[Rat]

I was going to post this story I'm working on a long time ago, then didn't. Then Luna's post reminded (and sort of encouraged) me to post it. It's about an elf named Toryn Ash.

There are four parts at the moment (that's a lot of reading...7 or 8 pages), and there's more coming. C&C is welcome, and greatly appreciated.

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Untitled
by Gioanna Rheumer

Part I

Toryn's long, flaming red hair moved in the wake of the pub door as it opened. He stepped through, only to be stopped by a hulk of a man in an obviously pleather coat.
"Di'n'tja read t' sign," he growled. "No elves �lowed. This is a �umans only place. Gerrout."

"Whatever, this place is fake �s your jacket," the elf replied cooly. "Never seen anyone come out smilin'." His deep blue eyes gleamed in the dull, artificial light, and he chuckled.

"Gerrout, bas'ard." The man was getting mad. Toryn turned and stepped back into the blazing heat outside, slamming the door shut in the man's red face.

He sauntered down the street, limping slightly. That made him all the more appealing to the girl hidden in the shadows, but she couldn't go against her orders, now could she?

She watched Toryn as he entered his building and climbed the creaky flight of steps up to his apartment. A few minutes later, she dodged back into the alley.

* * *

Toryn walked up the stairs. His feigned limp forgotten. He had seen the look in that girl's eyes, and he knew what she wanted. He also knew that he somehow had to prevent her from accomplishing her mission. He let himself into his apartment, and walked into the kitchen to make coffee.

Ten minutes later, he was lying back on the couch reading a book and contentedly sipping the hot coffee. The book, it was a good one, was about a group of people of different races sent out to throw a ring in some volcano. It was the first of a trilogy by a man named Tolkien. Best thing about it, Toryn thought, is that he gives a damn good representation of elves. And humans aren't the main focus of the story.

He didn't notice the figure hiding in the next room until it was standing above him, ready to strike.

* * *

She slipped silently up the fire escape to Toryn's apartment. She forced his bedroom window open and darted to the door. She opened it a crack and watched him make a drink in the kitchen. A minute after he had sprawled on the couch with a book, she murmured a short prayer of luck, then drew her knife and slipped out of the shadows.

He didn't notice her until she was inches away from cutting his throat, and by that time it was almost too late.

"You underestimate me," he said, his voice cutting cooly through the heat in the apartment. She paused for a mere second, but that was her one fatal mistake.

* * *

The girl standing above him only paused for a moment, but that was all he needed. His hand flew like lightening through the air and clasped her wrist in a vice-like grip. Surprised, she dropped the knife and it bounced off a cushion on the couch and landed on Toryn's bare chest, nicking the flesh slightly.

Toryn paid it no notice, but continued to stare up at the girl he had caught. A minute later he picked up the knife, and without looking, threw it at the wall, where it stuck like a lone tree on a vertical plain.

He stood up, twisting the girl's arm behind her, and growled in her ear, "Who sent you and why?"

"You think I'm about to tell you that?" she laughed. "Well, you're sadly mistaken."

"You will if you value your life," he said. He jerked her arm back a little and heard her gasp through her teeth. "So? What've you got to say for yourself?"

"Fuck off," she hissed.

"Fine," he said, "we'll start with something easy. What's your name?" He jerked her arm again, and she whimpered. "I'm not going to let you go until you tell me."

"My name is Krystal," she said. "Happy?"

"Not particularly," Toryn told her. "I might be if you tell me who sent you and why they want to kill me, though."

"Fuck off," she repeated. He could feel her quivering under his fingertips, and her eyes reflected how much she hated being captive.

[ June 13, 2002: Message edited by: Rat ]

[Rat]

Part II

He paced his office. The only sounds were the clumping of his shoes on the hardwood floor and his harsh breathing. That girl should have been back hours ago. What was keeping her?

The door opened and he glanced up with his milky eyes. He couldn't see, but he knew who was there. It was his first officer, Jace. "Any news?" he asked.

"No, sir," Jace replied, "though we have reason to believe she's been captured by the target."

"And why would that be?"

"What do you mean, sir?" Jace asked. He was clearly confused.

"I mean," he said slowly, "why would you have reason to believe she'd been captured?"

"Well, she went into target's apartment about half an hour ago, and hasn't come out yet, sir." Jace looked as if he had done something wrong. His short blue hair stuck out in all directions, and his bright grey eyes were troubled. He rubbed absently at the long scar running down his cheek and along his jawline. He was glad for a moment that his boss couldn't see. "Sir," he began tentitavely."

"Yes?"

"May I ask who the target is?"

"No." The old man's mouth twisted down in a disappointed frown. He swept some of his long grey hair away from his wrinkled face and sighed, becoming absorbed in his own thoughts again. "How could I go so stupidly wrong as to hire a woman?" he muttered. "They never make good assassins. Not strong enough."

