Born By Grace - NSW (AN UPDATE!)

[Tiana Calthye]

Born by Grace

Rated: PG for mature themes. The story centers around a made-up religion, contains a sprinkle of bad language, and will later on contain horrible violence. You have been warned.

Genre: Fantasy.

Author's notes: I wasn't going to post this one until it was done because it's just intended to be a short story. But everyone else is posting stories so I figure it's my turn to put something up. I started writing this one with the intent of submitting it to a short story magazine, but I didn't finish before the deadline. However, if I can get it good enough, I might still try, just in the general direction of another magazine... with that said...

 

[PLEASE CRITIQUE IT unless of course you do just find it good enough as it is to appear in a publication. If you don't, tell me why. Because I'm writing this with the intent of publishing, I want to know everything. Once it's finished, unlike most of my other stories and because it's intended to fit into the short story category, I will likely do a second draft so your words will not go unheeded.]

 

This is the first draft, so yes.

 

<><><>

 

A hesitant rap on my walnut door sounded, the voice behind muffled just barely by the wood. Every bit of furnishing I owned was carved from the same tree. My tree. It would stay with me as long as I lived. With a sigh I pushed my chair back from my desk and swung soft slippered feet down onto the hardwood floor. I could tell it was a woman, but not which woman. Damned acolytes were so quiet. But no priestess would bother with a mere recorder herself.

 

"Come in." I may have sounded more miffed than I intended. It slipped through my lips before I could rein it in.

 

The door creaked open, a young girl with wide and almost frantic black eyes peering into the room. "Sari?"

 

"Mm?" I gave her a little wave, waving at one of the stools in the corner of the room. If I was annoyed by the disturbance, it didn't cross my face... or she simply didn't respond to it. "You can come in, if you'd like. I'm not doing anything too interesting." Just writing another list, I thought, sourly. Another list of things the high priestess wants but couldn't be bothered to dictate to me herself.

 

She gave a guarded little smile. "Do you think I'll need to stay?"

 

"Well, that depends what your problem is." I returned her smile, though mine warm and welcoming while hers was cautious and calculated. Were it not for the desperate gleam in her eyes, her smile would have been the perfect mask. "Are you all right?"

 

Her feet scuffed against the floor as she shuffled into the room, closing the door until it almost latched. Then she stopped. "Do you believe in visions, Sari?"

 

"Well..." For a moment the quill between my fingers shivered revealingly. I leaned forward and neatly set my pen back into the desk. I'd nailed the holder down right where I wanted it to stay. It wasn't going to move come hell or high water. "They say that those looked upon favorably by the gods occasionally receive prophetic dreams."

 

"But do you believe in them?" she insisted.

 

I caught myself pursing my lips before I'd even realized it, expression soured by the slow trickle of thoughts making their way through my mind. It would be so easy just to nod my head and say something about how it was the will of the gods that certain people be gifted supernatural abilities... yet, as a mere cleric, no one expected me to believe...

 

Henceforth, a similarly guarded smile crossed my face, hiding the grimace of indecision. "Who am I to question the gods, Grace?"

 

"Well, not believing isn't questioning," she said quietly. "It's just not believing. I want to know if you believe."

 

"I believe," I eventually said, "that there are things outside of our comprehension. Many things. You would not be here if there were not things greater than humankind. Gifted are they who find themselves drawn to the wings of the sisterhood..."

 

"You don't believe." And I was trying damn well to let flowery words hide that little fact.

 

"I do not disbelieve," I said mildly. "I have merely seen no woman call themselves prophetess and survive the invariable trial of fire. Given the required data, there will be nothing standing between me and the belief that the future can be contained within the mirror of a dream." My hands drifted back towards the pen. I hesitated, fingers halfway to grasping the comforting quill point. "Why?"

 

"I had a dream two months ago," Grace whispered. "A shadow fell over me. It touched me."

 

"Oh, well." I let my hand fall back to the desk. "At your age that's perfectly--"

 

"I've missed two periods."

