Nova-bright - NP-related series, part one. Any good?

[Yuka]

Well, uh... I haven't really been writing much recently, so this is probably in the not-too-good pile. But anyway. All comments, rotten tomatoes etc. very much appreciated!

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I glared at my old house; it glared right back. I felt my fur prickle. It had never been a home, not to me; always just a house. Two of the arched windows were boarded up, and the walls were made of dull, industrial red brick. As always, the garden was full of fake flowers; the grass at my feet was dry and filled with dying weeds.

This place again? Already?

I didn’t last five minutes in the real world. What a surprise that was. I hoped she wouldn’t be too angry when I knocked on the door, but I knew she would be. Her narrowed eyes and impatient frown would bore into me, daring me to flee before she called on the pound to pick me up.

“Sangrin?” a deep voice broke into my thoughts, and I turned to face the speaker. A pair of disembodied golden-yellow eyes met mine, searching me, and I resisted the urge to turn away.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to sound casual. His eyes never left mine as he spoke the next words.

“An old friend is looking for you,” he said. “She asked me to find you. She said you would be here, but you weren’t; I’ve been waiting here for two days.”

“You only just missed me,” I said bitterly. “My owner has this idea that I’m supposed to go out into the world and make money – for her to spend, of course.”

“I know how that feels.” There was a long pause, during which my eyes dropped to the floor and studied a smooth stone at my feet. “But that’s not important right now.”

“Okay. Well, uh... who is this friend?”

“She was wearing a hooded cloak when I met with her. I asked her, but she just said you were at school together, and she needs your help with something.” The sun was setting now, and a foggy grey outline framed the speaker.

“Take me to her.” It was better than the alternative; anything was. I’d never been in the pound, but I had seen a few pets going in when I was younger, including three of my weaker siblings. I’ll never forget the look in their eyes – that haunted look. Dark cages; darker hearts.

“Follow me.”

I obeyed silently, casting my mind back to the days of neoschool. A multitude of faces swarmed through my head – Marie, Kelsie, Brenna. None of them had been my friends, just acquaintances. I never was popular.

The sky was soon so dark that the stars were clearly visible, and I could see that my summoner was not actually invisible. He was a ghost. His transparent shock of white fur stood out against the dark walls only to fade when we passed under the dim torches.

Finally, as we approached an old tavern, the ghost stopped abruptly and pointed to the overhead sign.

“The Lucky Turdle.”

“That’s right.” The Lucky Turdle stood at the edge of the civilised world – beyond here, plains stretched farther than the eye could see. Beyond that, Meridell and a few other villages nestled in the shadow of the cold mountains.

“Is she in here, then?” It sounded stupid, but there was nothing else I could say. I just wanted to get this over with.

“Yes. She was when I left, anyway.”

“Before I go in…” I paused, thinking on my question for a moment. “Who are you?”

“I am a watcher, nothing more. I lost my name when I became a ghost.” A natural silence settled between us. Again, I had no words to add; except for one.

“Goodbye.”

“We will meet again, Sangrin.” For the first time, his mouth twisted in a half-smile. “I guarantee it.”

A brief ripple of apprehension ran through me, but I rose above it and pushed the door. It opened with a drawn-out creak.

“Ah. Welcome to the Lucky Turdle,” croaked the old bartender as the door closed behind me. There was barely enough light in the room to see by; only two or three candles. My eyes adjusted, and I saw two other figures slouched in opposite corners. One was cradling a tankard, the other wore a pitch black hooded cloak. Cautiously, I picked my way between the tables to the cloaked creature.

“You summoned me,” I said simply.

“Did I?” The voice was definitely feminine, although it was whispered.

“My name is Sangrin. A watcher brought me here. He said that you know me.”

“I certainly do. You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Tell me your name.”

“I can’t. This isn’t the place.” I was growing impatient with the stranger’s secrecy.

“Look, at least tell me why you brought me here!” I heard a low sigh from beneath the cloak, and she stood up.

“Fine. I’ll tell you. This way,” she said, pointing to a hallway hidden at the far side of the room. We shuffled towards it as quietly as possible, barely avoiding the bartender’s keen eye, and ducked into the first door we found.

“What’s the big deal?” I whispered. Small matters were not usually the subject of secrecy.

