G is for Guilt

Since I couldn’t think of anything amazing for this letter, I thought I would share my not so amazing chapter that is called ‘Guilt’; this is from the first fantasy novel I am editing at the moment. And I thought that if this is not good (white) or bad (black), then surely it is an average lode of grey. Whatever way you want see it, I guess. I am busy editing chapter 28 at the minute, and have about another 20,000 words left to edit. Anyway, here is the chapter:

Chapter 18


Guilt: A fundamental feeling of what is placed inside each one of us. It can be used to push ourselves in to the right direction. To alter our mistakes, to make what is wrong – right.

The warriors left the battle field feeling like there was going to be no tomorrow, and yet the thought that they might not be drowned their thoughts; they knew it rested on them if that did happen.

All of them walked on and on until their feet ached and hurt; only they slowly begun to realise they were lost. The warriors had never needed to find their way to anything as they were always led by someone else. None of them even knew what a car or van was, so how could they drive?

This was probably the most difficult complication for them to overcome so far. It was something simple and silly, or so they all thought. They had all these abilities and were thee destined warriors to save these people… and more, only they couldn’t find their way to their new home.

How far do they have to go before they are ready to confront the dormant ever growing threat; it only sank in for them now; it was going to be a very long journey. And that’s only if they all lived long enough to get there.

“Which way do we go?” said one of the warrior’s with a confused face.

“We are nowhere near home from the looks of things, and we have no way of getting back. The trucks are completely wrecked by the neons,” said Clarabelle, ending with a hopeless expression. She noted it didn’t help lift the teenagers’ spirits, and wished she didn’t open her mouth.

There was not a car in sight, nor was there in or around the cul-de-sack; the street showed them all surprisingly clear, small roads in comparison to the ones they had seen about an hour ago: they were mostly covered by the demolished buildings. No people in sight; not even in what were once their homes; the houses were still intact, unlike the ones they had just came from. It felt and looked much like a maze around them; and they were at a dead end.

All the lights in the houses were off, and not a sound was heard. There was a big space where the allotted car park spaces were in the street. The warriors knew little to nothing about the human’s possessions and their science. After all, they came from a very different world where their science was magic.

Though they didn’t know much about the humans science, the teenagers’ still had little bits of what Brenda had told them. Mundane items to humans, such things as a washing machine; this became an exhausting and annoying talk for them all. So there was very few of them, because as nice as Brenda was, she had a very short fuse over people not understanding her. She would tell them to “stop with the questions and let me finish.” Which they didn’t most of the time.

* * *

Although Brenda had become attached to the teenagers’, she wasn’t the kind of person to believe in faraway worlds with magic and other gods and goddesses. It was hard enough for her to accept what she had seen that day when she was saved by them from the fire. And also when Drage subconsciously decorated a part of the mud wall with daisies in the bomb shelter – they grew and bloomed in mere seconds from nothingness.

* * *

“We’ve been walking around in circles for ages Reetho,” said Darryl at the back of their neat line. “Surely you can’t believe you know where you’re going?” It looked as if they were marching; they were so perfectly straight and coordinated without realising they were even doing it.

As tired as they were their posture was poised and self-assured, of what about they were not sure off; they felt the complete opposite. Reetho clearly tried to help but the warriors were exhausted and run down. They looked as if they had all been bathed in dirt and grime; the dusty roads and paths they walked on didn’t help either. They were so exhausted that none of them had the energy to travel any further – their posture now slouched, not caring about anything anymore.

Lauret fell to the floor and refused to move her aching legs again. “I’m not moving until I can get some rest.” She said this with a tired face, not being able to express any emotion. The others seemed to like the idea of rest too; they all slammed themselves to the ground, and sat where they once stood, regardless of where they were.

They were in the middle of what was someone’s garden. The walls and gates of it were shattered, broke and pulled down. A pond trickled water from a little fountain that looked like it used to be a green frog; the water left its mouth from a little tube. A patch of grass surrounded them; it was not burnt like the battleground they ran from.

But none of them noticed these things as they were all far too concerned with catching their breath and staying still for a few moments, hopefully more if possible, but that would depend upon Reetho.


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One response to “G is for Guilt

  1. Pingback: Z is for Zzz | Four Words, Four Worlds

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