My Little Writing Project

[Kendrik]

I've challenged a handful of friends to join me in a short term writing project of sorts. Over the time that would roughly equate to winter break for students, I'm gonna write a Star Wars fanfic short story... as are my friends who decide to get in on it.

Why do this? Well, for one thing, it gives parameters for writing (write a 5-20 page story within a month's timespan that fits in an existing universe). For another, doing something with other people helps keep me on track with if I don't have some other obligation to get it done. And, of course, Star Wars is awesome.

I'm kicking this gig off in a more official sense next week, after finals are done for some of my still-in-college friends. In the meantime, to get the creative juices flowing (as it's been far too long since my last piece of fiction), I wrote a flash fiction bit that may or may not end up connected to the short story I write. I haven't decided on that one yet.

Anyway, thought I'd share for the lulz. It's kinda dark, but it's my brand of dark, which favors a thematic approach rather than a gory/sadistic one.

Caedyrn sat at his desk as he always did, studying the philosophies of another nearly-forgotten sage. The room dimmed as the waning sun surrendered the last of its life until its return with the next solar cycle. A shadow seemed to move against a far wall. A trick of light or imagination.

Cold metal pressed against Caedyrn’s right temple. He felt shock. Then, he felt nothing.

He woke with a shout, his heart pounding, sweat drenching his body. “Sithspawn!” he raged.

It was that same dream again. That same wretched dream that he’d had every night for the last month.

He couldn’t make sense of it. He was no stranger to dreams that disturbed his sleep, but those were scarcely so vivid, so tangible, so real. And those dreams changed as often as the fashion trends on Coruscant.

But this dream was different. This was the same dream time and time again. No changes. No new details. No indication of what brought this affliction upon him. It was always there, a perpetual curse.

Caedyrn was a simple scholar. He was a respected scholar, but he made few enemies as a historian and fewer yet as a man of the middle class. He could come up with no fears in his waking world that would cause him to dream of being assasssinated night after night.

He could find no reason that his waking world would affect his dreams in this way, nor could he find a way to do anything during the day that would grant him peace in the night. But the night wreaked havoc on the day.

His dreams drove him mad in the truest of senses. The tarnished sleep alone would wear on any man, but the repetition of the dream, combined with its horrifying content, led him to an unyielding state of anxiety and fear. He could no longer focus on his work.

Unfortunately for Caedyrn, even in the realm of scholastics, there is little rest for the weary. He had work to do, so he forced himself to proceed with his duties. Exhausted, feeling broken, he walked to his desk and sat down. He picked up his datapad and returned to where he left off in the writings of a ancient Twi’lek ethicist.

He spent hours there, unmoving, trying to process what he read. Despite his best efforts to consider the moral ideals being presented, he felt that they were lost on him. A month ago, he would have lost himself in the ideology of his forebear. Now, he simply seemed to have lost himself.

The sun began to set. Dusk put Caedyrn on edge now. He tried to calm himself and continue to focus on his work, but his anxiety managed to get the better of him.

Then, it happened. The shifting shadow in his peripheral vision. The trick of light he’d seen or imagined so many times before. In that brief instant, he declared himself to have finally lost his sanity. And in the very next instant, he felt that cold metal pressed against his temple.

Copypasta'd from my blog.

 

[Patriot]

Hey! You can't just leave me hanging like that. Nevertheless, a pleasant read.

On a side note, the name Caedyrn sounds like a name out of the Pyrdain Chronicals. Perhaps it has Welsh origins?

 

[Kendrik]

Hey! You can't just leave me hanging like that. Nevertheless, a pleasant read.

On a side note, the name Caedyrn sounds like a name out of the Pyrdain Chronicals. Perhaps it has Welsh origins?

Looks like Caedyrn is a misspelled rendition of Cadeyrn, a Welsh name meaning "battle king."

And thanks for reading. Perhaps you won't feel like you're left hanging quite as badly now that I've figured out what I wanna do with it. I've decided I'm going to write a total of four of these flash fiction pieces that set the stage/act as teasers for the short story I'll be writing this month. I'm actually getting more and more excited about it the more I work on it and figure out where I want to take the story.

For now, here is the second piece:

"I need to get a desk job already," Shun muttered to himself, not that there was anyone else in the cockpit to mutter to. His ship's hyperdrive engaged properly, as it always had before, and he checked his destination coordinates for the fourth time, correct as they always were.

Shun was capable of rapid decision making and effective action in councils and battlefields alike. By all measures, he was a confident man. Still, he was never at ease in a ship, even in his own ship maintained and piloted by his own hands.

But sitting at the controls wasn't going to help his anxiety or hasten his trip; he may not have been able to fully overcome his anxiety, but he learned to not feed it. With that, he got out of his chair and relocated to the ship's small passenger cabin.

