Eternal Knowledge (Original story)
May. 10th, 2006 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
candylandThis is dedicated to my dear friend Cassie, aka ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
writergurl. This is the story about Jim Bob the Smart Sorceror the character I wound up naming Kamar. Just because I can.
This was a Creative Writing assignment--I've got a few more that I might toss up here at some point, too. Our task was to pick a fairy tale, and play with it. We could rewrite it, we could tackle a certain aspect of it, we could do pretty much whatever wanted with it. Here's my piece of work...
There were only two things Kamar had ever wanted: eternal knowledge, and eternal life. His well-trained mind viewed it logically, that the former had to be the path to the latter. And so he studied and wandered, learning math, science, alchemy, arts, and most importantly, magic. Hours were spent pouring over fragments of ancient scrolls and equally-decrepit texts in search of that elusive answer.
But finally, he was certain he had pieced it together. His quest for knowledge, he believed, had given him the key to achieving eternal life. He just had to perform the ritual, cast the spell, and everlasting life would be his.
But as the seemingly-simple spell erupted in front of him in a torrent of crimson light, he knew that something was wrong. He had missed something, and the magic he’d cast had backlashed on its source. This wasn’t knowledge and it wasn’t life, Kamar realized as he lay writhing on the ground, his life seeming to bleed away from every pore. There was so much blood around him.
This couldn’t possibly be the wisdom he had so desperately sought all along, could it? He’d been searching for eternal knowledge and life, and found only death.
He became aware then of a form in the shadows that were so rapidly closing in on him. Someone was standing over him—a person wrapped in a blue cloak. Now the person was leaning over him, kneeling down beside him.
“I felt the power of your spell, and I came to see,” the form said quietly. “What have you done?”
“Help me…help me…” he said, wheezing with each word. He was getting light-headed now. Was it possible that death was the eternal knowledge all along?
“Do you wish to live?” the figure asked. The voice was androgynous—low enough to be male, high enough to be female. The billowing folds of blue cloak buried the person’s form and the hood cast a dark shadow on the face, further obscuring any hope of discovering gender or identity.
“Yes…” he said in a raspy voice.
“Do you wish to know eternity?” the person went on. “Do you wish to have the wisdom of ages? Do you wish…to live?”
“Gods, yes!” Kamar said quickly.
“I can save you,” the cloaked one said. One slender hand emerged from the recesses of blue fabric to reach towards him; it was far too delicate to be male, and he was finally able to ascertain his visitor as female. “But nothing comes without a price. Will you pay the toll for your existence?”
“I’ll pay the price,” Kamar gasped.
“You will pay the price without knowing it?” she said—for he was certain now that his visitor was a woman. She sounded amused.
“I want knowledge…” he said, each word a struggle. He was dying now—he could feel the chilly touch of Death twisting its way around his limbs. “I want life…”
“Very well,” she said. “Take my hand, and I will show you life and knowledge everlasting.” Her hand remained extended towards him.
He did not waste time. With the last of his ebbing strength, Kamar reached up and grasped her hand firmly. He felt a spasm of pain, icy cold, then burning hot, and the whole world went dark and numb. He knew nothing more.
-o-
When Kamar opened his eyes again, he found he could not move. His eyes had the most freedom of movement, and darted back and forth frantically, trying to piece together what had happened to him, while taking in the new sense of his physical self. It was the strangest sensation of floating, as though he had somehow been removed from his corporal body and dropped into an ocean. He just…drifted.
What had happened to him?
The room around him was lavish and beautifully decorated. Everything was in lush color and fabric, fit for royalty! Too bad he couldn’t seem to move away from the one wall, directly opposite the door.
But his mind—oh gods, his mind! The thoughts filled him! The gathered wisdom of the past mingled with the dreams and ideas of the future. It was like a library, all within the contours of his mind—reams and reams of information collected with painstaking care throughout the ages.
And there was something else: a sense he had not possessed before. He was aware of things that he should not have been aware of. He heard nothing, but rather sensed movement beyond the closed door. It was disconcerting.
Where was he? What had that woman done to him?
His increasingly-frantic thoughts were discarded immediately as the door opened, and a woman entered. She crossed the room to stand before him expectantly, allowing him a clear look at her.
She was beautiful, and emulated elegance and good breeding. The clothing draped over her slender figure was rich, of a fine cut and finer fabric, and it was nearly impossible to overlook the tiara sitting atop her brow. Rich. Regal.
Royal.
Her eyes, however, told another story. Set into the paleness of her lovely face, they were the color of ink, and held no warmth, no love for anything. This was not a kind woman, though so fair of face. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and her soul bore the same dark color as tar.
