Young Writers Society

ashleylee wrote:Sorry it took me so long to put this on here...I've been SUPER busy!

Well, here is chapter eight!

Happy Reading!

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The road is fairly easy to travel. [s]There is little to see on the way.[/s] Once we leave the city limits, the landscape is [s]fairly[/s] flat and grassy, but without the colorful splotches of flowers littering the ground When you say but without, usually you are referring to another place that would have flowers. Take but out and the out or say compared to my hometown or something at the end. it just felt a bit awkward . It is what strikes me as so strange. In Greece, flowers are plentiful. But here, they seem to only thrive in the courtyards.
We make good time and arrive at the Inn earlier than planned. Delicia is apprehensive about traveling in the dead of night so we enter the Inn after giving out horses over to the stables. The family who own it are kind and generous, allowing us spacious rooms and baths to wash in, which we use gratefully. You do a lot of telling in these two paragraphs. It just felt a little bit rushed. Show us at least a little bit of the ride and the way the Delicia is apprehensive about the night. You don't have to go crazy, I just don't really like the telling element
Once retired to our rooms, I lay on my back, hands tucked behind my head. Delicia is organizing for the following day, re-packing our food supplies and jugs of water, Take out this comma after refilling them in the well outside. “You know, we might be able to reach the cottage before nightfall at the rate we are going.” She smiles [s]cheerfully[/s] and I grin [s]at the news[/s].
“That’s good,” I comment.
“Very good,” she agrees before removing her sandals, relaxing on the bed beside me. “What troubles you, Isa?” This is the new nickname she has begun to call me and I have become fairly fond of it.
I frown and turn my head to look at her from across the way. “Why do you assume something troubles me?”
“It is your eyes. Stormy.” She says Said/says is a beautiful word nowadays. People use it so much and read it so much that it becomes nearly invisible. You don't have to use other words. [s]explains[/s]. At the mention of a storm, my mind conjures up an image of Nicandro. [s]Painfully clear[/s], I can see ever detail of his face clearly as though he was standing [s]stands [/s]before me. I close my eyes and then open them, ridding myself of the image.
“I miss home.” The lie comes easy to me, and I fear I have begun a horrible habit.
Delicia smiles sympathetically. “Rome is nothing like Greece?”
I shake my head. “Nothing at all.”
“Well, once business is taken care of [s]flowing smoothly[/s], [s]Amycus and[/s] you can return home.” I nod and roll over, displaying that I wish for the conversation to end. Delicia takes the hint and blows out the lantern. The room plunges into darkness and the demons of my sleep slip into my cloud of peace and ruins my serenity. Loved this sentence
I see Marino again and I am the one he fights. I dodge and feign, swerving with remarkable speed. Marino grows tired, beads of sweat perspiring on his forehead, and his hands loosen their grip on the sword. I go to plunge my own weapon into his shoulder, but he is quicker and I lo[s]o[/s]se my footing. He [s]easily[/s] swings around and plunges the tip of his sword through my back. The point sticks out above my belt and blood drips from the wound. I shudder when it is removed and my head feels light as I lo[s]o[/s]se lots of blood Show us instead of telling us that she loses blood, that she sees her blood drench her shirt or something . I try to stem [s]stop[/s] the flow with my fingers Insert comma but I only succeed in staining them red. I drop to my knees, defeated, and Marino stands over me, victory shining in his eyes while the crowd shouts for my blood. His eyes cloud with regret Insert comma but as he lifts the sword, his figure changes and Caradoc is there.
I’m no longer in the arena, and I look down to see that I am miraculously healed. When I glance back up, I see Caradoc. He stands before a wild raging sea, the waves tumbling and roaring as though they are alive. His face is filled with anguish and I see that tears stain his face. I wish to comfort him. To console him. But my feet dig into the sand, slowing me down. Out of the darkness comes a woman. Her face isn’t clear but I hear Caradoc cry out to her. “Annamaria! Why?” He runs after her and I see the woman laughing. She grows into a giant, cackling like a witch. She stoops and easily grips Caradoc in her fist. He holds out his hands to her in a last desperate attempt. I hurry to help him from the monster’s clutches, but I am too late as she lifts her hand high and flings him into the crushing waves.
The scenes switch rapidly, and I look down to see that I am standing on [s]over[/s] glass-like tile. I look up and see that I am in my room. And Nicandro is there. He stands at the side of my bed. My heart leaps when I see him pull back the curtains. I think it will be me he has come for but when I near, I see that it is Celia. He bends, and kisses her passionately. She responds with the same amount of heat and he rolls into the covers with her. My knees buckle and my heart cracks as I awake.
“NO!” I shout and my eyes open [s]to see nothing but black[/s]. My chest heaves and my heart is pounding in my ears. My face drips as sweat beads roll down my face, stinging my eyes. I [s]s[/s]wipe them away and roll off my mattress, placing my feet on the cool, dirt floor. Delicia snores softly beside me, and I bury my head in my hands, shaking violently. Jupiter, help me god! I am lost. These dreams torment me and I fear I am going mad. Oh wise Jupiter, tell me what they mean? Why do these demons lurk in the dark recesses of my mind, bringing out the horrors in me? My body gives a jerk and I give out one last plea.
Jupiter, king of kings, father of all the gods, please help me!