 

"...Oh." Staring at my hand for a long moment, I finally let a shuddering sigh escape between my lips. It drifted away, and the room crept towards an unnerving measure of quiet. I wanted desperately to shatter the discomfort and finally brought myself to speak futile words. "I see. Have you upset the Moon Goddess? Not said your prayers or something?"

 

But this was Grace. Grace always said her prayers. Grace always knelt four times a day: to the east for the morning, to the south for the afternoon, to the west for sundown, to the north for night. Grace wore the mark of morning and evening on each palm. Grace carried the twelve charms of trials on her left arm and the twelve charms of triumph on her right. Most women didn't earn the eighth charm of trial until they were middle-aged. Grace was barely twenty. We called her charitable, generous, dedicated, and pure.

 

I picked up my pen. The little click as quill tapped against the stand was far too loud.

 

"You can't possibly be pregnant," I said to break the still. "You were bred to... like everyone in the sisterhood... none of you should be able to..."

 

"I've been dreaming things ever since," Grace said. The corners of her face twitched, as if she wanted to smile but couldn't bring herself to make the empty motion any longer. "Every night I dream. Do you believe in visions, Sari?"

 

The question again. I hesitated before shaking my head. "I've seen nothing to prove them. I can only believe that if you're pregnant, something must have gone with the process of purification... both between you and whoever... you..."

 

She sighed. "I dreamed you wouldn't believe me, you know. But you're the only one I trust..."

 

If she said any more, it was swept off by the crystal clear ringing of twelve bells in the depths of the sacred grove. Her eyes widened.

 

"Go on, then," I called out over the song of the bells. "You'll be late for the service."

 

"Yes. I... uh..." She hastened over to my desk and set a handmade parchment envelope off to the side. A sheepish expression crossed her face before she vanished, hurrying through the door and down the hall to the stairs. I realized I was tightly gripping my pen and relaxed my hand, dipping the sharp pen tip back in the ink and tapping it to shake free the excess. Writing was freedom. Writing was thinking. I needed some time to think. I recorded everything. This could not go unwritten.

 

I touched the blotting paper with my pen and then began.

 

Underneath a list transcribed from the official meeting with the queen (that of course, I had not personally attended), I penned my tidy signature then wrote:

 

Marith 12, 1283 in the fourth year of the Sun and the Scythe, two minutes past the south.

 

The white of the blank page burned into my eyes and I kept writing.

 

Acolyte Grace Twelve-one inquired as to whether I, Sari Recorder, believed in visions and on further discussion, indicated she experiences nightly dreams of a prophetic nature (may the Moon bless her path) but that her monthly flow has been suspended by aforementioned prophetic experience. Further research into phenomenon required. See doctor. Discuss with head priestess; prayerful intervention needed if herbs will not suffice to restore her flow.

 

I gave the note a weather eye, and returned my pen to its stand. Further details would be needed; after the ceremony of the afternoon I would search out Grace and speak to her again to properly document her situation for history.

 

She couldn't be pregnant...

 

I remembered the envelope a moment later and reached for it. It was not labeled, stamped, or marked in any way and I could only presume it was a delivery. Though many times she'd brought things to me, every priestess had a seal and a formal request would not go unsigned. Perhaps more urgent...

 

I slit it open. Inside, one silky sheet of paper rested. The priesthood got much nicer paper than us mere clerics, whispered a jealous thought. I drew it out and read, in Grace's spidery yet schooled handwriting:

 

I dreamed you would not believe me. Please believe.

Grace.

 

And below that, a frightfully familiar passage.

 

Acolyte Grace Twelve-one inquired as to whether I, Sari Recorder, believed in visions and on further discussion, indicated she experiences nightly dreams of a prophetic nature...

 

I read no more; my mind already knew what it said. My eyes blurred and the page slipped from between my fingers. Only by reflex did I catch it before it slipped to the ground.

 

Stars above!

