Round-robin Story

[VemuKhaham]

There was a time once when there was a Round-robin story going on here in this section, but it got lost. I like the idea, so I'm going to give it another try. The rules: in turns, we each write 1-5 sentences of story. You can only write another section when 2 other writers have posted since your last post. Try to keep your writings at least somewhat coherent with what has been written before it, and try to write as best as you can and with the best intentions for the whole of the story. No communication outside the story writing itself is allowed to ensure spontaneous development. The rest is simple: let's see where we'll end up. Everyone's welcome to join, there's no rush or responsibility, just hoping to have some fun. I'll start:

---

For three days and four hours had she been poised on the slippery boulder rising up from the fast-moving water all around it. The toes and soles of her feet seemed to clasp around the sharp edges of the grey rock, and only her left hand aided just next to her feet in keeping her fragile body firmly in place. Her right elbow rested on her knee, her right hand resting on her shoulder. She hardly moved at all, and a serene, concentrated look was on her face. She stared into the distance, and nobody knew what had gotten into her mind.

[spiral]

It was at this time Cignac came to the river's edge to check the traps from which he took various fish and eels for his dinner. Bonja, the snow white wolf he had raised from a pup and come to befriend, if never train, saw the girl first. The boulder on which she poised was halfway across the swollen river, and not easy to get to by any means. Both man and wolf were startled to see her there.

[TheUdjat]

But Cignac could not decide what startled him more--that she was there, or that she was still alive?

He thought about the heat of the funeral pyre and sharp smell of her charred flesh wafting through the air. He saw her burnt to ashes--yet here she was, a contemplative poised in the middle of a river, looking peacefully into the distance. Slowly, while he gaped, her eyes turned and focused on him. There was a strange property to them, as if they were brighter or shined more than he remembered. She seemed to look not merely at him, but through him.

Beside him, Bonja whimpered lightly and pawed at the ground nervously. He shared the sentiment.

[TheZebraShakes™]

She swung her bare feet into the water as she slid from her seated position atop the boulder. She continued to stare at Cignac and his wolf, her lips parting ever so slightly to form a smile.

As she rose to put the whole of her weight on her feet, Cignac knew that she would surely sink to the river's bottom and find death there once more, but to his astonishment, the water lapped at her delicate feet, never once threatening to pull her under.

And so she walked upon the river's surface, her strides slow and graceful, seeming only to be moved by the wind.

Once on shore, she continued to close the distance between herself and the fisherman, her hand outstretched and that same look of tranquility in her pale expression.

The snow white wolf was half growling and half cowering behind its master's legs.

[VemuKhaham]

"Miryana!" Cignac gasped as the woman crossed the river. She did not seem to heed his astonishment, but, when she came so close to the man and his wolf that they could almost feel her breath, she reached out with her hand to Cignac and touched his cheek.

Poor Bonja whimpered and sprang away as the flesh of Cignac's cheek began to whither away with age upon her gentle touch. "Come," Miryana said, her face still soft and unmoved, "come to me, Cignac, to the Halls of Decay, where our siblings dwell..."

There was but a moment of agony and shock on Cignac's face, before his eyes grew peaceful and his entire body whithered away to dust, leaving only his ragged clothes piled on the forest floor.

[menatkhufu]

The wolf backs a few steps, and his growl is not one that wolf-kin make when they are about to leap on something. The animal mind was unable to comprehend what transpired in front of its very eyes, but then, it knew better than to approach the woman.

As the wind drives the fisherman's ashes and carries them away, the woman kneels down to grasp a pinch of the ash, rubbing it between her slender fingertips.

"Mir..yaaanaa" she whispers softly, and her graceful, elegant figure trembles. The soft peach-hues on her cheeks leave their place to a gloomy pallor, and she hugs herself, sitting on the ground, like the baby in her mothers womb.

[TheZebraShakes™]

Cignac's eyes snapped open as he sat bolt upright, his body covered in a cold sweat. Around him there was nothing but darkness, though he felt the familiar woolen blankets with frantic fingers and his rapid breathing began to slow as he realized that he was in his own room.

His racing heart began to calm itself as he mustered the courage to let forth a dull whistle. He was greatly at ease as he heard the wolf across the room begin to stir in response.

His dead sister was haunting him, beckoning that he join the rest in the cold and hopeless unknown. He knew that he would soon give in to her demands if he remained here long enough. Her constant hauntings and these sleepless nights were proving to be more than he could handle.

The fisherman swung his legs out from beneath the blankets and stood in the center of his dark room.

[Japic]

Moving carefully to a small shelf his fingers fumble in the dark searching for his trusty lighter. In his dream addled searching he knocks over a half finished can of beer and curses. Hastily righting the offending beverage he finally locates the cool steel casing of his Zippo in teh expanding pool of beverage. With an expert flick the top springs open and a flame emerges, revealing the damage dealt by his clumsy hands.

