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Thread: I used to be able to write

  1. #1
    Adventurer enkerzed's Avatar
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    Sep 2012
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    I used to be able to write

    Before getting into RPing, I wrote short stories. I don't seem to do that anymore. Well anyways, here's one of them. I don't remember how long ago I wrote this. Maybe looking at it will inspire me to write something other than RP posts for once.

    Sky Pioneer

    Hot winds blew through the small mining town as it sizzled underneath the glaring sun. The sounds of grunts and metal striking rock could be heard echoing from the dark hollow of the mine. Its tunnels snaked through the earth like tree roots and each branch was clogged with sweating bodies, their pick axes hacking away at the dirt. Lift and swing, lift and swing, a tireless rhythm. Lanterns lying scattered about the ground revealed grimy faces and black veins of coal in the rock, crumbling into chips as they were pried away from the walls. The heat was boiling and the air so full of dust that it nearly choked the lungs, but it was no more than what the miners were used to. Lift and swing, lift and swing; dig, dig, dig. The same old routine.

    Fergus MacLeod could hear it all the way from his house as he tended to his own work. Though only the fifteen year old apprentice of a somewhat dour mining engineer, his thirst for knowledge and invention was ravenous, and much of his free time was devoted to the creation of his own projects. Among them was a flying brass orb constructed from the pieces of several pocket watches and a miniature propeller, much to the chagrin of his mentor, and some steam powered fans, one of his more useful inventions and an absolute boon for the miners. However, everything had been mere practice compared to his latest endeavour, the construction of a flying machine.

    Ever since reading the story of Conor Finn, a legendary aeronaut, Irishman and inventor of the first heavier-than-air flying machine, Fergus had been filled with pride in his Irish heritage and was enamoured with the idea of building his own aircraft. He had spent many hours reading books on the matter, many days on drawing designs and diagrams, and many years collecting the materials needed for putting theory into practice, though much was impossible to obtain in a mere mining town. Even more limiting was the simple lack of money, so whatever was available could only be begged for or stolen.

    Yet for all his efforts, every single project so far had ended in failure and all he ever gained was the scorn of his mentor, who considered his inventive pursuits a complete waste of time. If there was anything at all that Fergus could count as a success, it was seeing the joy on his little sister's face whenever she climbed into the frame of a work in progress, pretending to be a pilot. "Can I fly?" she would always ask, to which Fergus always responded, "Some day." At least, that was how it used to be until their eldest sister, Heather, had left them to fight in the civil war.

    Piper entered the house, calling Fergus's name. "What is it?" he replied without turning away from his welding job.

    "Thomas says to stop being lazy and help out at the mine," Piper replied breathlessly as she moved into the living room, tiptoeing around tools and scraps of metal lying scattered on the floor.

    Her entire body was covered in soot and even her short, sandy blonde hair was mostly black, though her cloud grey eyes showed clearly through the mask of dirt on her face. Fergus shared the same coloured eyes and hair, excluding the dirt, though he was taller and leaner, both in body and face.

    "Tell him I'm busy," he said.

    "Tell him yourself. I'll be going to help old Eli soon as I'm done changing."

    An elderly and affable man, though bear-like in size and appearance, Eli was the town's sheriff and the siblings' caretaker since Heather had left. Their parents had long been buried and after Heather's departure, Piper had shouldered the burdens of responsibility, even though she was two years younger than Fergus.

    Where Fergus was singularly engrossed in his projects, except for when his assistance was called for, Piper would be toiling in the mines, swinging pick axes with the adults and pushing cartloads of coal. After receiving enough pay to afford dinner on the table and having a quick wash at home, she would then go to Eli and spend the day running errands for him, whether it was sorting his papers or feeding the people in jail. After the sun had truly set, she would then buy food from the shop and later be escorted home by the sheriff. And after that, she would bathe, cook dinner, eat, clean the house, wash the clothes and then collapse into sleep. She could never find the time to talk to Fergus, though there was never much to talk about anyway.

    As Piper sank into the bath, its water cooling her work warmed blood, she thought about the last time she saw Heather. Unlike Fergus and Piper, Heather had a button nose and her hair was an earthy dark brown. She was the tallest and the strongest of the three, having worked in the coal mines longer and being Eli's deputy for a time, assisting in the settling of brawls and other disputes. She was not as pretty as most of the other women in town, but she was nevertheless well respected and known for her compassion as well as her strength.

    Piper had once admired her to the point of near worship, but now she only wished that Heather had never decided to take part in the war. Women were not even allowed in the army, but she had been hell bent on fighting and Piper knew that her sister would find a way. Why, she could not recall. All Piper could remember was Heather's embrace before saying goodbye.

    She heard the door open and close, and knew that Fergus had left. Piper decided that it was time she ought to leave as well. After tossing her soiled work clothes into the bath, she wore a plain blue dress with a white skirt and went to leave the house. As she reached the door, she looked back and lingered for a while to examine Fergus's work. No matter how much had changed over the years, Piper could always imagine herself flying away in one of Fergus's damned flying machines, regardless of whether it was incomplete or a simple failure. She hoped that someday her brother's dogged determination might pay off. For her own part, Piper wondered what it would be like to fly. She hoped that someday she might find out.
    Last edited by enkerzed; 10-25-2013 at 04:14 PM.

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