Science: proving that forgetting is healthy.

I read a very interesting article over on Beach Front News written by Boomer.


"...That tendency to go blank about who-I-said-what-to might actually be evidence of a healthy memory at work. There’s evidence that when we reset a password or memorize a new phone number for a friend, the brain actively suppresses the out-of-date information. Because the old digits are competing with the new ones for memory space, the memory ‘deletes’ the potentially conflicting info. And retold stories aren’t always socially embarrassing or redundant. Repeated often enough, they become ritual, and, over time, oral history, Dr. Gobie says. It is also interesting to note that people with the most to gain – or lose – in terms of whom hears what (lobbyists, attorneys, salespeople) will often use the name of the person they are speaking with as a reminder: “Did I mention, Tom, the free emergency roadside assistance package?” While it could be could considered flattery, it could also be a means of tracking where information is going..." Beach Front News "Why We Forget What We say and to Whom"

The article brought up a lot of questions for me.

It almost sounded like "science" is now saying they think that forgetting is healthy. Or are they brainwashing us to tell us to do more drugs? Or am I just paranoid?

I don't know about the rest of that, but I do think if brains that habitually forget their short term memory are considered healthy, we must now be saying the brains that remember those details are unhealthy?

I wonder if they considered photographic memories in their studies? Perhaps, people that do not reset their memories, the way this article describes, forget other details that most everyone else remembers?

Is that where the idea of eccentricity comes from?
Einstein couldn't remember to tie his shoes. I can't remember my own Mother's Birthday. Maybe those are signs of an unhealthy brain?

Either, way, I'd love to see more research by the "professionals" on this one. I know I personally could really stand a memory wipe.

Thought of the Moment

Since tomorrow I will be leaving for a week and can't guarantee I'll have much blogging time if any at all; I thought today would be a good time to share with you something that has been weighing heavily on my mind for several days now.

Though I haven't been sharing any of this particular project, I have been hard at work on a fantasy novel for some time now. If pressed to express my feelings on this novel, I would say it is my love child. While working on it there has been numerous ups and downs. There have been times where I just could not put my thoughts and ideas into words, and there have been times when the story wrote itself and felt like I was not creating, but merely dictating someone else's actions. I'm not sure if that's common for all writers, but it is certainly part of the writing experience for me. Rough waters or smooth sailing, I'm dedicated to finishing this novel.

Now, as some of you may know, Carrie Eckles very recently gave me a spot on her blog Prompt Romp where I gave some of my thoughts on writing prompts and shared a small scene of a science-fiction story that I had come up with after reading one of Carrie's prompts.

That prompt, and the small scene I wrote opened the door to an entire universe of story ideas I had never considered before. In fact, since writing that scene, I've come up with several different short story ideas for what could very well be an ongoing series with these characters and in this world.

I've been working on it everyday, and it's been a very enjoyable experience. However, I haven't spent one moment sitting down and actually writing my other novel. I feel like I am betraying myself and betraying my story.

Like an adulterer every time I sit down and work on this other series, no matter how smoothly it flows and natural it feels, I feel guilty. Which brings me to my questions:

How do we as writer's balance multiple projects? Am I really betraying one project for another? Is this guilt and self-loathing justified?

I want to finish both projects as soon as possible. I can divide brain power and spend time thinking about both stories, but unless I mutate and suddenly grow two brains and another pair of arms, however, I know it is physically impossible for me to work on both projects at once. Are my feelings of betrayal natural?

I don't have any answers of my own, but I'm really curious how other authors handle working on multiple projects. Am I alone in feeling like this? Do you just pick one project and dedicate yourself to it until completed, or do you flip from one project to the next as the muse strikes?

Original Work Update---Jaccen's Story part 3

So it's Tuesday, and as promised for the original work update I'm continuing with the next scene in the installment I have been sharing. If you missed the first two parts and want to catch up check my blog archive and you'll find them under the name Jaccen's Story. This might be the last one of this story I post for a little while, I'd love to know what you guys think. So as always, please leave comments.


