Long Respite – Rough Cut

Hey, readers. Here’s a cut from my workspace, a short story that I wrote a while back. I wanted it to be the simplest short story possible, which is why I wanted to write cleanly and concisely. Anyway, check it out and leave me your thoughts!

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They were young, both of them optimistic and vibrant testimonies to the endless excitement of youth. And yet, even with their happy smiles being witnessed silently by the heavens, there was a hidden story to be told. It was a story only they knew and understood, one that stretched back to their high school and college days, studying politics and eating bagels around New York.

You see, theirs was the storybook romance. You know, the one where the pair in high school actually makes it to college unbroken? That was their story, the story of a young boy named Gregory and a sprightly little girl named Caroline.

Even in kindergarten, they’d been together. Both would share their crayons and their lunches, bearing the innocent affection that characterized children who were neighbors. As both grew, maturing in experience and in wisdom, no signs could be seen of that affection ever cooling. 

Rough Cut and Preview for Dark Redemption

I stared in forced reverence at the hooded figure in front of me. Not once had I seen his face, not in twelve centuries. He had always been hidden, an enigma I was sure I’d never solve. Still, even though I’d never seen him, I knew who he was. He was my maker – the one who’d given me my immortality, the one who’d saddled me with an irrepressible urge to hunt and kill, the one who’d torn me away from the life I knew. Yes, I had never seen his face, but I knew who he was. Every fiber of my being literally reinforced my submission in his presence.

I hated that, the submission. I was a Viking. The very idea of it was an anathema to me either way. Still, in the darkness, against the cold floor and of the castle we lived in, I could do nothing but speak the traitorous words.

“Is there something you require, master?” I asked, repulsed by my own tongue. “You know I am ever in your service.”

I heard it then. It was his cold, cruel laugh, the one that seemed to suck all the emotion and life out of a room. He spoke, and his voice was as commanding as ever. “I know, Alexander. Service to me is inescapable, though you don’t seem to want the freedom anyway.”