Post by Bloodmancer on Feb 3, 2016 15:27:41 GMT -5
First chapter of my novel (unedited) tell me what you think, and let me know if you see any mistakes, or spots that sound forced.
More than Fever Dreams
There was little more than darkness for Viker. The darkness was as tangible as it was all consuming, for it blocked his senses of sight and sound. It also stirred within him, his mind slowly twisting and coiling about as if it see a life line.
No one knew this though, for Viker could not tell them, he could not even understand what he was saying, nor could he even see if there was anyone near by. The only human contact he ever had was when he was fed. The rest of his time was spent within his mind.
There was one thought above all else that permeated Viker’s waking sleep; Maybe he had been forgotten? Lost like many unimportant memories that frequented anyone's mind, and if Viker had been forgotten in such a way, was he truly still alive?
It was the one, final truth for Viker. For him, the worst part was that there was no action that could change it. No amount of wishes or will would ever bring back his sight and hearing.
Anyone who spent such a large portion of their life like this would likely go as mad as Viker had, for the light of the sun and and all sound had left him many years ago. He been hard of hearing ever since he his birth. Of course, Viker had never expected to go deaf and as he grew older.
Before long, Viker felt the air move around him as his caretaker came into his room, they helped him into an upright position, before they passed spoonfuls of food through his lips.
Viker wondered if he would ever be more than just a passing thought, a face to be pitied and forgotten within a span of a few seconds.
In that moment, Viker realized that he would do anything, even kill, to be something more.
***
Viker slept, whether his rest was during the day, or the night, he could not tell.
Viker’s dreams were strange but never unpleasant, no matter how horrendous they might have been. Viker was never afraid, no matter the danger. In the end, he always ended them with the building of a legend. Whether it one of fear, hatred, or heroism, it was always up to him.
This night, something was different. Something was wrong.
Each dream became increasingly bizarre, many of them moved out of Viker’s control. They were approaching the point of psychotic hallucinations.
Each one had the heat of a fever. The dreams moved in whirlwinds of color and sound. Storms of constant motion and impossible shapes besieged Viker’s mind. They seemed to move to the beat of his heart. Or maybe, his heart of was moving of the beat of the dreams. It was fruitless to try and figure out, for he could not tell what where and when and how his body was.
Only one thing remained constant throughout each nightmarish and increasingly graphic vision. A sense of something far larger than he could ever imagine watching over him.
Before long, all was darkness and Viker thought for sure that such unhealthy dreams would never plague him again.
“Are you done dreaming already? I quite liked watching you struggle against an unknown variable!” A strange, multi-toned voice boomed out of the darkness.
Shocked, Viker tried it move about, to say something, anything to prove that this was just another dream, only to find that his form was still intangible.
The voice let out a sharp hiss that might have been a scoff. “Of course, silly me, always trying to talk to those without their mouths!” The voice was more sarcastic, somewhat irritated this time.
Viker felt his mouth move, despite it not being their. “What.. Who are you… Where am I?” Viker’s voice was scratchy and ragged. It sounded alien, more like it belonged to an animal than a human being.
“I am the Mad Conductor, of course. As for this place, It is a place not even I know of!” It told for him, over pronunciating it’s own title in the process.
“The mad… What?”
“It seems that you have lost more than just your eyes and ears, Viker!” The Mad Conductor chuckled. That was when Viker heard it. The mad conductor's voice wasn’t just one voice, it was many. They were quieter, much quieter. He could even make out a few words. Often times, each voice would start a sentence differently. Instead of saying ’It seems’, they would say ‘We believe’.
“I’m sure that you have many questions, Viker, and I would love to answer them, but first, you must answer my questions.”
“What could a… Being like you possibly… Want from me?” Viker decided he didn’t like talking all that much. He was having a hard time remembering how to form the words, nor did he like the sound of his own voice. If he ever had to talk in his dreams again, he would have to find a way of speaking without moving his mouth.
“Ah, but a being like you has much to offer to a being like me, for you have something few other beings have. A fear that would drive you towards danger, rather than away from it.” When Viker did not respond, the Mad Conductor gave an exasperated sigh.
“How would like a chance to be something more? Something greater? Of course, you must do something for me in return.”
