This was to be part of some thing longer but never grew. It was based on the idea that there are three groups in a society. People we understand, people who are different from us but we recognise still as people and a third group that are some times refered to by the norse word for animal, djur. Those that we do not recognise as human and a that one might move from one to another.
Few seem to think Djur any thing more than a rumour a tale to scare children only the servants of the lady know for sure and it is they who tell this tale. If you do find him, hope it is light, you are with friends and you don't have pretty eyes.
He smiles as he remembers her eyes, how could he ever forget them. The colour, the way they danced with light when she smiled, the way she fluttered her lids and pouted when she wanted something. Any thing was better than where he was and better than thinking of what he just stepped in. He comes to a branch and sighs, ok, which the rat infested, slime dripped, shit filled sewer this time, to the right or oh yea the same to the left. Then his head lifts slightly searching, a glimmer, the right holds some faint hope a scent of distant hills the warmth of the forest, the path he should chose. He shakes his head, turns and walks down the left passage into darkness.
The tunnels are older here, the bricks swollen and crumbling like pus filled sores squeezed buy the weight over them. Gaps between them where bright eyes peer and watch. Strange that’s all they do, watch, and wait then as he passes the rustle of feet and the chittering. Above near the surface were just rats but here though he doesn’t speak the language he knows there are words. It’s taken three days to follow them this far, three days of no sleep, little food and water taken on the run. His head droops, he shakes it cursing, the eyes, yes remember why you’re here.
Deeper still, here even the rats travel in packs and a chill creeps up his spine. Behind him nothing but gloom, no just nothing ,its dark ahead but his light shows the fetid mushrooms, slimes and assorted turds of the deep sewers but behind just darkness. Now he realises he is no longer hunting, they are herding him all this time searching tracking hoping against hope to what, rescue her, perhaps but they knew all along. He thinks of her eyes and smiles well maybe it was worth it.
No doubt of the path now he can smell cooking amongst the stenches. Its faint but at least they cook. If they eat then they bleed and if they bleed they can die. Its stronger now, closer, pork and something else no not quite and then he remembers the smell and the screams that when with it. He pauses and the shadows cluster behind him whispering. The room ahead is lit, bright after the darkness and there she is against the wall. There is time to take in the ragged clothes, the chains, the gag and the plea in her eyes before the shadows claim him.
He can’t know how long it was but little has changed except that now there are two chained to the wall and the one watching them from the floor between grins. The voices whisper but from where? He scans the room as well as the chains permit but nothing. Almost at his ear but no matter how he turns nothing but shadows. Yet the voice asks where it is? I don’t know I wasn’t there he answers. Your one of them the voice whispers back, you know. I don’t I wasn’t there. The whispers come back, yes the others were brave they wouldn’t tell either but you will. He wonders, he knows pain, bear attacks, falls, and wounds from countless skirmishes how bad can it be. The voice whispers chill, oh but we aren’t going to hurt you and he meets her eyes across the room.
Two days three? He isn’t sure any more. He knows he has no more voice than the toungeless one resting beside the brazier. He has screamed begged and pleaded but still the same question. Where is it, we know you know, where is it. Always from the shadows always asking. He wishes he did know he would have told them when they brought those strange tools, he would have told them that first day with the sharp hooks and hammers. He screamed his only answer when they broke her hands but still they asked where it is. Just as the whispers her cries continue but all he can do is watch the tears form in her eyes.
Yes its three days the second was the knives, the many cuts each one a little different, each one bringing a new scream and still the shadows whisper, where is it. Yet all he can do is cry his only answer, I don’t know I wasn’t there. Yes the second was the knives and he hangs from his chains and watches the beaten bloody thing she has become sob on the wall but she raises her head and still through the swelling and blood he can see the one eye they left her.
Three days yes the third day was the fire. Perhaps it was the way they managed to find the few undamaged places left to place the red hot irons but probably it was the last look in her eye before it burst from the heat. Now the voices are quiet they stopped asking a while ago now. There doesn’t seem to be much point. One wall contains only so much charred meat the other wall what is left of a man, arms bloodied and torn from straining against the shackles, face a rigid grimace and his eyes staring wildly on sights beyond the room.
More shadows approach but through the gloom these take shape and the whispers are different. The chains rattle then fall away and the man is lowered to the ground. Soft hands bind his wounds and slip stale water between his lips as the whispers continue, she sent us. The words make little sense but he remembers the things they say as he crawls across the floor. You are one of us now, outcast, animal, she claims you. He holds the shattered body in his arms rocking slowly whispering with his broken voice, don’t worry I will make it better. I will fix things I always fixed things for you before. I will, first thing tomorrow I will begin you can’t stay like this we must get you new eyes.
Djur
First of all, it's a great story. Don't change a thing about the underlying story, and the descriptions are wonderful. Have you read Elisabeth Hand, maybe in her "Rats and Demons" series? It reminds me of that, somehow.
However, it lacks some immediacy. It feels sort of distant, especially at first. I think it would benefit from being told from the first person. It would be great to find out about this fascinating protagonist and his transformation from the inside. Pain is easier to talk about when it's from the inside. (Yeah, that only makes sense to people who write fiction. Sorry)
Also, I found it difficult to keep track of the protagonist. After a second reading, I figured out it was the same person all the way though. For some reason I kept expecting the story to switch protagonists. That too would be solved by being told from the first person.
If you are interested in expanding this universe, you could think about the society (if any) that the protagonist came from. How many of these guys are there out there? Is this his coming-of-age for his people? Do they live in the sewers or is he just passing through? You imply the latter, but where do they live? How was he born? Did he start out human-like, or animal-like? Is his appearance human-esque during all this, or does he shrink to his animal form when he's hurt or threatened? OR is it his "fun" mode? (Animals have obvious advantages in hand-to-hand combat.)
Or is he, for all he knows, a human who just has a fondness for eyes, and only *discovers* that he's one of these beings when they pull this "initiation" on him?
This story has LOTS of possibilities. Yum!
However, it lacks some immediacy. It feels sort of distant, especially at first. I think it would benefit from being told from the first person. It would be great to find out about this fascinating protagonist and his transformation from the inside. Pain is easier to talk about when it's from the inside. (Yeah, that only makes sense to people who write fiction. Sorry)
Also, I found it difficult to keep track of the protagonist. After a second reading, I figured out it was the same person all the way though. For some reason I kept expecting the story to switch protagonists. That too would be solved by being told from the first person.
If you are interested in expanding this universe, you could think about the society (if any) that the protagonist came from. How many of these guys are there out there? Is this his coming-of-age for his people? Do they live in the sewers or is he just passing through? You imply the latter, but where do they live? How was he born? Did he start out human-like, or animal-like? Is his appearance human-esque during all this, or does he shrink to his animal form when he's hurt or threatened? OR is it his "fun" mode? (Animals have obvious advantages in hand-to-hand combat.)
Or is he, for all he knows, a human who just has a fondness for eyes, and only *discovers* that he's one of these beings when they pull this "initiation" on him?
This story has LOTS of possibilities. Yum!