Gehenna(A novel I'm writing)
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Gehenna(A novel I'm writing)
Posted on Wed Aug 19, 2009 9:50 pmThis is just the intro. And title is a working one(not sure I'll use this one).
Anyways, let me summarize - the novel will be a western-horror-mystery sort of thing. It will happen in one town - Gehenna. The intro is just a short scene, I have written past it(some 35-40 pages till now, not too much), and I will post the rest later, piece by piece. I wan't some real criticism too - don't hold back ^_^ I won't be angry.
The story itself...well I'll let you see for yourselves. I already mentioned this idea of mine earlier in the etc forums, but havent worked on it untill just recently(been brainstorming a lot ^_^), so if you are lucky you may find it.
Well on to teh shit gets real zone!
The hand of a person touched by the pure essence of madness swung the axe once again, and blood splatered across the dirt. The bloody blade glittered on the faint moonlight, as it slowly rose once again, only to repeat its travel downwards once again. And again. In the deafening silence of the night, only the sounds of metal clashing with bone was heard. And the only one who was there to hear it did not care. The blood, the tase of it, the stench of death…nothing of that mattered now. Only the axe and the hands were there now. The one holding it was not aware of what he was doing anymore. It was east, like chopping wood. Something he repeated so many times, that there was no need to think anymore.
The hands firmly gripping the axe, repeated their movements again and again, untill the first rays of sun broke the night. Then they dropped it, and shivered. The tool fell into the puddle of blood with a blunt sound. His eyes widened, he realised what he had done. The red stains on his clothes, the blood on his hands, the stench….my god the stench, it was unbearable. He spilled the contents of his stomach on the faceless body lying infront him – a final insult to both of them – it goes withouth saying.
He looked at the gaping red hole that once represented someones identity. He could not remember what existed there before it. A face? Maybe. Whose face? How did it look like? He did not know. The only thing he knew for sure was this – he took it away. Why? Again, a question he could not answer. He doubted anyone could. He gazed at his own hands, like he hoped they would provide him with the answer. After all, they provided him with the question. But in this case, the riddler did not know the answer to the riddle.
He sat in the dirt, soaked with blood, his mind in pieces, like the face of the person that reclined on that wooden wall of the shack.
“What are you looking at?” he asked the corpse. It remained silent. “What the hell are you looking at!?” he yelled as he stood up, his eyes full of madness once again. He kicked the place where the face once was, and the head shattered into pieces, just like his mind.
He slowly picked up his axe, as his lips formed a vague smile – the smile of a madman – he kissed the blade. And he walked away, bloody footsteps on the ground following him. He did not know what he did, or why, but he knew it was good. Why was it good? Who cared anyway?
A pocket watch fell out of the coat of the dead man. As it landed onto the blood-stained ground, it opened, and struck five o’clock. Its hands never moved again. The footsteps in the distance resembled ticking though. But only a tad bit. And there was noone around to hear them anyway. The shadows of the morning have no ears.
As I said, the intro is quite short. ^_^ do you think it should be longer?(I can make it longer...) Thats whats puzzling me...
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Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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"the novel will be a western-horror-mystery sort of thing."
That's not Stephen Kingish at all.
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Not half bad, A few touch ups like:
The cruel,blood-spattered blade shone wickedly in the ghostly moonlight.
Instad of:
The bloody blade glittered on the faint moonlight
And a correcting some mispelling and it would be much better. And some synonyms would not go amiss.
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@Max - er...woot? I don't get what you are trying to say...
Anyway, I will post more, and correct the first part, I noticed some errors myself.
1 – Diorama
The footsteps were silent, the sound of boots touching the yellow dirt. They repeated, seemingly endless, monotone, boring. The cries of the vultures were heard from time to time – at first rarely, but they became more and more frequent with each step. They were eager, impatient, waiting for the footsteps to finally stop - and each silent sound of the dirt rising, as the boot hit the ground draw their desire closer to reality.
