Revision [10352]
This is an old revision of TheRaid made by BillHamilton on 2009-11-11 13:26:19.
Date: 627 CE - Early Summer
Location: A rural fishing village on the southern coast of Greece.
Alaistar had awoken with the break of day to a warm meal prepared by his mother. Afterwards his mother took him by the hand and they went down to the shore to meet his father who's small boat, Alaistar knew, had already been bobbing on the waves for hours. Alaistar skipped up and down as his mother hummed an airy tune. Their path through the woods let them to a secluded section of beach - Alaistar's father's special fishing place, away from all the other fishermen. As Alaistar and his mother stepped from the treeline and Alaistar's bare feet hit sand he released his mother's hand and ran full speed to the edge of the lapping waves. Alaistar called and waived with all his might to his father who looked up with a broad smile and waived back.
As his father began rowing for shore Alaistar played tag with the waves - his shouts of joy and his mother's laughs echoing down the beach. By the time Alaistar's father steered his boat onto the shore and dropped his rough hewn anchor into the sand Alaistar had soaked himself and his mother. Alaistar's father leapt from the boat with a hug and a kiss for his wife. Alaistar pulled at his father's pant leg and his father reached down and tossed the boy into the air before catching him and giving him a hug and a kiss of his own. The smell of the ocean itself oozed from his father's auburn skin. Popping Alaistar into the boat Alaistar's father began unloading his baskets of fish onto the beach while Alaistar scrutinized the wooden oars, rope nets, other tools of his father's trade that were littered around the boat. "It's time to go - the market will be starting soon," his mother's voice came a few minutes later. And with that Alaistar leapt from the boat into his father's waiting arms with a wet splat.
As Alaistar's mother hoisted a basket onto each hip his father handed him a large fish to carry back to the family hut, laughing as the slimy thing slipped from boy's small grasp. Alaistar's father lifted an enormous basket overflowing with fish onto his own shoulders with a grunt and began walking for home. Alaistar quickly snatched the fish from the sand, hugged it with two hands to his chest and ran to catch up with his parents.
For the next few hours the village bustled with energy as the villagers traded with one another. Alaistar and the other village children giggled as they played hide and seek - chasing each other through the crowd. But as the sun neared its peak in the sky the energy of the village seemed to slowly evaporate and during the hottest part of the day everyone retreated into their huts. As the midday meal simmered over a small fire Alaistar's parents played games with him. They would rest until dark when the villagers came together and socialized around the evening fire.
After a long day Alaistar's small body was exhuasted and he was asleep even before his mother had the chance to give him a soft peck on the forehead.
Though while his body rested, Alaistar's mind continued to race. The stories shared around the evening fire that night began to replay themselves through Alaistar's dreams. Visions of ancient warriors and sensual goddesses played in Alaistar's mind.
Alaistar awoke to the cries of his mother. A large man dressed in metal held her roughly at the elbow and was trying to pull her from the home. Alaistar tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, unsure if he was still dreaming. Another cry came from Alaistar's mother and Alaistar saw her spit in the man's face and then kick him in the groin as he tried to clean his eyes. The man collapsed in a heap and his mother moved back into the home. Alaistar stretched his arms towards his mother, but she did not rush to her son's side. Instead she moved towards some ongoing struggle on the floor and for the first time Alaistar saw that there were two men fighting on the ground.
Alaistar's father wrestled with another armored man. His father struggled valiently, but the other man was much larger and it was clear, even to the small boy, that the fisherman would soon lose to the soldier. Tears welled in Alaistar's eyes, but the boy only stared from his sleeping mat, paralyzed - not knowing how to help. As the man began to bludgeon his father with his metal-clad arm Alaistar's mother entered the fray, using two hands to bring her weaving stool crashing down onto the back of the large man's frame - ending the fight. Alaistar's father pushed the limp body to the side and leapt to his feet, his arm moving instinctively to staunch the flow of blood from his head. Both of Alaistar's parents moved toward their son and his mother pulled the stunned boy from his mat and took him into her arms. Alaistar's eyes were already overflowing, but for a moment he felt relief in his mother's arms. His father led the way to the door of the hut, pulling a metal poker from the cooking fire as they moved.
