Dorn looked around the room anxiously.
The village had become somber as of late. Everyone in the dinning room looked much the same as he did. Eating and drinking in silence; every so often glancing at the door as if to see the something different than before.
No one spoke. Everyone who came in mumbled their order to the bar keeper and quickly sat, ate their meal, and left.
There was no usual crowd of Friday evening drinkers. There was no one singing or telling stories. There was no ease or comfort. Everyone knew the danger they were in.
Dorn picked up another glass, cleaned it, placed it back on the shelf behind the bar, and looked again at the dinning room. The cups were hardly clean, but neither Dorn nor his patrons noticed.
The door swung open and everyone turned to see who it was, fearing the worst; some reaching for knives or staffs for security.
The wind picked up the door and swung it wide on its hinges. The door smacked against the wall.
A man walked into the tavern. No one knew him and so the unease grew. The man glanced around the room and walked straight for the bar; a long black cloak swirling behind him as he walked. The man limped as he walked. His left leg held up by a wooden stump just above the knee. As he reached the bar, the man turned and looked again at the room. Dorn could smell that the man had already had plenty to drink.
The man turned to Dorn and looked him up and down. The man placed a small silver coin on the bar. “Whate’r this’ll buy” he slurred.
Dorn never took his eyes off the man while he bent slightly to fill a mug from a tap sitting below the bar.
The man took a long draft. His faced turned sour. “This the best ye’ have?”
“It is for one silver” Dorn replied. He tried to sound as confident and calm as he could, but he knew he most likely didn’t exude the image he hoped for.
The man quickly finished the mug and tossed it onto the counter.
Dorn never moved.
The man laughed, obviously hoping for some response. He turned again to the room and surveyed the crowd. All eyes were on him.
“Have ye’ ner’ seen a stranger before?” The man’s accent was distinct. Not that Dorn knew where he was from, but he knew it wasn’t from their village.
No one spoke.
“Tell me barkeep, what has yer’ whole town so frightened? They look as though the devil himself had just strode in.”
“Some wish it were so simple” Dorn replied.
The man’s grin faded slightly. “Worse than the devil, eh?”
“Better an enemy you know”
The village had become somber as of late. Everyone in the dinning room looked much the same as he did. Eating and drinking in silence; every so often glancing at the door as if to see the something different than before.
No one spoke. Everyone who came in mumbled their order to the bar keeper and quickly sat, ate their meal, and left.
There was no usual crowd of Friday evening drinkers. There was no one singing or telling stories. There was no ease or comfort. Everyone knew the danger they were in.
Dorn picked up another glass, cleaned it, placed it back on the shelf behind the bar, and looked again at the dinning room. The cups were hardly clean, but neither Dorn nor his patrons noticed.
The door swung open and everyone turned to see who it was, fearing the worst; some reaching for knives or staffs for security.
The wind picked up the door and swung it wide on its hinges. The door smacked against the wall.
A man walked into the tavern. No one knew him and so the unease grew. The man glanced around the room and walked straight for the bar; a long black cloak swirling behind him as he walked. The man limped as he walked. His left leg held up by a wooden stump just above the knee. As he reached the bar, the man turned and looked again at the room. Dorn could smell that the man had already had plenty to drink.
The man turned to Dorn and looked him up and down. The man placed a small silver coin on the bar. “Whate’r this’ll buy” he slurred.
Dorn never took his eyes off the man while he bent slightly to fill a mug from a tap sitting below the bar.
The man took a long draft. His faced turned sour. “This the best ye’ have?”
“It is for one silver” Dorn replied. He tried to sound as confident and calm as he could, but he knew he most likely didn’t exude the image he hoped for.
The man quickly finished the mug and tossed it onto the counter.
Dorn never moved.
The man laughed, obviously hoping for some response. He turned again to the room and surveyed the crowd. All eyes were on him.
“Have ye’ ner’ seen a stranger before?” The man’s accent was distinct. Not that Dorn knew where he was from, but he knew it wasn’t from their village.
No one spoke.
“Tell me barkeep, what has yer’ whole town so frightened? They look as though the devil himself had just strode in.”