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Delicia is right in her assumption that we will reach the cottage before nightfall. And sure enough, just as the sun starts its decent in the sky, we round a bend, and there Insert comma in all its glory Insert comma is the cottage. Actually, it looks more like a palace to me with its tall walls and red-tiled roof but, to Delicia, I suppose it is a cottage compared to her home.
We corral the horses and traverse up the path, my legs aching from riding all day. I see with delight a patchwork garden in the back, like in Greece, and smile as we enter the home. It is cool to our fevered skin and I remove the hood shielding my head from the heat. A slave appears at our entrance and greets us warmly. She offers clean clothes and a warm bath. Delicia allows me to go first, and I thank her [s]graciously[/s] before following the slave to the bathing room. Again, telling isn't bad, but I'm more of a showing person. Show me.
There, she sets out a towel and a fresh tunic and belt. I gaze around at the large bathing pool christened the tepidarium Is this the name of the bathing pool? If so, shouldn't it be capitalized? . I shiver with delight as I remove my soiled tunic. Diving headfirst into the water, my heart sings as I scrub dirt from my body until it is glistening. I float for a while, treading water and thinking of how long our stay at the cottage will be. Delicia has failed to mention that important fact to me.
A door slams and I start, covering my exposed breast with chilled hands. “Hello?” I call out tentatively. I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see it is only the slave girl, equipped with a strigil and a bottle of oil. She asks if I would enjoy a massage and I nod, excited by the prospect. I have grown accustomed to the Roman’s way of bathing. I remember my first bath, and find that I no longer cringe at the prospect of being nude before others. I also discover that I happily await massages after bathing, and a quick dip in the frigidarium. Again, too much telling. but it's good to have a mix, so you can just ignore some of my anti-telling comments
The woman hands me the oil, and I pour some into my palms before smoothing it over my [s]slick[/s] skin. She hands me a towel, and I tie it snugly beneath my armpits before following her to a table where I remove my towel and lay on my stomach. Her hands are experienced and knead into the muscles that ache from riding. She loosens the knots that reside in my back, and I sigh with contentment as my body slowly relaxes.
The massage ends too soon and she scrapes the excess oil from my body with the strigil. I am then led with sleepy eyes to the frigidarium. I know that once I plunge into the cold waters, I will be wide-awake. With a shake of my hair, I dive into the waters and the ice-like water shocks my system. I surface with a splash and crawl from the water as quickly as I can. I replace the towel over me and the servant leads me away with a smile.
I follow her to the upper quarters and she displays what it is to be my room during my stay. It is a beautiful room with murals adorning the walls. They are paintings that depict [s]of all things [/s]nature. One is of the sea on a sunny afternoon and a girl stands before the waves, her feet buried in the sand and her head bend back to let the wind whip through her hair. Another is a picture of a sunrise, the reds and oranges so life-like, I dare to tough them and run my [s]slender[/s] fingers over the vibrant colors. The servant girl sees my pleasure and voices her thoughts. “Will this be to your liking?” she asks with a tiny grin.
“Oh, yes.” I smile warmly and she departs without another word.