As the family neared the door the first man pulled himself to his feet and charged the family - brandishing his sword. Quicker on his feet than his armored opponent Alaistar's father dodged the first blow and thrust the poker into the man's eye with a sizzle and a pop. The shrieking was so loud that Alaistar covered his ears, but the muffled cries still pierced him as the man collapsed again grasping feebly shaft of the poker. Though Alaistar's mother attempted to shield the boy's eyes from the gore the boy stared transfixed. As his father bent down and hefted the abandoned sword awkwardly in his fist another soldier crossed the threshold.
With his sword poised high to strike Alaistar and his mother, Alaistar's mother turned her back to the man in an effort to shield her son from the killing blow. Looking over his mother's should Alaistar watched as his father jumped into the path of the falling blade, never raising his own. With a spurt of blood, the metal sunk deep into his abdomen. Alaistar's mother whirled back to face their attacker and screamed at the sight of her husband dropping to his knees. Alaistar felt his mother's arms loosen and he fell to his feet. "RUN Alaistar, RUN!" she screamed as she shoved Alaistar toward the door and launched herself at the man who had slayed his father - digging her fingernails deep into his eyes. "RUN, Alaistar!" At his mother's order Alaistar felt power flow back into his limbs and he ran into the night.
Moving through the village the world around Alaistar seemed a blur. The village swirled in chaos. Villagers ran in every direction - some turned to fight their attackers, but those that did were quickly cut down. With most of village huts on fire, the night was powerless to hide the carnage. Alaistar moved away from the huts and into the darkness of the trees. Without thought he ran to the beach using the same path he had walked with his parents that morning. As he crested the highest dunes Alaistar froze once more - finding himself blinded by new light. Torches peppered the coast and when his vision cleared Alaistar could see a dozen rowboats lining the shore. In the distance two large ships bobbed on the ocean. Alaistar stood in awe at these ships that dwarfed his father's own fishing boat.
With the thought of his father Alaistar looked back towards the village and began to move back into the darkness towards home. After taking only a few steps he felt rough hands wrap around him and jerk him into the air. Crying out Alaistar tried to fight, but his arms were pinned hard against his own chest and his legs could find no purchase. Alaistar's captor turned him and crushed him hard again his metal chest. Alaistar pushed against his captor with his head and arms without success. His frustrated efforts turned to a cry of rage in his throat. He felt them sink as his captor stepped into the soft sand and knew he was being carried back onto the beach. Struggling wildly, Alaistar kicked and yelled through his tears. Though he could not free himself Alaistar knew he was making things more difficult for the man who held him. The heavy armor made it difficult to move gracefully in the sand and Alaistar's efforts threatened to topple the pair more then once. But the man continued forward and Alaistar saw that they were among the lighted torches. Finally, Alaistar's captor pulled Alaistar away from the armor with both hands and held the boy aloft. Seeing the man's face for the first time Alaistar mimicked his mother's defiance and spat with all the force he could muster. A moment later he was thrown hard into a rowboat. As his head bounced off the wooden gunwale Alaistar saw the faces of his parents in his mind's eye and then he slipped into darkness.
Ending is a bit abrupt, you have an opportunity I think to bring it back around to the dream at the start. But good pace bringing it back to darkness at the end. I would also think that a description of the captors face before he spits in it would be good.
Lastly there is very little dialogue, I think you can still slow things down and add more description and dialogue and make it a stronger narrative.
I don't get a good sense of how old he is in this scene. I'm assuming he's pretty young but given what's here, he could be 4 or he could be 9 (those are arbitrary ages, just to give an idea of the range that I see.) I can totally see him mimicking what his mother did and struggling back but it seems odd that someone so small is going to topple an armed soldier. Why don't they just knock him out? I would think one swift blow to his head would make him that much easier to capture? What about biting as a method of struggle?
Bringing it full circle might help make it feel more cohesive. I'm not sure when / where he's dreaming at the beginning. He could be at FON or just before Sotherby's or right before he kills that other slave guy. Maybe you could start the whole piece with him falling asleep having just seen a fishing boat or smelled fresh fish or something that inspires the memory induced dream and then when he wakes up he's all pumped to go help people who are about to be captured or is dealing with his surroundings as a slave with more resolve because of the courage his parents showed in the face of overwhelming odds.