The remnants of his skunky beer were running across the shelf, pooling around a smattering of loose change and empty wallet before dripping off the edge onto the cold stone floor. He leaves the change but rescues the wallet, dropping it uncerimoniously into a dry spot of shelf. With a weary sigh he takes another few steps and primes the waiting lantern. In a few more moments the soft hiss of the kerosene lantern warms the room with yellow light, growing in intensity. He takes in the sight of the stark room, still expecting to find the face of his year dead sister calling softly from the darkened corners. Of course he finds no sign of her, only the weary eyes of his wolf companion; now smaller and less intelligent than he had been in the dream.

With a sigh he pulls on a pair of stone cold boots and unlatches the rough door which served to keep the wind out of his small cabin. He steps through the entry in only his boots and a pair of thermal underwear, into the dark hours of pre-dawn. Though he still holds the lantern, it offers no warmth and the damp mountain air sends a shiver down Cignac's spine.

{Edit. Oops, that's more text than Vemu called for. Sorry.}

[Badasterysk]

A set of eyes narrowed in anticipation as the door to the lonely cabin opened and a man held a lantern out into the crisp darkness of pre-dawn. Though the man could not be seen, his smell was undeniable- this is the one of which she spoke. It can’t be, thought the lurker hidden in the shadows and foliage. How could this unknowing, backwoods human be of any consequence?

The thoughts were quickly pushed away and duty beckoned as the man exited his rustic dwelling.

[VemuKhaham]

The man in the shadows was about to make his move when suddenly, he heard the sound of a heavy motorcycle approaching, quickly followed by the headlight's bright glow appearing from around a corner. The light would've quickly revealed the man hiding in the shadows so before he was seen, he dashed away from the bushes he had been behind. His sudden move made some noise but Cignac dismissed it as the sound of a small wild animal scared away by the rumbling motor of his friend Derick.

Without him even realising it, Cignac was saved from imminent danger by the most unlikely of visitors. Derick was an old time friend of him, a large, though fellow and the kind of friend that always dropped by at the most unexpected of times. The last time the two had met was a year ago, two days after Miryana's car crash, just in time to attend the funeral, even though Derick could hardly have known there was any need for one; besides Derick appearing at unexpected times, he also had a knack for appearing just at the right time.

[Japic]

Glancing at his watch Cignac wondered what brough Derick out to the wilderness at 4am; then gave up because there was no knowing when it came to him. As the motorbike rumbled nearer Cignac decided not to greet the old friend in his underwear and moved back inside to pull on some pants and a jacket.

Stamping back into his boots he emerged just in time for the motorbike to come to a rest. The sudden lack of engine noise made the mountain quiet all the more oppressive than it had been moments before, but Cignac did not mind. This kind of quiet was why he lived out here.

Putting the kickstand down on the bike Derick climbed off and stretched, a sign that he'd been riding for some time already. Cignac brough his hand up in greeting and gave a wan smile and a greeting, "G'mornin."

[TheZebraShakes™]

Derick nods in response to the greeting, and as he nears Cignac, the expression of intense seriousness and urgency shows on Derick's face. Derick grasps Cignac's hand and shakes it firmly after stripping the leather gloves from his hands.

"Good thing you're awake. We've gotta talk." Derick says as he leads the way back inside of Cignac's dark cabin. At this point, the wolf Bonja is on his feet and at his master's side as the two men make themselves at ease, Derick producing a pack of cigarettes and lighting one for himself and one for his friend.

After some small talk, Derick finally gets to the point, the reason why he had made the long trek out here to the mountains.

"I've been hearing the talk, and I don't know how much of it is true, but from what they say, Miryana's car crash, that was no accident. Your twin brothers dying in that fire. . . " Derick shakes his head with a frown. "Cignac, someone's behind this and I don't know who and I don't know why. Word is they found out where you've been hiding and they're hunting you down, and I sure as hell ain't gonna stand by and let that happen. But if you've even got the slightest clue what's going on, you've gotta let me know. You can trust me. Miryana meant the world to me, and if I ever find out who hurt her. . . Cignac, I want to help you get to the bottom of this. End it for good.""

[VemuKhaham]

[Just to get the average number of posts these days above 1 or 2 a day. ]

"Ho, there, Derick!" Cignac loudly said, as he dropped in surprise the cigarette he had just lighted on the cabin floor. "Not so fast! I know you well enough to tell that when you come at this hour of the day there's bound to be something amiss, but you're not making any sense to me at all right now."

Derick then moved in somewhat closer, stepping on the burning cigarette to extinguish it and leaning closer to Cignac, grabbing his shoulder with his big, black leather-gloved hand. "I know it's hard my friend, they were my friends too, but it's time to stop playing the fool. The sheriff and his men, they mean to keep the entire thing under the table. A week ago, I spoke to Jack Hawkins, the fireman that went into the burning house that day... He said, plain as day, that during the investigation, he and his fella's had seen clear signs that the fire was no accident, but when they told Sheriff Downey... well, Jack said after that, it was clear again that the fire was due to an unextinguished candle. It's rubbish, Cignac, and you know it. Now tell me, who would profit from all them killings?"8