I proceed to dress myself in a simple brown tunic that runs to my knees and a worn leather belt. I tie my hair high up on my head and slip on my slippers. In my Greek attire and the murals circling the walls, I feel more at home than ever before. I run my fingers over the silk bed sheets of my small single bed and trace the contours of the bed posts’ engravings of swirling designs with the tip of my nail. My knees buckle and fatigue is ejected into my system ejected didn't sound right here. Another word perhaps? Her body gives into a wave of exhaustian or something . It takes on the form of a drug, swimming in my veins until I am consumed by the urge to slumber. I collapse on the bed and my eyes flutter once, twice, until darkness engulfs me.

~ ~ ~ ~

We stay for exactly one week at the cottage. It is a comfortable place. Delicia and I spend hours in the patchwork garden, hoeing and shifting dirt, making it easier for the seedlings sprouting in the warm air. Laughter is the main music drifting around us and we bask in the glow of the sun. At sundown, we eat vegetables from the garden and skewed meat. I relish every content and happy moment, but [s]too soon[/s], we make our departure too soon.
Delicia regards me as I saddle up the creamy-white mare. “Isa, dear, why so grim? We are returning home!” I can see in her eyes the happiness at this news. I see the longing to see her husband and witness her son. But my own reflects sorrow and dread. I will not tell her of my sudden dreamless nights since arriving here or of the fear I feel grip me at the thought of them returning once I leave this place of peace. I haven't really read the other chapters, but why exactly did she even go there? I mean she took a bath, changed her clothes, and then they just leave back for Greece? Just a thought
I just plaster a smile on my face and assure her with words soaked in lies. “I am happy, Delicia! Father will be thrilled at our return. I am just tired.” Delicia nods Insert comma but I see that she knows that I am lying. I quickly turn away and mount the mare. She snorts and I pat her neck reassuringly. Delicia mounts beside me and we exit the barn. Servants wave from doorways and windows, wishing us the best on the road back to Rome.

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When we reach the Inn, I know [s]see[/s] immediately that something is wrong. [s]The laughter is wiped clean from my face and I speed the mare into a trot.[/s] The Inn has been ransacked. Slashed curtains hang in shreds from open windows and broken furniture litters the street from being thrown from the upper stories. I leap from the mare’s back and approach the trembling shop owner and his elderly wife. Here is a good example of why I hate telling so much! Okay, so she's riding along and then you state that she knows something's wrong. Then you say the inn has been ransacked. Then you go on to describe it. I recommend describing the Inn first, taking out the sentences that say I know something is wrong and the sentence the Inn has been ransacked. Let your words paint the picture and guide your readers to conclusions instead of telling them what happened. “What happened?” I ask and the wife grips my wrist.
“Oh child, leave this dreadful place!” Her eyes are wide and I fear she has gone mad in all the pandemonium.
I look to her husband and he nods severely in agreement. “’Tis not a place for such fine women.” I sigh and look to Delicia for guidance but she only stares at the Inn doorway in fear as it swings from one hinge in the light breeze. New paragraph Suddenly, the wife shrieks. “They were looking for ye’ all!” She points at Delicia and me and I back away, frightened.[s] I turn to gauge Delicia’s reaction and see that [/s]Delicia is deathly pale, staring at the women with a look of pure, unadulterated fear. I cringe at such raw emotion and approach her cautiously. New Paragraph “Delicia,” I start, reaching out for her arm. She flinches and runs towards the horses as the woman breaks into sobs of grief [s]at the loss she has experienced.[/s] “Delicia!” I shout but she has already mounted the chestnut stallion and urges me to do the same. “What’s going on?” I demand, keeping my two feet firmly planted in the dusty earth.
He eyes are pleading. “Please Isadora! We have to go!”
“Why?” I say, refusing to move [s]stay planted[/s].
Delicia sighs deeply. “I will tell you on the way. Let’s just go!” I hear the panic in her voice and crumble in defeat as I climb aboard. With one last look back, we gallop into the increasing darkness.
“Delicia!” I shout as I catch up to ride beside her. Her hood has flown back, exposing her hair, which has sprang free of its bun. Her face is serene in the setting sun, tingeing her skin red and yellow Serene? This girl was just out of her mind. try not to change to quickly . “Delicia!” I say, sharper [s]across the way between our two horses’ bodies[/s]. She starts and looks at me with wild, fearful eyes. I narrow my own in bewilderment. She shakes her head and I sigh before yelling. “Back to Rome then?”
“Back to Rome.” Delicia nods with a finality that creates anxiety in the pit of my stomach, chewing away with agonizing persistence.