The sun was already high in the sky, its rays turning the wasteland into a large frying pan, a valley of death, a bone yard – the vultures feeding grounds. The time between two footsteps slowly increased, prolonging the agony, the time until the final feast. The cries from above had no pauses between them anymore – they became a symphony of death and hunger, they sounded like a mob watching and execution – asking, begging for the death of the accused, not caring if he is guilty or not – they just wanted to see the blood splatter when the axe touches the neck, that’s all.
The footsteps suddenly stopped. The messengers of death became silent, waiting. Their prey was still on its feet, but not for long – they knew it instinctively, just as they knew which part is the juiciest – they will soon fight over it. They circled, waited – they were patient now, knowing that the end is imminent.
Then, something happened, something out of the ordinary. The prey tilted his head, and looked straight at them – but that was not a strange thing at all. Many times have the men looked at them, with despair, anger, madness, or just plain conciliation, knowing that their fate has been indivertibly sealed. But this one was not like the other – not in the least. He smiled – not like a madman, his eyes were sharp and focused. For a moment the birds felt inferior – like they were the prey, like everything turned upside down in a split second – but that could not be true, now could it?
His hand appeared from nowhere, emerging from his gray poncho with mind-blowing speed. Before the birds even noticed the movement, three shots were already fired – a hailstorm of feathers, bone and blood blinded the panicked birds, desperate to run away, lest they wanted to become food for their own kin. But the shadow of death was upon them now, and they were helpless in its embrace.
The fiery tongue of the revolvers shiny silver barrel appeared four more times, and each bullet it spit hit its target, delivering its load of death. The loading gate opened, and his left hand moved like a ghost, blurry from the speed, loading the gun, as his right thumb turned the cylinder. Once all seven were in their places, he rose the gun, and aimed at something in the distance.
The three vultures, thinking they escaped the clutches of the reaper, fell one by one in a split second – before they even realized what has happened, their puny little lives were already finished by the thunderstorm of the revolver. The barrel was still smoking when they hit the ground.
He returned his hands under his poncho, sheathing his weapon into its holster on his left thigh. He looked at his dead pursuers. He was hungry. But he quickly dismissed the thought of eating them. Their meat was foul and rough, he never wanted to taste it again – even if that meant death.
He continued walking, the sound of his footsteps was once again the only thing to be heard in this god forsaken wasteland. He knew there was at least forty miles until the next town, and he prepared his mind for the walk. His own shadow and the sun high up in the sky told him the time – noon, or at least close to it. He tilted his black cordobés sombrero, in order to protect his face from the wicked sun, and continued walking.
The terrain was uphill, and hated that, but it was better to go over this hill than around it – it will save him some five miles of walk, if not more. He just hoped that there won’t be any reasons to draw his gun until he reaches the next city. The four bullets in his gun were his last ones. He knew he shouldn’t have wasted them on the vultures – but they were just too annoying, they simply asked for it.
After a while, he finally reached the top. He was breathing heavily, and sat on the ground to rest. He crossed his legs, like and Indian would, and took out a small book out of the back pocket of his dark blue jeans. He opened it and held it with only his left hand, his right resting on the handle of his gun, ready to react at any sign of danger – he did not put it there willingly, not anymore – keeping his right hand on the gun, drawing, shooting, killing…it all became simple routine a long time ago. Its easier when you don’t think about it. But its still not easy enough. It never is.
For a moment, he glimpsed at the valley beneath the hill he was on top of – why he did not do it until now was a mystery to him as well. Probably because he presumed there is nothing to see. But there was. A small town, that, by all means, should not be there, was lying in a small valley between four hills, one on each side – the one standing on the opposite side of him was the largest one, and it towered over half of the town. Because of it, the whole town looked like a neat little diorama, each house perfectly placed, with small people all around, everything seemingly perfect. He had his doubts about whether the town was real, or just a figment of his imagination.
