Fiction

I used to post bits of my fiction, once in a while, on my journal at the time. I stopped because too few people ever bothered to say anything. But I'm finally really working again, and I thought I'd tack up the very beginning of my current piece, just to see if I could bait anyone into saying boo. So, the first bit of "Brainstorming."

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Taliesin wasn't having a good day – some mad warlock had unleashed another numberless horde of demons on the commercial district, effectively stoppering anything but foot traffic for hours. He had some sort of lecture to do, for a bit of money that was desperately needed, and he didn't want to be late – just bad luck he was in a friend's carriage at the time.

A wandering mob, always desperate for any cause to throw something, decided the rich were oppressing the poor again, and Taliesin still smelt a bit of rotten tomatoes. It wasn't all that bad, he thought, but it was a bit unfair to use food still edible – the potatoes hadn't been rotten at all, and were very hard. It wasn't as if Taliesin was even rich, he just had a well-to-do friend that managed to connive carriage rides a lot. If you had to get anywhere in Floren, it usually didn't do to walk. Putting aside the threats of mugging, kidnapping, and mad experiments in occult circles, the city was just too big.

Floren was a rather large city. Larger than the capital of the country, in fact, due mostly to the excessive money washing about the street corners like a clinking, lucre tide. These street corners themselves weren't too clean, awash as they were in money, and not water, with rubbish sometimes piled into drifts and toppling onto unsuspecting pedestrians. People filled the streets and walks, wandering with vacant eyes or striding about madly like a military commander with great purpose and little direction.