The Shattered World. Part I. The man stood upon the hillock, looking at the grey plain that stretched out before him. It was devoid of life, indeed devoid of the very feeling of life within it. It felt empty. The ruins of a village lay to the East of where he stood. Not really the remains of a village, so much as the burnt shell of what had once had been a settlement. In the centre, there was a statue. Being that this was the only thing of interest throughout these dreary surroundings, the man headed toward it. As he walked, the cracked and dry Earth itself seemed to hinder his progress. The toe of his sandal managed to stumble upon every change in the texture of the shattered surface. When he looked up, he felt his eyes grow dim from the dust in the air. Tiny particles made his nose tingle. The sky above was the same colour as the land around him. There was not a drop of water in sight. And he was thirsty. Through dry cracked lips, he uttered a short prayer. "Amelleck, the protector; May the rivers of your Eden Nurture thy fields, May thy wisdom guide my hand, And thy mercy warm the hearth of my home. Grant us the enlightenment of your power, Oh Sword of Justice, Deliverer of the righteous fire; And may we prosper in the glory of thy name. Amelleck." The man's name was Abim-Amalleck. In his old life, he had been a priest. Consecrated to the service of Amalleck. It was his job to lead the people in the rites of worship, and his job to guide them in their service to the Divine One. They trusted in their god as much as they feared him. For he provided for his faithful. They wanted not for food, or shelter. He brought water to the dry lands. Abim looked to Amalleck for guidance, and the people to Abim. As he walked, Abim thought about the glory days of his people. Life had been good then. They happily worked to build a great city for the glory of their protector. The one who brought down the Righteous Fire down upon their enemies. Their skyscrapers seemed to reach up and touch the glory of Amelleck himself. They happily praised his name, and he blessed them for it. Their granaries were full, and both their fields and their women were fertile. They wanted for nothing. If only they could have avoided the war. A sudden noise stirred Abim from his musings. A slight change in the wind had stirred up a well of dust . The wind howled in the grooves of the Earth. The sound was a mournful wail- the voices of those who once drew life from this land. It was almost accusatory to his ears. "They trusted me, And I failed them." he thought to himself, as he choked on a breath full of dead, grey soil. The ashes of his world. He looked into his memory. This way had then been a road, with trees on either side. Tall grass and flowers had spread out from here on either side. To the south, a meadow had been, where cattle had placidly grazed. Now it was indistinguishable from the rest of the shattered land surrounding him. Not a trace remained of what had been there. Abim thought that the meadow would have probably been one of the first things to burn in the onslaught of the enemy troops. At first, their interaction with the strange people had been peaceful. They sought to trade. Some of their people even sought to join our city and our worship of Amalleck. But we, in our pride, turned them away, with the blessing of our lord. It was rumored that they held great riches-- wealth beyond our imaginings, to make the great temple itself even seem a paltry thing in comparison. And our God hungered for that treasure. It gnawed at us, until one day the command came from the voice of the Deliverer himself. "You will march to their gates, and we will storm their mountain citadel. Their treasure will be ours, and all who resist my will shall be laid to waste." And so they marched. The journey was not unlike the one Abim made this day. The terrain was treacherous. And despite their faith in Amalleck, they had felt a sense of forboding. As Abim did now, in his own little march. As the days wore on, and the journey became harder, some began to openly voice their fears. Abim was among them. They were rewarded for their lack of faith by being driven away at the hands of The Beast. The great avatar of Amalleck himself turned on them and drove them into exile. He nearly destroyed all of the unbelievers. Abim cursed himself for his lack of faith. Only he survived, and that was the extent of the mercy the Sword of Justice proffered. He had lived as a hermit, eking out a meager living from the fruit of the land. He had watched the battle take place from a distance. At first, all went well for his people. The enemy scattered. But then, from the very heart of the earth itself, a great mountain of fire rose. It devoured all within its reach. The city of the enemy, their armies, and their people. When the smoke and fire finally cleared, nothing stood but a great peak of shattered land. The whole of it was dead. Not a thing stirred- not even the birds of the sky. And Abim withdrew in fear. For years, he avoided looking to the East, to the place of death and the destruction of all that he had known. But the day had come when he knew that he must return. He was an old man, and had only the strength for one more journey. He would return to the place of his birth, and there he would die-- among the place of his people. This is where Abim stood now. On this day, with his waning strength, he stumbled the last few steps towards the great statue that towered above him. At the base was a plaque. The words, in the ancient and holy tongue, were still legible. I am Abimaleck. I am the Sword of Justice. I am the keeper of the Righteous Fire. Behold my glory, and fear my wrath. None who oppose me shall stand. Abim read these words, and looked about him. Surrounding the statue, nothing else remained.

