Pinterest 'Story Idea' excerpts

The Elekto Effect

FYI: This story in its fullness is completely owned by MyFernweh, as said in the book description most of the ideas posted on here are from pinterest or instagram etc. But occasionally I will post some original ideas and I will claim them for what they are, mine:) Also, the title is mine too, I'm to proud about that to give it up. 

The Elekto Effect will have multiple chapters dedicated to it. Yay!

Chapter 1

Rand eyed the man in front him, pouring the slop into the bowl Rand had in his hand which was outstretched through the bars of the caged wagon he was sitting in.

His legs dangled through the bars hanging off the side of the cart. He was slightly swinging them. Barely missing the leg of the man who was giving him food.

"Why don't you piss in the bowl." Rand called as the man walked to the next cart of slaves with their outstretched bowls, "It'd taste better." He called, than pulled the bowl back through the bars and trying not to focus too much on the mysterious floating chunks on the surface he took a bite of it, using his fingers since the slaves weren't allowed to have spoons. To easy the shave down into a shanks. He glanced around to his sides at the other slaves, all of them had their heads down, their long greasy hair falling over their faces. Every man turned away from each other in order to protect the food that was given to them. If you didn't protect it it would be taken from you and the food master could care less. Rand ate his food openly, and easily. The other slaves left him alone after he almost broke the arm of the first man who had tried to take his food. Now he sat with a definable distance between him and the other men for they refused to get close to him.

The slaves bowls were taken from them when they finished then the doors were opened on the cage and each man was hobbled together with chains and let free to roam and relieve themselves.

The caravan started up again and rand sat again with his legs swinging out between the bars, he rested his forehead against them when the road was smooth, closing his eyes and trying to imagine that he was somewhere else. Maybe on a trip to the Northern seas of Kala. Where the sand was pink and you could look for Chells. Or maybe on his way to the Black Forest that grew close to his childhood home. The sun was to hot and the memories of travelling with his father to the forest were to painful. He pulled his legs back through the bars and turned away from the open landscape. Instead staring at the floorboards. There was a patch of brown stains splattered around the wood, probably from blood long since dried.

Beside him a man coughed, it came out watery and ragged. Probably pneumonia. Each of these men had something, they were all dirty and sick, ribs showing and what little clothes they had shredded and beyond hope of cleanliness. It was pitiful. The slaves in Lithes army never looked like this, they had meat on their bones and they didn't look a day from death. And now Rand was one of them.

Rand pulled his legs in a bit closer to himself and felt the small stick under his shirt poke into his stomach. He didn't dare reach under and move it, the other slaves would notice something like that and it would be taken from him. This little stick represented the only power Rand had over his situation. He had carved it down to a fine point over the course of the last week. Everytime they were let out to relieve themselves he had run it across any rock he could find before he had to shove it back in his clothes and hide it from the guards who searched them everytime they exited or entered the caged wagon. It was a weapon, something that Rand could hold onto to keep himself in reality. It sounded stupid when he tried to explain it to himself but for some reason that's the way it was.

Are you going to use it to escape?

Rands head snapped up and he looked at all the other slaves for the one who had spoken to him, when he saw no one looking at him accept to give him fearful or confused looks Rand knew it was The Voice.

"Leave me alone." Rand whispered so quietly it barely came out.

What? I just asked you a question. It was a females voice.

Rand turned around, putting his back to the men, he quickly had to adjust the shank he had as the tip bit into his skin.

"I'm going crazy and I'd rather not lose my grasp on reality right now."

You're not going crazy! The voice sounded like it was laughing and Rand huffed, this stupid voice had shown up just after he woke up in this slave caravan and it hadn't left him alone since then and no one else could hear it.

"Your a voice in my head." Rand hissed.

I'm sure lots of people hear voices.

Rand laughed bitterly but realized he had just done so out loud and a few of the men around him frowned pulling even further away from him. It didn't matter if they thought he was crazy, but if the guards found out he was talking to himself that would earn him a spear in the gut. Crazy slaves didn't sell well.

"Crazy people do, thats who." Rand said.

If your crazy enough to use that shank you got there then I think you're crazy enough to hear voices.

Rand shook his head, "That's not the way it works." He glanced around then pulled up against the bars hoping his voice would be unheard over the sound of the wagon wheels bumping over the rocks the driver always seemed to try and hit.

Who are you going to use it on? The guy who put you in here?

'Not a bad idea' Rand thought to himself.

I heard that. The voice said childishly.

'He had no right to put me in here.'

Maybe not, but you are now, so what're you going to do about it?

Rands head hung a little bit, he had tried to escape three times already in the last four weeks. On the third try he had gotten pretty far, but on that try he had taken others with him. The guards released the Hounds on them and let the hounds tear the others apart but instead of letting Rand die they gave him two slices on either side of his face from his ear to chin. The cuts, almost healed now, marked him as dangerous. Being crazy would reduce his price as a slave, but Dangerous marks, that made you almost unsellable. And that made him worthless.

'Survive.' Rand answered.

That doesn't sound very fun. The voice pouted.

'It's not.' Rand had been simply surviving all his life. After his father died, leaving him an orphan, surviving and fighting had been the only way to keep his head, literally.

I say you escape! She had a conspiratorial sound to her voice when she said this and Rand felt the stone of guilt in his gut sink lower.

"No." Rand whispered. 'It wouldn't work, not for me.'

So some may see similarities of scene descriptions in this book to descriptions in other books, yes, but that was simply young me trying to figure out how to describe things and how to describe a world so outside of my own. No intended plagiarism.

-MyFernweh