Obviously, there aren't nearly enough of these out there, so I've decided to start one of my own. I have also recently realized that incomplete stories, or ones that are super slow in updating, maybe even stories that are completely abandoned, aren't an issue anymore. As in, they're there, but I don't mind it as long as the chapters that are available are fun.
This is why I'm ruining many beginner audiences' lives (I'm assuming this new way of thinking comes with experience in fanfiction) by starting this story and updating as I go! I'll even set up some dates so I can at least try to keep the updates steady (laugh).
I am warning you, though, this just means the stories don't get as much thought put into them - since I tend to leave gaps and plot holes in unfinished stories. Maybe it works differently with my fanfiction?
This was long. Meh. You may not know me, but you will soon enough. Add this to your list of disappointments while you can still keep tabs.
. . .
Disclaimer: noun. a statement that denies something, especially responsibility; (in law) an act of repudiating another's claim or renouncing one's own
Here goes nothing.
. . .
Black.
"-lin…erlin…"
He could not see. He could not speak. He could barely hear.
"Mer…er.."
What a calming voice. It was perfect for story telling. But, whose voice was it?
"-erli…lin…"
He could almost see, but what he did was only a blurb of colors. Tired, his eyes tried to shut themselves again.
"Merlin!"
The boy flung himself forward, as if surging from a nightmare. He was sweating and cold, but most of all confused.
Before him was an owl. It was brown and volatile, flying haphazardly just above his head. Feeling like an idiot, the boy asked, "Are you a talking owl?"
It was a stupid question. Talking owls did not exist.
"Of course, I am," the owl said. The owl said.
"You're a talking owl!" The boy peered at the owl, impertinently grabbing a flapping wing to check the supposed bird.
"Merlin!" The boy suddenly realized his impudence and held himself back.
"Sorry. I've never met a talking owl."
The owl narrowed his eyes. The boy then felt a poke, not quite a prod, but not quite a tug. It was just a call.
Merlin?
The boy jumped, touching his head curiously. "Whoa! What was that? Was that you?"
The owl, however, had already flapped away to check a book on the ground. It was slightly charred, and some pages had detached and fallen into the surrounding area. The boy realized he was in the middle of the scene.
Standing up, he looked at the room. It was an infinite mess. There were collages of books in all directions, and strange, beautiful, exotic artifacts that made their way into corners and misshapen hardbacks.
Bottles and vials of all shapes filled with liquids of all colors crowded the nearest table. Another table had a device with digits on it and what the boy could only assume was a strange candle. A very bright, very strange candle.
A bed lay forgotten in the disarray of the chambers.
The almond colored walls had tenacious patterns, and the boy couldn't stop himself from following them from the very bottom to the top, where a white trim separated the equally white ceiling from the rest.
There were two doorways. One led to a small, discolored, room with a white bowl full of water and other strange fountains.
The other led to many more awkward contraptions that the boy could put no name to. One opened to the sight of food, but the inside was cold to the touch.
Weird, he thought and moved on.
"Where am I?" He said aloud when he made his way back to the original room. The owl, who was still scouring the book, looked up with a twinge of dread in its eye.
"I think the question you meant to ask was 'Who am I?'," he said.
"No," the boy shook his head. Obviously, this owl had some jokes. "I meant where. I know who I am, I am-" He cut himself short.
Looking around the house and studying its strange objects was not nearly as confusing as it was to look at his hands.
But the boy looked. He slowly turned them to look from the nails to the palms, going past his wrists and as far as his shoulders. From that view, the boy could see his entire body. His feet were bare and the only thing covering his frame was a pair of white breeches that barely covered his modesty.
He was thin, gangly, and he simply was.
Who am I?
The presumably strong candle flickered and shattered, leaving them all in absolute black.
Outside, a car horn blared.
. . .
Short, but sweet. I try for at least four pages in everything but the first chapter, so don't mind ^^ I've got the next two chapters down (also pretty unsatisfying), but I'll hold off for a week to upload each (because I want to work on the rest of the story before you guys realize I actually have zero idea of where this is going). Honestly, I've already got a whole reincarnation thing going on, but it's not happening anytime soon - sorry.
See ya, I guess~