---

Very descriptive and a great story so far. Keep up the good work. Can't give you any rep know, as I already gave you some before.

I was inspired by that Percy Shelly poem "Ozymandias":

And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains:

---

I'm sorry I didn't drop by earlier, but I hope you can forgive me . Time to read and criticise! I read it wholly at first, and I think I didn't see all too many obvious errors (precious little really), so I do think we're heading in the right direction on a grammatical and vocabulary level :-). What I should definitely add, is that this short story fits perfectly with a song I was listening to (Really, it's all I could think of, their merging, even the tendencies of the song merged, swelling and deflating at the same time, tension and release. And also, your stories are the only ones that seem to fit to any songs, and most peculiarly to the songs I listen to at the time of reading. Or it is a quality, a remarkable symbol of greatness in writing I'd say, of your writing genius, or it is a powerful case of occasional convolution. But I think many other songs work great too whilst reading your stories, this song just held so much grace that it could compare to your story. And I do just think that you are just that well a portrayer of the general mood of an event that it fits anything that reflects that mood just as much). Funny thing is that it did start perfectly at the moment that I opened the tab to your story, and stopped when I was reading the last line, fading out along with the poem. The song I am talking about is Gymnopédie No. 1, by Eric Satie, and in this case performed by Berdien Steinberg. On to the story itself again. I find it a very touching story. You really can feel that you don't need many words to describe how he feels. And I specifically like the idea of the man returning to his place of birth to die. It reminded me of an elephant, which then in turn reminded me of how seemingly unsteady they appear to walk, which then got reflected back to your character, giving him a struggling gait, a sort of floundering steadiness. It might not have been your intention, but it works for me to relay the story through visualisation :-). On to the correcting: First of all. Titles don't go well with full stops. The way you wrote the thread title is correct, but how you wrote it in the thread itself, isn't. They trusted me, And I failed them." he thought to himself -> the full stop before the quotation mark should be a comma . I also like the 'choking on your previous life' symbolism :-). This way had then been a road -> you don't need the then, it only hinders the reader unnecessarily. Your tenses will reflect your 'then vs. now' contraposition just as efficiently without it. And if you would decide to want to emphasise it, I urge you to use the then closer to the now, to increase the distinction by clarifying the distinction. they had felt a sense of forboding. -> foreboding. Always check something with the prefix for- . If it explicitly adds a time denomination to a word, it is often fore, as in before. (Where I guess it comes from Latin through various means of language, seeing how fore is a form of futurus (the future of esse = to be), one I can't name now anymore... Although my dictionary tells me it stems from a common, Indo-European root 'per'... Don't mind me.) Not a thing stirred- not even the birds of the sky. -> If you really want to hyphenate, then I suggest you actually interrupt your sentence with the hyphenated text. If not, a semi-colon would be more appropriate. Not a thing - not even the birds of the sky - stirred. Not a thing stirred; not even the birds of the sky. He would return to the place of his birth, and there he would die-- among the place of his people. -> You don't need those hyphens there at all. Maybe a comma, but only if you want to slow down the sentence some should you do so. And, quirkily, yesterday during a rerun of Monty Python's Flying Circus, there was a scene in which they actually used that poem . It was something along these lines: 'I am Ozymandias, king of ants. Fear my six-feeted might, and despair. The ants of old, were not half as bold. Etc. More when you can manage (doesn't need to be this story at all, of course. It practically is one in its own right :-)).

