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I (finally) wrote the 2nd chapter of Riker/Leon’s 2nd book!!! 🤩
had writer’s block for a while…😅 BUT I finally wrote some more yesterday and today!!! Yay!!!!!
my baby bois 😭
“You know you can stay here as long as you want, dear. You could stay here forever if you needed to.”
“Thank you for the offer, Louisa,” Leon broke the top off a glass bottle; he faced his mother-in-law, “but I still think it would be best if I and the kids had a place of our own to live in.”
Louisa’s thin gray eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you sure? This home is always open to you, you know that.”
“I know, Louisa, trust me, I know, but I think it would help all of us to live in our own home.”
“Alright, if you’re sure…just never be afraid to ask for me when you need help, alright Leon? I’ll always be here for you.”
Leon smiled and set a gentle hand on Louisa’s arm. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
He stepped away and tipped the glass bottle in his hands up, savoring the burning the amber liquid left as it trailed down his throat.
It started with one small, fleeting drink, but Leon used it more often than he ever would have thought before…it helped numb his pain somehow, even if it was only temporary.
A quick knock sounded on the door; Leon turned on his heel. “Who would be coming over at this time of day?”
Louisa shook her head, blue eyes filled with worry. “I don’t know, dear…it’s suppertime.”
Leon set the bottle down; he opened a kitchen drawer.
“Leon-“
“The knife is only for self-defense if it’s needed, Louisa…”
The own words coming from his mouth…Leon didn’t even understand them.
When would he have ever gone to the front door with a knife before the camp?
His time in the camp had taken much from him, at best all his belongings. Worse, it took away his trust in any person.
Leon slowly edged the front door open; his fingers clung to the knife. “Who is it?”
“Leon? Is that…are you holding a knife?”
“Isaiah!? Isaiah, what are-? How did-?”
The man Leon had spent most of his time with at the camp, Leon’s father-like figure, if Leon dared to admit it, smiled gently, brown eyes twinkling with humor, wrinkles creasing with joy. “We promised we would reunite, wouldn’t we? I and my family live close by with an old friend of mine until we can find our own home to live in. I saw you earlier today and thought I would see you again.”
“I-I didn’t know you lived close by.”
“Well, I do…is a knife really the right way to greet a guest, Leon?” Isaiah asked with a chuckle.
Leon bit his lip; he loosened his grip on the knife. “Please Isaiah, come inside. I just had this for self-defense, and I-“
“Leon,” Isaiah’s gentle hand rested on Leon’s forearm, “you don’t have to defend yourself…I understand much more than you may know. It’s not easy to trust people after all of this, but God will help you.”
Leon chafed. There it was…Isaiah’s talk about God. Even after everything Isaiah had been through, he still preached about God’s goodness. Even after Isaiah lost his oldest son Judah, he still thought God would be faithful.
When would he realize that God had abandoned all of them?
Leon closed the door behind Isaiah and strode back into the kitchen, putting the knife back into the drawer it belonged in. He turned to his mother-in-law with a small smile. “Louisa, this is Isaiah. I met him in the-” Leon’s voice cracked, “-…in the place I was in. Isaiah, this is my mother-in-law, Louisa.”
Isaiah smiled and stepped forward. “Wonderful to meet you, Louisa…I have heard about you from Leon.”
“Same to you, Isaiah. Please, would you care to stay for supper? From what I have heard, you have done so much for Leon.”
“I don’t wish to intrude-“
“You won’t intrude, Isaiah…Louisa would love to have you here.”
Isaiah faced Leon and slowly nodded; he turned to face Louisa again, gray hair almost shining in the dim evening light. “Well then, I suppose I would be overjoyed to stay for dinner. Thank you. I would also like to offer my condolences for the loss of your daughter…Leon told me that she was an amazing woman.”
Like a bear tearing and ripping at his bleeding heart; Leon swiped the glass bottle off the counter and took a long sip.
“Thank you…L-Leon has told me that you also lost one of your children.”
Isaiah slowly nodded. “I did, but the Lord has been faithful to me and my family,” Isaiah’s gaze drifted to Leon; his brown eyes filled with compassion and even concern, “and I know he will do the same for your family.”
Leon scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he took another sip of burning alcohol, “if you will both excuse me, I’m going to check on Isabel and Albert and get Elias up from his nap.”
He turned to leave the kitchen; Isaiah followed him and gently grabbed his arm. “Leon-“
Leon spun on his heel to face the man that had cared for him in the camp, the man who Leon vehemently disagreed with yet respected and cherished, and shook his head, firm. “No, Isaiah, I don’t want to hear about God-“
“Alcohol isn’t going to stop the pain, Leon. It may numb the pain for a while, but it will only make your life worse.”
