The World according to Rich

Stage One Day One – Scraps

The following is not part of any work I have planned currently.  It’s just a simple headspace scrap I tossed together in about two hours  (with calls taken in between as I did this at work)  Just a throwaway piece that I use to try and get into a characters headspace because I prefer to write characters and let them create the plot by their choices. – It’s 503 words according to MS Word 2003.

Kessel is concept I came up with on the spot… a wizard that has lived for centuries but has a modern flavor.  Not sure if or where I ‘m going to use him.

Being a wizard was boring, for the most part.  Centuries of waiting, interspersed with brief moments of sheer terror.  But what can you do.  It started out a boring Friday night like any other.  After tens of thousands of Fridays they get to be pretty boring and routine though the recent addition of a microwave oven shook things up for a while.  I was sitting in the recreation tower enjoying a nice cup of tea when the alarm sounded.  It had been so long since it had sounded that at first I thought the magus in the TV room upstairs forgot to turn the damned thing down again.  How he can still cast spells half deaf I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to.  Then it hit me.  Well it being about four hundred pounds of masonry as the wall of the tower blew inward.  I could deal with the hits to the head and torso, but a brick flying at what felt like a hundred miles an hour straight to the junk I went down like a drunken sorority chick at homecoming.  I heard her voice before I saw her but there was no mistaking that bitchy cackle.

“Dear Kessel, you don’t have to grovel at my feet.”  She laughed strolling in through the hole in the wall.

If I wasn’t in so much pain I would have punched her in the face right then it didn’t matter that she was my mother.  “Morgan LeFey.  What slime pit did you crawl out of?”

“I have need of you.  Your brother’s temper has … shall we say done it again?”  As she walked across the room poisonous looking weeds sprouted in her wake.  She frowned at them, normally her glamour sprouted sweet smelling flowers that would lull a dullard into believing whatever lies she spoke, but she didn’t count on me placing defenses against her tricks.

“Morgan, I left that life behind.  Mordred can reap what he has sown and be done with it, the worlds would be much better off without his influence.”

Mordred, there was an older brother from hell, even were I still under Morgan’s dark influence would I not have helped his lot.  My half-brother the issuance of Arthur Pendragon and my mother, was a cruel and nasty man.  If evil could be given a physical form it would be Mordred.  In the millennia and a have since they left the mortal realm Mordred and Morgan have been terrorizing the twilight ever since.  The twilight exists as the space between realms of reality.  We exist everywhere and nowhere all at once.  I was once under their influence.  I’ve been shown the light like these two never could.  I was saved by the grace of a kind old gentleman.  A mortal who loved creation, loved invention, a man that I found out after I murdered him in cold blood was my father.  I still hated Mordred and Morgan for putting me up to that.  I will never forgive them for that.


One response

  1. Write on brother, write on!

    June 18, 2010 at 9:00 am

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