On a different note, something that may be old news to some of you, but is totally worth another mention for me tomorrow morning I will be posting up a guest blog by Rebecca Emrich from the blog Living a Life of Writing. www.rebeccasbook.blogspot.com Be sure to check out her blog when you have the time she has alot of great things to say.

And now for the (drum roll please) ORIGINAL WORK UPDATE!


It was only sometime later, after the room had been more or less abandoned, that Jaccen felt like he could move again. He had listened to the heavy footfalls of the giant returning and his loud snores overpowering the woman’s soft breaths beside him long enough. He forced his eyes open.
“How do you feel?” Kathraan purred beside him.
He looked down at his stomach and watched as the last traces of his wounds disappeared before his eyes. Even the black substance marring his pants began to vanish.
“Lost.” He said at length. He fumbled in his pants and found the pack of cigarettes that he had been carrying. Taking one he put it to his lips and searched for the lighter. “And I’m getting really damn sick of passing out.” he added.
“The transition is hard.” She said, and placed her finger to the end of the cigarette as he was bringing the lighter from his pocket. He froze as the end suddenly flared beneath her finger. “It gets easier though. It really does.”
“I wish I knew what the hell you were talking about.” He said, turning his wide blue eyes to stare at her. He coughed as he breathed in the toxic fumes.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “You’ll get your answers.” She stood up, leaned over him, and kissed him hard upon his lips. He felt his hand reaching to her side, but she pulled away just as his fingers met the thin fabric of her shirt. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.” With that, she began to walk away. “Hey,” she said stopping and looking back, “I don’t know what to call you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He muttered.
She shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.
Jaccen sat back and turned to his left where the giant was snoring loudly on the other couch. He sighed, dropped the cigarette on the floor and crushed it beneath his bare foot without thinking. Grimacing he reached for his socks and shoes with the idea of leaving clearly in his mind and every intention to do so. It was when he moved, however, that he realized just how tired his body was. He stretched out and lay back on the couch. His body crumbled, his eyes closed, and his mind became more restless than the rain beating upon the roof.