Leon pulled from Isaiah’s grip. “Do you have a better solution?”
“Leon, God will-“
“God abandoned me, Isaiah. He abandoned Aadelheide. He abandoned all of us.”
“Leon, God never abandons-“
“Yes, he did. I’m going to go check on my kids. Don’t tell me what to believe, Isaiah…God’s done absolutely nothing for me.”
Isaiah shook his head, slowly, gently, brown eyes full of tears. “That’s where you’re wrong, Leon…God did so much for you. He sent his only son to die for you, and he loves you so much that-“
“If God did love me, then he wouldn’t have abandoned me in that camp, Isaiah.”
“Leon…”
Leon turned on his heel, putting his back to Isaiah. “God didn’t want anything to do with me, so I don’t want anything to do with him.”
~*~
Moonlight danced before him, beautiful as it was a cruel reminder of how alone he really was.
His wife and his kids were all far away in America, and Riker couldn’t even write them letters.
Water stung his eyes; Riker angrily wiped tears from his face.
He lowered his arms. His fingers curled around the edge of the porch railing; his knuckles faded to white.
“Still out here staring at the moon, are you? What’s so special about it?”
Riker stared straight ahead, unwilling to meet his father’s bloodshot gaze. “I needed fresh air.”
Franz scoffed; he tipped the glass in his hand up, paused, and lowered the glass again. He huffed. “It’s empty.”
Riker held his breath, unable to breath in the alcoholic fumes in his father’s breath without seeing unwanted memories.
Franz’s scrutiny…Riker could feel it even with his back to his father. Maybe living with his father wasn’t the best option, but he had no others. It hurt to be reminded of the mother that had once made Riker’s childhood house a home, but maybe he just deserved to hurt.
Pain wasn’t enough.
Greif wasn’t enough.
Guilt wasn’t enough.
Riker deserved Hell.
Franz set down the empty bottle with a resounding thud.
Feet marched in rhythm. Men, women, children, and babies trudged forward, tired yet hopeful.
Silver heads glistened in the sun; many couldn’t walk.
Women clung to their husbands; husbands clung to their wives. Children, scared, confused, hungry, and even crying, clung to their parents.
Several women carried babies that couldn’t have even been a year old. One held a baby no older than two months, trying to sooth his cries while shedding her own tears.
Together, the crowd marched into a large brick building, unknowing of what awaited them.
The large doors slammed closed with deafening thuds.
A creak; a valve opened.
The building erupted in begs and screams.
And then…silence.
Riker stumbled backward, head spinning, eyes seeing the faces of the innocent lives he had taken. He blinked several times and took several breaths to calm his breathing.
“What’s wrong with you!?” Franz yelled, coal eyes pierced, narrowed. “I told you to get me a drink-“
“I-I-I will, Father.” Riker interrupted, walking, stumbling, into the house and into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle out of one of the top cabinets and popped the top off, bracing himself against the smell, head spinning, possibly more dazed than he’d ever been.
Riker sniffed; he wiped tears from his eyes with his white shirtsleeve.
A part of him wished he could see his family, and soon. But no, how could he face them knowing all that he’d done? How could he live happily with his family whilst knowing all the lives he’d taken and all of the families he’d ripped apart for all of eternity?
“God loves you so much more than you can ever imagine, and he’s more than willing to forgive you…all you have to do is ask, and he will be faithful to forgive you.”
Fin’s gentle, compassionate words, but they weren’t true…he knew they weren’t. He accepted that they weren’t true.
Knowing what he’d done, all the people he’d killed, it was obvious that Fin couldn’t have been right about that.
Riker knew the truth…he knew he was a mistake and a murderer.
He knew what he deserved.
Redemption was too good for the likes of Riker Schind.
@freedomwriter76
*sobs* Riker!!!
And Leon… him bringing the knife honestly tells so much about his personality, how his trust in the world has basically been demolished
The poor boy…
Oxygen shortage
do your part, hold your breath
@freedomwriter76
Wow, I love it so much! I like how they have both the same and different sides of an arc. Like both of them need to trust in God, but for different things and reasons. You’re doing such a good job! I never feel like I’m being preached at when I read your writing, it’s so genuine.
へびは かっこいい です！
@freedomwriter76
Oof… Poor Riker and Leon.. 😭 I like it so far!!