He thought about pouring himself a drink to help calm his nerves, but the trip to Telos was a fairly short one, and he knew he would need his wits about him once he got there. Instead, he chose to bury himself in his work as he had countless times before in attempt to ignore his unrest.

So, Shun took his personal holoprojector from his jacket and sat himself down in one of the cabin's recliners. He would review his orders for the third time.

The recording began to play. A woman appeared, wearing a nondescript hooded robe that concealed her identity, displayed in that monochromatic blue.

"When you arrive on Telos," she began. "Go straight to Scholar's Terrace. Our informant has told us that this man will soon uncover something that we would rather stay... forgotten, something that would not be favorable for our order should it become public knowledge."

Shun was a man of details, but these details did not hold his interest at the time. His mind began to move on to the details of the mission that pertained to him, where he would find the target, exactly what he would do when he got there, and so on. But just as quickly as his mind moved to these details, they moved again to the little details of travel, like the calculations related to his hyperdrive jump.

He realized that he let his mind slip back to the very thing he was trying to avoid. Quick to try remedying that, he turned his focus back to the holovid.

"...must not be allowed to discover this information," the holovid continued, taking no note of Shun's mental detour. "If he has already found it, you must prevent its publication at all costs. I cannot stress this enough, Shun."

The robed figure paused in her speech, gathering her thoughts. "Shun," she began again, her tone shifting to the warmth found only in genuine care. "The order have given you this task because we trust you, because I trust you. You have served well, and your work is appreciated by all. May fortune favor you in this endeavor."

The recording ended. Shun returned his holoprojector to his jacket. He tented his fingers, leaned back in his chair, and turned his thoughts to his target, murmuring.

"Caedyrn."

 

[Patriot]

Alas, only more questions and no answers. . .the humanity!

 

[Kendrik]

Alas, only more questions and no answers. . .the humanity!

You make me feel like a menace. Worse, I fear, is that this, my third piece, will only bring even more questions. :/ But I post it anyway. Gotta knock out one last flash fiction piece before I start to make sense of them all in the short story these are helping me warm up for in writing.

It was abnormally quiet in the cantina. The Fate and Fortune wasn't a particularly noisy establishment as a rule, being more of a place to conduct business than lose sobriety. Still, the patrons were relatively few that evening.

To most people, this would be an unimportant detail. Elric, however, was not most people. He took pride in his situational awareness, especially his ability to notice when things were somehow not quite right even when he had no existing frame of reference for what right should look like.

And he could feel that things were not right.

Across the table from Elric sat his superior, Kormac Rus. The two men could have passed for brothers with how similar their demeanors were. Both sat with an air of confidence and authority of a senator, though without the forced smiles. Both wore simple but high class business attire.

"You were there, Elric," said Kormac. "You heard what she said. You know what she saw."

"Yes, Kormac," replied Elric, a hint of contempt in his voice. "I know what she saw. It doesn't mean I believe it, much less want to believe it." He never wanted to believe that there was any truth to what Mirana claimed she saw. But now that what she claims to have seen involved him, he had no choice but to concern himself with it.

"Then you know what's at stake, and you know I have little choice but to send you."

"And I have even less choice in the matter of whether or not I go, right?" Elric never liked to feel compelled, and he was feeling quite compelled at that moment.

"Indeed," replied Kormac to a question that needed no answer. "The council has already seen fit to take care of the situation, but I prefer a little insurance in matters this important. That's why I'm sending you to make sure there are no loose ends."

"I hate this part of the job," commented Elric.

"I know you do," replied Kormac, not without sympathy. "But that's what makes you so effective. I know the job will be done and done efficiently."

"Right," said Elric, his voice becoming even more stoic than before. "This is my last assignment, Kormac. I'm retiring to a life of solitude on Naboo after this."

"Unless you fail," reminded Kormac. "Then you're as good as dead. We are all as good as dead." Then, putting on that senatorial smile he had kept hidden, he assured Elric, "But you won't fail. Go silence the scholar. I'll have your credits ready for your return."

Elric didn't respond with a forced smile. He didn't respond at all. He simply got out of his seat and made for the door. Telos was waiting.

"I'm sorry, Caedyrn."

 

[Patriot]

All roads lead to Telos. =)

Not sure if you were looking for constructive criticism or not, but I thought this part was a little awkward to read:

"Yes, Kormac," replied Elric, a hint of contempt in his voice. "I know what she saw. It doesn't mean I believe it, much less want to believe it." He never wanted to believe that there was any truth to what Mirana claimed she saw. But now that what she claims to have seen involved him, he had no choice but to concern himself with it.

 

[Kendrik]

All roads lead to Telos. =)

Not sure if you were looking for constructive criticism or not, but I thought this part was a little awkward to read:

I consider myself a fledgling writer at best, at least when it comes to matters of fiction. I welcome constructive criticism, especially if it is mind in a kind fashion. So! Thank you for drawing my attention to that part. I'll have to find a way to improve it while still getting across what I want to get across.