“Well, there is only one way to find out…” he thought, while standing up. He wiped the dirt from his behind, and returned the book into the back pocket. He did not move his hand from the gun though.
He walked downhill, on a narrow dirt road. It was not recently used, the low bushes and weak dry grass have taken it over. “People probably go around the hill.” He thought. The wide dirt road at the bottom of the hill, coming from the right side, confirmed that.
The sign at the bottom said “Gehenna” the letters were barely recognizable, and the wood was putrefied. It has certainly seen better days.
The town itself was further down the road, the one he saw coming from under the right side of the hill. Maybe a 100 yards, not more. He started walking.
As he walked past the first houses, all eyes turned to him. Some looked at him with curiosity, some with suspicion, fear, or uncertainty. He always got those looks wherever he went – many robbers and outlaws traveled from town to town these days – he could be one of them for all they know. He didn’t blame them. They will forget him after he leaves anyway.
Soon he found the building he searched for – the saloon. He was short on money though, but he had more than enough for a meal, a drink, and hopefully a room that doesn’t resemble a rat hole. He sighed. “Like that would happen.”
The interior of the saloon was better than he expected. Only a few people were sitting at the tables, talking cheerfully. Some of them turned for a moment to look at the newcomer, but resumed their conversation after a few seconds.
He passed by them and sat at the bar, and swung his poncho onto his back. “Hey! Bartender!” he said, his voice deep and clear, each syllable devoid of any accent whatsoever, as well as any feelings – it was all like a straight line. The two simple words sent chills down the bartenders spine.
He turned around – a small man, no more than a meter and sixty in height, thin and bald, a mockery of a man, but only seemingly. His eyes were sharp and focused, revealing a bit of what this man was really like – a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Hello there!” he said – his voice was weak and high-pitched, he sounded like a mouse, or a rat. He had an accent – French or Italian, he could not tell “My name is Topo, and I hold this fine establishment! What would you like?”
The wanderer just sat there for a moment, processing this man – his actions and looks contradicted with his personality completely. He decided he will not trust this man. Not in the least bit.
“Well,” he spoke, sending chills down Topo’s spine once again “I would like a glass of whiskey, something to eat, and a room.” He paused “If that’s not a problem.”
“Ofcourse it isn’t kind sir!” he said “But if you want a room I would need your name.” there was an awkward moment of silence “So I can write you down in the guest book.” Topo clarified.
“Ok then…” said the man, his voice still had an impact on Topo, but it was weaker now “My name is…Virgil.”
“Virgil….?” Topo asked, and the man tilted his head, placing his hand on his chin. He thought about that for a moment, and then spoke.
“Virgil Kreuz.” Both of them that was not his real name, but it will suffice. For now. “May I have that whiskey and the meal taken up to my room?”
“Sure sure!” Topo said, as he wrote down Virgil Kraus in the completely blank guest book.
“Its spelled k-r-e-u-z.” Virgil said, catching Topo by surprise “Not Kraus. Kreuz.”
“Alright then!” he tidily crossed out Kraus with a single, perfectly straight line, and wrote down Kreuz instead. “Here are your keys sir!” he said, and handed him a simple iron key. It had the number seven carved into its bow. Virgil sighed, and slowly went up the stairs. He hated stairs.
There were seven rooms, and, as he could guess, his was the last one in the corridor. The last one was usually the worst. He was content with it as he opened the door – he will be here for only one night afterall.
The room was nicer than he thought – it even had a bathtub, and a bed with a good mattress – not to mention that it was a bed for two - and it even had clean sheets, and a blanket. He wondered – how much does this room cost? Why didn’t he ask Topo that just a few minutes earlier? Did Topo trick him into getting an expensive room? Never mind. He still has four bullets to spare. More than enough to deal with him. He sat on the bed, crossed his legs, took out the book from his back pocket, and started to read. His right hand rested on his revolver while his left hand was busy with turning the pages.