“How? I can not even see my own hands two feet in front of my face!” Viker hissed, angry with the dream for giving something he could never have, and angry with himself for childishly hoping it were real.
“Do not worry about your disabilities, those will be dealt with accordingly. Now, as for your side of the deal…” A catch, there was always a motive for every gift, even fake ones.
“What is it?” Viker growled.
Unfazed by Viker’s anger, the conductor continued on. “While you were separated from the world Viker, a Great War has been spreading across your realm. The Reaver, a being quite like me, though not as clever, I might add, has set loose his creations upon your world. These Riftbound, as they are called, thrive on destruction and death, they will tear your world apart if they are not stopped.” The Conductor paused for a second to let Viker absorb this information, before continuing.
“There is another race besides your own that has stepped forth to oppose the Riftborn. They are called Fabricators, they served the grand architect in The Beginning, building many worlds. They can create anything within minutes, but anything tangible still requires material. They too tear your world apart, in hopes that they may save it, to build their constructs of war.” The Mad Conductor finished.
“What would you have me, of all people, do?” Viker asked.
“I would have you destroy them, wipe them off the face of the Treaux! I will supply the powers you need to do so, and in return, you may keep all five of your senses for as long as you live.”
Viker felt himself frown. “Am I truly the right one for this?”
“Of course, you would doubt me, a temporal being? My judgment is sound!” The statement was laced with Faux disappointment escaping the Conductor.
“Why would help us? A being such as yourself could simply stop this whole thing with a snap of your fingers.”
“Of course I would help you, for if I don’t, there will be nothing left to conduct. Remember, I am the conductor, there is only so much I can do.”
“Remember, Viker, son of Kygg, you must start from The Beginning and work your way to The End.”
Suddenly, Viker, realized that this was no dream. He was awake, but his physical body was intangible, that was why he was unable to talk or control what was happening.
With a terrible screeching, he felt his whole being pulled through the the fabric this place, and back towards his own. As he passed through some odd place in between, he saw strange black figures whispering and watching, waiting, always waiting. They wanted to see. He knew that, but he knew not what they wanted to see, or what they were waiting for. For a single second, Viker and the strangest thought.
Maybe, just maybe, they were waiting for everything.
More than Fever Dreams
There was little more than darkness for Viker. The darkness was as tangible as it was all consuming, for it blocked his senses of sight and sound. It also stirred within him, his mind slowly twisting and coiling about as if it see a life line.
No one knew this though, for Viker could not tell them, he could not even understand what he was saying, nor could he even see if there was anyone near by. The only human contact he ever had was when he was fed. The rest of his time was spent within his mind.
There was one thought above all else that permeated Viker’s waking sleep; Maybe he had been forgotten? Lost like many unimportant memories that frequented anyone's mind, and if Viker had been forgotten in such a way, was he truly still alive?
It was the one, final truth for Viker. For him, the worst part was that there was no action that could change it. No amount of wishes or will would ever bring back his sight and hearing.
Anyone who spent such a large portion of their life like this would likely go as mad as Viker had, for the light of the sun and and all sound had left him many years ago. He been hard of hearing ever since he his birth. Of course, Viker had never expected to go deaf and as he grew older.
Before long, Viker felt the air move around him as his caretaker came into his room, they helped him into an upright position, before they passed spoonfuls of food through his lips.
Viker wondered if he would ever be more than just a passing thought, a face to be pitied and forgotten within a span of a few seconds.
In that moment, Viker realized that he would do anything, even kill, to be something more.
***
Viker slept, whether his rest was during the day, or the night, he could not tell.
Viker’s dreams were strange but never unpleasant, no matter how horrendous they might have been. Viker was never afraid, no matter the danger. In the end, he always ended them with the building of a legend. Whether it one of fear, hatred, or heroism, it was always up to him.
This night, something was different. Something was wrong.
Each dream became increasingly bizarre, many of them moved out of Viker’s control. They were approaching the point of psychotic hallucinations.
Each one had the heat of a fever. The dreams moved in whirlwinds of color and sound. Storms of constant motion and impossible shapes besieged Viker’s mind. They seemed to move to the beat of his heart. Or maybe, his heart of was moving of the beat of the dreams. It was fruitless to try and figure out, for he could not tell what where and when and how his body was.