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I finally glimpse Rome’s towering homes at the evening of the following day. We have been riding since the night before and my eyelids droop with fatigue. Delicia calls out with a sharp. “Isadora!” And I jolt awake. “It is only a few more blocks.” She promises as we enter into the safety of the city’s walls.
The roads are quiet and peaceful, the sun slashing lengthening shadows across our path. I struggle to keep my eyes open as we keep our horses to a soft walk, minimizing the chances of being heard. A cry of alarm is heard near-by and my mare’s ears twitch, looking in the direction of the sound. I follow her gaze Insert comma but only meet solid wall. Who ever cried out is well hidden on the other side of the homes in a parallel road. I glance sideways at Delicia and she puts a finger to her lips to silence the words that form on my tongue. I swallow them down with a painful gulp and stare straight ahead, beads of sweat circling my wrists and neck. I think of the insane women back at the Inn and my blood cools, sending a shiver down my spine. Her crazy bluish-white orbs widened in fear and pointed with a shaking finger towards Delicia as if it was her fault the Inn was ransacked.
Maybe it was[s]? [/s] .A voice slithers into my ears and echoes in my head. I shake my head, removing the voice and knocking the reins smartly, making them crack near the mare’s ears. She darts forward and I slow her once we are side by side with Delicia again.
I notice that we are nearing the home and soon enough, through the gloom, I see the house in all its glory. I race forward. A figure leaps in front of me and the mare rears with a mighty neigh. I lo[s]o[/s]se my balance and land roughly on the ground, hitting my head on the cobblestone road. White spots flicker before my eyes and a blurry figure appears in my vision. Just before I pass out, I see the figure’s eyes, an intense smoky film before my world slips into a soundless void of black.