“WAKE UP!” The sense of urgency behind the male’s voice snapped Jaccen to attention.
I’m awake. He thought, then, I’ve been awake. He realized that he had not gotten even a moment of sleep, since his body collapsed his mind was traveling the rainy streets of the night, tirelessly.
“Get everybody in here. NOW!”
Jaccen’s eyes shot open. The woman was gliding down the hallway quickly. Her eyes locked with his briefly, and he watched as she dropped her gaze and shook her head with a slight sigh. He wondered what that look was for.
“What’s going on?” Kathraan asked.
“Dunno, yet.” Grim was standing by the wall next to the window. His hand grasped the heavy, black curtain and he pulled it slightly to the side. Bright light flooded into Jaccen’s eyes and he blinked to adjust them while standing up. “Summin’s goin’ on out dere. Thas fir shir.” He dropped the curtain.
Jaccen decided now would be a good time to don his clothing. As he did so, he noticed Fritz’s eyes intensely upon him.
Hedrick appeared in the room and Rithain came out from down the hallway, straightening his black hair with a hand. “The Rabanaur’s?” He asked. “Looking for some vengeance, perhaps?”
“I doubt that.” Hedrick said. “What can you see, Grim?”
“Bloody-damned-nuffin’s wud Uh see, boss.”
Everyone turned and looked at Hedrick, Jaccen felt himself included. Just then a piercing note split the air persistently like the highest note of an organ whose musician fell asleep with his finger to the key.
“What did I tell you?!” Fritz snapped facing Hedrick. “It’s them!”
“Be quiet.” Hedrick said quickly. “We have no choice but to vanish.”
“And I was starting to get acquainted with this dump too.” Rithain said.
Hedrick ignored him. “Grim, can you provide a distraction and not get carried away?”
“Shir thing, boss.”
The next few seconds flashed so quickly Jaccen had a hard time following. At the same moment he heard Kathraan’s voice speaking, “Alright, people, we’re goin’ underground.” Grim vanished and the front door was sent flying into a thousand splinters of wood. His eyes were drawn outside the vacant opening to the three figures standing in a perfect triangle on the lawn. They were tall, humanoid figures, as tall as Grim, and their faces were lost in the light that seemed to radiate from them. In each of their hands they clasped a flame that flickered and danced and came to a point as sharp as a sword. He noticed the pure white, wings protruding from each of the three’s backs, like shards of glass. It seemed that in the very instant the door had shattered Grim was attacking the nearest one as the other two swarmed around him. Everyone was shouting in a mad sea of voices.
“Those are Thrones!”
“This is his fault! He brought them on us!”
“Grim, get outta there!”
“Look at how many there are!”
“He’s going down.”
“They’re gonna kill him.”
“Forget it, just run!”
Everyone was out the door as the three figures converged upon Grim bearing their weapons of flame. As Jaccen found himself on the lawn he could see at least a dozen nondescript shapes of light circling around them. The giant that wanted to kill him the night before was in a fight for his life against three figures that seemed to have no intention of losing. He could not fathom why he cared and before he knew what he was doing, Jaccen stepped into the fray to try and drive the winged creatures back.
Driven on instinct alone he dashed forward, struck one in the back with his knee, and leapt over its flailing wings to kick it into one of the others. Grim was face down in the grass. A flame came towards his legs, without a thought he kicked at it and was surprised to see, from the corner of his eye, it sail through the air, and dissipate into nothing. He noticed Kathraan was getting Grim to his feet as another figure attacked from behind; he spun, grabbed its arms and, ignoring a searing pain that shot through his hands, tossed it away. The things were relentless. Two more were beside him and he kicked, swiped and danced, just to keep them away. Somehow he managed to notice that Hedrick, Fritz, and Rithain were doing something to keep some circular balls of light at bay at the edge of the lawn. He felt like he was dreaming. Kathraan and Grim were reaching them. Then he heard her voice shouting towards him.
“C’MON!”
Something pierced his sides and he found one of the creatures had dug both of his hands into him. Shaking violently he broke free and tossed it into one of the others, then, as quickly as he could manage, which was actually much faster than he could imagine, he joined the others and together the six ran behind the house and through an alley.
They jumped walls and twisted through back streets never once bothering to look behind them at the bright figures in constant pursuit.
“Fritz, get us underground. We need a portal now.” Hedrick hissed as they continued to run.
“I’ve been trying, but I can’t here.” He said never breaking step. “Just keep running.”
Jaccen felt as if he would collapse at any moment. His sides were gasping in pain. Determination kept him just behind Grim and Kathraan who, helping each other, were a just little faster than he could manage. It was obvious, though, even in their flight, that Grim was having a hard time. Just then Fritz stopped suddenly drawing Jaccen to a panting halt. Fritz, leaning over to one side, spread his arms as wide as he could and between his open hands sprouted a thick dark substance impenetrable by any light. It look like an oil spill floating in the air.
“Everybody in.” Fritz shouted. Hedrick and Rithain ran straight into it and disappeared without ever slowing. Grim and Kathraan followed. Jaccen took a step forward naturally.
“Forget it, kid,” He said his face set in a hard scowl. He straightened himself and pulled the pitch-black, ovular mass behind him. “But this is as far as you go.” Without waiting for a response he stepped into it and instantly both he and the portal vanished leaving Jaccen alone in the alley with the flaming-white creatures closing in.

------

I guess my big question is, as readers do you feel like you relate enough to Jaccen in that short period to be concerned about the cliffhanger he was left at? Or is more development needed prior to that? Of course if you want to comment about something else entirely, that's always good too. See you all tomorrow!

Jaccen's story part 2

Continuing from the excerpt of the novel I posted on June 9th, here's the second scene of the story. As always, all comments are welcome.


