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1st AE Historical Fiction Chain Story: Full of Twists and Turns

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  Quote poirot Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: 1st AE Historical Fiction Chain Story: Full of Twists and Turns
    Posted: 17-Feb-2006 at 02:37

AE Historical

 

Fiction

 

Chain Story

 

In an effort to revive the Arts and Literature forum, I would love to announce the inaugration of the first AE chain story. 

The concept is similiar to the Beat the Picture Above You Thread  (for those of you who have played the game in AE Tavern), except that this time, you pick up the story where your predecessor left off.

Please be as creative as you like.

Since this is a history forum, it would be good to keep the twists and turns within bounds of historical fiction.

I will start the chain historical fiction, and may creative and inspiring pieces follow!

Comments: To keep the thread coherent and enjoyable to readers, please only post material revelant to historical fiction and writing on this thread.  Any remarks bashing someone's work will be removed immediately.


 

 

 

 

 



Edited by poirot
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"The crisis of yesterday is the joke of tomorrow.�   ~ HG Wells
           
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  Quote poirot Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 17-Feb-2006 at 02:38

            You wake up, you find yourself in some sort of a passageway, with white walls lining each side and gothic arches on top.  You rub your eyes, adjust your vision, and immediately freeze.  No!  Those are not white walls, but corpses, thousands and thousands of mummified corpses, draped below the neck with white sacks, each leaning slightly forward, mouth agape and head contorted like a dried grape.   You scream.  Your scream echoes across the passageway, past hundreds of arches, into the unknown.  The ground suddenly shakes up, and everything starts to collapse, as if an earthquake were taking place, and you find yourself falling, deeper and deeper into an abyss.

****

             You open your eyes again.  A slab of marble, in light green, sits on a stone altar in front of you, engraved with circles, dots, spirals, curvy lines, and shapes of men bowing at the feet of a giant creature, half human and half elephant.  A coffin!  You walk toward the altar slowly, and, upon reaching the coffin, lift up the lid, revealing a figure dressed, front head to toe, in a suit of tiny jade pieces sown together by bronze nails.  You remove the jade mask, and shudder.  Beneath the mask lies a skull, slightly cracked, with a few dark strands of hair still remaining on the top, and two rows of deformed, yellowish teeth in the jaw.  A small viper pops out from one of the large socket holes.  The viper sticks out its fork shaped tongue, makes a distinct hissing sound, opens its mouth, displays its two saber-like fangs, and aims its tiny ruby eyes straight at you.  You start to sweat.  Suddenly, you feel a push from behind and fall into the coffin, your face kissing the skull.  You scream.

 

****

             You find yourself in a Victorian bedroom, which is lit up by the chandelier from above, and adorned, next to the fireplace, with paintings of nude women in various sexual positions.  The door opens, and a figure enters.  As the figure approaches, one foot over another, and hips swaying, you seize up its features: curled blond tresses, diamond earrings, dark eye lining, scarlet lips, shapely neck, slender arms, bare breasts, red nails, black garters, rosy stockings, and ballet heels.  Your heart throbs faster and faster.  The figure reaches from behind and pulls out a pistol, aiming it at your head, and before you can protest, fires it.  Bang!



Edited by poirot
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  Quote Mila Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 18-Feb-2006 at 13:48
The moment the pistol fires, you wake up from your dream. It's dark and the cold air smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you look around and realize you're in a basement.

It's a large basement, probably an apartment highrise, and all four walls are lined with people. Men, women, and children - most asleep, some lying back with their eyes open. No one is smiling, no one is talking. In the far corner you see two men playing chess with pieces of concrete on the bare floor - the board marked out with lipstick.

Blankets, cartons of water, cans of food, and broken electronics are piled up in one corner next to a battery-operated radio. Through the radio you hear a patriotic song, muffled by the sound of a female announcer listing the names of streets and buildings. "Ismet Smajis Street, block 14, destroyed. Golden Lily Avenue, block 3, destroyed..."

Somewhere in the room a baby starts to cry. You become conscious of the loud booming outside. It's so constant it's almost relaxing. Boom boom boom pause. Boom boom boom pause. First farther away, then closer, then farther away.

You see a young couple against one of the walls kissing, with a jacket thrown across their bodies from the waist down. Then you see it for the first time - the bodies. There's only two or three, covered in plastic wrap held down with rocks, probably to contain the stench.

As your eyes adjust perfectly to the light, you can make out faint grafitti on the walls. Names, dates, slogans. Death notices, phone numbers, directions. Your eye catches something familiar as you browse the grafitti, a name. Dijana. Why is it so familiar?

You read the note: "Mirsad, we left April 16, 1993. Trying for Dubrovnik, to Italy. Get contact information through Croatian Veteran's Association. God be with you. Love Dijana."

You get up, realizing for the first time your body is weak and tender. An old woman nearby pulls at the leg of your pants. "Ajsa Hadzic. Ajsa Hadzic. Dobrinja, block 12. Ask them, please. Anything, any news. Ask them, please. Three months, 14 years old. Three months and nothing. Ask them."

You pull away and stumble towards the staircase, littered with trash and piles of old clothes. You take a jacket and make your way up the stairs. The booming becomes louder. Boom boom boom pause. Boom boom boom pause. Through a window you can see it's nighttime.

Fires are burning on hills far away, and in buildings much closer. You look away from the window, and notice a door. It appears to be a door to the outside - but there's light shining in from underneath it. You open the door, and step outside into a light so bright, so white, you're blinded.

The light burns for a moment, you rub your eyes. When you open them again, you're standing on a cobblestone street. In fear you take two steps backwards, and feel the warmth of a sundrenched wall behind you. Turning around you realize the door is gone.

The buildings around you are completely different than the ones you saw outside the window, yet the hills surrounding them are exactly the same. You can hear the sounds of horse shoes and women's high heels on cobblestone streets. There are voices, many voices - but they're a blur. It's only when you ears relax that you realize the voices are nervous, anxious, shrill.

Suddenly a woman screams and you look to your right.

A few steps away a man, a solider, is hitting a middle-aged woman with the bottom of a rifle. He doesn't stop. He keeps hitting and hitting, the whole time shouting in a harsh, strange language.

People in the street shuffle along, mouths open in shock. You see crosses around their necks, Jewish books in their hands. In the doorways and balconies of the buildings along the street stand men and women in red hats and veils. Some are crying. Others and throwing bread, clothes, and money to the people making their way through the street.

A few shots are fired farther down the street, followed by gasps and screams. The crowd begins to move faster and you finally step away from the wall and into fast-flowing river of men, women and children. Their are tears and questions echoing all around you.

An old woman reaches out and touches the sleeve of your shirt. When you turn to look at her, you realize it's the same woman from the basement earlier. She doesn't seem to recognize you. With tears in her eyes she mumbles, over and over, "Jadranka Galic, Jadranka Galic. Latinluk, the old yellow house. My God, there was no time. I lost her. Have you seen her? Jadranka Galic?"

Suddenly she collapses, but the crowd keeps moving. You try to reach down to pull her up but are stepped on yourself. It feels like an eternity before you see the polished black boots of a solider beside your face. You look up just in time to see the bottom of a rifle coming towards your face, and everything returns to that same bright, blinding light...


Edited by poirot
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