 

<><><>

 

As the ceremony drew towards a close, I wove through dispersing men and women in search of Grace's nervous little form. Every acolyte wore the same gray robes and Grace was small in stature. She was difficult to pick out but at last I saw her, lingering on the edge of the crowd by the statue of the Lady of Winter. I hastened towards her. Her pale white fingers brushed against the marble stone, a token of respect drawn out mere seconds beyond respectability before she gave a sharp turn, gray eyes lighting upon me and hands flying back to her side.

 

My glance to the crowd was slightly anxious and I gave a little half bow to dispel concerns before grabbing her arm.

 

"You read my letter?" she asked with a little light lilt to her tone.

 

Hiding things...

 

I nodded shortly and pushed her towards the nearest door. "We need to talk. You have duties?"

 

"Always."

 

"Then place the blame on me." I pulled the willow door shut and started up the winding staircase. From here it was a short walk to a branch leading back to my office, but I couldn't help the feeling of insecurity that crossed through my mind as she shadowed my steps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

<><><>

 

Two notes by me.

1) I'm thinking of changing 'recorder' to 'chronicler', since I don't like 'recorder' all that much.

 

2) I hate the opening paragraph. I'm thinking:

 

"When a hesitant rap on my walnut door sounded, I sighed and swung my slippered feet down to the hardwood floor. Every bit of furnishing I owned was carved from the same tree. My tree. It would stay with me as long as I lived. It sounded like a woman, but her voice was muffled by the wood door—I couldn't tell who it was. Damned acolytes were so quiet. But no priestess would bother with a mere recorder herself."

 

But I'm not sure on either of them. Opinions and thoughts welcome.

Edited July 28, 2010 by Guest

[Jidai Geki]

How about 'scribe'? Scribe would seem to fit the setting nicely.

 

As for the post itself- it's obviously scant on details as to the setting, but stories that deal with fate and prophecy can be highly engaging, if done well.

 

As for the young girl and her missing her periods-

 

The question again. I hesitated before shaking my head. "I've seen nothing to prove them. I can only believe that if you're pregnant, something must have gone with the process of purification... both between you and whoever... you..."

 

Is this to mean that she slept with someone during this 'process of purification'?

[Amidala Skywalker]

I wondered at that too.

 

I agree that I don't like 'recorder'. Scribe or chronicler is better, though I think chronicler would fit the setting a bit better.

 

I agree that your opening paragraph is a little awkward, especially the first sentence. If you change it to the second one you suggested, I think that will help, but you should change "It sounded like a woman" to "The knock sounded like a woman's", because otherwise I still think you're talking about the tree.

 

The only other thing that bothered me is that there was no ending. It felt like an excerpt from a longer story rather than a short story that could be published on it's own. Maybe it's because I don't know anything about the world it's set in, or I'm just left hanging if she's pregnant or not and either way how she's an oracle. But I'm worried that might take away from your chances of getting it published--it feels unfinished.

[Tiana Calthye]

Scribe would work nicely. Now I'm torn between scribe and chronicler, the latter having been my other option...

 

As for the post itself- it's obviously scant on details as to the setting, but stories that deal with fate and prophecy can be highly engaging, if done well.

I was going for a slightly more in media res beginning, with the intent of introducing more of the world as it continued. I like stories that sort of reveal the world as they progress. Obviously as I'm writing it, I think it's a decent twist on a story about a prophecy... the lead character is not the one things are being prophecied about.

 

Is this to mean that she slept with someone during this 'process of purification'?

That's what the main character thinks! I plan to later more explicitly state that the "process of purification" means that they get their ovaries and or balls chopped out.

 

 

The only other thing that bothered me is that there was no ending. It felt like an excerpt from a longer story rather than a short story that could be published on it's own.

You noticed, hey? It's only the first bit of the story. It's not finished yet. It's a work in progress and I'm, like many of my stories, putting it up as I go. I stated in my author's notes that I wasn't going to post it until I was done but I changed my mind because everyone else was posting stuff. So this is just the first few pages. There's a lot more to go... I anticipate it will be around 6,000-10,000 words when it's done.

 

So don't worry! This isn't the whole draft. More shall be forthcoming.