“Some wish it were so simple” Dorn replied.
The man’s grin faded slightly. “Worse than the devil, eh?”
“Better an enemy you know”
I really like this whole mysteries vibe! From a lover of westerns I can see everything so clearly and yet it makes me wonder what on earth these people are so scared of? Is it a supernatural something or a person they are expecting? Hope we get to read some more. I think the length is good too because it's just enough information to catch you and make you curious and not enough to give anything away or feel needless.
ReplyDeleteMysterious
ReplyDeleteReally like the scene here. Definitely a fun beginning for a story! Putting dynamically different characters together and showing how they react to each other is great way to organically transfer a lot of information and context to the reader without being explicit. This scene sets up the area as a relatively small town, rural, disliking of outsiders, and afraid for an unspecified reason. It’s a good setup! A couple things for your consideration – while you are using the overall scene to setup context for the reader in a solid show not tell, some of your sentences can be a bit heavy handed when more subtlety could be used to add tension and communicate.
ReplyDeleteI think of it this way. There’s like four layers of authorial communication typically in play.
Level one – the author assumes the reader knows information and relies on them to assume. For instance, an author can say their character dialed 911, but have no need to explain they used a smart phone, the model of the smart phone or the actions their character made on the phone to accomplish this task – they rely on the readers’ existing knowledge. The obvious mistake with this is to fail to describe aspects of their world or systems properly and assume the reader can fill in the blanks when they haven’t been given the info to do so. This often happens with weak magic systems written by younger authors.
Level two – The author explicitly spells out things to the reader in a direct way. Often communication for aspects of a scene stop here. “He was afraid and dialed 911.” Clearly portrays information to the reader and they can understand exactly what is happening. Lots of descriptions and rhetoric do and should stop here, we don’t need to wax eloquent on every little thing, but this starts to get into authorial style and is a balance.
Level three – The author adds significant context to reader action through adjectives and added information to help a reader flesh out their imagination. “The distinguished gentleman quickly reached deep into the pocket of his creased slacks to pull out his iPhone 12 hastily dialed 911.” This helps paint a significantly more vivid image in the reader’s mind and gives a lot of info about the character. This is more nuanced though than adjectives = good. Do we really want to stop in the middle of an action scene to learn about the wealthy business man in the background dialed 911 to explain how the cops showed up in time? Obviously not, and this gets deep into authorial style and becomes quite subjective and is usually best learned through feel with time.
Level four – The author shows without telling. This is probably an overused idea which we have all heard and know but is difficult in practice, I’d say it is basically level three applied with flavor. The reader constructs a scene by layering various sources of information together to provide a picture. “Hand crept slowly into pocked, the motion almost giving him away as the flash Rolex sagging around his clean tanned wrist caught glints of the setting sun and danced light through the gloom onto the worn rafters. Eyes darting about, he inched the phone from his pocket and held it below the level of the counter out of sight. He only needed a few more seconds. Thumb inched onto print reader to unlock and the phone rumbled quietly into his hand. His fingerprint was rejected. Gulping twice, trying to force the saliva pooling in his mouth down his bone dry throat, he wiped the sweat from his thumb and tried his print again. With another light buzz the phone unlocked. Two more quick gestures and he was ready to dial. Without even stopping to glance around, he went for it, shaking thumb stabbing down on the 9………” Sorry realized I was getting carried away there. My example is pretty overkill but hopefully screams that a rich guy is in profound fear for his life among other things without explicitly saying either of those things. Again this is almost entirely the stylistic part of writing and will look different for each author, so as you start this story keep applying this sort of storytelling not just in the broader context of environment but sprinkled in in the smaller moments to indirectly convey information. Continuing to practice this will really help you to continue to develop and refine your own unique voice through this story. Sorry, I think I wrote way too much here. I think you can guess which side of too much detail I fall on when writing....
ReplyDeleteI think Blogger agrees as it has a character limit and made me post this in two comments.....
Amway! I look forward to the story continuing! :)
~Twice Wise
I liked how you set up the what seems to be the first main conflict in the series. Looking forward to more.
ReplyDelete