MATURE: The Red Sands (SuBuWriMo)
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Thread: The Red Sands (SuBuWriMo)

  1. #1
    He Bled into the Throne Sovereign's Avatar
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    Default The Red Sands (SuBuWriMo)

    I've decided to write a fanfiction for SuBuWriMo. I haven't partaken in anything like this before, so I'd love some constructive criticism...

    But, please. Keep it constructive. This is my first in-depth Pokemon fanfiction, so I'm a bit nervous.

    Warning: This fanfiction includes rather extensive violence, and on occasion, crude language.

    I hope you enjoy!


    I don't remember what happened before it became dark. Even now, I hope and plea for even the slightest bit of insight on what has become of me... I want to; no... I need to know what happened.

    I'm afraid. I'm tired. I hurt... My pain is unlike anything I've ever felt. I'm so very, very alone...


    Day I: Through the Tunnel

    The cold, jagged floor ripped through my pants, heavily gouging into my knees. I wanted to scream, but my mouth had been stuffed with a dry, foul-tasting rag. I forced my eyes to a close behind the old, ragged cloth which was used as a blindfold.

    "So... How much do you think this one will fetch us?" A low voice muttered, though clear jolts of euphoria could be heard through his clenched teeth.

    "I dunno... Between five and six, I'm betting." A second voice, this one cold and smooth.

    That was the worst part of the it. The cold, jagged edges of the stone floor below cutting into my legs was something that I could block out. I could make the pain go away. But, there was something about the two men speaking... Something about their conversation that crawled around in my head like a Seviper hunting down its prey.

    They dehumanized me. They were going to sell me. Everything I had ever hoped for; each accomplishment, each kiss from Faye that had made my lips quiver, and each night spent wondering what would become of our future... It meant nothing to them. They had successfully stripped my very being from me. Why?

    So they could make money. So that they could turn my body into a tool for destruction. I didn't know that, at the time.

    As we continued down the tunnel, my legs had eventually gone numb. I passed out. One of the strange things about being kidnapped is that you can't tell when you wake up. Between the sensation of my numb body and the serene tranquility of dreams, I had no idea what state my body was in. It was still black, when I awoke. Eventually, I realized that I was awake when the two men hoisted my body up onto some kind of metal platform. I felt their worn, calloused hands grip around my blindfold, soon followed by the tearing of the cloth.

    I hate that noise with a passion. I hated it even more when I realized that safety was gone. When I was wearing the blindfold, I didn't need to close my eyes, or to look away when I saw something horrendous. I started to cough, forcing my watery eyes open. The first thing to pop into my head was the feeling of my eyelashes, strangely enough. They were all... Stuck together. It was similar to the feeling of waking up sick, or the stinging in your eyes after you cry.

    That feeling didn't last long. I was in a cage. The cage was nothing more than two panels of iron, connected by dozens of thick, corroded bars. The cell was large enough. I could stand, turn around, and pace a dozen or so steps back and forth. I would be doing that a lot, over the next week or so.

    It sunk in a few minutes later. I've never felt more afraid than I did at that very moment. I burst forward, towards the bars. Gripping onto the worn iron harder than I've ever done before, I screamed. I don't remember what the words were; most likely garbled sentences about my fiancée and our wedding. We were going to be married in a month. My life was going to be perfect.

    Slumping down, I slowly fell to me knees. I buried my head into my knees, ignoring the dry blood rubbing against my face. I wept. Giving a slight hiccup in my stupor, I quickly fell backward. My cage had suddenly been shaken. Looking for the source of my not-so-dramatic earthquake, I began to scan the room around me, from behind the bars.

    It was a stone room with flickering candles. It was dark, and I had no perception of the time whatsoever. That really begins to mess with you, after a while. The stone walls were a dull brown, with numerous chips taken out from the brick-cut room. There were numerous chains hanging from the ceiling, each one with a dangling iron cuff. I immediately assumed that they were used for torture, as the cuffs were stained with the same red sheen that the rest of the room had possessed. It was dull, and the smell was utterly repulsing. It smelt like sweat, blood, and waste.

    I forced myself to breathe through my mouth for a few moments, gulping down air with a vigor never before seen. Then, the noises began. They were there all along... I think my body was blocking them out, at first. I doubt I could have handled my situation by facing all of my senses at once.

    There was barking of creatures, frothing and feral. I couldn't see the beasts, but that didn't stop my mind from conjuring images of wild Pokémon.

    Mightyena? Arcanine?

    My train of thought was disrupted by my cage's second tremor.

    "Graaah! Watch your hands, you filthy bastards!"

    The man's voice was astonishing. It was low, grating, and unfeeling. It reminded me of when my father would sharpen his blades at the smithy. The sound of worn, dull metal, suddenly being forced to sharpen. A few sparks of flame; the sound of two metal cutting against each other.