 

Thanks for reading.

[DarthBrendo]

I personally would go with Chronicler. That sounds to fit more with what you're trying to achieve with that particular character. I have to agree with Amis suggestion on the first sentence. I was trying to work out what you were referring to.

 

I am intrigued though. Good start.

[Mathis]

I would also have to vote for chronicler. A scribe is someone who takes dictations from leaders, or copies orders to be distributed, or writes notices. From the way she wrote down the details of her visit from Grace make her sound more like a chronicler, but the list she's working on sounds more like a scribe. Now that I noticed that, I'm torn between the two, but will still stay with chronicler.

 

I prefer the second version of the first paragraph to the original.

 

When Grace comes in, her name isn't mentioned until they've been talking for a while. I think it would be better if you introduced her a little better when she first enters the room.

 

Also, I'm assuming there's a reason why you made a point out of all the furniture being carved out of Sari's tree, otherwise, why make a point about it? Does it have something to do with a ceremony or something?

[DarthBrendo]

Update please Tiana?

[Mathis]

Or at least a response to the critiques?

[Tiana Calthye]

Aw, okay, I was waiting to reply to the critiques until I could get my next update up since I hate double posting... but sure thing.

 

Brendo: I elected to go with Chronicler and edited that in. I've changed the sentence in question to:

 

She said something but her voice was muffled by the wood door--I couldn't tell who it was.

 

Thank you for your review. I admit I was kinda excited to see a review from you since you don't stop in that often... and here you are asking for more. I will definately see what I can do.

 

Mathis: Chronicler it is! Sorry for not replying to your crits, I was trying to hold off until I could post an update... I'm bad about that.

 

Her name... hm. How about:

 

The door creaked open. It was Grace, a young girl with wide and almost frantic black eyes peering into the room. "Sari?"

 

Which names her the moment she comes into the room. What do you guys think? Or do you want to see more physical description, etc?

 

As for the furniture all being made out of her tree... well, this is a first draft, I tend to let myself go on tangents in first drafts to see where things go, but that's also foreshadowing the end of the story in which SPOILER WARNING

 

 

 

 

Some things get burned, and yes, it does have to do with a ritual ceremony.

[Mathis]

It's cool, just figured that it's been almost a month and a half since you first posted it.

 

The edit on the entrance works for me. I just didn't like how there was two characters involved, but you didn't know who one of them was. If it's supposed to be an intentionally mysterious person with an unknown identity, that's fine, but I don't think that's what you're going for.

 

I have some predictions on where the foreshadowing is leading, but I'll keep them to myself for now.

[DarthBrendo]

No probs Tiana. I'm intrigued as to where you're going with this.

[Tiana Calthye]

All right, an update! It continues from the last scene. It's unedited and short but I needed to write something and since this finishes that scene, I can start moving forward into the more, uh... oh well, you'll see.

 

 

<><><>

 

 

Something was up. Something bigger than either of us. Whether it was simply a failure on the part of one of the cleansing ceremonies or--but no, Grace wasn't the sort of person to do that, was she?--or as big as gods and goddesses, I already could sense that it was beyond my control. Though nothing outside of my little tree was mine to command, and really, nothing even inside of it, it still bothered me to think that I had no sway over this sequence of events.

 

Grace sat down on one of my stools and I closed the door quietly behind her, turning to face her. Her pale fingers were folded together, ash robes drawn up over her slender shoulders. I found myself crossing the room in haste and snatching up the letter, holding it up for a moment before tossing it down. My wicker windows slammed shut before the paper fluttered to the ground. There was such little semblance of privacy here, I dreaded having such a conversation. The trees would hear. The trees would bring it back to the High Priestess.

 

"Calm down," Grace suggested.

 

"Calm!" My voice cracked and I knelt to pick up the letter again, shaking it free of any dust. "You copied my... you... that's not possible."

 

She shrugged. "It was the sort of thing you would believe."