“Well, I do…is a knife really the right way to greet a guest, Leon?” Isaiah asked with a chuckle.
lol (ha, I found this very funny ^)
...i see the world in my head every time i close my eyes...
- Rank: Chosen One
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@mineralizedwritings @smiley @grcr Aww, thank y’all so much!! 💕💕
And Leon… him bringing the knife honestly tells so much about his personality, how his trust in the world has basically been demolished
Yes, Miley…I thought the exact same thing 😭
You’re doing such a good job! I never feel like I’m being preached at when I read your writing, it’s so genuine.
Thanks Min, that means a lot…I’ve felt like it’s been preachy at times, so it’s such a relief to hear that it’s not😊
@freedomwriter76
Leon! My darling Leon! Noooooooo…
And Riker! That’s not true! Both of you need so much healing. And prayer. And just, ugh.
Seriously Leon, try coffee. It’s much better for you.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
@freedomwriter76
(Ok so I didn’t get notified for this until just today. 🤦🏻♀️😂)
Awwww, the boissss!! 😭❤️
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
@freedomwriter76
I’m dumbfounded. This story is getting heartwrenching. (Which is, I suppose the equivalent of saying, “good job!” XD)
I do find it interesting how you are contrasting two different alcoholics. It foreshadows trouble if Leon doesn’t find healing and repentance. •_•
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
@freedomwriter76 @koshka @sunny421 @godlyfantasy12 @Idon’tknowwho @anyone
So I’ve finally managed to write the rough draft for the opening scene of book one of project Heirs of Ashes. I desperately need thoughts and critiques on it, and ideas for the plot. Really just anything will probably help.
For those who don’t know, HoA is an adventure/I’mnotsurewhattocallit book set in a ancient/early medieval world (900 ad). The story centers around three siblings(and a cousin!) and their journey to restore their native kingdom which is currently a province of their century-old enemies(A plot). Themes include: selfless love, family, trust in God, servant leadership, forgiveness, and identity.
Now, opening on the island of Yartass…
The Eastward road stretched out in a long, red line, drawing a battered cart along. Bits of stubble blew out behind it in gleeful escape across the fields.
Unconcerned, Damphrey the pony bobbed his head in rhythm with the road’s pulse. Up and down his hooves plopped keeping time with the crickety creaking of his harness. At last his master’s voice rang out.
“Oy, hold up here, Damphrey. I didn’t work all day to pass by a good talk.”
As soon as the pony had slowed to a stop beside the wicker fence, Corbin Auder stood on his seat and began waving wildly. His soft boots slid on the bench as it swayed under his weight. Damphry shuddered and cast mutinous looks back at his master. Still Corbin bellowed, his brittle voice cracking as it rolled out into the field.
There between rows of lentils, Viktor turned away with a smile. He took his father’s shovel and slid onto the earth to rest. His sling felt good in his hand.
“I’ll keep the birds off.”
“You’d better have more rocks than that then.”
His father winked at Viktor and turned to walk up to the fence. Viktor dug his fingers into the earth to look for more, not that any remained out in the middle of the field. He cast a glance at the two old friends.
Andric’s tall form leaned against the fence Viktor had helped him build, still unstooped by age despite being in his early fifties. Corbin on the other hand, was at least three years younger than Viktor’s father, but was just then complaining of the “lingering winter” in his joints. The two men laughed, though Viktor’s thirteen years didn’t catch the joke.
He flipped his lump of sod instead. Dark Yartasite soil gazed up at him curiously as if wondering why it had been disturbed. Viktor pressed his palms into it. They left an almost perfect impression, although his left fingers had curled at the last minute and made the print rather awkward on that side. He gave a rueful laugh and rolled to his feet. A few crows needed to be dealt with anyway.
The sound of his name jerked his attention back to the men by the fence. They had turned toward him. He clasped his hands inconspicuosly behind him.
“Yes, he’s a great help.” His father smiled at him, pride touching the edge of his voice. “I can’t imagine how I’d work the farm without him.”
“And it’s good for him.” Corbin nodded wisely. “I think he’s grown. Why Viktor, ye must have shot up a whole cubit since I last saw you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What?”
“I said ‘thank you’, sir.” Viktor winced. He’d have liked to take the compliment – being the shortest boy his age in miles, but it was the same thing Corbin Auder said to every young person he met – every time he met them too. Viktor forced a smile and waited for Master Auder’s next infamously broad phrase.
“You’re looking more and more like your father each day.”
As if.
“Thank you, sir.”
A glance at his father showed Andric was biting back a laugh. His grey eyes met Viktor’s black, and he winked.