~ ~ ~ ~

I wake in the comforts of a plush sofa. Voices buzz annoyingly close and my head throbs as if a hammer is slamming continuously into my skull. I moan and lay back down as my eyes fail to focus on the ceiling above. Someone stirs near me and takes my hand. “Isadora, beloved.” [s]It is [/s]my father’s warm voice that heats my face and I try for a smile but it comes out as a grimace. I force my eyes open and my father’s beard swirls. I moan again and quickly close them, this time, keeping them closed.
“It’s just a bump. In a few hours, she’ll be herself again.” An unfamiliar voice sounds near my head, penetrating my ears with aching clarity. I turn slowly away as I hear footsteps receding and then, another’s voice appears on the other side of me. “Isa, sweetie.” It is Delicia now. “The doctor says you will be well in a few short hours.” I nod weakly and my head explodes in pain, making me cry out. I feel father’s sweaty palm squeeze my clammy one and I squeeze back lightly. I feel someone hands smooth the hair plastered to my forehead. The hand is soft and smooth of imperfections. I guess that is Delicia who performs the motherly gesture. I hear another two voices in the adjoining hall and strain to hear since my eyesight is useless at the moment. But I fail miserably. They are only a faint whisper of sound and I give up with a “Humph” of defeat.
Slowly, I try to open my eyes. Starting as only slits, I work my way until they are fully open. My world tilts and my head pounds Insert comma [olore=red], From the beginning of this scene I thought you said she opened her eyes. However, here you are telling us that her eyes are opening. Decide at which time she'll open her eyes [/color] but I am able to keep everybody clear. I smile weakly[s]obbly[/s] at Delicia who is leaning over the back of the couch. She smiles[s] softly [/s]and tucks a way-ward strand behind my ear. Her eyes are swimming with compassion and worry [s]and I am surprised to see that I am the one to bring about these loving qualities in her[/s]. I turn to father [s]then[/s]. He strokes my wrist with his thumb and [s]I see that [/s]his eyes are filled with tears of anxiety. I try to comfort him by parting my lips to what I hope is a convincing smile, all the while my head feels as though it will crack open any minute, revealing my brain for all to see.
Two figures enter the room. Evander speaks. “Isadora, you awaken,” he says cheerily, placing his hands on each of his wife’s shoulders. I wink at him Okay, before she could barely open her eyes, and know she's winking? and he grins. Over his shoulder, I see Nicandro. I wish he would approach. I wish he would pay his condolences, express his worry over my fate. And yet, he does nothing. Just stands, staring at me with those smoky eyes. I frown slightly and look away from him. I turn to father. “What happened?” I ask [s]wondered, not remembering a thing of the past few hours.[/s] “Your horse reared when Nicandro came to greet you. You fell off and hit your heard pretty hard.” My father smiles tenderly at me.
I glance at Nicandro. “How did he know we were coming?” The whole Chandrenos family grows tense at my question. I go from one to the other, peering into their eyes to find some inch of truth amongst all the deceit. [s]I know they are hiding something. I just don’t know what.[/s] So many questions form inside my mouth Insert comma but my head is too injured to have an argument at the moment. Why was the Inn ransacked? Why was Delicia so frightened? Why did the mad women accuse her? And what were the Chandrenos running from? I let my eyes flutter close to keep the questions at bay and when I open them, I see that Delicia has stood. She glances down at me and smiles Insert comma but there is no warmth now. Anger fueled by fear swirls behind her carefully shielded eyes. I can see past her mask of relief and [s]see[/s] to the lines burrowed on her forehead, creasing her perfect complexion. I want to call out to her. Ask what troubles her. I want to be as close as we were at the cottage.
But I can feel the barrier already being established. She is home now. She has her family. I am back to being a guest and she is the host. “Rest Isadora. You need it.” And with that, she glides away, her snarled hair knotted down her back as she drifts from the room. [s]I see [/s]Evander inches[s]ing[/s] towards the door as well and I nod to give him permission to leave. It is only father, Nicandro, and I left. [s]I am surprised to find Nicandro still here. I had assumed he would be the first to leave. But yet, here he stands.[/s] I dare not look him in the eye and so I turn to father. [s]I notice that he[/s] The poor man looks dead on his feet.
Dark circles underline his hazel eyes and his beard is sprouting gray hairs [s]before my eyes[/s]. I smile sympathetically at him. “Father. Go rest.” I command softly. [s]I see the inner conflict now. He wishes to stay with me but a giant yawn forces him to pause.[/s] “Father,” I say softly, stroking his hand in mine. “Sleep. I’ll be fine.” I promise him. He forces himself to his feet, kisses my forehead gingerly before limping from the room. My heart aches when I see his hip hurt him so. I hadn’t thought of him kneeling beside me and the pain that must have caused him. I watched him go with sudden sorrow, as I know now I am alone.
I turn back and jolt when I see Nicandro still standing, as still as a statue. I watch him for a moment for any signs of life. His eyes flicker and I sigh, shifting softly on the sofa. I start when I see him so close, near the back of the couch. I still desire for him to speak but he stays mute. I clear my throat. “Well, are you just going to stand there?” I flinch when Nicandro glares. And without a word spoken, he leaves me alone in the darkening room.