Seeking Strength

A part by part story in which the main character, Gale, seeks strength.

Please read and review (this has also been added to fictionpress)

 

“Please, can you give me strength?!” I sobbed.

            “Do you think power is a commodity? That one can simply hand it over? I cannot give you strength, nor can anyone in this world! Run home, it looks like rain.”

            The heavens roared and bathed the world in its discomforting wetness.  “Please! Master Stuhl I need to become stronger, I need you to help me!”

            A slight breeze sifted through Stuhl’s silver hair, as he stood in the doorway of his hut. “Tell me what strength is to you”.

            I looked up from the dirt I was kneeling in, wiped the flurry of tears from my eyes, and met the man’s sturdy turquoise stare, “Strength…Strength is something that is used to save others, it’s something to stop pain, it’s something that let’s us see the next day…strength is----

            “That is enough,” he’d said as he proffered his pasty time gnarled hand to me, heaving me up from the dirt floor.

            Covered in the tears I gazed at him, a miniscule man, with a scar running across his right eye ending smoothly before reaching his nose, and heavily cut and callused hands. Somehow though, in this tiny vessel people had invested their hope some twenty years ago. Despite his minimal stature, I had no problem placing my trust in this man.

            “Get inside and dry off by the fire place.  I'll bring you some soup to quell your hunger. And stop crying!" Stuhl instructed.

            I leapt to my feet and quickly entered into Master Stuhl’s self constructed hut. The inside of the hut was blessed with meager items, a few chairs crafted from trees in the local area, a stone fire place, a range for meals, and one cot along the side opposite side of the entry way.  A fire was already breathing in the fireplace, warming the inside. For a few moments I stood stupidly near the doorway, as if I were some new piece of furniture, unsure of where my place was. “Go dry off by the fire place, I’ll bring you some soup as well,” he’d instructed, after hurling a towel at my head, “Oh, by the way stop crying too.”

            I was only ten at the time so controlling my emotions was not among the skills I’d mastered, unlike eating sweets and annoying elders. However, I did as he advised. I sauntered over toward the fire place at the other end of the hut, and sat a good distance away from the crackling flames, far enough so that the pieces which crackled and soared through the air did not touch me, but close enough so that the heat dried my tears and rain soaked garments.

            Images of blood stained walls and unanswered cries for help raged rampantly through my mind. I could still hear my father telling me to run, to live my life, as I witnessed him being delicately sliced with a sword of flame. They first cut off his feet, disabling him from fleeing, next his eyes, and at last they decapitated him. The ring leader of it all, a colossal earthy skinned man, grabbed the severed head by the hair and tossed it at me. I saw the soulless eyes of my father stare back at me, I ran. I could hear the chiseled man snickering for miles, a cacophonous note that shattered whatever bravery I had built up as a result of living with my father.

            BABOOOOM! BABOOOOM! BABOOOOM!

            The sky continually shouted, hoping to silence every thought. The harsh pounding of rain against the Yew hut actually sounded musical and healing; at the very least it allowed me to exhale horrid two-year old memories. “Tell me what a child like you is doing wandering about at a time like this. A storm is raging, this is no weather for children to play in.” Stuhl commented as he approached me with a small bowl of warm soup.

            He didn’t own a table so I ate on the wood floor, legs crossed, observing the dancing flames, in the oddly well-lit hut. The soup’s scent alone filled my stomach, aromas of freshly cut vegetables, tender, juicy beef, with the perfect amount of spices, allowing the food to possess a tangy taste that elegantly danced upon my palette. I’d been sidetracked by the superior taste of the modest soup that I almost forgot I was in someone else’s home, let alone that Stuhl had asked me a question. “I thank you greatly for the food Master,” I faced him and bowed my head in thanks as custom dictated.

