Untitled - A Work in Progress

[Yuna]

Occassionally, you'll hear me going on about the novel I'm currently attempting to write. And then you'll probably think "Well... what is this novel about anyway?". So, rather than keep you all in the dark, I thought I'd post it up here. It's not brilliant - heck, it's not even high standard. So if you can't believe the crap you're about to read, don't blame me!

-coughs- Anyway, let's start shall we? I'll often back-to-back post, only because I have to (since each new post signifies a new chapter) and I'll start with the Prologue in the next post. Currently there's only a Prologue, a chapter and half of a chapter written, so bare with me! Oh yeah, and give me your comments. Eventually, I'll hopefully send this to a publisher so I need to get other people's opinions before I do.

Well! On with the show! Enjoy reading it!

[Yuna]

UNTITLED - A WORK IN PROGRESS

(Yeah... that's just code for I-haven't-actually-got-a-title-for-it-yet XD)

Prologue

Nightfall.

He watched the city lights disintegrate into the oncoming darkness from the hill that overlooked the beautiful water city. One by one, the little lights in each window went out, until no more were left blinking in the darkness of the city. The only lights left illuminating the city were the lights of heaven; pure lights that lit up the entire sky in an array of different sizes.

These guardians of night were called stars.

He was the guardian of this beautiful water city, a water spirit sent to protect them for all eternity. But he was no longer needed. The people of the city no longer believed in spirits and were abandoning the old ways. They rarely even prayed to their city spirit, believing it only to be superstition and a myth... not real. However, he continued to watch over them, protecting them like they were his own children. They were technically - he had protected and guarded this city since it was no more than an open field of earth. He had watched it rise from the ground like a father proudly watching as his child slowly grew up and became independent. He had guarded it with his life as it became a small village, and then to a busy town, all up to now as it was a city. Even as the people turned away from belief, he still continued to guard it, fighting back the evils that might engulf it them and, in turn, destroy them.

And why?

Because this city was his child, regardless of how it chose to grow up. And, for all eternity, he'd stay and protect his child with his life.

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A/N: And this concludes the Prologue. Don't worry; it'll make sense eventually!

Well, I'm off to add the next chapter!

Sayanora till the next chapter update!

~ Yuna

[Yuna]

UNTITLED - A WORK IN PROGRESS

Chapter I

Sunlight poured in through the open window of the small city apartment. He rolled over amongst the mass of tangled sheets wrapped around his body, before realising that he was currently at the very edge of the bed and sure to fall off at any moment soon. With that realisation in his head, his deep grey eyes shot open and he woke himself from his sleepy slumber in order to save himself from a rather nasty fall.

Birds outside his window chirped merrily a song to themselves. He forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes to dispel the sleep clouding his vision. He stared out of the window overlooking that beautiful water city, short black bangs of hair falling in his eyes until he had brush it back behind his ears with his fingers. Yawning, he noted the glorious morning sun in the far corner of his window, just rising from the city skyline. He heard the traffic begin to move on the streets below the apartment block as the day began for the city. His gaze fell on the clock sitting on his windowsill.

8:13am.

Sluggishly he pushed the sheets off and slipped off the bed, feet touching the cool, wooden flooring, old grey t-shirt and black shorts creased due to the many positions he must’ve rolled himself into during his sleep. Those mystifying grey eyes studied the many corners of the bedroom, as if in search for a particular object.

He found it under a pile of clothes, strewn across his writer’s desk. His object of desire. A fountain pen.

His name was Hiro Matsumoto. He was once a fantastic novelist, whose stories sold millions in mere moments. They told tales of fantasy, mystery and adventure. Tales of daring heroes and beautiful damsels, who awaited their hero’s triumphant rescue. But then everything had gone wrong on the day of the car crash. After that, he’d found it difficult to find his muse. He couldn’t focus. The doctors said his creativity had been severely damaged. They didn’t know the half of it.

However, the explanation would take longer than the cure, and so he had left that for a better day.

Several sheets of crumpled and torn paper were littered around his desk. He threw the pile of clothes off his workspace and then set off in search of a non-destroyed piece of paper from amongst all the sheets that cluttered up his desk. Eventually, he came across his old notepad, the same one he used to use to store all his ideas when he was still an unknown journalist, just scrounging for a good idea that he could turn into a full length novel to give to a real publisher. Feelings of nostalgia returned to him as he flicked and scanned each page that was crowded with new ideas. He could use any one of these to begin his new story. But, the idea in his head seemed so much better than any of these ideas on the paper. The idea in his head, he was sure, would strike his publishers’ hearts and keep them gripping the pages of the novel until they reached the inevitable end. He had decided to tell a different tale to his most usual ones. The hero would be the most unlikely person imaginable and the villain would be so creative and different from his previous villains, and their motives so unclear that it would keep you guessing till the final page.