When Jaccen awoke the first thing he noticed was he was no longer outside. He could hear the steady fall of rain beating against the roof above him. He could also hear the sounds of several voices speaking. He decided he was in no hurry to open his eyes and kept them closed for a moment, listening to the conversation and trying not to stir.
“So he don‘t ‘member nuffin, eh?” A gruff voice was saying.
“It is not that uncommon.” The unmistakable whisper of the voice Jaccen had heard earlier replied. “He has only been here for a matter of hours.”
“An’ you’ve ‘urd nuffin ‘bout ‘im?” The gruff voice continued his questions.
“No. You cannot expect them to give me tabs on everyone that comes our way.”
“I thoughts HE was sendin’ us summin’ good.” The gruff voice mumbled quieter.
“Yeah.” Came a female’s voice. “He’s naught but a little fenling, I bet. Doesn’t remember anything at all? He probably couldn’t make it back home, so they kicked him out just as soon as he got there.”
“Are we even sure he’s one of us?” Another male voice inquired.
“Well he’s awake,” said a fourth man. “Why don’t we ask him?”
“Good idear.” The gruff voice said. Jaccen could hear the sound of movement as someone stood and the heavy pad of feet coming his way. “Ay, you!” He crossed over to where Jaccen was lying on the couch. “Git up.”
Large hands grasped the still wet folds of his coat and hoisted him to his feet easily. His eyes popped open, but he quickly blinked them as his feet gave out underneath his body. The same large hands kept him standing.
“Wut ya got to say for yerrself, eh?”
Jaccen did not know what to say, so he kept quiet.
“Ya onna us or wut?”
“He doesn’t know what you’re goin’ on about, Grim.” The woman said. “He won’t answer you.” She sighed.
“Uh, yeah.” Jaccen stared back at the lumpy, round face of the giant man holding him. He had a moment to look behind this brute and glimpse the faces of the other voices he had heard.
In a soft recliner farthest from him sat the strange man he had met earlier. To the left an attractive man and woman sat together on another couch. To Jaccen’s right sat another man staring at him. The stranger’s eyes were narrow and shining. The man’s dark black hair shimmered with an iridescent hue in the dim light of the room. Jaccen found himself drawn into the man’s eyes and could not look away. Then the man spoke.
“Let‘s see your back.”
“Wha--?” He had no time to ponder this statement as, the giant called Grim took the initiative by ripping his wet hooded sweatshirt and equally wet shirt clean from his shoulders. The rough hands grabbed his flesh and spun him around.
“Well uh’ll be gud-damned.” He muttered staring at the two large scars that ran parallel along his spine starting at his shoulder blades. They were recent, and as his captor jabbed a hard finger into the one on his left side, Jaccen winced and bit his lip, but could not pull away from the man’s strong grasp. “Ya’ll see dese? Ez onna dem.”
“Maybe.” said the man sitting alone on the couch. “Show us his feet.”
Grim obliged by shoving Jaccen down into the couch and fumblingly removed his shoes and socks. He studied his feet for a moment, and Jaccen sank back in the couch clenching his fists.
“Yeehap. Dey’re marked ulright.” He said. Then after a moment he let go of Jaccen’s feet and moved away. The giant turned and looked back at the man on the recliner eyes open wide and his mouth twisted in a frown. “Wut’s dat mean?”
“Hmph.” The man on the couch scoffed, stood up, and walked out of the room disappearing down the hall.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Grim.” The woman said. “Relax.”
He looked back at Jaccen, who was staring at the empty coffee table between them all blankly, wondering what was happening. The man’s large face twisted.
“Nah, we can’t take no chances. We needs to toast ‘im now!” He said bashing his large fists together. Jaccen could not help but jump.
The man beside the lady laughed.
“Sit down, Grim.” The whisper came from the recliner and silenced the entire room. Grim did as he was told, sitting on the empty couch, but not before casting Jaccen a scathing glance.
“Still, the ol’ lugs got a point there, Hedrick.” Spoke the man beside the woman. “We aren’t exactly at a point where we can afford to take chances. Not right now.”
Hedrick leaned forward and continued in his soft whisper so strongly Jaccen could feel his entire body tense.
“Do not forget I bear similar marks upon my own back.” He turned around to glance at the other man who had just come back into the room and was now standing in the archway from the hall. Then he turned his burning eyes to Jaccen. “And all of you know where it is that I came from!”
