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Old 11-30-2011, 09:40 PM   #1
SideShowFreak
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Beneath Our Feet (Modern Fantasy- Open)

Beneath Our Feet (Modern Fantasy- Open)

We think that we are the only sentient species on the planet. Sure, our movies are full of aliens and vampires, but those are just legends, superstitions, speculations and delusions. Every rational person, on learning that the fat man with the beard is a lie, learns not to believe. Well, what if we are all wrong? What if sentient life, outside modern humanity, hides closer than we think? What if it is right beneath our feet?

-------------------------------

Strings of Christmas lights lit up along main street, as the first few delivery boys left their shops with fresh loaves of bread and other essential items. The gigantic bulbs of the Christmas lights never lasted long, but were needed to provide illumination in the dark tunnels of the community. Some communities of the Hidden Ones, as they called themselves, resided in the walls of old houses, but the Under School Community had been dug into the earth under the cement foundations of the Unionville High School. The school was at the top of the hill, so flooding was not a problem, and scavengers had borrowed many types of flooring from the school's renovation projects, to line the roads of the community.

Nathaniel Blimpkin stood in this doorway, dressed in his overcoat against the cool air of the underground. His walking cane was in one hand. It concealed a needle sword, which he had found to many reasons to use as of late. He nodded to the children scampering by along their appointed tasks. School did not begin for another two hours, and there was always work to be done, even by the youngest of Littles. As the mayor of the Under School Community, his work was never finished.

Nathan was raised as the son of the communities librarian and spent time with his father stealing pages from the bigs books, to be copied into books that Littles could read. He read of Ali Babba, Huck Finn and King Arthur. It has always made him a bit of a dreamer. Still, when the old mayor, Fred Frostwick, tried to hide the dangers the Community was in, Nathaniel exposed him deception. Frostwick was soon voted out of office and the librarian, the son of librarians, became mayor.

Nathaniel was a slender, wiry fellow with thick brown hair, wire rimmed spectacles and a pointed chin. He wore gray trousers held up by a plastic buttoned belt, a shirt sown from stolen black and red flannel and boots, under his coat and a tired, serious expression his face.

It was barely morning, but there was much to be done. There was a scouting party from King Damascus's forces, over in the jail. They would have to be dealt with. He had heard how the Old Gray House Community had fallen under the heel of this despot, and he dare not let his friends and family suffer the same fate. With a weary rub of his eyes, he walked out under the multicolored lights and limped painfully passed doors made from old mouse traps, the bottoms of cigar boxes and the other scraps of the wasteful humans.

----------------------

Daralee had been named after the Creator Goddess, which she often found sadly amusing. She gave out her window to see the newly elected mayor headed toward city hall. There had been a time when she thought that the shy, thin librarian fancied her. He had popped around the school often enough, on one excuse or another, though he never said much. Dharma had not delusions about her looks. She was a bit beyond pleasantly plump and her hair was a mousey shade of brown. Still, she had hope. She never hoped to be like the swollen breasted goddess, mother of all her children, but she had hoped for a quiet sort of love, which grew through the years.

Now Nathaniel was a big man. He was no longer an unimportant librarian, but the mayor and protector of the community. He would have to take a wife soon. Propriety called for a first lady. She would be some young, rose cheeked beauty, worth of his new found importance. He certainly had not stopped off at the school recently, though she felt sure that she saw him stare at her a few times in the street, with an odd expression. Her hopes had once held life, but no longer. She could find some boring, ugly husband, who drank to much and saw her as a combination housekeeper and whore, but she did not want to live the life her poor mum had. She wanted Nathaniel. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stiffened her spin. There were still students to teach. She had a purpose, though not a love of her own.

------------------------------

As the morning hours stole into the always dark world of the community, shop keepers started to raise the shutters to their stalls and the night patrol headed home for some well earned sleep. Nathaniel nodded at Peters, the head of the night watch. Peters was a short, stout man with an open, friendly face, but those foolish enough to underestimate him had come to regret it.

"Any concerns Mr. Peters?" Nathaniel paused a moment, relishing the chance to rest his injured leg. "Found another mole tunnel down the Eastern outskirts. Gonna have to send a crew to deal with it."