And where had such an idea come from? It had come to him the night before… in a dream.

When he had viewed the dream in his head, the ideas had seemed so straight-forward. It would be a battle between light and darkness, with an unfortunate and unexpected end. It would transport the readers to a world where anything was possible… where fantasy and reality mingled in a large spiral of uncertainty. Where the most kind-hearted person could very well be the villain. Where the light and darkness were never a certain figure. Where the only real hope of survival… was to discover balance.

He fumbled with the pen in hand as he turned to a fresh page. A fresh page signalled a new start… a new set of ideas. A wonderful new beginning to an astounding tale. These pure, white pages gave birth to a sea of new, unexplored world and foreign emotions that would eat at his reader’s hearts and make them his puppets until the last, regrettable, page. He would make them his own personal puppets, and he would be able to venture and control their reactions to certain areas of text. He would give them a little description and they would fall under his spell - this was the way of his world.

Effortlessly, as if the crash hadn’t even happened, beautiful ink flowed out onto the white notepad paper, creating and forming words he didn’t even know existed. They, together, sculpted a world, he and his pen. Most novelists he knew these days preferred to use laptops or computers to create their stories. However he was different. He believed that, by using the computer as your only tool, your forgot the fundaments of true writing. The spirit and soul of your writing was lost through the use of technology, despite the fact that your new tool for creation had a spell-checker on it. He found it pointless to use such a useless machine to do the work his very hand could do. He and the pen were an unstoppable team, and like an artist sculpts clay, he sculpted his story with the paper… a furious battle of will-power, endurance and ink.

Hiro Matsumoto had fought this battle many a time though, and therefore he executed his ideas with extreme precision, like a doctor performing a vital operation where a single slip would cost the patient his life. In this set-up, he was the doctor, and his readers were his unsuspecting patients, and would remain that way until the book reached its final end. Their lives were in his hands and their hearts in his pen, and so his sentences, paragraphs and grammar must contain his heart and soul in them, so that they too could feel his emotions running through the veins of the page.

Five minutes elapsed, before Hiro stood back from the page to admire his work. And there, in the midst of white paper and blue ink, lay Chapter I finished, in all it’s amazing glory.

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A/N: Terrible? Horrible? Get back to me on it. And if the Prologue seems to have nothing to do with the story, don't worry. It will...

... eventually! XD

Sayanora till next chapter update!

~ Yuna

[Yuna]

UNTITLED - A WORK IN PROGRESS

Chapter II

As Hiro studied his publisher’s expression as she read through his wondrous first chapter, he noted the extreme emotions through her eyes that he had caused her to feel. A shiver crept up his spine; there it was. That lovely feeling of control in which he adored. It was an intoxicating sensation of full control – and he was God of the paper in his world he’d created. Nothing happened within his world without him, his pen and their blank canvas, the paper. He painted a scenery of lost emotions and his writing was fluid and constantly flowing, like the water itself.

And then his publisher reached the inevitable end of the heart-rendering chapter… that final word that would strike her heart and transmit all the feelings in the very skin of the page to her.

Darkness.

“It’s… it’s fantastic Mr Matsumoto,” she said, in between tears as she desperately tried to force back any extra that might come forward, “Your talent for moving the audience has really come out in this piece,”. Hiro smiled at his publisher, a sincere true smile, and fumbled around in his pocket, drawing out a tissue and handing it to her to dry her tears with. She gave him a smile of gratitude and wiped away her tears.

“Really Hiro… it’s probably one of the most emotionally moving pieces I’ve read of yours. I’m sure it’ll be a best-seller in no time flat – and that’s without us even putting your name or details on the front cover. I’m sure you fans will literally eat this up – I’m sure it’d move even a terrorist nation,”

“Please, Emiko. You give me far too much credit. It could still be improved – you know that,” he replied, but in his eyes glinted a twinkle of supreme pleasure and satisfaction with his work. His publisher, Emiko, brushed back some stray strands of her brown hair back behind her ears and her gentle brown eyes met his, sending a signal to him that his job was finished and he now successfully had gained control of his publisher’s undivided attention. Emiko shook her head slightly and turned her attention back down to the page of blue ink and home to a vast expanse of description that could soften the heart of even the most ferocious lion.