 

"Believe. Yes," I echoed, systematically following through a series of motions to calm my racing heart. The paper on my wooden desk, the pen between my fingers, the inkwell opened... I'd started on the first few words of a purposeless letter before I finally felt myself breathing again. Then I returned my pen to its stand and turned to face her. "I can't believe this."

 

"You're not going to cite me pretty little covers now, are you?"

 

I shook my head. "Don't be ridiculous. Do you think that you're being given visions by the gods or a pissed off moon goddess or something?" Her shoulders came up a little bit; a tiny, wordless shrug. I found myself annoyed and reached for a book, paging through it in desperation. "Look. There hasn't been a prophet or a seer in a thousand years. It's all religion now, Grace. Rote prayers and sacred rites and ceremonies. It's control, is what it is. Every once in a while... look, it wasn't twenty years ago that Tessa Idril declared herself a prophetess over in the sky temple, and well... everything burns, Grace. Everyone burns. If people show up to declare the will of the gods, well, that just gets in the way. Sure, they say that some people have visions, and sure, they say that some people have supernatural powers, but those people have to be the right people and the right people are all chosen by mortal men, Grace!" I was stumbling through my words; rushing, hasty, nervous, desperate. "You know what I'm talking about! People disappear!"

 

"I can't pretend I'm not having dreams," Grace whispered.

 

"We'll come up with a story. Maybe it didn't work, the sterilization, maybe it didn't... I mean, sure, everyone knows you're on the right path... if you can just... you're a good acolyte, Grace. If you keep up like this and cooperate you'll have all the rituals and ceremonies finished in a couple of years! Everyone says you're the youngest to ever earn all twelve trials! You'll be a priestess by the time you're thirty!" I ran a hand across my eyes. "There's herbs for this kind of problem..."

 

"Herbs for prophetic visions?" Grace asked, a surprising amount of sarcasm dripping from her voice.

 

I caught a tiny laugh in the very back of my throat. It came out strangled. "No. For the pregnancy. I'll find some excuse to go to the harbor and..."

 

"No."

 

"And you can just be quiet about the dreams and... no?"

 

Grace shook her head. "I can't abort the pregnancy."

 

"You have to! You're not even supposed to be able to get pregnant!"

 

"Well, then maybe people will be more inclined to believe in what I see," she said darkly. "Impossibilities do tend to lend a certain weight to words."

 

"Or they'll believe that you've been tainted by some dark god and have you killed or locked up or used for some sort of experimentation. Or else they'll just figure the sterilization process went wrong and you'll have to go through the trials and triumphs again. And that'll probably kill you."

 

"You believe me."

 

"I don't know what I believe!" I rested my head in my hands, shoulders shaking. "If anyone finds out they'll just make you abort it, if they don't kill you first."

 

Through my fingers I saw Grace smile wearily. "Oh, don't worry about that. I guarantee they won't kill me before the child is born."

 

I glanced at my wicker windows and the sun sneaking through the entwined temple trees. "It would be safest to just end the pregnancy."

 

Grace shook her head. "Not safe. It means more than you know. But until you start believing in more than you know you're not going to understand."

 

"What I know is that you'll be imprisoned or killed," I snapped. "Fine. We'll hide it. We have a few months before you start showing, maybe, if you keep wearing those huge robes. As long as you play it safe maybe I can get you a boat out of here before anyone else notices."

 

I was overconfident. It lasted barely a week.

[Amidala Skywalker]

Very nice, T. I like the contrast of their two personalities--Grace is calm and accepting, while the narrator is worried and frantic. Her desire to control things is very relate-able to readers, too, as I know there are a lot of people--Americans, anyway--that seek control above all else.

 

And you ended with a cliffie....*sigh*

 

More soon please? I mean, sooner than two months?

[Mathis]

Good update, not too much to critique.

 

"Calm down," Grace suggested.

 

This seemed a little early, as Sari wasn't freaking out too much yet. However, it does fit with Grace being prophetic/prescient.

 

"You're not going to cite me pretty little covers now, are you?"

 

I'm thinking that this is just a phrase I don't know of, so I'm not quite sure the meaning of it.