“True,” said the man from the hall, “but you remember.”
“Uh still thinks we oughtta waste ‘im ‘ere and now.”
“Relax, Grim.” The woman purred. “The boss knows what he’s doing. If he says he’s one of us, he’s one of us.” She cast a glance at Hedrick who noticed it and nodded.
“He is one of us.”
She smiled then and crossed the room with a cat-like grace. She sat down beside Jaccen so closely that he could feel the warmth that radiated from her skin even between the dampness of the pants he still wore.
“You gonna say anything, kid?” The man still sitting on the couch asked.
Jaccen narrowed his bright blue eyes and looked directly at him for a long moment before responding.
“I feel like I’m the brunt of a really bad joke.” He said at length.
Jaccen noticed Hedrick and the other man exchange raised eyebrows, even as the man in the hall immediately began to laugh. “You’ve hit the nail on the head with that, fenling. You’ve hit the nail on the head.”
Jaccen threw his hands in the air and sighed. “Does someone wanna tell me what’s going on?”
The man in the hall made a sound from his throat and disappeared back down it once again. The big man called Grim shifted where he sat and the entire couch protested beneath him. The other two were silent and Jaccen cast his eyes upon the whispering Hedrick. The man met his gaze without blinking.
“You are welcome to stay here with us, of course.” Hedrick ignored his question and leaned forward in his seat, stretched his hand, and rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “In fact I’d recommend it.”
Jaccen stared back with his face set in stone so hard his thoughts were made clearer than if he had used words.
“Where would you go, love?” The woman purred beside him and placed her hand on his bare shoulder. “What would you do?”
His expression faltered and he cast his gaze to the ground.
“She’s got a point, kid.” said the man on the couch. “If you were to go out there as you are now, you wouldn’t last a day. They’d destroy you before you could even wonder why.”
“Bes’ fir us.” Grim muttered.
Without lifting his head Jaccen let his eyes flutter to each of the four with him in the room, he stood up slowly and stared directly at Hedrick his normally bright blue eyes flashed as silver slits beneath his narrowed lids. “No.” He said slowly. His voice came out in a harsh whisper that matched the others. “You bring me here, strip me, and appraise me like someone’s property. All I want to know is what in the hell is going on?”
“Well yuh aint in hell no more, ya moron, so git ovit” Grim said, stretching out on the couch and facing him.
Jaccen stared at him intensely. “What the FUCK are you talking about?!”.
Before anyone else could answer there was a voice from behind him that spun Jaccen around.
“So, the fenling has indeed grown claws, has he?” There in the shadows of the corner stood the same man that had disappeared down the hallway with a sneering grin plastered upon his face. Jaccen was certain he had not walked back through the room, but he had gotten behind him and in the fleeting seconds that passed between them, he briefly wondered why this was.
Then their eyes met for the second time--his piercing silver, to the stranger’s deep and black. Each glared at the other with ferocity. Then the man became a black mist falling to the floor like a shadow. The shadow shot forward quicker than the eye could follow and just as quickly the man appeared in Jaccen’s face striking towards him with a clawed hand.
Jaccen was instantly outside himself, a slave to an instinct he knew nothing about. Without moving he was behind his attacker and between the couch and the wall. His hand had grasped tightly around the man’s neck and with little effort he pulled him off his feet, over the couch, and pinned him against the wall with his hand still wrapped around his throat.
Then he came back to himself. For a moment, the pairs’ eyes remained locked. “That’s another thing.” Jaccen said still whispering, he let the man go and turned around to look at the others in the room. “Just what the fuck is a fenling?”
With his attention turned, the man lurched forward and Jaccen felt something pierce his abdomen. Looking down at his bare flesh he a saw a thick, black substance pouring freely from finger-sized holes in his stomach. His hand clasped over it as he felt his knees beginning to buckle. Looking up at the man, expecting to see that twisted grin, he was surprised instead to see him chewing his lip. He slumped backwards but the woman had caught him. He gazed up at her slender face and saw the scowl that she gave the man before she turned and helped Jaccen slump back to the couch.
“He’ll be fine.” The man said quietly still chewing his lip.