"What, sir?" Jace's voice broke him off from his thoughts.

"Nothing," he replied sharply. "Could you leave for a while? I need to think something over." Jace turned and disappeared out the door.

* * *

When Jace was gone, he resumed his pacing. He didn't know how in the world he was going to get rid of that boy. He was always outsmarted or outmatched, sometimes by accident. "If I still had my vision I'd take him out myself," he growled to the empty room. It didn't reply. He hadn't been expecting it to anyway.

He went to the desk and ran his fingers over the brailled paper on it. He had had his mission and the reasons behind it written out in case he died, or Toryn found him. He didn't want to have to tell the boy the entire story himself.

His thoughts turned to his eldest son. Jace was a good kid. He liked his job, and he didn't question authority. He knew who was boss. Sure, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he wasn't stupid, either. He knew what he was supposed to know.

He heard heavy rain start up outside. He sat at the desk and put his face in his calloused hands, just listening to the roar of the storm. Soon, it turned to hail. The night outside lit up as a bolt of lightening shot across the sky, but of course he couldn't see it. The rumble of thunder sounded as his first tear in years landed on the old leather ink blotter lying on the mahogany desktop.

[ June 13, 2002: Message edited by: Rat ]

[Rat]

Part III

When he glanced out the window, Toryn saw the first drops of rain start to fall. He was still holding Krystal, but she had ceased to struggle. He tried one more time: "Who are you working for?"

Instead of replying, she acted. Jerking her arm out of his grasp, she ran to the huge widow overlooking the mountains in the east and smashed through it. Toryn was close behind her, but he wasn't quite fast enough. The twisting fabric of her jacket eluded his fingers and she crashed to the ground below. She landed in a twisted heap among the broken glass. A moment later a pool of blood started spreading around her. It merged with puddles, thinning out and becoming lighter.

"Damn!" he shouted. He slammed his fist down on the window frame, cutting it on a tooth of glass.

Toryn looked back out the window and saw a crowd of people starting to gather around Krystal's mangled body. They were looking down at her and up at the shattered window...and him. Some were already on their cell phones. Calling the police, no doubt. He turned and disappeared into the apartment.

He ran through the place, grabbing all his weapons. He stuffed what he could into a knapsack and carried the rest. Then he slipped from his bedroom down the fire escape and into the alley behind the building. As he dashed out of the alley and down the street away from the building, he heard cop cars starting to arrive at the front. They would be after him soon. He decided that getting away fast was his top priority, and finding out who wanted him dead could come later.

* * *

"Hey, Ash!" a voice cried out twenty minutes later. "How's it hangin'?"

He glanced up at the elf standing in a shadowed doorway. "Just fine, Jace. You?"

"Alright. Dad's bein' an asshole again." He stepped out of the doorway. His blue hair glistened in the sun as he moved. His grey eyes gleamed with a light all their own as he smiled at his best friend.

Toryn walked to meet him and they momentarily clasped hands and hugged. "So, where ya goin' with all this crap, Toryn?" Jace asked once they had parted.

"Dunno," he replied. "Some girl jumped outta my window a while ago. The cops prob'ly think I pushed her." He rolled his eyes. "Like I would. I've got better things to do than push people out windows."

"So...?" Jace waited for an explanation.

"So, I gotta keep from gettin' in trouble," Toryn said. "That means keeping away from the cops." He's a little slow, he thought, but he's the best kind of person to have as a close friend.

"Ah." He turned back toward the doorway. "Come inside. It's pourin'."

He followed him in through the door and down a flight of steps. Eventually, they stopped and Jace opened a steel door set into the otherwise unbroken expanse of grey cement of the wall. He stepped through and the lights snapped automatically on. Toryn followed and found himself in a small apartment.

There was a bed with puke-green sheets next to a faded orange loveseat just inside the door. Ahead was a small kitchenette. Dirty dishes were piled up above the edge of the sink and strewn across the counter. The stove was caked with years' worth of charred grease and grime. There were old molding clothes strewn everywhere, and the bathroom sink and toilet were yellowed and splattered with years-old blood. There was also a distinct odor hanging about the place. It smelled of years of disuse and neglect. Jace had obviously just recently found the place and moved in, not daring to touch the decaying mess covering the floor beyond the couch.

"So," Jace said, breaking the silence, "whaddya think? Just moved in."

"Well..." Toryn paused unsure how to continue. "It needs a little cleaning up, but it's cool."

"Cleaning up?" Jace asked. "You mean like getting rid of the mess?"

"Whaddya think I mean," he replied.

A look of fear and disgust passed over Jace's face. "I don't really want to move it," he said, lowering his voice. "I think there might be somethin' under it. Somethin' nasty."

