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night faded, and became dawn - a TGOD story
WARNING FOR THIS STORY: this is the part of the plot that starts seriously dealing with the cruel, inappropriate elements of Allegory and Rennuid's relationship-- Rennuid is just a teen who thinks he's grown, at this part of his life, and Allegory is an ancient "god." The word "love" is stained with a twisted intent in this story.
It also begins to deal with the fraught family dynamics that end up driving a young boy to hide away in the forest with a strange god.
If you can relate to Rennuid's experiences, I urge you to research the concept of "grooming." I write this story and characters to comment on my own experiences and demons. I will never portray anything graphically, and always I will do it with empathy for the perspective of the victim, first.
with that out of the way, please enjoy my story. It's a heavy one.
------
In evenings, the world was theirs. More and more he wanted to borrow extra time. Once, though, he borrowed too much.
That evening it said, “There is something new I could teach you of the expression of love."
Night faded, and became dawn; his bed at home lay empty and unused.
He found himself, after a time, at the top of the weathered stone staircase leading down to the hollow, where – diffuse, in the fog of the early day – he could see lights on in the inhabited house. The sight struck him to the spot. If it were Viromil, and she caught him creeping back inside, the fallout would be miserable. If it were his mother... he wasn't sure what she would do.
Perhaps it would be better to sit out here, by the door, and practice at whittling something. Though it was absurd, the idea seized him completely - he could lie with ease, once someone poked their nose out, and say they must have missed him when he came outside. And from there he would be able to listen in on the goings-on inside, and better prepare for any upcoming ugliness. Steeling his nerve, he advanced down the stairs at a reluctant pace.
He was able to creep up near to the door, set his back against the wall, took out his knife – and realized he had nothing to actually whittle. Everything out here was too bloated from the night air, and what wasn't would make a horrendous racket if he cracked it into usable size. Instead he put the knife away, laid his head back, and listened.
He could hear two familiar voices, though the words were muffled nonsense. Neither sounded...
It also begins to deal with the fraught family dynamics that end up driving a young boy to hide away in the forest with a strange god.
If you can relate to Rennuid's experiences, I urge you to research the concept of "grooming." I write this story and characters to comment on my own experiences and demons. I will never portray anything graphically, and always I will do it with empathy for the perspective of the victim, first.
with that out of the way, please enjoy my story. It's a heavy one.
------
In evenings, the world was theirs. More and more he wanted to borrow extra time. Once, though, he borrowed too much.
That evening it said, “There is something new I could teach you of the expression of love."
Night faded, and became dawn; his bed at home lay empty and unused.
He found himself, after a time, at the top of the weathered stone staircase leading down to the hollow, where – diffuse, in the fog of the early day – he could see lights on in the inhabited house. The sight struck him to the spot. If it were Viromil, and she caught him creeping back inside, the fallout would be miserable. If it were his mother... he wasn't sure what she would do.
Perhaps it would be better to sit out here, by the door, and practice at whittling something. Though it was absurd, the idea seized him completely - he could lie with ease, once someone poked their nose out, and say they must have missed him when he came outside. And from there he would be able to listen in on the goings-on inside, and better prepare for any upcoming ugliness. Steeling his nerve, he advanced down the stairs at a reluctant pace.
He was able to creep up near to the door, set his back against the wall, took out his knife – and realized he had nothing to actually whittle. Everything out here was too bloated from the night air, and what wasn't would make a horrendous racket if he cracked it into usable size. Instead he put the knife away, laid his head back, and listened.
He could hear two familiar voices, though the words were muffled nonsense. Neither sounded...