This is not the whole chapter 1, just a slice of it.
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Clockwork - you thought it was over? You were, oh so wrong....
Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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Not bad.
But once again how do you not get what I said LOL?
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maxxinator wrote:
Not bad.
But once again how do you not get what I said LOL?
Not bad.
But once again how do you not get what I said LOL?
Sorry but...I cannot make up whether you were sarcastic or not.
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Atheist I Don't Believe In God, and proud if it.
Clockwork - you thought it was over? You were, oh so wrong....
Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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Just a question, is this about war?
Not really a fan bout westerns but I'd say the writing style is solid. You get your point across but I can't rate the story.
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Just read the intro, reading trough first chapter...Figured out i might as well learn something this way
edit:Read that part of 1st chapter...I think i saw a mistake...When he was saying his name to that guy, it went something like this:
"Virgil Krauz" Both of them that was not his real name...
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Last edited by \->F3lix<-/ on Fri Aug 21, 2009 1:44 pm; edited 1 time in total
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SilentControl.ph wrote:
Just a question, is this about war?
Not really a fan bout westerns but I'd say the writing style is solid. You get your point across but I can't rate the story.
Just a question, is this about war?
Not really a fan bout westerns but I'd say the writing style is solid. You get your point across but I can't rate the story.
Nah, its not about war. Everything will happen in the titular town - Gehenna.
And, ofcourse you can't rate the stroy ^_^ its not that far in anyway(although I already planned much of it in my head)
F3lix wrote:
Just read the intro, reading trough first chapter...Figured out i might as well learn something this way
Just read the intro, reading trough first chapter...Figured out i might as well learn something this way
Just let me know what you think when you'r done ^_^ and I hope you can learn something from me, although I doubt it. I'm not that good ^_^
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Atheist I Don't Believe In God, and proud if it.
Clockwork - you thought it was over? You were, oh so wrong....
Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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You think i am any better?plus, i edited last post, and i found one typo...
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Read my fanfic, Hunter in the Dark:
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I'm in the process of making a Doombringer(Lucifer) guide, if you have some suggestions, then PM me...
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I don't get alot about the protagonist other than he keeps to himself. Can't you let some his more personal thoughts be heard?
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Sorry, not a fan of horror books. But but this doesnt sound too bad.
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Betcha didnt see this, did you? XD
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SilentControl.ph wrote:
I don't get alot about the protagonist other than he keeps to himself. Can't you let some his more personal thoughts be heard?
I don't get alot about the protagonist other than he keeps to himself. Can't you let some his more personal thoughts be heard?
Unfortunatly, not yet. He is quite a stereotipical mystery man at the moment, but he will develop. His past has connections to the story and will be revealed later as the story progresses. His fake name is a hint in itself, but there is no way to understand it...yet.
@DaMan - it won't really be the bloody type horror(well in some parts it will be), it will be more of a mystery type horror. I won't use too much gore and stuff. Only at certain parts. I will try to make a suspense horror type atnosphere. Hope I'll be succesfull in doing that...
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Atheist I Don't Believe In God, and proud if it.
Clockwork - you thought it was over? You were, oh so wrong....
Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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I post now the next part. I want some criticism people(varun, burnside, RzfX, I'm looking at you guys -.-)
Someone knocked on the door. “I will never read this book.” He thought, as he put the book down, and stood up to open the door. The floor boards screeched under his feet. – he never liked that sound, it always reminded him of screams.
The door screeched as he opened them – they didn’t do that when he was coming in. It startled him, and he scowled, but just for a moment. When the person standing at the door saw him, his face was once again perfectly calm, devoid of any feelings.
It was a girl. In her hands was a plate – on it a glass of whiskey and a bowl of stew. She just starred at him for a moment, like she didn’t know what to say. Probably because she never served a customer like this before. There never were any customers according to the guest book.
