Caught In The Lands of Time by Jae B Wells under her SCA pseudonym was originally published in a SCA newsletter during my son's chemo and 4 kids under 5 around 2006-2007. I used it as an escape from the real world. By re-posting it for you as a blog entry shows the growth of writing overtime. Don't worry. I cringe too when I read it. A woman who hated me petitioned to remove all fiction from the newsletter. Instead of guiding me from her standpoint as a writer, she took up arms to get rid of me.
“Caught In The Lands of Time” is a fictional continuous story that uses some truth, but does not use real people in real situations. Tune in every Dragonflyre for a taste of the traits of knighthood, but beware of the people who make the good look good, and the bad look forever evil.
Part 3
“Oyez! Oyez! ……Children attending the afternoon classes …… those helping with Feast tonight need to report to the kitchen at 4:30 pm instead of 5:00. ….” The ‘crier’ hurried down the concrete sidewalk, spouting things to all who would listen. He didn’t seem to notice a man walking towards him.
Before collision, Michael dove off the path, settling in a slight gait next to the never-ending trail of human accomplishment. The crier’s loud voice carried and trailed into the faint distance behind Michael’s hearing capacity. Sandy hair whipped his face from the harsh climate. His natural long curls were unseen to spectators as matted sweaty tendrils reached out to gravity below. The weekend might have had some rain, but right now the climate and environment didn’t feel like it. In between the patches of mud on the ground, eager dirt threw its weight up into the wind at any and everything in its path. Scratching his cheek to relieve the focus of his present thoughts, Michael watched the distant fights through the obstacles of tents and spectators.
“Hey, attention there, soldier!” a voice startled Michael awake as if he was running on a double shot of coffee. Out of pure old habit, Michael turned perfectly around to stand at attention. “Mike? You are Mike from ROTC?”
“Yeah.” Recognizing the face wasn’t an old officer friend of his father’s, Michael’s voice and body relaxed into a comfortable stance. “Do accept my sincere apology as I do not recollect our previous connection.” Michael hesitantly answered, as he was still unsure of the peer standing before him.
Not surprised, Richard accepted. “Don’t worry about it, man! I haven’t seen you in ages. You haven’t changed much. Although you look as though you stand a bit taller.” Richard ended his part of the conversation with a loud chuckle. “I think I had you in a class. We frequently bumped into each other in the halls of our high school. It’s only been a year since we graduated, but I changed schools in my sophomore year. My name is Richard. I used to go by Richie.”
Vague familiar memories swept forth a smile while Michael replaced a couple of wild hairs. Silently cursing the wind, he turned his attention to someone that would listen, “What brought you here? How long have you been involved in the SCA? You have a persona picked out yet? As I recall you never did fancy this kind of stuff.”
“Wow, hold on there. Please, lets take one question at a time. My lady has been involved for a while now. She finally conned me into coming. We’ve been together for several years now.” A man with short military black hair hurried up. He had barely joined them before Richard introduced, “Oh, by the way, this here is Fredrick.”
The three young men started talking about guy stuff. A little catching up here and there consumed thoughts while subconscious instincts took precedence over which foot to put what weight on. Three absent-minded young men kept up their conversation, each shielding their eyes as needed against the glares of the sun. Michael’s interest was slowly hooked and reeled by analyzing the view beyond Richard. A man sauntering up slowly to them seemed to watch the distant conversation with hesitant interest. Michael made a mental note of the stranger’s wisdom in his slow approach.
Michael looked at Fredrick for a glace to make sure that he was still taking up Richard’s attention. Richard and Fredrick were engrossed with upcoming plans for the following week. Turning his eyes back to his previous game, Michael let his eyes do the talking to the old man. They both seemed to scrutinize the other. The friendly stranger almost seemed to waddle up the last few yards. The slightly gray haired man stole some glances at the young whippersnappers next to Michael. He looked like a fat jolly old man. Michael softly chuckled to himself, “He looks good and toned despite some gained weight.” He was new to this Barony, but Michael respected each according to their actions and deeds. He never let gossip or looks mark his own judgment. Michael enjoyed learning about people himself. He was fairly new to the decorations of important stature, but from the appearance of this guy; he looked important around here.
Michael’s eyes were diverted by a commotion coming up the path behind him. Both he and the stranger became fixed on the scene set in front of them. Michael’s whole body had to turn 180degrees to keep up with his eyes. The stranger joined him in his people watching.
A woman flowed with dignity as she was charging up the path. She looked like she had a goal to accomplish…yesterday. Two boys took turns stepping in front of, behind, and around her. They looked like hungry dogs and cats underfoot. Apparently attention starved, they also clung to her dress causing those small quick feet to trip her every once in awhile.
Two boys approximately the same age (give or take) soon caught the children’s priorities long enough to let mom have a free gait for a moment. “Hey, well if it isn’t Frik and Frak! Do you need your mamma’s skirt to hang on?” chanted the oldest boy.
A skinny boy joined the two bigger boys and chimed in, “Does lil baby want a thumb to suck on?”
Frank’s hand snapped onto the garb tail of his little brother. He was only a half hour older than his brother, but he felt older, wiser and most importantly responsible for his brother. He remembered those nasty boys. The tall skinny jerk was the lead singer for the group of idiots taunting them from the tree row. The tree row hid the campsites melting in the distance. The twins had a scuffle with those overgrown excuse for vegetables last year. If those fat bookends keeping close tabs on the middle skinny one would just let the important book fall, Frank would waste Larry.
Daniel wanted blood. He didn’t care about proper fighting. He didn’t care about the proper time and place; he wanted to become a stealthy vampire that minute. Punching Derrick’s face in and receiving a couple of bloody bruises in return did not bother him. Blood and sweat dripping of his own forehead and trickling in his mouth would be sweet revenge. The twins had taught each other how to fight good enough to survive outer forces. Father had taught them how to fight honorably and let them learn ways of fighting each other dishonorably by brotherly experience.
Kind eyes turned cold as she glanced at the pimple-faced rabbit-talking misfit. Rolling those eyes only in her mind, Virginia’s sigh heaved heavy and tired. Glancing back in front, the goal seemed still to far away.
To Be Continued…
Tune in next time for another entry of FanFiction: SCA Story CITLOT
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