Starting out

Welcome!
For those of you who don't know, the only reason I'm starting this blog is so that I show those who are interested the things I have written. This last year, I participated in the event NaNoWriMo, or known as National Novel Writing Month. It was a challenge to write 50,000 words in the month of November. And I'm proud to say that I finished (though, not the story itself. I just said I got to 50,000 words, not the end). After telling some people about my success, they said they wanted to read what I have written. Now I had a problem.

First was that I wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to read my first draft (the point of NaNoWriMo was to get some writing down, not to have something ready for print). I warned people that it was a rough draft and that there were things that really needed to be fixed. They said they didn't mind. By this point, I had reached my second problem. There were too many people who wanted to read it. I didn't know how to get it out to everyone. Some people suggested that I just do a large email, or post it on Facebook. Seemed like too much hassle for me, so I decided that I would start a blog instead to showcase my accomplishment.

I've finally gotten around to having a minute to start this, so let me explain how I'm going to work this. I'll try to post something every week (we'll see how far that gets, now won't we?). The posts won't be more than ten pages (maybe longer if it works to stop farther along in the story). The reason I'm not posting it all at once is because I know how busy life can get and I don't want anyone to get wrapped up in it all (it's also an excellent excuse to do some revising and more writing). Also, it might not always be from my NaNowriMo book. I actually have about five different story ideas I'm working on, three of which that have made it to my computer. So, if I'm working non-stop on something else (like school work...) I'll just post something from these other stories. Besides, a little variety never hurts, right? :P

My first post will be a short story I wrote for my creative writing class from last semester. It's my character's debut to the real world. I wanted to see if he could make it outside my imagination. Thankfully, he did. For a disclaimer on future posts, this is a short story and I had to write it so it would be short (the teacher stopped grading at page nine), so his background is different in the actual book than in this short, but the characters are the same.

I hope you enjoy the journey! The floor is yours, Martin!

The Meaning of Success

Martin moved in the shadows cast by the large shipping crates, careful to make sure he wasn’t seen. Glancing up, he saw no one up in the dark rafters of the seaside warehouse, or in the manager’s office built up there. Being seen meant a beating at the hands of enraged thieves. They could kill him. Those angry thugs would reason that no one would miss a stray orphan. Martin narrowed his eyes at the thought.

It had been the same attitude of the rough street gangs of Nacre, the capital of Aeterna. He had been at the bottom of the Street Order. There was no one to stand up for him, no one to vouch for him, a street urchin who couldn’t even remember his parents’ faces or the fire that took their lives. The gangs always thought of him as a possible traitor, someone whose wavering loyalties could be sold for food. Being seen meant a beating to ensure he wouldn’t talk. At times, they almost killed him, but they didn’t care. No one would miss a stray orphan.

And that’s what the spy masters thought when they took him off the streets and into the Aeternan Spy Network. Martin was perfect for the job. He was plain looking enough to pass as most anyone. There was nothing that could tie him to any one place or person. He was also adventurous and feared very little; he had to be to survive. The attitude he had when he was ten had allured the spies enough to take him away. And after five years of harsh training and finally considered old enough to work, he was given his first mission.

Martin checked his surroundings again. He must not been seen by those thieves. The orders for his first mission were simple enough at first glance. Get in, steal back the box, and get out. He was told there would be a distraction large enough to create confusion. In the confusion, he was supposed to get the box; whatever it was. Martin had asked what was in it. The response was sharp. It was not to be left in their hands.

Once he was sure no one was in the rafters or with him among the darkened halls of crates, he crept toward to the dim light casting the shadows he used. Martin strained to hear something other than the sea outside the warehouse. He stopped when he heard the voices.

“The price is too low,” a man grunted. “After all that risk I took, I deserve more!”

“And you will have it,” said a soft voice. Martin shivered. Anyone who talked with that soft confidence was dangerous. “But first, I need to see it.”

Martin risked moving closer; stepping so the wood floor did not groan under his bare feet. He hid himself behind the closest crate before carefully looking around. The light came from a lone lantern hanging from the rafter shining down on the five men standing in a loose circle. The man whose back was to him held a thin box that was not even a foot long, opening just enough to peek inside it. He snapped it shut.

“Good,” the man said in the same soft tone. “Your money will be here once our ship arrives.”

“And when will that be?” the first man snapped. The second man chuckled.

“Soon enough,” he answered smugly, placing the thin box on the crate Martin was hiding behind. “Won’t be too long now.”

“Soon enough? How soon is that?” Martin scowled as he eased himself back into the shadows. He was promised that the distraction would happen before midnight. Now, he wasn’t sure if they were going to make it in time. The plan was in serious jeopardy if it didn’t come soon.

“Get in, steal back the box, and get out.” His orders still stood. That box was not to be left in their hands.

Martin looked around the storehouse again, this time searching for something to help him in this theft. He heard the clinking of bottles. Cautiously looking back out again, he saw the five men sharing a drink, none of them paying any attention to the box. He knew a chance when he saw it.

He moved gradually into the light, trying to keep one eye on the thieves and one eye on the box. He took slow breaths to calm himself just as he was taught. He had to avoid anything that might alert them to his presence. Cautiously, he reached out and grasped the box. His fingers were secure around its grainy texture as he brought it close to him. He flinched as one of the thieves laughed.

“Time to go,” he thought, stuffing it down his shirt. He turned to rejoin the shadows.

“Hey!”

The voice startled him. Looking back, Martin saw one of the thugs pointing at him. The others turned to where he was pointing, their faces contorted with rage.

“GET HIM!”

Martin didn’t waste his breath cursing. He ran. Behind him, the thugs were nosily giving chase, their hard soled boots getting closer. The window he had used to get in was getting close. He wanted to laugh when he saw the open window. A thief suddenly threw himself before him. Martin skidded to a stop, his heels burning.