"Alright, whatever you think is best," Toryn sighed. "I just thought you might like it better clean."

"I like it like this," Jace growled. "Whatever's in there can't get out."

"Okay, I believe you," he replied with a sigh. "It was just a suggestion."

* * *

A while later, Toryn and Jace had settled down. Jace was lying stretched out on the bed and Toryn sprawled on the loveseat. One of his legs was hanging over the back, and he had his head resting on crossed arms.

"So," Jace said, "why'd the girl jump outta your window?"

"Dunno," Toryn replied. "All I know is that she was trying to kill me."

Jace's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Who was she workin' for," he asked.

"I dunno," Toryn grumbled, "she wouldn't tell me. Why'd you care anyways?"

"No reason."

"�Kay."

They lapsed into comfortable silence for a while. Toryn had just started drifting off to sleep when Jace spoke: "You've never told me about your family. What're they like?"

"Dunno," Toryn replied, "never met them. Mum died when I was born, and I never found out who my father is."

"I don't know whether to consider you lucky or feel sorry for you, Toryn," Jace sighed.

"Whatever you do," Toryn said, "don't feel sorry for me. I can't stand people feeling sorry for me."

"Okay," Jace said slowly, "then I'll consider you lucky."

"Good." They stared blankly at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. It fell dead in the cluttered room, but they didn't notice.

As they laughed, something started moving under the heaps of clothes. It didn't like laughter. In fact, it hated it, and it was determined to kill whoever was making the hideous sound, whatever the cost.

[ June 13, 2002: Message edited by: Rat ]

[Rat]

Part IV

�Caryn.�

�Yessir?�

�Where�s Jace?�

�He went out, sir.�

The old man narrowed his unseeing eyes. �Out where?� he asked.

�I don�t know,� Caryn replied. �All he said was that he was going out.� She pulled a wisp of her long blonde hair away from her face with one blood red fingernail.

He grunted, then turned and stalked out of the room, running his hand through his hair. The door clicked shut behind him, and Caryn was left alone.

* * *

When her nameless employer was gone, Caryn let the first tears fall from her yellow-orange eyes. Krystal, her twin sister was dead. Her body was being rushed to the hospital, and from there, the morgue. �And it�s all that jackass�s fault,� she whispered savagely. The intensity of the pain and sadness in her voice would have been enough to soften even the hardest of hearts, and the hurt in her eyes would have shattered the strongest defense.

She dashed the tears from her eyes and glanced out the window. The rain had finally let up, though clouds still hovered over the city like a blanket. An old man hunched over a cane hobbled down the street. At one point, he stumbled and nearly fell, but regained his balance at the last moment. He glanced up at the window and saw her tear-streaked face. Their eyes met for a moment, then he turned and continued walking down the street.

Caryn turned away from the window and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed, and waited as it rang. Eventually someone picked up.

�Hello?� a voice said.

�Hi, mom?� Caryn said.

�Krystal?� her mother asked.

�No mom, it�s Caryn.�

�I�m sorry, honey,� she said. �It�s getting harder and harder to tell you two apart. I am going deaf you know.�

�Mom, it�s about Krystal.� Caryn�s voice became dry again, and her eyes threatened to break the dam holding her tears back.

�Oh no. No.� Caryn could tell her mother was beginning to cry as well.

�Yeah, mom. It was on a mission. She jumped out a window so she didn�t have to disclose who she was working for.�

�No,� her mother wailed. �I told her not to. She didn�t listen.� On the other end of the line, Caryn could hear her mother sobbing. �First your father, and now Krystal. When will this ever end?�

For her mother�s sake, Caryn kept herself from crying, but when she finally hung up after ten minutes of trying to comfort her, she broke down again.

[ June 13, 2002: Message edited by: Rat ]

[Coaster]

FINALLY I see the rest of the story..

[Lunatique]

The idea of an Elf in modern day seems unique, and the mystery is intriguing. The execution itself however, is what makes or breaks any writing.

It's hard for me to comment on the writing, because I know you are quite young(14, right?), and I certainly can't expect the level of psychological depth or life experiences of an adult to filter through your writing. That comes with experience and time, and at the rate you are going, it'll come naturally to you.

As far as technique goes, the use of descriptions aren't the most effective in some places, but that also comes with experience and time. What you've displayed here is precocious enough for me to predict that your writing will only get better.

[Coaster]

It started off really well, but I think it was the more dialog and emotional responses that made it sloop.

One thing I like most about your stories is the expression in them so just continue writing your story the way you want to not the way it wants to.

Your stuff always has that uniquity.. I get really envious of your linguistic expression.. Some people can only draw thinder clouds you know..

Ah I sound like evil english teaching teacher!

*gets scretch pad*