Back upon the couch time ceased to hold a value to him. Jaccen’s head slumped backwards into the pillows without any effort of his own. He found that try as he might he could not open his eyes, but realized at once that he was aware of everything within the room. So acutely aware he was of every movement that in his semi-conscious state Jaccen imagined he was a sixth body perched upon the ceiling and clearly watching everything below.
“He had bested you, Fritz.” The woman was saying.
“Awffly fass, he was, thas fir sure.”
“They are right, Hedrick.” The one man was saying. “No mere fenling, moves that quickly. Not without having some memories or sense of purpose. When they have that kind of control, they know why they‘re here.”
“I’m not even convinced he is one of us.” Fritz, the one who had attacked him, said. “How convenient is itfor one off them to get to us just by playing ignorant well?”
“Xactly! E’s gonna bring da ’ole damned Powers and Thrones downed on us. Real quick. Juss yuh wait.”
“And you’re buying into the whole damned thing.” Spoke Fritz.
“Look,” Hedrick hissed, commanding their silence. “All I know is he showed up exactly where and exactly when they told me he would. We have all been at this long enough to know that when we’re told we have a new recruit we have a new recruit.” He shifted in his chair and stared his fiery gaze directly at Fritz, his whisper rose in tone ever so slightly. “The idea of him being a spy for their side is preposterous. Deception? That is not their style. It never has been and never will be. No, they will blow their bloody trumpets and ring their bloody bells and make-bloody-damn-sure we know they are killing us all the while staring us in the face! It has always been that way with them.”
Fritz kicked the table with his foot.“ The game’s changed, Hedrick. Things aren’t played the way they used to be. I’m wondering if you haven’t been here fighting this damned thing for far too long to see it.”
Hedrick scooted to the edge of his recliner and leaned his elbows on the glass table his eyes never leaving Fritz. “Some things do not change, imp.” He spoke softly. “You would be best to remember that.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Besides, I never said I thought he was one of them it’s possible one of the others got to your source and planted him. Everyone knows the balance of power has been shifting too much back home.”
“Got to MY source? I doubt that, very much.”
“I know you do, and that’s the problem. It IS possible.”
“Uhlright fella’s, hate to innerup, but, uh can’t listen no more. Git me when youse done so uh cin git some sleep. Uh’m wit’ ya boss, but juss know uh think yous makin’ a mistake dis time.” With that the giant stood up and thundered out of the room.
“Noted.” Hedrick said as Grim made his way out. “And you, Kathraan?”
“The game’s changed, boss.” The woman answered. “That much is true, but we don’t know in what way and we’ve always come out on top in the past.” She turned her head to look at the unmoving Jaccen and stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Besides he’s here now, and we are better off keeping him were we can see him.”
“Or we could just kill him.” Fritz offered.
“Could we?” She challenged, quirking her eyebrow at him.
“I might venture a guess as to why you’d prefer not to. He is quite the looker.” Fritz snapped.
Hedrick interrupted quickly addressing the last man still sitting alone on the couch. “And what of you Rithain? What do you think of this matter?”
“Since when did our opinions matter?” Rithain said standing up. “I didn’t realize we’ve become a democracy.”
“By The Serpent, we have existed here too long.” Hedrick said, his harsh whisper softening.
“I want to go home.” Kathraan mused.
“Or have them get their shit together there so we could make this our home.” Fritz added.
“Well, comrades, I’m off to sleep.” Rithain laughed. “You coming, Kat?”
“Not just yet.”
“Suit yourself.” He answered brusquely and quickly walked away. Fritz followed and the two disappeared down the hallway.
Hedrick waited a few moments, watching Kathraan and Jaccen together on the couch then, within the blink of an eye; he disappeared leaving the recliner rocking with his absence.

