No, this has nothing to do with pokemon. X) I was starting this and I have no idea when I'll upload next or if I will finish it. I want to but it may be a while. I have planned on uploading it and a certain friend of mine whose profile name I will not name is bored and wants to read it so... voila. I think I like writing in third person more than first. This is in third person omnicient. yes... so here it is. Hope you like it :) let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions. Thanks :)
PS: since it is not done yet, certain things in the story are subject to change, so really this is like a demo to get tips and cure boredom XD
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In the Nation of Ashe or simply Ashe as many called it, snow fell all year round, but the snow never fell white, pure as an unblemished lamb. No, is Ashe, the snow was always gray; and its tint depended heavily on how much ash the nearby volcano spat out. The Nation was as many were in this time, more country than the people were capable of filling, and so the distance between towns and cities was great. However, I the narrator would like to lead you the reader to a small township on the outskirts of the nation known as Clearei. Ironically, this town or rather village sits closest to the volcano which dominates the northern horizon with its continuous spewing of ashes, and their air is the most polluted of the entire nation. But I only say this to set the scene for our story. You see, it was of the most bitter winters in Northern Ashe, and many caravans were forced to abandon their wagons and treck tp the nearest village. A woman, who had many talents such as prediction at her disposal, made use of her best talent. Promiscuity. Many a man had fallen to her odd, forbidden allure, but the man on whose door she knocked did not long for her for her curves or attitude. He opened the door and saw his prayers to God answered, his prayers for a woman for him to marry. A good Christian man though he was, he fell into her trap and nine and a half months later found himself alone with a baby. The child was long- legged and spindly. Aside from her calm temperment and her orange eyes, she was all her mother. When she left him, he was distraut at first, and then she made a peep. That was when he realized that he still had his daughter, and he loved her dearly. However, happy times have no longevity and they often end rather brusquely. There came a plague, when the girl, Jude, was but 7. It was a brutal scar of irony cursed upon Ashe. They called it Burnation. It was not contagious, and slow, and painless. It would start by pale gray spots which would spread and intensify in opacity. Then, one day the grayed or blackened bits would suddenly blaze red like coals, and that limb would disintegrate into ash, leving a stub which made it seem as though nothing had ever been there to begin with. There was no blood, and really if there was a way for such a man of great kindness to die, this befitted him well. It took him in three months. Being the only heir of the greatest family of the village, she received the house and all other assets, but the other townspeople took pity. They took her food and clothes and such extra materials; but not one would take her in. mostly, this had to do with the rumors circulating about that she was bad luck in herself, seeing as her mother was, well, to put it politely, what she was and her father burned up by the Burnation.
Soon, she realized that she had never had the villager’s approval to begin with so she shed dresses and skirts and too to trousers, slacks, oxfords, and cotton shirts. The she sliced all of her rather thin locks off. But the pride of her apparel was her father’s red cloak trimmed with green and gold. As a Namor soldier’s cloak was vital to them, so was her father’s cloak unto her. Even as she grew into a teen, she remained thin and spindly, forever it the heights of the tallest trees. But she also remained distinctly undistinct as far as womanly appearance went. But she could have cared less.
”I need them not,” she would say to herself while climbing trees. “I have all I need alone.” Oddly enough, she never felt that she had as much company as she did when scaling the trees of the area, hunting in local snow birds which were forever stringy and bitter to the taste. She was tall and just like the rest of the inhabitants of Ashe, pale as sheep’s wool. She lived all alone and employed no servants to the distaste of the many towns women who had made a good living off of her father. Still, she saw no need. She cooked for herself, cleaned for herself and read to herself. Her father had had a very mighty library before his death, and even though she read many books in her spare time, there were stilm many keft unread. She could never choose a favorite, but on occasion, she did reread a select few. Once a year, a caravan came through, carrying with them all sorts f small, mobile shops containing thing that the citizen’s did not have. The merchants hated this time of year espeacially, but even those who bought from the caravans wanted them gone as quickly as possible; for during that great snow storm 15 years before, many villagers found themselves welcoming in strangers and waking to find them and many precious belongings gone. If the town had not been xenophobic before, well you know how it goes.