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}

 Quoting: AMAUNATOR_THE_REVEALER

What I should definitely add, is that this short story fits perfectly with a song I was listening to (Really, it's all I could think of, their merging, even the tendencies of the song merged, swelling and deflating at the same time, tension and release. And also, your stories are the only ones that seem to fit to any songs, and most peculiarly to the songs I listen to at the time of reading. Or it is a quality, a remarkable symbol of greatness in writing I'd say, of your writing genius, or it is a powerful case of occasional convolution. But I think many other songs work great too whilst reading your stories, this song just held so much grace that it could compare to your story. And I do just think that you are just that well a portrayer of the general mood of an event that it fits anything that reflects that mood just as much). Funny thing is that it did start perfectly at the moment that I opened the tab to your story, and stopped when I was reading the last line, fading out along with the poem.

Wow, such praise. You give me far too much credit; you really do. But thank you, no less! Perhaps your experience of my story was in part shaped by the dynamics of the music you were listening to on an unonscious level? Nonetheless, a rather amazing occurance that your reading of the story synched so well with that song. I admire how you can with the one hand offer such unreserved praise of the story, and with the other hand put forth hard, impartial analysis. You should become a school teacher. Or, perhaps you are holding the right hand forth in order to soften the blow of the left? More of this story will be forthcoming. The dead shall shed tears for the living. That which holds life shall be emptied, restoring to the dead what was taken from them

---

I'm on the tip of my chair . Don't rush it however. As Kaiser said not too long ago in one of our funny conversations: Excellence can't be rushed .

