky attitude. “I’m afraid to have to say this... but the losers will die. That’s untold fortune for one, death for nine. Got it?”

Nobody answered, but it was quite clear that they had got it.

 

[Cloudsong]

:O I love it because I didn't expect this :3 And there wasn't a noticeable dip in writing quality, just more words written so more opportunities to make mistakes xD Anywho, constructive criticism and help time :D

It never really affected Ryan, and he had no plans to be affected, even if someone close to him disappeared. Not that anybody was close to him. If it affected him, then he would try his best not to look affected, because it would affect others and—

Check out here for help on when to use affect and when to use effect :3 I'm not entirely sure if you used affect correctly or not, but it seemed kind of off when reading that.

“Wah!” he exclaimed again. She spoke!

This made me laugh. Please don't change this. X3

Also, we get a very good picture of the characters but...we have no clue what the setting is. Where are they? Not in a sense of 'scotland' but in a sense of 'a dim and dirty room with cracked cement walls and old, rotting wooden benches' or whatever. Also, it's just a little confusing with how he wakes up, if he woke up. Was he lying on the ground? On a bench? In a bed? But all in all, I love the story and can't wait to read the next chapter ^^