    "Shuddup, worm! It's time for your big show... We wouldn't want you losing your voice before your performance, would we now?"

    A second voice. This one was happily sadistic. He seemed to be taken joy in the man's pain. He was dragging the first man from the cage beside my own. The man was putting up a fight, biting and kicking like a madman. His hands were bound by what seemed to be a makeshift leather strap. I probably wouldn't have mattered, though. The one pulling him from the cage was tall and utterly vicious. Metal-plated armor clung to his body, and there was a wickedly curved and serrated shortsword at his waist. He was a good three feet or so taller than the one being pulled out of the cage, and his body was rippling with stone-like muscle. The man being pulled out was frail and malnourished.

    He was quickly pulled out entirely. The armored man pushed him against the wall.

    "You don't get armor this time. There's a dagger on the weapons rack in the rose room," the armored man muttered between clenched teeth.

    The unarmed man gave a snarl before heading into a small room directly in front of my cell. As was said before, the room had a sprawling weapon rack, though it was clearly more barren than one would suspect. Three notches from the top of the metal rack, a dagger was hanging by its hilt. The man removed the dagger. Examining it slowly, he dragged the blade across his naked arm. It left a small cut, shimmering with a crimson luster.

    Beyond the rack, stairs led up beyond the candlelight of the small armory. After a few steps up the stairs, the man vanished from my sight.

    "Welcome to the Pit! Today, we watch as this man faces not one, not two, but three Mightyena! Will he survive? Will he be able to win this battle, using only quick wit and a dagger? Watch and see, for this shall be a performance you shall not soon forget!"

    A loud voice boomed. A crowd cheered. I didn't know where the voice was coming from... Though, I realized something.

    I blinked. I gave a shudder. The cage to my right was now empty, and deep inside, I knew a horrible truth... That man would never return. He would never hear his scraping voice again.

    I broke down, once more. I swallowed huge gulps of air, hiccuping between tearful moaning.

    "Shh... Some of us are sleeping. Quiet, little one. Your time will come, soon enough."

    Was the man talking to me? Turning to my left, my eyes began to focus on an enigmatic man. He was shirtless. His muscles were dark, and toned. His skin was the deep brown of a warrior; that, or he was so thickly covered with grime that he appeared to be seasoned.

    No. There was something in his cold, mossy-green eyes. He was calm and completely still. He hadn't even turned to look at me. His head was shaved, though his chin and lips were saddled by a light, unshaven beard. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five... He was in his prime; surely he couldn't be more than a few years older than I.

    "That's better. Keep quiet. It'll make things... Easier."

    The man seemed to struggle with his last word, though it was heavily thickened with emphasis. He was still calm and gentle with his composure.

    "What's your name? Where am I? Can't you see that they're going to hurt us?"

    I screamed once more. How could I be quiet? He hadn't just been stolen away from his fiancée! He didn't have a beautiful women weeping over his absence. He didn't have my life... Why the hell would he deserve to judge me?

    "I don't have a name. You're in the Pit. Yes... I know they want to hurt us. That's why I'm here, and that's why you won't be here for much longer."

    I blinked.

    "What do you mean? The Pit? Don't you have a name?"

    The man chuckled deeply. A thunderous roar fell from his lips like a hammer onto the anvil. His eyes were nearly jovial. I was enthralled with rage. Rage had me wrapped around her burning finger.

    There was no response from the man.

    "Can't you hear me? Do you have any idea how furious I am, right now?"

    The man laughed again. Finally locking his eyes to my own, I felt a chill fall over my very core.

    "You're mad. That's good. That means you'll live longer."

    I couldn't find my words. I felt utterly and completely shattered, at that moment. I would be fighting for my life... Me. A man who had never fought in his life. This was... There are no words for what I felt at that moment.

    "Hey... What's your name?"

    The man's question seemed forced. I was still silent from his previous words, and I had taken me a few moments to fully comprehend his words.

    "L-... Lorne. My name is Lorne."

    "Not anymore. You don't have a name."

    "Why am I here?"

    "You're going to paint the sand red."
    Last edited by Sovereign; 2nd June 2011 at 01:05 AM.

    The game is called Bridges...

    Banner by Blazaking

  2. #2

    Default Re: The Red Sands (SuBuWriMo)

    I really like the character development.

    The descriptions almost made me feel as if I had daggers in my knees, a towel in my mouth, and immense pain in my soul.

    Very good description and I love the closing line.

  3. #3
    He Bled into the Throne Sovereign's Avatar
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    Default Re: The Red Sands (SuBuWriMo)

    Thanks. The second chapter should be up, later today.

    The game is called Bridges...

    Banner by Blazaking


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