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}

Very nice work. I'm glad you made an new story. Fan fiction is deserted

The Shattered World Part Deux This was not a good island to come to. He knew this instantly. The wind beneath his wings was hot and dusty. There was no food anywhere. There were no others anywhere in sight. He flapped his wings in irritation and was very near pressing on, when he smelled something on the wind. Identifying the source of the odor, he was delighted to see a nice and fresh food source down in the plains below. And it was nearly ready to eat. The bird folded his wings in near to him, and began to circle and wait. the life of a carrion bird was one of patience, after all. Abim was weeping by the statue. He knew that it was stupid. His wet eyes were only attracting more of the wind-blown dust and ash, until his tears matched the drab grey of the soil he was kneeling on. "I am only wasting my water. But what does it matter? I'll soon be dead anyway. Then I will no longer be the last living thing in this cursed land." This thought only made his grief greater. His whole life, he had served his God. His whole life, he had faithfully followed the Merciful Protector. His faith was unwavering; except for one failure. For that failure, his entire world suffered. Everything he knew and loved was destroyed. Everything, that is, except for Amalleck. This thought struck Abim like a fireball. Like a white-hot bolt of lightning, it awakened his mind, and snapped him out of his self-pitiful mourning. A new thought entered him: Amalleck was the cause of this grief. For years, decades actually, he had blamed himself and his lack of faith. He had believed that his people had suffered because of his failure; that he had deserved his punishment. But that was not so. He was punished not for a failure of faith, but because of his refusal to be a tool of conquest. Amalleck was only using him. Presently, he felt a splash of water upon his forehead. Looking up, Abim saw that the sky was dull and cloudless. The air was dry. This was not rain. As his head turned up, the water ran down into his mouth. It was salty, like tears. As he tasted these tears, in his mind he was almost certain he could hear the sound weeping; many voices crying together. Strangely, however, in the act trying to listen, the impression faded. This strange occurance caused him to recall some of the holy scriptures of his people-- one of the oldest books, from the time before the Gods. It was a book of prophecy, a prophecy of hope for his people; hope in a time of great sorrow. When all was lost for them, it was said that through an act of courageous self-sacrifice, a new hope would manifest itself. With a piece of charred stone, Abim scratched the words of the prophecy into the statue's base: "The dead shall shed tears for the living. That which holds life shall be emptied, restoring to the dead what was taken from them." As an afterthought, he added the words "Remember our folly." When this was finished, the sound of whispering came to his ear. It spoke to him, in the language of his people: "Yes, Abim. You know what must be done. You know the way." It was the sign that he needed. His waning strength temporarily forgotten, Abim jumped to his feet. This act greatly startled the large bird that had been slowly creeping up on him to investigate. Abim did not notice as it took to flight again. Abim looked down at the scorched base of the statue, and the original inscription that had been there. He read aloud the last part again: "None who oppose me shall stand." He looked around him. Wind and dust were everywhere. Scorched blotches indicated where a village once had been. Grey, cracked, wasted earth stretched in all directions. From the high hills in the West, to the sea that lay Eastwards. The act of looking about allowed airborne particles to sting his face and eyes. These things he did not notice, however, for his attention was focused beyond that which is material. He drew in a deep breath, laced with the ashes of his faith, and exhaled venom to his God; a final prayer: "Amalleck, Cursed Betrayer! Enemy of Love, Enemy of Peace! I renounce you, Destroyer! My faith you have no longer! Here I stand opposing you-- So strike me down!" with this final exertion, Abim's energy was spent. He did not collapse, however. He was maintained by a force that was not his own. A feeling of peace filled his heart, and tranquility and calm spread throughout his body. The weight of his years were seemingly lifted from him. He felt whole, he felt free and at peace-- finally. Upon looking down, he was surprised to see an old man laying beneath him. But his interest in this discovery was brief. Somehow, he knew that the old man was of no significance to him anymore. He heard a cry of joy behind him. Turning to the West, he saw his family calling out, asking him to follow them. And follow he did-- Beyond the hills, the sea, and the sky. To the home of his people. To his home. He was restored to his people, and peace was returned to their souls. So too, in Abim's passing, did the last worshipper of Amalleck leave the world. The whole world was still and silent, and in this silence was the death of a God. Part Trois The carrion bird approached the body of the man. It was very hungry. It pecked briefly at the man's head, and stood back. It waited for a response from the man. When it was sure he was dead, it did what carrion birds do to carrion. In its feasting, it also left its waste upon the corpse-- as birds will do. Most would find this scene utterly repulsive in every way- death, and the eaters of it are both abominable to people. But there were no people to witness on that day. Nor were any present who were capable of understanding the irony of this scene. For in that bird's waste, there chanced to be seeds; ingested by the bird from the gullet of some poor creature, and carried here from another land. These seeds were still alive- they held within them tiny lives, waiting for the chance to spread outwards into the world. Having eaten its fill, the bird looked up and drew back. Casting a quick furtive glance around it, it stretched out its long wings, and climbed up towards the sky, continuing on its way. Like the legendary phoenix, it rose from the ashes of this shattered world. Long after the bird left, the decomposition of Abim's body encompassed the seeds, and brought them down with it into the soil. The body's decay nurtured the dead earth, and in turn nurtured the seeds of these plants. Grasses soon sprouted, and the sapling of a great and mighty tree. As years went by, The tree grew larger, and the grasses spread. Soon, there were new trees, too. Life returned to the soil, and to the land. That which was grey was green again. Life itself rose from the ashes again. Migrating birds saw this place, and some remained. Small animals came to eat the seeds of the trees and the sweet grasses. They brought with them the seeds of new plants- flowers, fruits, and other growing things. Larger animals followed the smaller ones. Many, many years later, a group of wanderers climbed up to the top of a rocky hillock, and looked out towards the valley that stretched away to the East. They could not believe their eyes, so beautiful was the land. It truly was the garden of Eden. A paradise in every way. It is only logical that they settled there, and began a new village. Though this village would one day become a city, and in pure prayer, a God may even be returned to their land, they knew of the lesson of Abim. The words written on the shattered remains of a statue, that lay beneath a towering great tree, told them the story: This land had been the home of a mighty city long ago. They understood that city's folly. Abimalleck's folly, they called it, and it became a story that mothers would tell their children at night. It became the tale told by wise old men to children, while seated in the shade of Abim's tree. They would tell their children about towers that stretched to the heaven's, about great temples, and ever-full granaries. They would tell their children of greed, and the lust for conquest that led to destruction. They also told their children of that brave, last follower of Amalleck, who's final act of defiance healed the land of the Dying God's curse, restoring life and beauty to it. In telling this story, they and their children after them vowed that never again could such a thing be allowed to happen. Never again could greed, or lust for power, or even the command of a hungry deity ever be allowed to drive them to such self-destruction. They never forgot.