-------

So what do you think so far?

Jaccen's Story

The following entry is the opening scene in an untitled novel I started sometime back and have since set aside unfinished to return to later. I don't want to say too much about it right off the start, prefering you to get a glimpse at it yourselves, but I will at least preface it by saying it's a work of fantasy/science-fiction. Sort of. I don't know, I'm terrible with classifications. It's strange. There's a bit more I can post of it later if anyone is interested let me know. Of course, as always I welcome all questions and comments. Till next time, enjoy.



A solitary lightning bolt split the dark, cloudy sky driving back the torrential rain. The bolt crashed to the ground below. Tall buildings nearby shuddered from the onslaught as the lightning’s fury was released upon a mighty oak tree. It split raggedly in two smoldering sections that fell in opposite directions upon the rain-beaten grass of a small city park. Below the tree and out of harm’s way of the fallen trunk lay the body of a young man who just now was beginning to stir.
Awakening, the man sat up slowly. His blue eyes blinked repeatedly as he looked around. He raised his arms in front of his face and stared at his hands. One by one his fingers began to move. He stretched them, and with his left hand felt his face.
It was a thin face with a hard jaw line sunken back within his cheeks. He traced his jaw with the tips of his fingers and felt the thin stubble of facial hair. His hand continued back behind his head to feel the thick, matted hair running down along the back of his neck. Then his hand touched something else. He grabbed and pulled at it and felt something constrict around his chest. Looking down he noticed that he was covered in a heavy, gray cotton jacket. He looked down at his pants and stretched his legs as the rain continued to pummel him.
It was then that he noticed in front of his outstretched legs, a few feet away, placed in the ground was a crude wooden signboard. Standing up shakily, he slowly made his way towards it. Attached to the sign was tacked a sheet of paper. Upon it words were scrawled in a delicate hand. He stared at them for several long moments before, blinking his eyes, he realized he could read them. They read:
"Come, weary traveler, to the rust awning on Sixth and Lily where you shall be received and set upon your path."
The paper was signed:
"Hedrick--Fate of The Serpent"
He began to reread them, but almost immediately was interrupted as the falling rain saturated the paper and the ink began to smear. The paper dissolved beneath the touch of his finger. The remaining scraps fell from the wood and pooled within the grass. He stared down at them between his feet until all traces became one with the earth.
As he stood there, staring at the wooden post, he thrust his hands into the front pockets of his jacket. His fingers brushed a piece a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it he read the single word written upon it in red ink.
"Jaccen?" At the sound of his voice he glanced up and looked behind him. Seeing nothing he read it aloud again. "Jaccen." He turned the name over in his mind hoping for recognition, but there was none. The name meant nothing, it may as well be him.
A sudden gust of wind sent the rain to pelt him in his face and ripped the piece of paper from his hand. He watched as it tumbled away from him and disappeared. A quick search of his other pockets revealed only a full pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter. He stared at them demanding the objects to provide him with answers. Even these meant nothing. He knew what they were, that was obvious as he put a cigarette to his lips and began the struggle of lighting it in the rain. He did not, however, know where they came from or why he had them.
After a moment of failing to light the cigarette he thrust them back within his pockets. With a sigh he turned back to the wooden sign in front of him. Staring at the blank wood he reread the words in his mind as he had read them. They too meant nothing. He lashed out with his hand and struck the side of the small piece of wood. It tore out of the ground and fell to the muddy grass with a muffled splash. His palm rang with a sharp pain that he ignored.
The coldness of the rain beating upon his head was uncomfortable, he realized, and he reached behind him and covered himself with his hood. Leaving the grass of the park he stepped upon a paved sidewalk. He looked around and saw nothing but darkened buildings and puddles and deserted streets. Any direction was as good as any, he supposed. Without knowing where he was going he began to walk, twisting the lighter about in his pocket.