“Well… my brother writes music for a small-time band. Or he did, at least… until they told him they wanted nothing to do with him and cut off all contact.”

“Why would they do that?” I gave her a questioning look. Something was definitely off; gut instinct told me so. Then again, I never set much store by instincts.

“I have no idea,” she said, though I could hear doubt in her voice. “Anyway. They said if he really had something to say, he should start his own band. But he can’t. He’s always been sickly, and spends a lot of time in the hospital – no one visits him, except for me, though occasionally he gets mail. All he does is write songs.”

“So, what do you want me to do – find someone to sing the songs he writes?” Things were getting stranger by the second.

“No, it’s hopeless. We’ve been all over Neopia, and everywhere we were turned away.” I felt her eyes on me. “You’re our last chance. I just heard that you were looking for work and I remember in school you loved to play music…” she trailed off, uncertain. “Please. Consider it.”

It was all true – I had loved singing when I was younger, and would have loved to play an instrument, too. Except that Michelle hated my carefree habits. As I grew, I started to realise that I had no choice in the matter.

“Look, I’m no musician. Why couldn’t you have said this out there, anyway?”

“We have enemies,” she said simply. “I’ll leave this with you. It’s a book of my brother’s work; he has a message to spread, and you… you have a song in your heart,” she said. “I can tell just by looking at you.”

She dropped the book in my hands, and before I could protest she was out of the door. Mind racing, I flipped through the first pages of the book.

<i>Nova

…Nova-bright eyes,
So alive (so alive)
It’s time to sing (my friend),
Breathe it in and (realise)…

Power is such a
wonderful thing

Nova-bright eyes,
Take my lies and spin your web
Cast off the shackles of the dead
Come with me and live instead…

Nova-bright eyes,
Cast your light on me
Break my chains and set me free
Forever (forever, forever)…</i>

I could read no further, though my mind was captivated. Forcing myself to close the book, I stuffed it into my back pocket. What was I getting myself into?

Mind racing, I turned to open the door. The elderly Krawk bartender was waiting in the hallway, tapping his wooden stick on the floor impatiently.

“’ey! You! Get outta there! What are you doing?”

“Sorry. I was just curious.”

“I don’ like curious folk,” he said, voice laced with suspicion.

“Well, maybe I’d better get going,” I said, backing out of the corridor. The pub was completely empty now, and only one candle was still burning.

“You better had,” the old Krawk snarled, waving his stick at me again. “Curiosity will bring you naught but trouble, mark my words… an’ I want no part in it!”

Without thinking to reply, I slammed through the door and bolted away in search of a safe place to spend the night. Home was a write-off – it would have been too late to catch Michelle in a good mood, if ever there was such a time.

The streets were wet with freshly-fallen rain. Spring was on its way, I knew. Finally, after three hours of wandering, I contented myself with an old discarded blanket found atop an overflowing bin.

It was hard to sleep that night; the song was pounding through my mind, over and over again. Almost as if it had taken root, and would drain the life from me if it could.

<i>Break my chains and set me free
Forever…(forever, forever…)</i>

I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head to muffle the imaginary sound.

<i>Cast off the shackles of the dead
Come with me and live instead…</i>

The sky was growing light by the time I gave up getting any rest. Instead, I mulled the problem over in my mind till each syllable sounded alien. What could it possibly mean? Why was I scared of a bunch of old words, anyway?

<i>Maybe because they’re </i>not<i> just words.</i>

Oh, come on. There has to be some explanation. Magic isn’t <i>real</i>; it’s a thing the Faeries above use to keep us in check. Just a bunch of old words…

<i>I’m going to have to say yes, aren’t I? I’m not strong enough to pull away from it. And anyway, I always complain about my life being dull, don’t I? I should think of this as an adventure, a change of pace, and maybe… maybe even a chance at stardom…</i>

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Thanks for reading! Oh, and be honest.

[Hawk]

I like it I'm not much of a writer, so I can't really comment well... but I do read a lot

One criticism - the entire second half is in italics

[smirkish]

I like it as well. ^^ And was going to mention the italics too. x3 I especially like the lyrics. Good job.

[Yuka]

Thanks for the comments! I fixed the italic thing. I hate it when that happens. Thanks again, both of you! Part two should be done over hte next few days (depending on my free time).