---

*Giggles.* Yay, additions! There don't seem to be many mistakes in there, at least none I could easily pick up on. I'll reread ti for sure later on and see to the punctuation some more. I just enjoyed the experience for now . Is it an indication that 'too much love will kill you' is playing now? Too much love for your god and country?

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}

I'd give my life for the blocking of the writer's block!! Nice job, enjoyed it too much I believe

---

good story

 Quoting: AMAUNATOR_THE_REVEALER

*Giggles.* Yay, additions! There don't seem to be many mistakes in there, at least none I could easily pick up on. I'll reread ti for sure later on and see to the punctuation some more. I just enjoyed the experience for now . Is it an indication that 'too much love will kill you' is playing now? Too much love for your god and country?

Hmm... No such thing as 'too much love', imo. Depends on what sort of love you are talking about, though. (Right MJ?) While I was re-reading the third part of the story, I couldn't help but hear the song in my head 'circle of life'. It wasn't really my intention to bring that theme in to the story, but somehow it ended up there anyway. My first focus was a story of rebuilding upon the ashes of human failing. It was a story of hope for something better that persists even amidst the realization of all of one's fears. I tried, in the best way that I could, to represent Amalleck as a diety that was more of a representation of the desires and feelings of the people who worshipped him, than a force guiding those desires-- as is so in the real world. Abim's final act of defiance was not simply shaking one's fist at an indifferent God, but an act of restitution. I am glad you enjoyed the story. I almost feel like I can't take credit for writing it, though-- It kind of wrote itself, in a way. I really didn't intend to end it the way that I did. There are a couple of errors, I guess. Such as one uncapitalised sentence. Imperfection is human, however-- and this is a very human story. I need more inspiration-- time to read through some older fanfics.

---

Go ahead, I'll remark other errors as I spy over it again, but I think I'll first have to keep a watchful eye on my own posts *sigh*.

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}

Let's see to the corrections. What's up with the French summation? His faith was unwavering; except for one failure. -> comma, not semi-colon. This strange occurance -> occurence It was the sign that he needed. -> lose the 'that'. It's not necessary. Casting a quick furtive glance around it... -> lose the 'it'. who's final act of defiance healed the land... -> whose That seems to be it . You progress visibly , or you just made sure to rid yourself of the annoying errors before posting it. I'm actually doubting whether you'll write more. There doesn't seem like much more can be written... P.S: Sorry about the double post .

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}

I kind of wrapped up this story- The area of B&W is not inspiring me much anymore. I have taken a much greater interest in the Mysterious adventures in the RP forum. I am sort of working on an addition now, but I suppose I am the only one who took any interest in it. :/ When was the last time you wrote a story, Ammy?

---

 Quoting: Ironlion45

I kind of wrapped up this story- The area of B&W is not inspiring me much anymore. I have taken a much greater interest in the Mysterious adventures in the RP forum. I am sort of working on an addition now, but I suppose I am the only one who took any interest in it. :/ When was the last time you wrote a story, Ammy?

Last time I wrote a story? I never did. Some lines here and there, a verse somewhere else, an interspersed block of random text and a dot at the end of it. Not something I'd call a story anyways. Now, if you meant to ask me when last I tried writing a story, then I'd say... two years back.

---

Bathing in eternal sunlight...

{Sig Made By SenileSkunk!}