Only one thing remained constant throughout each nightmarish and increasingly graphic vision. A sense of something far larger than he could ever imagine watching over him.
Before long, all was darkness and Viker thought for sure that such unhealthy dreams would never plague him again.
“Are you done dreaming already? I quite liked watching you struggle against an unknown variable!” A strange, multi-toned voice boomed out of the darkness.
Shocked, Viker tried it move about, to say something, anything to prove that this was just another dream, only to find that his form was still intangible.
The voice let out a sharp hiss that might have been a scoff. “Of course, silly me, always trying to talk to those without their mouths!” The voice was more sarcastic, somewhat irritated this time.
Viker felt his mouth move, despite it not being their. “What.. Who are you… Where am I?” Viker’s voice was scratchy and ragged. It sounded alien, more like it belonged to an animal than a human being.
“I am the Mad Conductor, of course. As for this place, It is a place not even I know of!” It told for him, over pronunciating it’s own title in the process.
“The mad… What?”
“It seems that you have lost more than just your eyes and ears, Viker!” The Mad Conductor chuckled. That was when Viker heard it. The mad conductor's voice wasn’t just one voice, it was many. They were quieter, much quieter. He could even make out a few words. Often times, each voice would start a sentence differently. Instead of saying ’It seems’, they would say ‘We believe’.
“I’m sure that you have many questions, Viker, and I would love to answer them, but first, you must answer my questions.”
“What could a… Being like you possibly… Want from me?” Viker decided he didn’t like talking all that much. He was having a hard time remembering how to form the words, nor did he like the sound of his own voice. If he ever had to talk in his dreams again, he would have to find a way of speaking without moving his mouth.
“Ah, but a being like you has much to offer to a being like me, for you have something few other beings have. A fear that would drive you towards danger, rather than away from it.” When Viker did not respond, the Mad Conductor gave an exasperated sigh.
“How would like a chance to be something more? Something greater? Of course, you must do something for me in return.”
“How? I can not even see my own hands two feet in front of my face!” Viker hissed, angry with the dream for giving something he could never have, and angry with himself for childishly hoping it were real.
“Do not worry about your disabilities, those will be dealt with accordingly. Now, as for your side of the deal…” A catch, there was always a motive for every gift, even fake ones.
“What is it?” Viker growled.
Unfazed by Viker’s anger, the conductor continued on. “While you were separated from the world Viker, a Great War has been spreading across your realm. The Reaver, a being quite like me, though not as clever, I might add, has set loose his creations upon your world. These Riftbound, as they are called, thrive on destruction and death, they will tear your world apart if they are not stopped.” The Conductor paused for a second to let Viker absorb this information, before continuing.
“There is another race besides your own that has stepped forth to oppose the Riftborn. They are called Fabricators, they served the grand architect in The Beginning, building many worlds. They can create anything within minutes, but anything tangible still requires material. They too tear your world apart, in hopes that they may save it, to build their constructs of war.” The Mad Conductor finished.
“What would you have me, of all people, do?” Viker asked.
“I would have you destroy them, wipe them off the face of the Treaux! I will supply the powers you need to do so, and in return, you may keep all five of your senses for as long as you live.”
Viker felt himself frown. “Am I truly the right one for this?”
“Of course, you would doubt me, a temporal being? My judgment is sound!” The statement was laced with Faux disappointment escaping the Conductor.
“Why would help us? A being such as yourself could simply stop this whole thing with a snap of your fingers.”
“Of course I would help you, for if I don’t, there will be nothing left to conduct. Remember, I am the conductor, there is only so much I can do.”
“Remember, Viker, son of Kygg, you must start from The Beginning and work your way to The End.”
Suddenly, Viker, realized that this was no dream. He was awake, but his physical body was intangible, that was why he was unable to talk or control what was happening.
With a terrible screeching, he felt his whole being pulled through the the fabric this place, and back towards his own. As he passed through some odd place in between, he saw strange black figures whispering and watching, waiting, always waiting. They wanted to see. He knew that, but he knew not what they wanted to see, or what they were waiting for. For a single second, Viker and the strangest thought.
Maybe, just maybe, they were waiting for everything.