The Roses

[Degorram]

Tell them...

 

The last words of Kaladana's teacher ran through her head, around and around in a merciless game of chasing its own tail. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, against the sudden shift of responsibility, of destiny, her heart banging around in her rib cage as she struggled to catch her breath. It was not supposed to have happened like this, not at least for many years yet. Here she was, a half trained Y'oljhar, barely out of her teens, no food, water, or home, and the weight of the care over millions of lives was depending on her already. It was just too soon.

 

Living as a renegade on the cold planet of Ursa Minor-Beta was already a risk for Kaladana. Enslaved by the fearsome alien creatures, the Umdanas, Kaladana and her people had been dragged over half the galaxy to be trained for either their ruthless gladiatorial games or as a common house slave. Kaladana had been living in the horrid conditions of an Umdana's home since she was nine, alone since all her family had died on the trip over. A man named Ambarr had watched out for her, having been placed in the same house, and had caught her shifting imagination with legends of the Kahtuma: special organizations of rebellious slaves that had developed every time the Y'oljhar had been enslaved in one way or another.

 

Alas, many of the Y’oljhar had recently died in the gladiatorial arena, beaten down under the inhumane treatment that was reserved for the Y'oljhar. Not even dogs on this planet, the lowest of the low, were treated so horribly, and it was not uncommon to see dead dogs in the gutter, either beaten or starved to death, or worse. The Umdanas were as creative as they were cruel to all life and they exploited this characteristic with proud relish.

 

And now Ambarr had died under the cruel lash of their master, punishment for sneaking extra food to Kaladana. They had both been part of the Kahtuma, and Ambarr's last words were to take a message to the leaders of the Kahtuma that very night. She had tucked it in her belt and had run like fire, the fear of being seen pushing her on to new speeds.

 

As Kaladana fingered that message she remembered that the night was only growing older. She would have to move, and quickly, if she wanted to make it to the forest and back tonight. Kaladana took a deep breath and glanced around at her surroundings. She was alone, sitting against the brick wall of someone's garden. Roses poked their head over the top of the walls. Looking up at them, Kaladana shivered. Umdanas only grew roses where blood had been spilled, usually the blood of their slaves. They grew all over whipping posts and execution areas, a constant reminder that if the roses died, the Umdanas would slaughter someone just so they could grow them once again.

 

The distant moon of Ursa-Minor Beta seemed to follow her movements like a massive eye. The stars seemed far-off and shivered behind the foul black clouds of the night.

 

Kaladana made her way out to the street and glanced around. There was no one in sight. Creeping as silently as she could, she turned left, clutching at the wall. She tripped over something and barely stifled a moan as she realized she had stepped in the week old carcass of a dead mutt. Her tracks would be bloodied now, easy to follow.

 

Peeling off her thin shoes she tossed them into the gutter and moved on, one eye on the street, one eye on the path before her. A flashlight twinkled in the distance and she dropped into a crouch, shaking in her fear.

 

An eternity she waited until the flashlight dimmed and went away. A sigh of relief tore her throat. She counted to ten and then continued her journey.

 

A siren split the air around her and red lights lit up her section of the street. A sob of terror broke from her mouth and she ran. Kaladana knew she had been seen, was being followed, by the heavy and numerous footsteps behind her. She clung to the shadows, trying desperately to outrun the night watch for the second time that night. The sirens behind her grew softer until they stopped altogether. The lights dimmed, flickering in different directions.

 

Kaladana stopped to catch her breath underneath the protective shadow of a trashcan. Hearing the comforting sound of an 'all clear', she stood again and turned the corner.

 

Only to run right into the biggest, strongest, and all too familiar Umdana standing there. His scaly face broke into a sharp toothed grin as he caught her wrists. She struggled, crying out in surprise.

 

"Got you," he snarled. "This isn't the first time, is it, that I've caught you out after hours?" His breath was foul with the scent of rotting meat and his claws scratched her wrists, drawing small trickles of blood. "What can we do to break that nasty habit, eh pretty one?"

 

"Get off!" she shrieked desperately, knowing full well that the Umdana would do nothing of the sort.

 

He chuckled. "Of course pretty one, of course." And he let her go. He waved his hands in a shooing motion, a sadistic smile on his lips. "Run along. You won't get far."

 

Blinded by fear, Kaladana took her chances and fled past the Umdana. He turned and watched her go, chuckling.

 

True to the guard's word, Kaladana didn't get far. Surrounded by the night watch, Kaladana crouched in the middle, waiting, shivering. They only laughed at her.

 

The same Umdana as before walked forward and wrenched her to her feet. One of his fellows behind him called out instructions to search her, and he did. Claws scratching at her, he ripped off her belt and searched its contents, pulling out the letter that Ambarr had given her to deliver. A smile lit his features once again.

 

"She's got it alright," he growled. "And this time," he looked back at her, eyes malignant, "you won't get away." He smiled and gripped her arm as the other Umdanas walked forward.

 

"The roses will like you, pretty one."

[Degorram]

Feedback please. How is it?

[Sweetcherrie]

The feedback level in your profile confused me slightly so I'll just tell you what I thought of it

 

A well written story, and an enjoyable read. I would love to know if this poor girl is actually going to make it out, or if she's really going to be food for the roses

 

Something that could possibly be improved upon is the start of the story. I had to wrestle myself through the first four paragraphs, and though I understand that some background info is needed (especially in a story like this with a different world and all) I think there are better ways to draw the reader in quicker.

 

One possibility could be to spread the info that you've now condensed into the first three paragraphs out over all paragraps and let it shine through by character actions, or what she sees or hears.

 

Other than that, very nice story, and yeah, I would definitely like to read more from you

[reverie]

hey. Story's not my forte, but I'll take a stab at it.

 

First of all your draft is very clean, in that I mean free from annoying grammatical/spelling error. Kudos.

 

The first thing that struck me was your first line: Tell them...

Maybe drop the ellipses, and initializes the words, since it appears to be remembered speech and therefore a thought in your speakers head. If you meant it to be actually happening at the moment, then I'd put it in quotes, but it looks like a memory, and I'd keep it in italics unless it was a full blown flashback where the setting and tone of your current scene would have changed.

 

I like your background. You've put your character in a nice suspenseful box that she has to fight her way out of... I've heard that's a good way to start. That's actually the preferred method of Stephen King. Hmm, but I think you need a literary/plot device of some sort in order to as Sweet said spread your back ground out. Maybe have your speaker recall telling her story to another character, or start with a full-on flashback or event in the past as an introduction scene, then periodically have your character lapses back into the flash back, but take the scene in the past just a bit further. There's a lot of ways to this, that I've actually never attempted it myself in prose. I've tried it poetry though, and dang is it ever hard to pull off.

 

Dialogues really clean too. Looks like your basic writer's tool box is fairly well honed. That's a great hurtle to have already jumped over. Hmm, so I'd experiment more with different points of view, tone, and character development, theme etc. In other words have fun with it.

 

take care,

 

revery

the dreamlost

"1, 2, 3, once again go..." ~a. mann

the dream continues...

Edited August 13, 2006 by reverie