“No… really Hiro. If you tried to improve it, it would be completely ruined. It’s perfect as it is,” she determined, putting on her reading glasses in which she’d taken off after finishing reading the moving piece which was conveniently named ‘Untitled’, “However, while it is a magnificent story, don’t you think it’ll surprise your fans a little that, not only have you begun writing again, but your entire focus of your stories have turned to a completely different direction?” she asked. Hiro shrugged and turned his gaze to the window behind them.

“It doesn’t matter to me what they think of why I’ve done this type of story. All that matters to me is what they think of my story,” he replied. After all, he wasn’t interested in the money he earned for writing it or the fans he gained in his pursuit for the ultimate story that eliminated all competition and showed him as the best. He was only interested in one thing.

The control he gained over his readers once the book was published.

His publisher gave a small laugh. She’d known Hiro since back when he had first began attempting to write. She had even published his first book, ‘The Winds of Flame’ when no one else would. She had spotted his hidden potential and helped him delve into himself to discover his inner author. And now, she was sure the millions of other publishers whom had turned his earliest work down, were probably regretting it with every inch of their being. They were probably kicking themselves for not spotting that amazing talent and the way he had with his words.

And now, four years later, here he was. Twenty-four years old, single and the most popular author in all of the water city.

Hiro really was an inspiration to any young author who wanted to make it big one day in their life.

Emiko sighed.

“Well Hiro… I think that covers about everything. I look forward to receiving a new chapter of this book soon, okay? I’m as anxious to know what will happen as I’m sure your readers will be!” she said, her gaze shifting up to the ceiling above them. Hiro smiled to himself, and then stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting, and then left his publisher’s office, heading for home.

Emiko flicked through the sheets of tattered paper and smiled down at the random scrawls and notes printed across the paper in pencil that Hiro had forgotten to rub out in the process of writing his chapter. He’d obviously been in a rush to place the ideas down on paper, otherwise he might’ve taken more care with his presentation before presenting it to her. But, then again, Hiro never really did check through his own work and edit any mistakes that he made – he left that job for Emiko. However, Emiko wouldn’t have traded being Hiro’s publisher for anything on the world. Because the fact still remained.

She and Hiro were a team. And she wouldn’t rather work with anyone else.

* * *

A priestess of the High Court stood out on the terrace that overlooked the large expanse of sea below. It glittered and shimmered in the moonlight, the waves dancing and the lights upon the sea bobbing along with the movement of the waves. The moon was reflected upon the sea, a beautiful full moon with a radiance that surpassed the heavens.

The young priestess smiled while watching the water move slowly, as if in a constant rhythm. It was so amazing… the very waves themselves astounded her, even though she’d lived here, by the sea, all her life. Her shoulder length black hair was windswept, as the tide came in. Brilliant green eyes, the colour of emeralds, watched the waves sweep backwards and forth. She surveyed the skies too, for a brief moment. The full moon hung high in the sky, and the heavens were alight with stars.

And while she stood here, she went into a trance. Her body became frigid and immobile, as a vision went soaring through the skies of her mind, sending a thousand fast-paced images running through the very veins of her mind. Each one called out for her utmost attention, but only one truly caught her eye. And as the trance wore off, gradually that picture began to make sense.

She had seen a hero, who was coming to save the world from the impending darkness. A darkness that would be rising in the east. And only this hero could defeat it.

“Priestess! Tsukiko! You’re wanted inside!” called a voice from behind. The young priestess, Tsukiko Azumara, sighed, and took one last look at the moon before heading back inside.

There are some visions a priestess must carry on her own.

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A/N: It's all starting to slowly fall into place, I think. If you're a bit confused at this point, hopefully it'll become clearer as I write more of the story. Anyway, comments anyone? I could really use them! But, until next chapter update!

Sayanora!

~ Yuna

[Kenokoru]

Ello love. I do like your story and plotline so far, you should no-doubtly continue.You should give my story a listen,Yuna.Its called Gaurdian Angel.I hope It sounds as good as yours :]

[Alaura]

wow Yuna i like yours alot and so does my sister she read it its really she said it was better than hers lol but i don't think so i thinks there both really good but its better than mine only cuz i havn't worked on it in like 5 years so ya its prtty bab but i like your alot keep wrighting