This short, hazardous little story was one I wrote over the Easter break, and like my sig, failed to expand until recently. I may add to it, as I'm currently rather pleased with it. Enjoy/bear through~
~*~
Chapter One
Orson systematically clenched onto a handle resting above him in the tight nook of his cottage. Or indeed the cockpit of his cottage. He sweeped his free hand along a carved wooden panel, some markings in the wood illuminating, others dimming. Another series of bumps shook the structure, before the long, weary creak of scaffolding being scraped together let loose a burst of steam. Orson threw back his swivel chair, and climbed out of the cockpit before stretching, relaxing the joints of his that had been stuck in the same position for two hours in his seat. Yawning, Orson adjusted a crooked painting in the hallway, then made for the kitchen. He reached for some tea on the counter drawer, when he heard a loud bang outside. There was a moment of silence, when the bang came again, louder this time. Orson, setting down the tea-box on the counter, grabbed his black autumn coat to throw over his shirt, and a scarf which pulled in some of his black hair underneath its soft sheaths of wool. He threw open the door, more urgency about him now that the banging had become louder and more regular, and hopped down off the suspended steps attached to his house. Dangerously close to the engine, a peculiarly dressed girl swung her equally elaborate weapon at the joining point of on of the “legs” of the cottage.
Orson’s cottage was a nomadic one. As if crudely sewn on to the main building, were rusted metal parts, including a cockpit, an engine for emergencies that required extra thrust, and two long pieces of iron girder that joined to form legs. Catching each others glances, the girl tensed, and pointed her weapon at Orson.
“Whoa, wait...” He stammered, edging back a bit. “Why are you messin’ with my house?”
“This is not an abode,” The girl replied sternly “This is clearly some kind of monster.”
“No, no. See this is my house,” Orson said “It just moves with me.”
"Hmm..." She murmured, contemplating the house.
She sported a look of wary on her decorated face for a while, then swiftly slipped her axe into a concealed pouch. Orson calmed down now, and had time to look at her properly. The girl’s tanned skin was riddled with temporary paint markings, most blue or red. She sported a tan animal skin dress, ending at her knees, and black fluffy moccasins. Straight black hair weaved its way down her back. The two regarded each other for a moment, then girl spoke
“Hello anyway. My name is Halona,” She said “And you are?”
“Orson Amsel!” Orson chirped
Halona nodded silently in thought, then posed another question
“What are you doing in this part of the world?”
“I’m travelling around the world to search for whatever takes my fancy~” He replied
“Your fancy?” Halona asked
“Yeah, my fancy. Everyone has a something, be it a skill or a weapon or even a trinket that they value,” Orson began, strolling back and forth in a lecturing manner
“For example, you have your axe. I have a feeling that you really, really like it. Treasure it even. I’ve seen a few axe-wielders in my short time travelling, and you seem to have a way with it.”
Halona smiled at his comment.
“Keep going...” She smiled.
“Well, I haven’t found my something yet. My skill, weapon, treasure, whatever. So my intuition told me to travel around one day, to go wherever feels good, and to find my niche,” He smiled “And while I know that sounds rather weird of me to up and travel one day, I haven’t felt happier since!”
Orson gleamed proudly at Halona now, chuffed that his self-important speech had gone down well. She laughed quietly to herself, then adressed Orson once again.
“You have a curious ideal Orson. I like it though.” Halona smiled, and began gazing towards the clouding sky. As if in answer, a low rumble erupted from the clouds, followed by a flash of lightning. A gentle pitter-patter of rain filled the forest, growing to a steady downpour.
“How long will it take you to get home?” Orson shouted above the rain.
“About half an hour. I didn’t bring my ride home though.” Halona replied, stepping under the cottage for shelter.
“Would you like to stay till the rain eases off?” Orson smiled “ I have plenty of drinks!”
She smiled at him, and swung herself around the left leg of the cottage to the stairs, opening the door and inviting Orson inside.
Orson systematically clenched onto a handle resting above him in the tight nook of his cottage. Or indeed the cockpit of his cottage. He sweeped his free hand along a carved wooden panel, some markings in the wood illuminating, others dimming. Another series of bumps shook the structure, before the long, weary creak of scaffolding being scraped together let loose a burst of steam. Orson threw back his swivel chair, and climbed out of the cockpit before stretching, relaxing the joints of his that had been stuck in the same position for two hours in his seat. Yawning, Orson adjusted a crooked painting in the hallway, then made for the kitchen. He reached for some tea on the counter drawer, when he heard a loud bang outside. There was a moment of silence, when the bang came again, louder this time. Orson, setting down the tea-box on the counter, grabbed his black autumn coat to throw over his shirt, and a scarf which pulled in some of his black hair underneath its soft sheaths of wool. He threw open the door, more urgency about him now that the banging had become louder and more regular, and hopped down off the suspended steps attached to his house. Dangerously close to the engine, a peculiarly dressed girl swung her equally elaborate weapon at the joining point of on of the “legs” of the cottage.
Orson’s cottage was a nomadic one. As if crudely sewn on to the main building, were rusted metal parts, including a cockpit, an engine for emergencies that required extra thrust, and two long pieces of iron girder that joined to form legs. Catching each others glances, the girl tensed, and pointed her weapon at Orson.
“Whoa, wait...” He stammered, edging back a bit. “Why are you messin’ with my house?”
“This is not an abode,” The girl replied sternly “This is clearly some kind of monster.”
“No, no. See this is my house,” Orson said “It just moves with me.”
"Hmm..." She murmured, contemplating the house.
She sported a look of wary on her decorated face for a while, then swiftly slipped her axe into a concealed pouch. Orson calmed down now, and had time to look at her properly. The girl’s tanned skin was riddled with temporary paint markings, most blue or red. She sported a tan animal skin dress, ending at her knees, and black fluffy moccasins. Straight black hair weaved its way down her back. The two regarded each other for a moment, then girl spoke
“Hello anyway. My name is Halona,” She said “And you are?”
“Orson Amsel!” Orson chirped
Halona nodded silently in thought, then posed another question
“What are you doing in this part of the world?”
“I’m travelling around the world to search for whatever takes my fancy~” He replied
“Your fancy?” Halona asked
“Yeah, my fancy. Everyone has a something, be it a skill or a weapon or even a trinket that they value,” Orson began, strolling back and forth in a lecturing manner
“For example, you have your axe. I have a feeling that you really, really like it. Treasure it even. I’ve seen a few axe-wielders in my short time travelling, and you seem to have a way with it.”
Halona smiled at his comment.
“Keep going...” She smiled.
“Well, I haven’t found my something yet. My skill, weapon, treasure, whatever. So my intuition told me to travel around one day, to go wherever feels good, and to find my niche,” He smiled “And while I know that sounds rather weird of me to up and travel one day, I haven’t felt happier since!”
Orson gleamed proudly at Halona now, chuffed that his self-important speech had gone down well. She laughed quietly to herself, then adressed Orson once again.
“You have a curious ideal Orson. I like it though.” Halona smiled, and began gazing towards the clouding sky. As if in answer, a low rumble erupted from the clouds, followed by a flash of lightning. A gentle pitter-patter of rain filled the forest, growing to a steady downpour.
“How long will it take you to get home?” Orson shouted above the rain.
“About half an hour. I didn’t bring my ride home though.” Halona replied, stepping under the cottage for shelter.
“Would you like to stay till the rain eases off?” Orson smiled “ I have plenty of drinks!”
She smiled at him, and swung herself around the left leg of the cottage to the stairs, opening the door and inviting Orson inside.
Last edited by a moderator: