Its been about two months since I've been able to play with my writing hobbie. It seems like the exams just kept coming, one after another. Never fun. But now I have some free time and I think I'll get back to writing.

Current projects:

I really enjoy the mid world writings and definently want to keep those going.

I am also working on several short stories in the spirit of H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King. I think I have a nack for coming up with ideas for short fiction, though the execution is still somewhat lacking; I still need more practice. It should be fun.

I've got two short stories on the back burner, Dark Tidings and The Lost Boys. I've been thinking about slash tinkering with Dark Tidings for almost a year now and still don't entirely like it. As for the Lost boys I can't seem to figure out how to get the thing of the ground. Once it gets going I think it will practically write itself. Oh well. Expect more updates soon.

The Alchemist

-8-

So much luck from one omen seemed, well, impossible. Not that she minded being wrong in this case. First they had found the traveler, probably a son of Eld, walking along the old mountain trail, and he had given her family his strength. Then they had been blessed with the birth of a third child of true stock, far more then needed to continue the family. It was always a hard choice when a pure one was born as to what should be done with them, for there is much power in the freshly birthed, oh yes, but sometimes having a spare child was good since one of the older ones might be killed or take sick. If there were no children, who would continue the family? We must continue the family, that much they remembered, had been told so by the great waters in the sky. It was one of the few things they had held on to from before the world had moved on. “Go forth ye and make more of your like, being fruitful and increasing in numbers until ye be unto us a great multitude spanning the length and breadth of the earth.” So said the great waters in the sky. But there was also power in the blood, was there not, blood given for the family? With three there was no question as to what was to be done.

And finally as she had been stalking the gap this morning, looking for some earth root to spice tomorrow’s festivities, what had she seen? Another traveler! And she’d seen him of all places near the temple of the old ones!

She had been told the stories by the Old Mother before her about the people who would appear at the temple of the old people like a gift from the great waters themselves, but she had never seen it happen. As if the water from beneath the ground was not gift from the gods enough! Truly, she and her family must done something to please them with so much good fortune. Her lips were wet even now with the thought of him, for he had looked very well built, and strong. No more of the green ones from under the mountain for a week! Maybe longer if they were careful.

She walked along, dirt crunching beneath her feet, and the son of Eld’s pack swayed gently at her hip, full of earth root. All of this from one crow. The old people had not known the potency of the crow, but she would not forget, and neither would the Young Mother under her care if she had anything to do with it. She began to hum an old tune that Old Mother had taught her as she made her way home. Tonight her family would go and fetch the man and he would add his strength to theirs.

The most notable thing about the desert is its profound sense emptiness. It builds slowly on a man, indefinable at first. Then one day it creeps up on you, sudden and powerful, and whether you have the words to describe it or not, you know one thing for sure.

You feel absolutely alone.

That morning as the man stood on the crest of a hill, not a quarter of a mile from the highway hotel at which he had been staying, it struck him; he’d give anything to see another human being. Somebody. Anybody. He might have even settled for some quality time with that crazy eye.

He stood there in the middle of the road, and looked at the sunrise. The sky was a magnificent blue in contrast with the rocky brown earth beneath it, beautiful and terrible. In every direction the emptiness of the desert stood like a insurmountable wall. The mountains to the west seemed to be only one way out. He didn’t realize it but he already subconsciously decided that they were his goal. What he would find there was irrelevant, they were a touchstone, and trekking towards those mountains seemed like a lot better option then going out over the open desert.

He knew this wasn’t his day to leave; he knew he would have to go back to the way station, but it felt good to be out in the morning air before it became unbearably hot, and after looking at the sunrise for a while his eyes began to wander over the surrounding landscape, rising and falling with the hills, taking in the scrubs and withered trees until...

Until he saw something…

Someone. (Someone!)

He was looking south. Seventy yards past the edge of the old road the terrain dropped off into a sort of shallow gorge that crookedly wound towards the mountains. The gorge itself was no more then a mile long. Standing on the opposite ridge, silhouetted against the horizon was a figure, a person.

The man razed his hand to the sky and began to frantically wave it.

A person! he thought. A PERSON!

When the figure did not respond to his waving, he began to shout.

“Hey! HEY! Over here! I’m over here! Buddy! Look over HERE!”

The figure didn’t respond even in the slightest, only stood there like a statue.

Watching.

Probably watching. The man could make out both shoulders so either the person was looking right at him or directly away from him, but surely the figure would have turned at the sound of the shouting. Wouldn’t it have? His arm’s waving pace began to slow and then altogether stopped; he didn’t like the way it was watching him.

The figure lingered for a few moments longer, turned (Oh he'd been watching alright), and started walking away from the man, slowly disappearing behind the ridge.

Well that was freaking creepy, the man thought. Ain’t gonna follow you buddy, and you better not follow me. Maybe being alone isn’t so bad after all.

The man was almost as fast going back to the way station as he had been leaving it.