Nathaniel nodded. "I'll inform works. Thank you Mr. Peters." Peters tipped his cap. On the front of in was the small numb of a candle which was extinguished. Some others on the night patrol and in the scouts had borrowed tiny LED lights, but Peters was hopelessly old school and stubborn to boot. Nathaniel could appreciate that. He did not like change either. The world was changing though, and the community would have to adapt, if they were all going to survive another season, much less another generation.

Nathaniel nodded, not having a cap to doff, and let Peters head on home. His wife Matilda would be waiting for his safe return.

------------------------------

Daralee leaned over and kissed her mother, who sat knitting stocking caps for the community's youngling. "I've got to go mum. Remember to eat." The gray hair woman gave her usual waspish look and grunted. She knew her mother's grumblings were only skin deep. She had never been one for expressing her feelings in words, but her whole life had been spent taking care of others, often at the expense of her own needs. It was that kind of life Daralee hoped to avoid. She knew that the community had needs, but she had watched her mother scrap herself thin for years, trying to please and ungrateful son of a bitch and to keep up appearances, even as her husband had drank gambled his way through life. She reached down and hugged the old woman's shoulders. Daralee was the daughter of Melba's later years, unexpected after raising three rowdy boys, and Daralee felt a special burden to help her mum, who often could not be bothered to help herself.

Dharma pulled her patchwork coat over her plain brown dress and buttoned the three big plastic buttons. Her long brown hair was pulled into two long braids which trailed down her back. She took her leather satchel in one hand and her stout oak staff in the other, as she ducked out their front door. The quiet of their dwelling gave way to scampering pupils working of their morning energy, men pushing food carts and calling their wares and women calling from stall fronts, hoping for a bit of custom. It made Daralee feel good, to see the community, her community, so full of life, despite the hardships they had faced and the new dangers on the horizon. Where there was life, and children, there was hope for a future.

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Old 11-30-2011, 10:48 PM   #2
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Old 12-01-2011, 10:19 AM   #3
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Old 12-01-2011, 02:22 PM   #4
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Old 12-01-2011, 11:16 PM   #5
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Old 12-02-2011, 10:26 AM   #6
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Old 01-29-2012, 08:27 AM   #7
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Originally Posted by SideShowFreak View Post
Beneath Our Feet (Modern Fantasy- Open)

We think that we are the only sentient species on the planet. Sure, our movies are full of aliens and vampires, but those are just legends, superstitions, speculations and delusions. Every rational person, on learning that the fat man with the beard is a lie, learns not to believe. Well, what if we are all wrong? What if sentient life, outside modern humanity, hides closer than we think? What if it is right beneath our feet?

-------------------------------

Strings of Christmas lights lit up along main street, as the first few delivery boys left their shops with fresh loaves of bread and other essential items. The gigantic bulbs of the Christmas lights never lasted long, but were needed to provide illumination in the dark tunnels of the community. Some communities of the Hidden Ones, as they called themselves, resided in the walls of old houses, but the Under School Community had been dug into the earth under the cement foundations of the Unionville High School. The school was at the top of the hill, so flooding was not a problem, and scavengers had borrowed many types of flooring from the school's renovation projects, to line the roads of the community.

Nathaniel Blimpkin stood in this doorway, dressed in his overcoat against the cool air of the underground. His walking cane was in one hand. It concealed a needle sword, which he had found to many reasons to use as of late. He nodded to the children scampering by along their appointed tasks. School did not begin for another two hours, and there was always work to be done, even by the youngest of Littles. As the mayor of the Under School Community, his work was never finished.

Nathan was raised as the son of the communities librarian and spent time with his father stealing pages from the bigs books, to be copied into books that Littles could read. He read of Ali Babba, Huck Finn and King Arthur. It has always made him a bit of a dreamer. Still, when the old mayor, Fred Frostwick, tried to hide the dangers the Community was in, Nathaniel exposed him deception. Frostwick was soon voted out of office and the librarian, the son of librarians, became mayor.

Nathaniel was a slender, wiry fellow with thick brown hair, wire rimmed spectacles and a pointed chin. He wore gray trousers held up by a plastic buttoned belt, a shirt sown from stolen black and red flannel and boots, under his coat and a tired, serious expression his face.

