Life Opens a New Chapter for Me.
**SONG: Based on a Thousand True Stories (Acoustic Version) - Silje Nergaard**
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Dust lies thick in the room. So much so, it gives every surface a ghostly velvet finish. The windows are boarded up, the furniture is draped with sheets. The hearth is cold. The little reading table is bare.
The silence is perfect, and has been for a very long time.
Footsteps on the stair. At first quiet, then louder. A man opens the door - the hinges squeal in protest - disturbing the peace. He pokes his head in, eyebrows rising in surprise. the room is familiar to him, but also new and strange, as only a place long undisturbed except in memory might be.
The man opens the door the rest of the way and surveys the room several minutes. He is bearded and long haired, portly or fat, and wears glasses. His clothing is not new. Neither are his shoes. He looks tired.
But he shrugs and reaches behind the door for the broom.
He cleans the room. The dust is wiped away to reveal wood and stone, the windows are opened to let good light in, and the sheets are removed to reveal a comfortable pair of chairs. The upholstery is a little worn with love, and use, and age.
The man cleans the room, a quiet hum or whistle accompanying his work from time to time. When all is put in order he lights a fire in the hearth. There.
The man stands back and surveys his work with a strange sadness. It is a pensive emotion. Melancholy. He sets the broom back in the place it belongs, and sinks into one of the chairs with an appreciative groan.
For several long beats he sits there, resting his heels, leaning his head back, eyes closed.
"I'm not young anymore," He says suddenly.
The man opens his eyes and leans foreword. "Pull up a chair? We have a lot to talk about, you and I."
He waves a hand to the second chair. His audience takes a seat. "Would you like some water? No? Well, feel free to refresh yourself if you feel the need," The man says. He drums his fingers on the arm of the chair. "First off, this isn't me announcing this story is coming back. Not the way you're thinking.
"I'm not young any more, and I have reached the point where I cannot devote a large amount of time to something I am not getting paid for. I got some things in my future I need to start working towards or they'll never happen.
The man stares into the heart a little while, watching the fire dance. "You know? It's funny... I thought I was wasting my time and my life all this while, but I think It's just been what needed to happen. To make this what it is."
He sighs.
"So, to put it in plain terms: Is this story dead? No. Am I going to be updating it here? Also no." He says. "If you looked on my profile you'll know that I've graduated this story. the material I have I intend to repurpose as original work.
"It started with a side story for Bakuda, one that I was writing to take a break from Bird. I thought it would take a month or two and be a few thousand words. Maybe. But by the time I came up for air, it was a solid 80K+ and I realized that I'd made 95% of it up whole cloth.
"I had an epiphany. and then all through covid I worked on it. And then after covid. and for the last eight months I've been editing it and learning how to publish it...
The man laughs a bit in bafflement. "Imagine that? Thing is, this story started off as Semtex back in March of '14. Ten years ago, just about.
"I kind of always thought I'd come back to it, I never really give up on projects, you know? I just coopt them into new, better work. I just never imagined it would be like this..."
The man laughs: when he is done laughing, he leans back, enjoying his chair again. "I wanted to thank some people."
I want to thank you, Ziel. You stuck by me, even when I made frankly unfair demands on your time. I really needed to believe someone was in my corner. For once.
And you were. That means a lot to me.
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I want to thank jason1stlegion. You were the first to ask if I would come back to Bird. You were very polite, and asked at a time when I needed to know someone was following Bird, actively waiting for more.
I want to thank LostDemiurge. You gave me advice and recommended an incredible editor that saved this project from my exhausted and burnt-out mistakes. She is a hero, sir. And you are a gentleman. Thank you.
I want to thank WordsWordsWords for scientific advice and generally better understanding of physics and science doohickys. My knowledge is limited so another perspective was very welcome.
I want to thank Casulafarmer, RavensDagger, and chrisnuttal for their advice and help as veterans in the industry. I am a stranger in this strange land and needed a guide, and you guys helped me...
And I want to thank everyone who cared enough to read my rough drafts, say a kind word, post a comment, or who left a like. I may never have become a big name in the community, but I tried. And some of you noticed.
BlueNine, QuantumWhales, Materia-Blade, Missingnoleader, Noxturne90, Ryuugi, Xicree
The man stands, clapping his hands.
"As this work directly lead to my origional work and has a lot in common with it, I'll be putting up notices here when I have new books. The Mods have given the go-ahead. In the meantime, I would like to announce, with great anticipation:
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The Precipice: Grey Hours #1
Br C. M. Atanasio
On Tvtropes and Amazon
(FFN dosen't allow links here, dammit...)
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"Hopefully the first of many..." He sets the book on the little reading table and stars down at it. He shifts, fidgets - either nervous or embarrassed. Perhaps both.
When he speaks, he's a little choked. "It's no Tolkien but it's mine. I hope it can make your day a little better." The man blinks, hard. Several times. But he smiles.
Then he walks to the door.
At the threashold, he looks back at the cheery hearth, the little table, and the comfortable chairs.
With a firm but happy - satisfied - nod he closes the door.
THE BEGINNING
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