“Uh…here is what you ordered sir!” she shouted, and quickly lowered her head, while raising the plate. Her fair hair covered her face completely. Even without seeing it, Virgil knew she was sweating. He smiled faintly. The poor girl was scared of him. His crude place face, piercing black eyes, greasy dark hair, and unshaved beard probably made him look like a monster. He couldn’t blame her – she wasn’t the first, nor the last person whose first reaction to him was fear.
He swung his poncho to his back, and took the plate from her hands with his left “Thank you.” He said, and she suddenly jumped back, frightened, partially by his voice, and partially by his hand on the gun.
“D..d..don’t mention it…” she quickly muttered, as Virgil closed the door. The sound of her running away as quickly as she could made him smile. The screeching of the floor boards whipped that smile off his face.
He sat down at the small table beneath the window looking out onto the street, and began eating the stew. It was nothing special, but it was far better than the food he usually ate at hotels or saloons – cold swills. The whiskey was satisfying as well – it was not watered down at all. Most saloon owners would buy one gallon of alcohol, and sell it as ten. He despised that, but knew it was an unavoidable thing, a fact of life –sky is blue, water is wet, drinks are watered down...
After he was finished, he laid down on the bed. It was soft and comfortable – the best bed he felt under his back in years. He quickly fell asleep, without even noticing it. After he did, his right hand slowly moved to his gun, and stayed there. He had no guardian angel, so he had to act as one for himself.
The door knob turned, making only a faint sound. The hand moved faster than the eye, and the gun barrel was already pointed towards the intruder “Don’t move.” Virgil calmly exclaimed, and opened his eyes.
The shivering girl was frozen in fear, in the middle of a footstep. She didn’t even know how lucky she was – when someone intruded him in his sleep, Virgil had a tendency to shoot first, and then ask questions. This time he held back just a moment before he pulled trigger – his mind was only a tad bit faster than his hand.
He sheeted his weapon, and rubbed his eyes before speaking “What are you doing here?” he asked the girl. She just starred for a few moments, still in shock. He snapped his fingers, and she twitched.
“I…I…I just...I didn’t…” she barely spoke, and she spoke nonsense.
“ Calm down. Take it easy.” He said with a soothing voice. Or at least he hoped it was soothing – he could never tell. Most people thought he sounded like he was threatening their life, no matter what he said. That was not surprising.
“I…I just wanted to clean up. Nothing more! Please don’t shoot me!” the words that were stuck in her throat finally got out.
Virgil knew that was bullshit. The room was perfectly clean, it was cleaned yesterday, or even today – it was clear as day. Why was she lying to him? There could be many reasons, but he knew what was in question – Topo sent her here to find out who he is, and why he’s here. He almost laughed at that thought – the poor man actually thought this girl could do it.
“Okay, okay.” He said and scratched his head, keeping his eyes half closed in order to appear sleepy, even though he was completely awake since the moment he drew his gun. “Listen girl….what’s your name?”
“Wilhelmina.” She quickly answered.
“Okay Wilhelmina, go and tell Topo that my room does not need to be cleaned. Understood?”
She nodded her head uncontrollably, while gripping her blue skirt with her hands. She was covered in sweat.
“You can go.” He said, realizing that she would probably stand there for another hour before realizing she can and should leave. She was gone in a flash, he heard her quick footsteps as she went down the stairs. It sounded like a woodpecker.
He smiled and once again fell asleep.
He woke up all soaked in sweat, holding the gun in his hand. He looked in all directions, turning his head quickly, his eyes wide open, his pitch black pupils only tiny dots. The room was red, basked in the light of the setting sun – and he couldn’t tell whether he was dreaming or not. His breath was heavy and irregular, his heart beat furiously in his chest. The rattling of the guns mechanism was the only sound present in the room. Virgil’s whole body was shaking. He grabbed his right hand to stop it from shaking – it was of no use.