When she spoke, he recognized the voice as that of his savior in the woods. And with her words, Kamar finally understood what the price of his eternal knowledge was. He was to be an all-knowing slave, bound forever within a prison of glass.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…”
writergurl. This is the story about This was a Creative Writing assignment--I've got a few more that I might toss up here at some point, too. Our task was to pick a fairy tale, and play with it. We could rewrite it, we could tackle a certain aspect of it, we could do pretty much whatever wanted with it. Here's my piece of work...
There were only two things Kamar had ever wanted: eternal knowledge, and eternal life. His well-trained mind viewed it logically, that the former had to be the path to the latter. And so he studied and wandered, learning math, science, alchemy, arts, and most importantly, magic. Hours were spent pouring over fragments of ancient scrolls and equally-decrepit texts in search of that elusive answer.
But finally, he was certain he had pieced it together. His quest for knowledge, he believed, had given him the key to achieving eternal life. He just had to perform the ritual, cast the spell, and everlasting life would be his.
But as the seemingly-simple spell erupted in front of him in a torrent of crimson light, he knew that something was wrong. He had missed something, and the magic he’d cast had backlashed on its source. This wasn’t knowledge and it wasn’t life, Kamar realized as he lay writhing on the ground, his life seeming to bleed away from every pore. There was so much blood around him.
This couldn’t possibly be the wisdom he had so desperately sought all along, could it? He’d been searching for eternal knowledge and life, and found only death.
He became aware then of a form in the shadows that were so rapidly closing in on him. Someone was standing over him—a person wrapped in a blue cloak. Now the person was leaning over him, kneeling down beside him.
“I felt the power of your spell, and I came to see,” the form said quietly. “What have you done?”
“Help me…help me…” he said, wheezing with each word. He was getting light-headed now. Was it possible that death was the eternal knowledge all along?
“Do you wish to live?” the figure asked. The voice was androgynous—low enough to be male, high enough to be female. The billowing folds of blue cloak buried the person’s form and the hood cast a dark shadow on the face, further obscuring any hope of discovering gender or identity.
“Yes…” he said in a raspy voice.
“Do you wish to know eternity?” the person went on. “Do you wish to have the wisdom of ages? Do you wish…to live?”
“Gods, yes!” Kamar said quickly.
“I can save you,” the cloaked one said. One slender hand emerged from the recesses of blue fabric to reach towards him; it was far too delicate to be male, and he was finally able to ascertain his visitor as female. “But nothing comes without a price. Will you pay the toll for your existence?”
“I’ll pay the price,” Kamar gasped.
“You will pay the price without knowing it?” she said—for he was certain now that his visitor was a woman. She sounded amused.
“I want knowledge…” he said, each word a struggle. He was dying now—he could feel the chilly touch of Death twisting its way around his limbs. “I want life…”
“Very well,” she said. “Take my hand, and I will show you life and knowledge everlasting.” Her hand remained extended towards him.
He did not waste time. With the last of his ebbing strength, Kamar reached up and grasped her hand firmly. He felt a spasm of pain, icy cold, then burning hot, and the whole world went dark and numb. He knew nothing more.
When Kamar opened his eyes again, he found he could not move. His eyes had the most freedom of movement, and darted back and forth frantically, trying to piece together what had happened to him, while taking in the new sense of his physical self. It was the strangest sensation of floating, as though he had somehow been removed from his corporal body and dropped into an ocean. He just…drifted.
What had happened to him?
The room around him was lavish and beautifully decorated. Everything was in lush color and fabric, fit for royalty! Too bad he couldn’t seem to move away from the one wall, directly opposite the door.
But his mind—oh gods, his mind! The thoughts filled him! The gathered wisdom of the past mingled with the dreams and ideas of the future. It was like a library, all within the contours of his mind—reams and reams of information collected with painstaking care throughout the ages.
And there was something else: a sense he had not possessed before. He was aware of things that he should not have been aware of. He heard nothing, but rather sensed movement beyond the closed door. It was disconcerting.
Where was he? What had that woman done to him?
His increasingly-frantic thoughts were discarded immediately as the door opened, and a woman entered. She crossed the room to stand before him expectantly, allowing him a clear look at her.
She was beautiful, and emulated elegance and good breeding. The clothing draped over her slender figure was rich, of a fine cut and finer fabric, and it was nearly impossible to overlook the tiara sitting atop her brow. Rich. Regal.
Royal.
Her eyes, however, told another story. Set into the paleness of her lovely face, they were the color of ink, and held no warmth, no love for anything. This was not a kind woman, though so fair of face. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and her soul bore the same dark color as tar.
When she spoke, he recognized the voice as that of his savior in the woods. And with her words, Kamar finally understood what the price of his eternal knowledge was. He was to be an all-knowing slave, bound forever within a prison of glass.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 01:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 07:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 05:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 07:47 pm (UTC)And lookie! It's Jim Bob!(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 06:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 07:50 pm (UTC)We need to chat again soon. Hand-puppet!Ran is getting kind of impatient ^_~