A slow grin spread across Viktor’s face.
“How have you been, sir?”
“Me? I’ve been hungry for those purple peas.” Corbin nodded toward the ladden field. “There’s Market in Town tomorrow, ya know, Andric. I hope I’ll see you and Katie sellin’ your lentils?”
“We’ll head down after dinner, if I can get a good load in before noon.”
Corbin gave a low whistle. “Good. I’ve been hungry for those beans for three whole months. Tell the ladies Shallat from me.”
The two men shook hands and Corbin heaved himself up into his seat with a sigh so huge Viktor wondered if a rib had been cracked by it. The cart rolled off amid hoots and a loud snort of Damphrey’s. Viktor joined his father as they watched it rumble away.
“Good old Corbin. Would you believe he routed a band of fifty men during the war? All alone?”
“Yes, actually.”
Their laughter startled a Coodoodle perched on the wicker of the fence. The bird flew off in a great coo of indignation.
The two watched it disappear into the wood at the edge of the field, a golden speck in the fading light.
Then with the suddenness of the harvest season, it was quite late.
Andric took back his shovel and the two started back toward the little white cottage tucked between the apple trees. The sun in it’s glowing red glory left them just enough was light to guide them home. A slight chill was slipping into the air.
Viktor stopped at the turn in the path, staring at the grass growing up into the fence.
“The last of the fieldjewels.” And so it was. The flower’s wide blue petals gazed back into the sky with silent acceptance of its lonely fate. Viktor took two steps, thought better of it, and returned to pluck it carefully from the soil.
Andric smiled at his boy who cradled the flower in practiced, though filthy hands.
“Your Mama will love it.”
A grin touched the boy’s face, though he shrugged as if it was nothing. The two walked along the path in silence
Note: I know being “unstooped” at fifty isn’t much nowadays, but considering the era, I’ve actually lengthened lifespans quite a bit. 🙂
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
woah, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages! Your writing style is lovely, sadly it’s getting late and i’m to tired to leave a critique lol, keep up the good work!
へびは かっこいい です！
It’s definitely been a while! A lot of things have conspired to keep me off KP. (Mainly College and Bible Quizzing) I’m still here though. How have you been?
Thank you, I await thy assessment in eagerness.
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
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I do find it interesting how you are contrasting two different alcoholics. It foreshadows trouble if Leon doesn’t find healing and repentance. •_•
You know, I never thought about that😅 XD
you’re so right tho
also, I love the scene!!! i can’t really think of any critiques, except for that the beginning was a little confusing, with it being one character and then going to Viktor and his father. (but that could just be me😂)
otherwise, I really like how it sounds and flows. Amazing job *claps* :3
@freedomwriter76
AWWW the bois!!!
It’s so sad thinking about all the horrible memories soldiers such as Riker must have. 😭
I rolled the log over and underneath was a tiny little stick and I was like, "That log had a child
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@euodia-vision i knowwww 😭 @koshka @elishavet-pidyon @smiley @whalekeeper @godlyfantasy12 @mineralizedwritings @hybridlore @esther-c @joy-calle @anyone-else-idk-lol-XD
Sooo, I’ve been thinking about possibly writing The Bois book, Against All Odds, for NANOWRIMO (probably won’t finish the whole thing, but I want to motivate myself to write it XD) and I was thinking about some plot/character issues.
I know a lot of you (and me, too, lol) have wondered why the Bois, all as grown men, won’t leave their abusive parents, and after thinking about things I’ve thought of before, the Bois’ personalities, etc…I have an answer.
But I will be changing the Bois’ ages slightly. I feel like it’ll be better that way (let’s be honest, Wolfgang seems younger than 18😅), and plus, I’ll finally have an explanation for why the Bois still live with their abusive parents. also, I can keep Dietrich and Adolphus BOTH older than Leo without them being in their 30s, lol!
So, I still want to keep the 10-year gap between Wolfgang and Leo, so these will be everyone’s new ages (including Adolphus, Dietrich, Annalise, and Steffi)
Leo, 26
Joshua, 24
Jakob, 23
Reuben, 20 (still the same)
Wolfgang, 16
Adolphus, 28
Dietrich, 27
Annalise, 15
Steffi, 13
so the Bois still live with their parents BECAUSE they can’t leave Wolfgang and their parents won’t let them have/take care of Wolfgang themselves.
I feel so accomplished, solving this problem and answering this question 😂
but what do y’all think??
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nvm, Reuben will actually be 19, 1 year younger than before XD
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