            The old sword master grumbled something under his breath and then made a circular gesture with his wrist and hand, prodding me to continue speaking. “Oh, yeah you wanted to know why I’m wandering around all alone. Well, Blade Guru Stuhl, I’ve been on a journey seeking a teacher, someone who could help me become stronger. I’ve asked countless people in towns I’ve visited over the past two years for names of powerful men or women, anyone who could help me acquire strength. They all mentioned your name.  So, here I am, ten years old, hoping that you will bestow upon me you’re battle prowess.”

            There were no windows in Stuhl’s home, and being night he’d turned on his sun-mini, an orb composed of a special material that absorbed all types of light and would regurgitate it when willed, simply by flicking it. It was in this sunlight that I could now see the age in his face, the wrinkles upon his worried forehead, the dark bags beneath his eyes, and the raw essence of wisdom etched in his pupils. He looked quite burly slouched in his mahogany rocking chair; this was one of the few, the proud, Blade Gurus. He looked up from his rocking chair and spoke, “People have never allowed me a moment of peace ever since I became a famed Blade Guru. They attempt to flatter me with compliments, but whenever I agree to take on a student, they all quit. You seek strength child, as you told me, but can you endure its presence, its tests, its sacrifices? Can you stand where others have embraced failure?”

            His voice was deep and commanding, as a guru’s should be, but it was also filled with a touch of warning. I stood up and faced the famed man, staring straight into his analytical eyes.  “The students who gave up on themselves didn’t deserve to be taught. To them power was just something that could be used to show off, it was just a pretty little idea to them. I don’t want your skill to show off, I don’t want to be known as Velias Stuhl’s protégé; I want it to protect those who I care about! For that I’ll travel to the deepest pits of hell and back if I have to, if it means I can be someone who can be counted on!”

            “What is there for you to protect?”

            I sighed, “Right now, nothing.”

            A silence had ambled into the room as the dancing flames engulfed a moth that had somehow found its way into Stuhl’s home. The dumb creature managed to escape the crazy flames and settle upon the index finger of Velias Stuhl. Its wings looked completely scorched, the poor thing would probably last another minute or so, at least that was what I thought. The venerable man blew one short, soothing breath upon the moth, and miraculously the scorched bits of its wings grew back instantly, and then it fluttered around the house once more. “You said you had nothing, correct? Well, it appears to me that you have determination, something the world needs more of,” he stood up from his chair, took a few steps to where I was standing with my mouth agape, and put his hand on my shoulder, “you’ll need to get some sleep, training starts earlier than when the sun greets us.”

            He then marched over to his cot, pulled the quilt up over his legs, and waited for sleep’s gentle arms to wrap around him. I hadn’t noticed that while my mouth was wide open the damned moth flew in, and I accidentally swallowed it, but I managed to squeak one last thing before Master Stuhl went to bed and that was, “I forgot to tell you, my name is Gale.”

 

Author's Note

What do u think of the story idea? Is it too cliche? How can I improve in regards to describing people and scenery? Also, the moth scene is symbolic of Gale...not sure if it's evident.

Reviews

[Mioki]

I think the plot you've set up so far is good. And don't worry, it doesn't seem too clich� in this bit of writing. You've made the feelings of Gale understood, and he acted on those feelings so it seems very 'real'.

In regards to describing people and scenery, let me just say you did a darn good job. The way you described things was actually some of the better descriptions I've encountered. I can see Gale witnessing his father's death clearly, and his pain is obvious. Blade Guru Stuhl's home's slightly homey, and lonely, air was evident and you've seemed to have left out no necessary details.

In all, I enjoyed this story entirely, and hope that you continue it. I want to find out Gale's complete history, and how he will progress as the story does~

[Tina Kline]

You do a very good job of describing people and scenery. I could
see both as I was reading. I like the little bit of humor in this
first chapter as well. I didn't think this was too cliche.
It read like the beginning of a "quest" story but it was unique, at
least to me. So, I thought it was very interesting beginning.

Tina

[Sseoni]

Wow! Wonderful story! It has a good plot, and the characters are greatly detailed and descriptive! I don't think it's cliche at all. :D

[Neg]

The way you described the people and scenery are good, I was imagining what you were writing with no problem. Good job.