He calmed himself down, and slowly, unwillingly, returned the gun into the holster. He regained his peace after a while, and then tried recollecting the dream. Nothing. He knew he dreamed of something – of something disturbing, terrible. He did not really want to know what it is – that’s probably why he couldn’t remember it – but at the same time, he was desperate to know what was the thing that disturbed him so much.
Closing his eyes, Virgil stopped trying to remember. He let it come to him – and slowly, like a ray of light breaking through the darkness(or was it the opposite?).
Red….red … the moon in the sky…a sound, familiar but so distant…like someone knocking on a door…like a woodpecker…like gunshots…it was all those things, but it wasn’t any of them….
footsteps…footsteps, that’s what it was. Footsteps. Each one different from the next one…but almost the same…each one with a different tone, with it’s own pace… each one leading closer…
“NO!” he shouted and grabbed his head with both hands, he opened his eyes wide, he opened them never wanting to close them again. His whole body was trembling, cold sweat rolling down his face. A drop fell into his eye – he didn’t even blink. He could not. He didn’t want to see what was behind the darkness that comes to him when he closes his eyes. It was something he forgot a long time ago – why did it come back? He didn’t know – he just wanted it to…
“GO AWAY!” he shouted as he blinked, for a small fraction of a second, but it was there – the red darkness. He didn’t know what it was, but it was so familiar...too familiar. “Go away. Go away. Go away.” He repeated those words to himself like a mantra, like a prayer, while shaking baking and forth. At first he shouted, but in the end he just whispered those words, until he wasn’t able to hear them anymore. His lips still moved after he stopped speaking, still forming the same words, but without sound.
He blinked again, unwillingly – the worst fears awoke in him at that moment, only to disappear the next. It was all black. He stopped rocking back and forth, and smiled – a smile of relief. But he was still afraid to close his eyes, he could not go back to sleep.
A knock on the door startled him – but then he realized it was only normal that someone would come check on him after he shouted like a madman. He slowly stood up, and looked at his hands – they were still. He sighed as he walked to the door – he skipped the screeching floorboards this time – and the door opened just as he reached for the knob.
The girl at the door….it was the girl from before. He couldn’t remember her name….it was close, he could feel it in his mind as a vague memory he could not reach for.
“Is…is everything alright sir?” she asked him. He was still trying to remember her name, and barely heard her question.
“Ah…yes. Everything is fine Wilhelmina.” Her name suddenly came to him, he didn’t even try “I was just…having a bad dream. That’s all.” He smiled vaguely.
She lowered her head, and crossed her thumbs “Everyone has bad dreams at first.” She said quietly – but each word was clear, and he heard them all “But they usually aren’t that bad.” She turned around and walked away, leaving Virgil at the door with his mouth wide open as well as his eyes.
“Wait! What do you mean?” he shouted after her.
She stopped at the top of the stairs as soon as he spoke. But she did not turn around. “Dreams aren’t random.” Her voice was so tender and quiet, but still so loud and clear. It was different from before – there was no hesitation in her voice. She wasn’t stuttering. “Dreams are a part of us. Since your dreams are so bad, I wonder, are you as bad as they are?”
That left him speechless. He could only watch as she walked down the stairs, he didn’t dare ask anything else, fearing the answers he might get. He stood at the door for some time, thinking about what she said – and came back inside once he realized that thinking about it is useless.
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Atheist I Don't Believe In God, and proud if it.
Clockwork - you thought it was over? You were, oh so wrong....
Last edited by TheGunslinger on Mon Dec 21, 2012 0:00 am; edited 666 time in total
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hmmmm sounds like Gar;eh;na/Geh;En;A`?
ur missing
as she stood there holding the bloody katana,Her husbands blood dripping off her face she realized she could have just divorced him.
im also trying to write a book Zombie Survival 101 because i belive zombies will one day rise because we will go too far with science and end up makeing our species die out(like the A-Bomb
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