Title: Here ya`ll go. my new silly story.
Posted By: Lone_Wolf
Posted On: 5/22/99 5:53:00 PM
Okies, this is my new silly story. It was originally written for Dem's story contest, but he claimed he never got it though i emailed it to him. Anyway, here it is, it's a combination of the Wheel of Time and Mystery Science Theater 3000.
I'm not saying that the Wheel of TIme is MST material; heavens no! But I though it would be interesting to see what I could do with it, so... here it is. Hope ya like it. Lemme know what you think.
"Demandred? A silly story contest?"
"That’s what he said."
"It has to make sense? But that’s like... like... the Dragonmount without the Dragon! The very essence of a silly story is to not make sense! By demanding that sense be made, he is messing up the very fabric of a silly story!"
"You don’t have to enter you know."
"I know, but I’ve been thinking about it and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea..."
"Well, write it!"
"Yeah, I suppose I should. Okay, here we go......
Micah Crenshaw stepped into his son’s bedroom with a book in his hand.
"Hey there, sport. You ready to go to sleep?"
"No. Is that a book you’re going to read me? It’s kinda big...."
Micah laughed. "Well, I’m not going to read it all to you. Not tonight. Maybe through the next few months we’ll get through it. Tonight, I’m only going to read you the prologue."
"Prologue? What's that?"
"Well, it’s kinda like... Well, it tells you some information you need to know. It’s like the first chapter with a fancy name, basically."
"Oh, okay. What’s the book called?"
"It’s called The Eye of The World. It’s by a man named Robert Jordan who started writing this series when I was your age. He should’ve died ten years ago, but they are keeping him mechanically alive so he can finish book 23, which he swears is the last one."
"He’s still writing them?" His son asked incredulously.
"Yeah... All through the years he kept saying, 'three more books at most, three more books at most', but he wouldn’t finish. The list of character came to include over four billion names and six thousand places and they all sounded like each other, so the publishers forced this one to be the last. It’s s'posed to be a two thousand page bonanza."
"Wow," his son said, goggle eyed.
"Yeah, so time is fleeting, my son. Can we begin the story?"
"Oh, yes daddy!"
The palace still shook occasionally as the earth rumbled in memory, groaned as if it would deny what had happened. Bars of sunlight cast through rents in the walls made motes of dust glitter where they yet hung in the air. Scorch-marks marred the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Broad black smears crossed the blistered paints and gilt of once-bright murals, (Boy, the land lady’s gonna be mad- he got chocolate all over the walls...), soot overlaying crumbling friezes of men and animals which seemed to have attempted to walk before the madness grew quiet. The dead lay everywhere, men and women and children, (Wow, dying is hard- I need a rest. snore snore snore) struck down in attempted flight by the lightnings that had flashed down every corridor, or seized by the fires that had stalked them, or sunken into stone of the palace, the stones that had flowed and sought, almost alive, before stillness came again. In odd counterpoint, colorful tapestries and paintings, masterworks all, hung undisturbed except where bulging walls had pushed them awry. Finely carved furnishings, inlaid with ivory and gold, stood untouched except where rippling floors had toppled them. The mind-twisting had struck at the core, ignoring peripheral things.
Lews Therin Telamon wandered the palace, deftly keeping his balance when the earth heaved. "Ilyena! (Mom? Mom! Mr Drysdale? Mr Eddie’s father? Chief? McCleod!) My love, where are you?"(With Scooby doo, darling!) The edge of his pale gray cloak trailed through blood as he stepped across the body of a woman, her golden-haired beauty marred by the horror of her last moments, her still-open eyes frozen in disbelief. "Where are you, my wife? Where is everyone hiding?"(Here we are! Surprise! Happy Birthday to you!)
His eyes caught his own reflection in a mirror hanging askew from bubbled marble (Hey, my neck is bent weird! Arrrrghhhh!!! Oh no- That's the mirror, sorry). His clothes had been regal once, in gray and scarlet and gold; now the finely-woven cloth, brought by merchants from across the World Sea, was torn and dirty, thick with the same dust that covered his hair and skin. For a moment he fingered the symbol on his cloak, a circle half white and half black, the colors separated by a sinuous line. It meant something, that symbol. But the embroidered circle could not hold his attention long. He gazed at his own image with as much wonder. (Was I always this ugly?) A tall man just into his middle years, handsome once, but now with hair already more white than brown and a face lined by strain and worry, dark eyes that had seen too much. Lews Therin began to chuckle, then threw back his head; his laughter echoed down the lifeless halls. (Oh, French Class!! Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I get it now!)