 

I like how you start to let on about how knowledgeable Grace is about the future, to the point where she can guarantee that the baby will be born. This does make me question, is she seeing bits and pieces of the future, or does she already know how everything is going to play out?

 

Good to see the trees mentioned again. Shows that they're sentient to a point.

 

As for the cliffhanger, the only two options that I can think of is that either one of them tells someone, or else the baby grows at an accelerated rate.

[DarthBrendo]

It almost feels like its moving to fast for some reason. Not quite sure why though, I can't put my finger on what it is.

 

Good update though. I'm liking the subtleness with the trees here.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

Dang it! I just lost the entire response I just wrote up! Ok, this is definitely going to be a bit shorter than the first go around.

 

First: Nice story, T! It's good to see that you have some stuff up. You've done an excellent job setting the scene for this prophecy/religious-centered fic.

 

You've done a nice job introducing memorable characters already. Sari and Grace for sure, and rather vaguely but hopefully-to-be-expanded-upon the trees and perhaps the head priestess. In particular, you've done an excellent job of making Sari easy to identify with, from her sour disposition towards the higher-ranking members of the sect, frazzled nerves, disbelief, frustration at the tediousness of her job and yet relying upon it to calm her... all clear and expressed through example without being too drawn out.

 

I'm also looking forward to more detailed posts in the future, although I think for these introductory segments you hit a good balance of in medias res to introduce the reader to the milieu at a gradual pace which is very easy to absorb.

 

I have to agree with everyone else - Chronicler sounds better, but with what we've seen so far Scribe seems to better describe Sari's duties.

 

As per the debate over the starting paragraph, I agree that between the two versions you have the second reads a little better. However, I would also offer up a third suggestion to play around with. I found the whole focus on the wood a bit distracting there. The opening line seems to point to the person entering and the news to be shared or conversation to ensue as being what I, the reader, need to pay attention to. I found the mention of the wood around the whole office and it being connected to Sari a bit distracting, nor did it seem what would go through Sari's head at that point in time. She would go straight to the end of that paragraph - there was a knock, now who could it be? (without dilineating to her office decor). I DO think that mentioning this interesting connection to wood is good - it sets us up to be more prepared for (and to pay better attention to) the trees in the next segment. I think you could even move this later into the post, such as when Sari rests her hands on the desk, and simpy tie it back in (i.e. "I folded my hads carefully against the desk. It was a solid walnut fixture - just like the chair, the stools, the door against which Grace had knocked, and every other piece of furniture I owned. It was carved from the same tree . My tree.") Anywho, food for thought to try it in another place maybe, as well.

 

A few other thoughts, since you've asked us to be tough in our reviews as you have publishing in mind:

 

"Mm?" I gave her a little wave, waving at one of the stools in the corner of the room. If I was annoyed by the disturbance, it didn't cross my face... or she simply didn't respond to it. "You can come in, if you'd like. I'm not doing anything too interesting." Just writing another list, I thought, sourly. Another list of things the high priestess wants but couldn't be bothered to dictate to me herself.

 

She gave a guarded little smile. "Do you think I'll need to stay?"

 

You have two "waves" right next to each other at the beginning - might want to change one. Also, this strikes me a bit as filler dialogue to get the characters started interacting. Sari already said come in once, and as a scribe/chronicler would she mention something about her work being boring to someone higher up in the religious order? It helps set up her mental complain against the high priestess in the next sentence, but I just wasn't sure about it.

 

The question again. I hesitated before shaking my head. "I've seen nothing to prove them. I can only believe that if you're pregnant, something must have gone with the process of purification... both between you and whoever... you..."

 

I think you need a "wrong" in there.

 

Overall - great stuff! The second segment was really smooth and really helped further define Sari and Grace...as well as leave a bit of a cliffie!

[Mathis]

Tiana, are you still working on this story?

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

All right. I finally got around to reading this. I'm so sorry it took me as long as it did.

 

You saved a lot of time and description by using really generic imagery like ”œsky temple”