The Red Riders

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by *Kimber03 (01), Jun 30, 2011.

  1. Story that I just started. Hopefully it will replace my Greek gods one? Pwease? Oh and try not to pay attention to errors, I'm writing this on my iPod. And this genre is not my specialty, nor am I trying to copy any other stories of this genre. Read on!
    (COMMENT ON FEEDBACK THREAD)

    Prologue
    Running. He was running. Running through the woods under the fractured glow of the full moon. The snap of the bones of fallen comrades beneath his feet did not deter him. All he cared for was his own skin, for his kind were almost extinct. The man stopped only twice to look up at the moon, hidden behind a shroud of clouds. He cursed to the inky black sky both times and continued to run. The man looked behind him, pleased to find no one in pursuit of him. Perhaps he was to be free from his bonds, to be free from the hands of those who hated his kind...
    A flash of red to his right slowed him but did not stop him in his tracks. He was to be free, no one would stop his freedom. And yet another flash of red to his left made him slow down even further. A bad omen, a terrible, deadly omen that ruined his pleasurable mood. The man continued running, cursing to the black sky more frequently and to the moon that rested peacefully in its shroud of clouds. He looked to both his left and right, seeing more red with every glance he risked. He looked straight ahead, trying to find the edge of the woods. He was not going to be freed, unless...
    The moon escaped from it's shroud, casting the full glory of it's light down onto anything within sight of it.
    The red blurs and flashes that had surrounded him stopped, seeming to look at him. The man smiled.
    "You are too late!" he yelled to the red figures. And he laughed heartily before collapsing to the ground in obvious pain.
    The red figures moved towards the writhing man, cautiously.
    "Has the time to test our courage come, Hale?" the smallest of the red figures said to the largest of the red figures.
    "Yes," the figure called Hale said in a deep and rumbling voice. And the figure called Hale removed the red hood that had been shadowing his face, and the other red figures did the same.
    "It is our time!" the man Hale said loudly to the other figures, drowning out the sounds emanating from the man writhing in pain. "It is the time for the Red Riders to prove their courage, to show why we've been created!" Rumbles of approval sounded from the figures as they all began to rummage within their red hooded cloaks tied around their shoulders. One by one the figures withdrew a weapon. The man who had been in pain only a moment before stood up to his feet and made a defiant growling noise and howled to the moon.
    Without warning and without a command the Red Riders attacked the man... Until it ended.
     
  2. The highly anticipated first chapter of The Red Riders! Enjoy!

    Chapter 1
    “I think we all have to fight the werewolf within us somehow.” -Will Kemp
    "Surely nothing is worse than death?" asked a small boy with wide, green eyes. The man he was asking, a short man with a long beard, guffawed loudly.
    "Nothing worse than death?" he laughed. "Boy, I can think of a dozen things worse than death."
    The boy's mouth rearranged itself into an 'o' and he asked, "Well? What is worse than death, sir?"
    The man stroked his long beard thoughtfully for a moment before saying in a subdued and serious voice, "Werewolves."
    The boy asked, "What is a werewolf, sir?" And if possible his eyes became even wider.
    The man opened his mouth to respond but before he uttered one word another voice intervened.
    "-That's quite enough, Finn."
    The boy turned, cried "Mother!" and ran up to the woman. The woman smiled tenderly at her son before turning sharply to the man.
    The man raised his hands up in surrender. "Rosetta, you know I wouldn't mean your boy harm."
    Rosetta ushered her son towards a group of young boys before speaking again.
    "Finn," she started cooly, "You shouldn't be filling his head with nonsense, of-" she hesitated before breathing the word, "werewolves."
    Despite his current situation the man, Finn, laughed. "That's our problem right there, Rosetta! Pretending that werewolves are nonsense when we know very well that they're real!"
    Rosetta flushed a light shade of red before saying in a rushed whisper, "The reason we pretend they're fake is because they are fake."
    Finn snorted loudly and in a quiet, husky voice, "Tell that to 'em Red Riders."
    Rosetta blanched and she looked around nervously. "The Red Riders are just a...reassurance to the people's fears," said Rosetta without much conviction.
    Finn stared at Rosetta, obviously trying to see past her impassive face. "You okay Rosetta? You seem a bit more dodgy today..."
    "No, no!" she said briskly. "I-I'm fine. Quite fine indeed." She turned on her heel grabbed her boy away and bustled out of Finn's small shop.
    Finn stroked his beard thoughtfully once more as he watched Rosetta's retreating back. He shook his head and went to clean up his counter. And as he did so he was surprised to find an odd looking flower in place of Rosetta. A flower with purple petals that grew along the length of the long stem...
     
  3. Chapter 2
    "Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." – German Proverb
    A young woman and her male admirer were walking through the woods, her male companion walking beside her willingly.
    "Must we really do this, Lilianna?" the man asked, looking through the trees nervously. "We could've gotten flowers at the market or perhaps someone's garden."
    "Don't sound so frightened, Trent," Lilianna said in her soft voice. "Besides you can only find these flowers in the woods."
    "I'm not frightened," Trent said, puffing out his chest. But at the snap of a twig he squealed and clung on to Lilianna's arm.
    She shook his arm off and they continued to venture into the woods.
    "Why are you so scared?" Lilianna asked when they had arrived in a secluded spot under the canopy of leaves. She knelt down beside a small patch of flowers and set the basket she was carrying beside her.
    "I told you I'm not," Trent said gruffly.
    "Of course," Lilianna said, unconvinced. She caressed the purple petals of one flower and delicately picked it away from the earth.
    "Perhaps you're the one who's frightened," Trent said.
    "But I'm not," Lilianna said, picking another flower. "If I was frightened I wouldn't have come into the woods in the first place, silly."
    "But you invited me," Trent pointed out. "That must mean you're a bit frightened of whatever lurks in these woods."
    Lilianna brushed a strand of gold hair out of her face before speaking. "You invited yourself. I remember you saying you didn't want to spend the day with your mother so you came with me."
    "That's not true," muttered Trent, but he stayed silent for a long while.
    Lilianna continued to pick flowers until not one was left and her basket was filled to the brim. "Are you finished now?" Trent asked, looking around nervously once more.
    "No," Lilianna said. She took a handful of seeds from her apron pocket and carefully put one seed where a flower was picked. Trent looked at her quizzically. "I have to return them to the earth, don't I? If not they won't grow again."
    Trent sighed and waited as Lilianna planted every seed in her hand. When she was finished she picked up her basket of flowers and went to stand by Trent.
    "Are you ready now?" Trent asked. Lilianna nodded and the two went to walk out of the woods. But as they did there were more snaps of twigs and a low, distinct growl.
    Trent froze and Lilianna looked at him in confusion. "It must be a wolf," Trent whispered in terror.
    "And what fear do you have of wolves?" Lilianna asked, not frightened one bit by the threatening growls.
    "Not normal wolves," whispered Trent. He swallowed and whispered, "Werewolves."
    Lilianna tilted her head. "You don't have to be afraid of werewolves."
    "Of course I do," Trent said. "They're violent killers, are they not? Or even worse, they could turn you into a savage monster."
    "It's broad daylight," Lilianna pointed out. "Werewolves only turn in the light of the full moon, or so I've heard," she added quickly at Trent's curious expression.
    Trent opened his mouth to argue but at the sound of another growl he squealed and fled from Lilianna's side and out of the woods. As he fled he knocked into Lilianna, causing her to drop the basket of flowers. She sighed, continuing to disregard the growls. She bent down and began to pick the long stemmed flowers with purple petals that grew along the length of it...