Frostbite

[vovan]

Thanks, PLATO, Chris.

[vovan]

Well, I don't know when I'll get the time to write something again, so here is the next installment.

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Alexander was sitting on the ground, looking around. He had been dragged by the barbarian into some sort of camp, which he knew must have been close to the village. By the speech of the men around him, he understood that they were Mongols, and could even make out a word or two, but not much really to make sense out of the situation. The place, the men, and their voices scared the boy. His parents used to tell him stories about the brutality of the Mongols and about their terrible acts of violence. In those stories, they always seemed almost inhuman in their cruelty.

When Alexander was very small, he used to have nightmares about the Mongols. It would always be the exact same dream. He would find himself in the dark on a hill outside the walls of the village. He wouldn’t know how he got there or what he was doing there – as it almost always happens in dreams – but would feel only the strong feeling of fear. He would look around, but the darkness would be so thick, he would not be able to see anything. And then, all of a sudden, he would hear a roar. An almost animal roar, and yet, somehow, subconsciously, he would know that it is, in fact, a man. He would then hear heavy steps behind him. Every time he would tell himself that it is just a dream and try to make himself look around to confront the enemy, yet he would never have enough courage. A tiny spec of a doubt somewhere in the subconsciousness – the doubt that it is *not* really a dream, that it is, in fact, reality – would push him forward and down the hill. He would start running. Running faster and faster down the hill. In the end, he would be running so fast, his legs would barely be able to keep up, and then, suddenly, he would trip. He would throw his hands forward and see the ground approach… And then he would wake up. Not once would he be able to force himself to look back and see who it was that was chasing him, but he would never doubt it was a Mongolian warrior.

As Alexander grew up, such fear of the Mongols in him subsided and gave way to a strange kind of admiration. He grew up in a small village, where nothing much happened. His father didn’t have the most exciting occupation in the world either – he dug roads, mined hills, and planted forests. So, Alexander really didn’t have the kind of heroic warrior father that a lot of the boys of his age used to admire and boast with. Many times the same conversation would take place: one of the boys would boast about his father killing numerous Mongols, and ask Alexander what his dad did, and the boy wouldn’t respond with anything, because such lowly occupation wasn’t anything to be proud of. Thus, being a sort of an underdog himself, Alexander came to like and even admire the Mongols. He couldn’t understand why it was that people hated them so much. And indeed, the hatred, and the stories about them was part of his fascination. He felt there was maybe something more to them. Maybe they were like him – misunderstood, and disliked – rather that, indeed, brutal and cruel, as they were painted to be.

Thus, as Alexander found himself in the Mongolian camp, his fear was mixed with excitement. He was quite intimidated by the huge barbarian that had brought him here, but at the same time, he was excited to be here. He thought maybe he could talk to the Mongols, and figure out why it was people didn’t like them, and then – go back to the village and the people the truth. Show the people how wrong they were. Show them that the Mongols aren’t really that bad. He was excited also, because the surroundings were new to him. He had been on this side of the forest with friends numerous times, of course, but the men themselves, their dress, their manner of speech, their tents – it was all new and exciting. And so, as time went on and the people seemed to not pay attention to him, the boy started forgetting his fears and looked around more and more freely. Especially he liked that fact that the big brute that brought him here seemed to have forgotten all about him. The man was standing a few meters away, talking with another guy – dressed a little neater, but still mostly in animal fur. Not only that, but he was being shouted at, and Alexander could even make out a few curse words.

Then apparently, the lecture was over and the barbarian headed towards the boy again with the apparent intention to yank Alexander to his feet by the hair again. The Persian definitely didn’t want to experience that again, so he crawled back a little bit, and as the warrior approached even closer – jumped to his feet. The man’s face was grim and that didn’t promise anything good. The barbarian grabbed Alexander by the clothes and pushed him towards the man he had been talking to before so hard, that the boy stumbled and fell face-first on the ground.

Alexander was now facing the Mongolian man’s boots. He raised his eyes and met the gaze of the man himself. It was stone-cold, and the face seemed as if cut from stone. Alexander could tell no emotions from that face, and thought there probably were none. The man’s face was much different from the Persian faces and the boy stared at it for a while, until he received a swift kick in the chest that sent him tumbling over and falling on the back. He was now eying the sky, still blue – the kind of blue you only get in winter, when it is really cold and there are no clouds in the sky. Alexander immediately realized that it was best to get up from that position, however, for who knows what kick he might receive next, so he jumped back to his feet.

The Mongol shook his head, and pronounced: “Tent” in Persian, and bowed his head towards a big tent a few meters away from him. After the kick in the chest, Alexander didn’t need to be asked twice, so he proceeded promptly.

[PLATO]

Likeing it! Very Much!

[vovan]

Thanks, PLATO.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Thats a cracking chapter there vovan, you are a master with describing the fear factor and the inner goings on of the mind.

Well after all you are Boris Karlof incarnate

Seriously though an excellent addition

[vovan]

Thanks, Chris. That's encouraging.

[SKILORD]

Very nice work so far.

[vovan]

Thanks, SKI.

[unscratchedfoot]

...formulaic yet compelling...

We need more material.

[vovan]

Thanks, scratch.

Formulaic... I know what you mean. I guess your comment about the lack of unpredictability in SKI's story applies to an extent here as well. Although, I'd say it's a bit too early to judge this piece on unpredictability.

Regarding more material... I'm going to be away from the computer for the next week. But hopefully, when I am back, I'll be able to continue providing the goods on a regular basis.

[Space05us]

that was great! hurry back and write more

[vovan]

I wonder if anyone still remembers this.

Now just to remember where I was going with this.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

I do and Ive been patiently waiting for you to return