It was barely morning, but there was much to be done. There was a scouting party from King Damascus's forces, over in the jail. They would have to be dealt with. He had heard how the Old Gray House Community had fallen under the heel of this despot, and he dare not let his friends and family suffer the same fate. With a weary rub of his eyes, he walked out under the multicolored lights and limped painfully passed doors made from old mouse traps, the bottoms of cigar boxes and the other scraps of the wasteful humans.

----------------------

Daralee had been named after the Creator Goddess, which she often found sadly amusing. She gave out her window to see the newly elected mayor headed toward city hall. There had been a time when she thought that the shy, thin librarian fancied her. He had popped around the school often enough, on one excuse or another, though he never said much. Dharma had not delusions about her looks. She was a bit beyond pleasantly plump and her hair was a mousey shade of brown. Still, she had hope. She never hoped to be like the swollen breasted goddess, mother of all her children, but she had hoped for a quiet sort of love, which grew through the years.

Now Nathaniel was a big man. He was no longer an unimportant librarian, but the mayor and protector of the community. He would have to take a wife soon. Propriety called for a first lady. She would be some young, rose cheeked beauty, worth of his new found importance. He certainly had not stopped off at the school recently, though she felt sure that she saw him stare at her a few times in the street, with an odd expression. Her hopes had once held life, but no longer. She could find some boring, ugly husband, who drank to much and saw her as a combination housekeeper and whore, but she did not want to live the life her poor mum had. She wanted Nathaniel. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stiffened her spin. There were still students to teach. She had a purpose, though not a love of her own.

------------------------------

As the morning hours stole into the always dark world of the community, shop keepers started to raise the shutters to their stalls and the night patrol headed home for some well earned sleep. Nathaniel nodded at Peters, the head of the night watch. Peters was a short, stout man with an open, friendly face, but those foolish enough to underestimate him had come to regret it.

"Any concerns Mr. Peters?" Nathaniel paused a moment, relishing the chance to rest his injured leg. "Found another mole tunnel down the Eastern outskirts. Gonna have to send a crew to deal with it."

Nathaniel nodded. "I'll inform works. Thank you Mr. Peters." Peters tipped his cap. On the front of in was the small numb of a candle which was extinguished. Some others on the night patrol and in the scouts had borrowed tiny LED lights, but Peters was hopelessly old school and stubborn to boot. Nathaniel could appreciate that. He did not like change either. The world was changing though, and the community would have to adapt, if they were all going to survive another season, much less another generation.

Nathaniel nodded, not having a cap to doff, and let Peters head on home. His wife Matilda would be waiting for his safe return.

------------------------------

Daralee leaned over and kissed her mother, who sat knitting stocking caps for the community's youngling. "I've got to go mum. Remember to eat." The gray hair woman gave her usual waspish look and grunted. She knew her mother's grumblings were only skin deep. She had never been one for expressing her feelings in words, but her whole life had been spent taking care of others, often at the expense of her own needs. It was that kind of life Daralee hoped to avoid. She knew that the community had needs, but she had watched her mother scrap herself thin for years, trying to please and ungrateful son of a bitch and to keep up appearances, even as her husband had drank gambled his way through life. She reached down and hugged the old woman's shoulders. Daralee was the daughter of Melba's later years, unexpected after raising three rowdy boys, and Daralee felt a special burden to help her mum, who often could not be bothered to help herself.

Dharma pulled her patchwork coat over her plain brown dress and buttoned the three big plastic buttons. Her long brown hair was pulled into two long braids which trailed down her back. She took her leather satchel in one hand and her stout oak staff in the other, as she ducked out their front door. The quiet of their dwelling gave way to scampering pupils working of their morning energy, men pushing food carts and calling their wares and women calling from stall fronts, hoping for a bit of custom. It made Daralee feel good, to see the community, her community, so full of life, despite the hardships they had faced and the new dangers on the horizon. Where there was life, and children, there was hope for a future.



I think this is amazing so far if you want I can help you put but I need to know how to post on here and I am new. 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄
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Old 01-31-2012, 05:36 AM   #8
LadyCara
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@Shorse - Due to RL problems SideShowFreak can't get back on lit., at least not for a couple of months or so.

But if you like this kind of thing when he does come back i'm sure he'll be happy to join you (or you join him) in an RP.

In the meantime, if you have any RP ideas of your own, then feel free to pm me or anyone else on here.
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