"Ilyena, my love! Come to me, my wife. You must see this." (Little, tiny hairs, growin’ out my face!)
Behind him the air rippled, shimmered, solidified into a man who looked around, his mouth twisting briefly with distaste. (Bluhhhh- that burp tasted exactly like McDonalds) Not so tall as Lews Therin, he was clothed all in black, save for the snow-white lace at his throat and the silverwork on the turned-down tops of his thigh-high boots.(He had just come from a fishing trip with his drinkin’ buddies) He stepped carefully, handling his cloak fastidiously to avoid brushing the dead. The floor trembled with aftershocks, but his attention was fixed on the man staring into the mirror and laughing.
"Lord of the Morning," (King of the Breakfast pastries) he said, "I have come for you."
The laughter cut off as if it had never been, and Lews Therin turned, seeming unsurprised. "Ah, a guest. Have you the Voice, stranger? It will soon be time for the Singing, and here all are welcome to take part. Ilyena, my love, we have a guest. Ilyena, where are you?" (I’m with the beef!)
The black-clad man's eyes widened, darted to the body of the golden-haired woman, then back to Lews Therin. (Lews, the girl. Lews, the girl. I can’t decide... I love them both! How do you make a choice like this?) "Shai'tan take you, does the taint already have you so far in its grip?"
"That name. Shai-" Lews Therin shuddered (Ooh, that tickled) and raised a hand as though to ward off something. (darn bugs) "You mustn't say that name. It is dangerous."
"So you remember that much, at least. Dangerous for you, fool, not for me. What else do you remember? Remember, you Light-blinded idiot! I will not let it end with you swaddled in (swaddling clothes) unawareness! Remember!"
For a moment Lews Therin stared at his raised hand, fascinated by the patterns of grime. (I see the face of Elvis!!!)Then he wiped his hand on his even dirtier coat and turned his attention back to the other man. (never liked Elvis anyway) "Who are you? What do you want?"
The black-clad man drew himself up arrogantly. "Once I was called Elan Morin Tedronai, but now-" (I am known simply as Phil)
"Betrayer of Hope." It was a whisper from Lews Therin. Memory stirred, (not shaken) but he turned his head, shying away from it.
"So you do remember some things. Yes, Betrayer of Hope. So have men named me, just as they named you (Alphonse) Dragon, but unlike you I embrace the name. They gave me the name to revile me, but I will yet make them kneel and worship it. What will you do with your name? After this day, men will call you Kinslayer. What will you do with that?" (I’ll bronze it and hang it next to my baby shoes)
Lews Therin frowned down the ruined hall. "Ilyena should be here to offer a guest welcome," he murmured absently, then raised his voice. "Ilyena, where are you?" (Wheeeeeeere the booooooooys are) The floor shook; the golden-haired woman's body shifted as if in answer to his call. His eyes did not see her.
Elan Morin grimaced. (As opposed to Hamburglared) "Look at you," he said scornfully. "Once you stood first among the Servants. Once you wore the Ring of Tamyrlin, and sat in the High Seat. Once you summoned the Nine Rods of Dominion. Now look at you! A pitiful, shattered wretch. But it is not enough. You humbled me in the Hall of Servants. You defeated me at the Gates of Paaran Disen. But I am the greater, now. I will not let you die without knowing that. When you die, your last thought will be the full knowledge of your defeat, of how complete and utter it is. If I let you die at all."
"I cannot imagine what is keeping Ilyena. She will give me the rough side of her tongue if she thinks I have been hiding a guest from her.(Not that I woulod mind that...) I hope you enjoy conversation, for she surely does. Be forewarned. Ilyena will ask you so many questions you may end up telling her everything you know." Tossing back his black cloak, Elan Morin flexed his hands. (I am here to pump *clap* you up!)