“Nowhere to hide,” the man sneered, pulling a knife from inside his sleeve.

Martin frantically looked around for an escape. “There!” The stairs leading up to the office. Gritting his teeth, he ran for them and took the steps two at a time. He could hear the thieves yell at his sudden change of direction. He knew he didn’t have much time left before they caught him.

There was a door at the top. Yanking it open, he darted inside and locked the door. Turning around, he saw a window on the opposite side of the office. He dashed to it, ignoring the thieves as they banged on the door. Martin halted at the window. Below, the sea churned in an angry way. He took a step back. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the ocean. The drop to the sea, however, scared him. He never had liked heights.

Martin spun around when the thugs finally broke the door in. He watched warily as they formed a half circle to prevent his escape. The man with the soft voice, his face hidden by the light behind him, took a step forward.

“Be a smart boy,” he said in that calm, dangerous tone. “Give the box back and you won’t be hurt.” Martin hesitated; he had no desire to die.

“It is not to be left in their hands.” His orders still stood. He gritted his teeth again.

“I hate heights,” he muttered. Before he could give himself second thoughts, he jumped through the window, shattering the glass. The fall was as horrible as he knew it would be. He screamed, closing his eyes tight. His limbs waved around him, trying to find something solid but knowing there were none. Those few seconds in the air felt like an eternity.

His scream was cut off as he hit the freezing water, the air forced from his lungs. Martin was submerged for a moment before he broke the water’s surface. Coughing the water from his lungs, he barely heard the yells from the warehouse. He knew he had no time to waste. Taking a deep breath, he dove under the choppy surface again and swam towards land. There was a dock there; he could hide under it.

His hands moved swiftly in the murky waters, fingers grasping at the cold liquid, searching for anything. The longer he swam, the more desperate he became. What if he had went in the wrong direction? Smack! His hand stung at impact but he didn’t care. Taking grasp of the pole, he used it as a guide to the surface above. He tried not to gasp as he found air again. Glancing up, Martin saw the dock he had been looking for. Unfortunately, the thieves were on the dock, cursing as they tried to look for him in the tossing sea.

“You there!” a gruff voice commanded. “What are you doing?”

“Let’s get out of here,” a thief said, his voice scared. The thugs began to run back to shore, the planks groaning under them.

“Stop!” the voice demanded. Several hard boots followed after the retreating thieves.

“There’s my distraction,” Martin muttered, resting his head on the post with a thud. Of course the police would have been tipped about the thieves. The police of Evan’s Stand were harsh when it came to smugglers; the sea port’s prison was full of them. They could deal with the thieves. He could only chuckle at that as he felt his chest for the box. He gasped when his fingers found nothing.

It was gone!

Martin desperately patted himself, shocked. Taking a deep breath, he went under again, despite the fact he could hardly see his hands in front of his face. He only came up when his lungs burned for air. It was hopeless, he knew as he stared out over the murky waters. It was lost to the sea forever. His feelings were worse than the jump and fall. Something he wished he would never have to admit to.

He had failed.

*************************

Martin sat by the side of the road outside of Evan’s Stand, waiting for a spy master to pick him up. He leaned against a tree, shading his eyes with a hand as he checked the sun’s position in the sky. It was almost noon; the spy should have been here already. He was sure it was some sort of punishment for him. He had lost the box. Some of the spy masters thought he was too young, this only proved their point. This was his first mission and he had failed. No doubt they would reduce him back to basic training.

“Well, aren’t you a sorry sight.”

Martin reluctantly sat back up, expecting a harsh lecture. He froze when he saw the man standing before him, his arms folded across his chest. He was an older man, with a short beard and hair graying with age. But Martin knew this man by reputation. He was Doug Suit, the Spy Master.

“Sir,” he said, scrambling to his feet and saluting. “It’s an honor.” He bowed his head in defeat. “I’m sorry.” He felt his stomach drop at what he had to tell the Spy Master. “I failed.”

Suit snorted. “Failed?”

“Yes.” Martin wished he could be anywhere but here admitting his failure. And to the Spy Master himself! “I lost the box.”

“No, Martin,” he said firmly. “You did not fail.”

He finally looked up, confused. “Sir?”

“Your orders were that it was not to be left in their hands,” Suit explained. “You did just that. It is lost, no one will use it. If I had my way, that’s what should have happened to it in the first place.”

Martin blinked in surprise. The Spy Master would not have a casual conversation with any fresh spy. Something else was going on here.

“Come,” Suit said, sharply turning away and walking down the road. Martin followed with a frown. What was happening?

“Where are we going, sir?” he finally managed to ask.

“To begin your training,” the older man said with a grin. “Oh, not the normal training. Something more. You’ve proven yourself here, Martin. You’re a quick thinker when the plan went wrong. You need something more to match your skills. From this day on, your training will be mine alone.”

Martin stopped in his tracks, stunned. No. More than stunned. Shocked. Suit’s grin only widened at the reaction.

“You’ve proven yourself,” he repeated. “Success does not mean just doing a job and giving up at the first signs of trouble, it means doing everything you can to do get the job done. You have great potential and I’m going to make sure you reach it. Come, you have a lot to learn before I’m done with you.”

Martin followed in a daze. He was the Spy Master’s apprentice! An honor most would give their lives for. The implications of it suddenly brightened Martin up. No one could consider him an unfortunate orphan again.

“Sir,” he ventured again, testing his new position. “What was in the box?”

The Spy Master chuckled. “You’re not old enough yet. I’ll tell you, though. Someday.”

“Someday,” Martin mused as he walked behind Suit. Already, he wondered how he could convince the Spy Master that “someday” was sooner than he thought.


(Surprisingly, no one in my class complained that they didn't know what was in the box.)