At length Jaccen stopped and leaned against a metal post jutting from the pavement. His legs shook beneath him and he grasped the cold wet metal with his hand to steady himself. He looked up at the side of the building across the street where someone had sprayed in garish colors letters that seemed to him unreadable.
"So, what now?" He said aloud to himself, his voice raw and grating within his throat. He stepped away and looked up at what had supported him. At the top of the post were two rectangular green signs facing different directions. Street signs he realized. He stepped a little to the side.
He was standing on the corner of "2nd" and "Lily." Lily. The words he had read earlier instantly came to mind. He looked down the street in the direction indicated. It was as deserted as every other he had been on. The entire city seemed devoid of life. With a sigh he began to walk while bringing a cigarette to his lips.
The rain was falling steadily upon Jaccen as he walked the empty street. He spit the ruined cigarette from his lips and followed it quickly with his eyes, watching it disintegrate within a puddle even as he stepped over it. He pulled the hood of his jacket tighter around his head and suppressed a shiver.
The sound of the rain drowned out those of his own soggy footsteps and as he walked he found it hard to focus on anything but the cold, chafing of his clothes. The fog that snaked around the deserted streets seemed to part before him as he made his way onward. Soon, he could make out the hazy outline of the rust colored awning he had been looking for. As he neared it, his eyes scanned the building of which it was attached. His lips curled slightly in a frown that twisted his thin face inwards.
Stepping underneath the awning, he at once felt at home within the deep shadows below it. He faced the street and tried to dry his hands upon his clothes. After a thorough attempt he settled for shaking them and wringing them together. Deftly, he pulled a cigarette from his mouth and placed it to his lips. He touched the end with the tip of his finger, before dropping his hand to his pocket and finding that small piece of plastic and metal that seemed so vital. He sparked the flame and stared at it intensely, with empty blue eyes, before bringing it to meet his cigarette. A deep breath of the stuff seared his lungs, and he swallowed hard to keep from coughing."A disgusting habit." Came the soft, whisper of a voice from the shadows behind him. "According to some."Jaccen stared ahead at the waterfall pouring over the edge of the awning. His eyes steady. He did not move except to draw another breath from the tobacco burning in his fingers."Does it always rain in this damned place?" He asked.The voice said nothing, but Jaccen could hear the body that belonged to it slither from against the wall. He was aware of it hovering behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his body shivered slightly."Damned place, eh?" It continued to whisper behind the hood that covered Jaccen's ears. He was sure it was a male's voice. "How much do you remember?"Jaccen spit. "Nothing!""Indeed?" The voice was silent for a long moment and Jaccen felt a sensation he could not recognize within himself. He took another drag and this time could not control the desire to cough."You will get used to it." The voice said."Get used to what? Smoking?" He asked gritting his teeth."Living." The hissing continued. "The rain. Smoking. Take your pick. You get used to it."The man came to stand beside him and Jaccen withdrew his hood to appraise him with the corner of his eye. He seemed normal enough though small, perhaps. His physique was hidden beneath a brown trench coat, but he gave the impression of being thin and wiry. His eyes sparkled like a jewel, crafty and keen.. The fire within them seemed familiar to him, but try as he might he could not place it."You're not fond of this world are you?" The man asked in his hissing tone."What? What kind of question is that? Should I be? Who the hell are you?" Jaccen spat back in his own grating voice.The figure beside him laughed a harsh sound, that caused Jaccen to recoil."Should you be?" It mused. "Perhaps. You are here now, are you not? Stick around long enough and you might find something to be fond of.""As if I had a choice. . ." Jaccen turned to face the stranger but all he saw was a brief glimpse of blackness disappearing back into the shadows along the wall.
"You coming?" The bodiless voice drifted from the wall.
Jaccen lurched around expecting to see him in the shadows, but there was nothing. Suddenly he wavered upon his feet. He caught himself and pressed his hands against his head. He tried to focus his eyes, but everything was blurry. He took a step forward and collapsed upon the pavement with the dim sounds of laughter and rain meeting his ears before all went black.