"A pity for you," he mused, "that one of your Sisters is not here. I was never very skilled at Healing, and I follow a different power now. (Yanni) But even one of them could only give you a few lucid minutes, if you did not destroy her first. What I can do will serve as well, for my purposes." His sudden smile was cruel. "But I fear Shai'tan's healing is different from the sort you know. Be healed, Lews Therin!" (Go in peace and sin no more, my son) He extended his hands, and the light dimmed as if a shadow had been laid across the sun.
Pain blazed in Lews Therin, and he screamed, a scream that came from his depths, a scream he could not stop. Fire seared his marrow; acid rushed along his veins. He toppled backwards, crashing to the marble floor; his head struck the stone and rebounded. His heart pounded, trying to beat its way out of his chest, (Aliens! Aliens!) and every pulse gushed new flame through him. Helplessly he convulsed, thrashing, his skull a sphere of purest agony on the point of bursting. His hoarse screams reverberated through the palace.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain receded. (But it was a good kind of pain) The outflowing seemed to take a thousand years and left him twitching weakly, sucking breath through a raw throat. Another thousand years seemed to pass before he could manage to heave himself over, muscles like jellyfish, (stomach like a big bowl full of jelly) and shakily push himself up on hands and knees. His eyes fell on the golden-haired woman, and the scream that was ripped out of him dwarfed every sound he had made before. Tottering, almost falling, he scrabbled brokenly across the floor to her. It took every bit of his strength to pull her up into his arms. His hands shook as he smoothed her hair back from her staring face. (Mommy! My dolly is broken!)
"Ilyena! Light help me, Ilyena!" His body curved around hers protectively, his sobs the full-throated cries of a man who had nothing left to live for. "Ilyena, no! No!" (Wh'os the big lurid sex machine who’s a hit with all the chicks? Lews! That’s right, that Lews is one bad- Shut your mouth! I was talking about Lews.... we can dig it!)
"You can have her back, Kinslayer. The Great Lord of the Dark can make her live again, if you will serve him. If you will serve me." (And I eat alot!)
Lews Therin raised his head, and the black-clad man took an involuntary step back from that gaze. (Wow, he IS ugly...) "Ten years, Betrayer," Lews Therin said softly, the soft sound of steel being bared. "Ten years your foul master has wracked the world. And now this. I will. . . ."
"Ten years! You pitiful fool! This war has not lasted ten years, but since the beginning of time. You and I have fought a thousand battles with the turning of the Wheel, (I don't know about you, but I don’t mind telling you that I’m getting dizzy) a thousand times a thousand, and we will fight until time dies and the Shadow is triumphant!" He finished in a shout, with a raised fist, and it was Lews Therin's turn to pull back, breath catching at the glow in the Betrayer's eyes.
Carefully Lews Therin laid Ilyena down, fingers gently brushing her hair. Tears blurred his vision as he stood, but his voice was iced iron. "For what else you have done, there can be no forgiveness, Betrayer, but for Ilyena's death I will destroy you beyond anything your master can repair. (You’ll be sent to the Spice mines of Kessel, smashed into who knows what!) Prepare to-"
"Remember, you fool! Remember your futile attack on the Great Lord of the Dark! Remember his counterstroke! Remember! Even now the Hundred Companions are tearing the world apart, and every day a hundred men more join them. What hand slew Ilyena Sunhair, Kinslayer? Not mine. Not mine. What hand struck down every life that bore a drop of your blood, everyone who loved you, everyone you loved? Not mine, Kinslayer. Not mine. Remember, and know the price of opposing Shai'tan!" ($24.95, plus shipping and handling)
Sudden sweat made tracks down Lews Therin's face through the dust and dirt. (If you look closer, it's easy to trace, the tracks of my tears....) He remembered, a cloudy memory like a dream of a dream, but he knew it true.
His howl beat at the walls, (Werewolf! He’s a werewolf!) the howl of a man who had discovered his soul damned by his own hand, and he clawed at his face as if to tear away the sight of what he had done. Everywhere he looked his eyes found the dead. Torn they were, or broken or burned, or half-consumed by stone. Everywhere lay lifeless faces he knew, faces he loved.(Well, I didn’t like that one so much; He bugged me alot) Old servants and friends of his childhood, faithful companions through the long years of battle. And his children. His own sons and daughters, sprawled like broken dolls, play stilled forever. All slain by his hand. His children's faces accused him, blank eyes asking why, and his tears were no answer. The Betrayer's laughter flogged him, drowned out his howls. He could not bear the faces, the pain. He could not bear to remain any longer. Desperately he reached out to the True Source, to tainted saidin, and he Traveled. (He went to Miami, for some relaxing fun in the sun)
The land around him was flat and empty. (Oh, he went to Missourri!) A river flowed nearby, straight and broad, but he could sense there were no people within a hundred leagues. He was alone, as alone as a man could be while still alive, yet he could not escape memory. The eyes pursued him through the endless caverns of his mind. He could not hide from them. His children's eyes. Ilyena's eyes. (Wow, like some cheesy horror flick you'd expect to see on MST3K- The Pursuing Eyes) Tears glistened on his cheeks as he turned his face to the sky.
"Light, forgive me!" He did not believe it could come, forgiveness. Not for what he had done. But he shouted to the sky anyway, begged for what he could not believe he could receive. "Light, forgive me!"
He was still touching Saidin, the male half of the power that drove the universe, (And had yet to receive a ticket for speeding) that turned the Wheel of Time, and he could feel the oily taint fouling its surface, (Let’s see the Environmentalists deal with THAT one) the taint of the Shadow's counterstroke, the taint that doomed the world. Because of him. Because in his pride he had believed that men could match the Creator, could mend what the Creator had made and they had broken. In his pride he had believed. He drew on the True Source deeply, and still more deeply, like a man dying of thirst. Quickly he had drawn more of the One Power than he could channel unaided; his skin felt as if it were aflame. (Quick! get me some Aloe Vera Gel!) Straining, he forced himself to draw more, tried to draw it all.
"Light, forgive me! Ilyena!"
The air turned to fire, the fire to light liquefied. The bolt that struck from the heavens would have seared and blinded any eye that glimpsed it, even for an instant. From the heavens it came, blazed through Lews Therin Telamon, bored into the bowels of the earth. Stone turned to vapor at its touch. The earth thrashed and quivered like a living thing in agony. Only a heartbeat did the shining bar exist, connecting ground and sky, but even after it vanished the earth yet heaved like the sea in a storm. Molten rock fountained five hundred feet into the air, and the groaning ground rose, thrusting the burning spray ever upward, ever higher. From north and south, from east and west, the wind howled in, snapping trees like twigs, shrieking and blowing as if to aid the growing mountain ever skyward. Ever skyward. (Aaaaaargh! Leme down! I’m scared of heights!)
At last the wind died, the earth stilled to trembling mutters. Of Lews Therin Telamon, no sign remained.(Well, what were they expecting? "Lews Therin Telamon ---- - > 5 mi"?) Where he had stood a mountain now rose miles into the sky, molten lava still gushing from its broken peak. The broad, straight river had been pushed into a curve away from the mountain, and there it split to form a long island in its midst. The shadow of the mountain almost reached the island; it lay dark across the land like the ominous hand of prophecy. For a time the dull, protesting rumbles of the earth were the only sound. (Humanity, You make me want to vomit. Go away)
On the island, the air shimmered and coalesced. The black-clad man stood staring at the fiery mountain rising out of the plain. His face twisted in rage and contempt. "You cannot escape so easily, Dragon. It is not done between us. It will not be done until the end of time." (Ooo-Oo-Oo-Ooo! It's all been done! Ooo-Oo-Oo-Ooo! It’s all been done! Ooo-Oo-Oo-Ooo! It's all been doooooonnnnnneee befoooooree)
Then he was gone, and the mountain and the island stood alone. Waiting.
"You know, maybe the story would be more interesting to you if you would listen to it and not make comments through the whole thing."
"Maybe Daddy, but it’s fun to make comments about it."
"Well, if you want, I’ll be back tomorrow night to read the first chapter."
"Okay daddy."
"Night sport"
"Night daddy."
